Summer Plans

We are in the process of getting ready to staff another Crossroads Discipleship School at Salem Oregon with YWAM again this summer (June-August).

Excited about the challenge, the learning, the helping, and more time with Jesus without TV, golf, and the home routine.

Prayer needs:
* Health needs
* Time away from family
* House needs
* Time away from our home church

Thanks for partnering with us.

Do look at the posts by Tom and Lisa plus Kevin and Becky listed on our opening page- one couple returning to the Philippines and the other just retuning from the Philippines.

Soar In Trust Always

Our Journey

1. Our story/our journey:

Change of Plans
As told to Twink DeWitt
By Denny DeWitt


The LORD says, “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name.” Psalm 91:14 (New Living Translation)

The warm ocean water swirled around my feet on the sandy Hawaiian beach. I waded deeper and felt the power of the undertow trying to pull everything in its grasp out to sea. My wife Twink loves the ocean and was already body surfing. She and several friends encouraged me to join them, but I didn’t share their enthusiasm for those ominous waves. Gritting my teeth, I trudged toward my fun-loving wife of twenty-seven years.
Once I got beyond the breaker line, Twink showed me how the swells come in sets. If we missed one, another would be right behind it. As a tower of water passed by, I worked up courage. Then, following Twink’s lead, I threw my six-foot-two frame into an eight-foot wave and rode it to shore.
She’s right. This is incredible! Eager to go again, we joined hands and plowed back through the churning water to where others waited for the next “big one.”
Another magnificent wave rumbled in. As I lunged ahead of its massive power, it launched me toward the beach. The brief exhilaration shattered as the surge of water wrenched me and slammed me onto the hard ocean floor.
Crack!
A deafening noise resounded in my head. The jolt stunned me and everything went black. When I opened my eyes, I was floating on my side. Another wave flipped me and I watched the sand surge out along the bottom. Underwater, my body turned uncontrollably. I’ve got to get up. I tried to stand. I tried to kick. My legs wouldn’t move. My arms floated uselessly. What’s wrong? As the undertow dragged me away from shore, I held my breath longer. My lungs burned for air.
I raced through an earnest prayer, “Lord, I may come to you right now. That’s okay. But I want to live. You’re my only hope.” For endless seconds I drifted helplessly in God’s hands. I knew I could drown, but for some reason, I was not afraid. All I could do was force myself to hold my breath longer. I bumped against a swimmer and rose to the surface. Air! I gulped it in.
“HELP! Over here! H-E-L-P!” the woman shouted.
I heard anxious voices as people raced to surround me. A male voice cautioned, “Careful, don’t jostle him. Probably a broken neck.”
They put their arms under my limp body and floated me to the shore. I could breathe. I could talk. I could not move.
Lying on the sand, grateful to be alive, I wondered how this could be happening to me. “Where’s Twink?”
“Right here, Honey. Holding your hand.” I couldn’t feel her hand, but knew she was praying, with her blue eyes looking directly into mine.
A lifeguard pushed his way through the crowd. He knelt down, assessed my situation, straightened up, pointed at a bystander and said, “You. Call 9-1-1!”
He fired questions at me. I answered each one.
“Did you swallow water?”
“No.”
“Any difficulty breathing?”
“No.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“No—it went black for a second. That’s all.”
Another lifeguard rushed over with a backboard. They stabilized my head and neck with a cervical collar.
As we waited for the ambulance, a doctor friend in our group checked my condition. He took my hand. “Can you make a fist?”
I tried but felt nothing.
“Great. Great!” the doctor shouted.
I sure didn’t understand that.
He explained I had slight movement in one finger.
Maybe he thought it was great, but I knew I was in trouble.
After the ambulance arrived, I lay on the gurney waiting as the paramedic talked to my wife several yards away. In the quiet, I closed my eyes and relaxed, grateful to be alive yet wondering where all this would lead us. In my mind, I heard the Lord say two words, “Trust Me.”
Wondering if anyone had spoken, I opened my eyes and smiled. No one else was there. “Okay, Lord, I think I’d better do that.”
Late that night, a tiny single-engine medivac flew my wife and me to Honolulu. There I lay in a hospital bed, unable to move. Twink and I had plenty of time to reflect on our past and discuss our future.
I had retired two months earlier, after twenty-five years as a military dentist. Our whole family, including our three sons—two with treasured fiancées—came for my retirement party at Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert. Thrilled with our plans, they sent us off to the tropical beauty of Kona, Hawaii, to attend a school for missionaries—three months of lecture, followed by a two-month field service.
Once I arrived at the hospital, I faced an entirely different learning environment. The X-rays showed my neck was not broken. Swelling of the spinal cord had caused the paralysis. Each day the doctor ran through a series of neurological tests. “Grip my hand.”
I squeezed as hard as I could…nothing happened.
“Doctor,” Twink said on the third day, “we came to Kona to prepare to serve for several years on a Mercy Ship in Africa. What should we tell the school and ship personnel?”
He turned to me. “I’ve heard about that ship. What would you do?”
“I’m a dentist.” I looked at my hands lying motionless on the bed. “Will I ever get the use of them back?”
The physician shook his head. “I wish I could encourage you. I can only say wait and see.”
When the doctor left the room, I looked at my wife. “Okay, we’ll wait. But no matter what, we’ll do something with our retirement.”
She smiled, “Honey, even if you can’t move a muscle, we’ll find a way to serve. We don’t know God’s plan, but we’ll rely on Him to take care of us.”
She stood by my bed and we each talked to the Lord silently. I closed the prayer with a heartfelt, “Thank you, God. We trust You.”
On the fifth day, the doctor walked in and took my hand. “Can you squeeze it?”
Mustering all my energy, I tried. A grin broke across his face. “You did it!”
My fingers had moved. Twink jumped up, throwing her hands in the air. I did the same in my heart.
For the next twelve days, I steadily gained movement in my hands and then my feet. I anxiously awaited rehab and then hated the excruciating pain. I learned to walk, to pick up blocks and then buttons. I begged them to release me to go back to school. On the eighteenth day, with neck brace, cane, and pain my constant companions, I returned to Kona. I had a long way to go, but I was on my way.
Our son Dennis came to help us. He spent hours working with me to retrain my muscles. We played what might be called Frisbee. I carved strange looking animals out of Ivory soap and regained some of the twenty-five pounds I’d lost.
Less than a month later, Twink and I went with our classmates on a two-month field service trip to Asia. During this time, we walked twice as much as I had in years. We slept on floors and used outhouses. But I had a story. In Korea, China and the Philippines people listened—intrigued by my experience and encouraged by my trust. They too could rely on God to take care of them in every circumstance.
When we returned to Kona, we made a difficult decision. We couldn’t go to the ship because I still couldn’t navigate the massive amount of stairs onboard and my hands weren’t ready for dentistry. Instead, we moved to East Texas to work at the Mercy Ships International Office.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
With fifteen years of hindsight, we know this plan far surpassed our original dream. We both plunged into our full-time volunteer jobs. Regaining my motor skills within two years, I continued to recover while directing the Mercy Ships Dental Department. I organized the procurement of supplies and equipment for all the ships. Leading dental teams to Central and South America thrilled me the most. Twink joined the teams, to help in various ways including her favorite part—loving the people.
Meanwhile, Twink served in the Mercy Ships Communication Department where she discovered her knack for writing. Twelve years later we began helping with Youth With A Mission writing schools. We now travel to work with several YWAM schools, preparing missionaries to go into the field or write what’s on their heart.
While few people go through experiences similar to my episode on the beach, retirement often includes health challenges. Soon after we arrived in Texas, we both encountered serious medical problems which could have limited or stopped our quest to serve. Twink tells people I’ve almost died four times. That sounds a little extreme, but I guess she’s right.
When necessary, we get our bodies fixed up, perhaps take a vacation, and back we go. Challenges present other opportunities to serve where we find more joy and excitement in the vast field of missions.
A few months ago we returned from our second mission trip to the Philippines. Someone asked us how many countries we’d visited since we retired. Astounded, we counted six continents, twenty-six countries, and more than half the fifty states.
Retirement could be easier.
But it couldn’t be more fun.