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			<copyright>webbministries.com 2006</copyright>
			<ttl>120</ttl><item>
		<title>George</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/duplicate-of-divine-placement.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ George is a small trim block of a man, short, solidly muscled and without a trace of softness. To me he looks as if he had been hewn out of the native stone of Espiritu Santo, his home island. His hands are a pair of compact meaty squares, wide flat calloused palms, short stubby fingers, thick mud stained fingernails. ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Fri, 18 May 2012 07:23:40 -0700</pubDate>
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		<title>Who Carries Your Mother's Water</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/who-carries-your-mothers-water.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ High up in the misty mountains of Tanna the village of Yanemilen sits in the fold of the hill. Like a child reclining in the arms of a grandfather. Its back rests against the mountain face behind it and on each side the massive arms of the mountain wrap around it. Surrounded by thick vine-choked jungle it is an island in time. A mile to the south of the village Mt Yasur comes and goes as the grey fog slides over the mountain. Like a tired old man it grunts and grumbles ceaselessly, with its complaints occasionally punctuated by the reverberating “Boom!” as it spits clouds of ash and lava kilometers into the sky.   ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 May 2011 14:58:09 -0700</pubDate>
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		<title>Be Mine Valentines?</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/be-mine-valentines.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ I made my way to the door of the school, sat down on the rough concrete and leaned against the half finished block wall. We had just finished pouring a bound beam on half of the exterior wall. I was hot and sweaty and my hands were chapped from handling cement all day. I was tired and impatient to get home, it was Valentine’s Day. However, the foreman had asked me to wait for a few minutes; he said he had something he needed to give me before I left. I resigned myself to waiting for his return and in my mind begin rehearsing my plans for an evening with Renee. ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Mon, 14 Feb 2011 08:10:32 -0800</pubDate>
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		<title>Rainy Day Missionary</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/rainy-day-missionary.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ I peered out the door of the tin shack into the misty rain. After downpours all night I wasn’t sure how long that this break would last. I decided to make my way to the kitchen before the leaden skies let loose another deluge. I gathered my Bible and notebook and set off through the mist. The kitchen was a quarter of a mile down a muddy road from my hut. I slowly wove my way around mud puddles doing my best to avoid drenching my shoes. I failed. ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Mon, 07 Feb 2011 08:49:24 -0800</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://webbministries.com/rainy-day-missionary.html</guid>
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		<title>Hungry Devils</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/hungry-devils.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ “Oh this is a good one,” I hear from the other side of the curtain. I am standing in a make shift clinic in Ponmuili a village in south central Pentecost translating for Dr Yumi from Health Care Ministries. We are treating patients from villages that live in stone age conditions. Spending time with doctors and nurses has taught me that when a medical professional refers to a case as a “good one” it is rarely good for the patient. In fact a good case will often turn your stomach.   ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Jan 2011 18:06:59 -0800</pubDate>
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		<title>Ranpator</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/duplicate-of-an-unexpected-invitation.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ When you sit down and take the time to examine it closely you find pieces of red that glow in the light of the setting sun. There are bits of green would make you swear that they are emeralds. Round black stones are marbled with lines of sparkling quartz and crushed shells of giant clams yield shimmering iridescent oblique chunks that would tempt you to believe you have found a diamond. Here a bit of fire coral has maintained its deep red hue, there a broken seashell lies half hidden amongst the pebbles deceiving you into thinking you have found the perfect souvenir. Your fingers linger over a round lump of pumice from a nearby smoking volcano trying to savor the remnant of heat from its burning belching vents. ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Jan 2011 14:53:30 -0800</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://webbministries.com/duplicate-of-an-unexpected-invitation.html</guid>
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		<title>Divine Placement</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/divine-placement.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ The chief’s wife bashfully held her hand behind her back. She was a robust woman in her early thirties wearing only a grass skirt and a timid smile. Her grass skirt swished noisily as she nervously shifted her weight from leg to leg. Two bright eyed preschool girls wearing miniature copies of her skirt clung to her shyly while staring at the strange white women. Elaine, the triage nurse greeted the girls and their mother with a welcoming smile before focusing on the patient card for the mother. “Cut on right hand.” She read. “Can you show me your hand?” ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Sun, 09 Jan 2011 07:47:50 -0800</pubDate>
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		<title>Nanny in the Outhouse</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/nanny-in-the-outhouse.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ Outhouses are a consistent challenge here in Vanuatu; sometimes a source of trauma and tears other times drama and laughter. I have discovered that there are several styles of outhouse. They range from, “go feed the pigs” style of outhouse which is a fork in a tree surrounded by thick brush to “VIP” outhouses that feature a roof, four walls, an honest to goodness toilet complete with seat that with the aid of a bucket of water flushes all your troubles away.  The one I am using tonight is somewhere in the middle of those two.   ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Fri, 10 Dec 2010 07:40:39 -0800</pubDate>
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		<title>An Unexpected Invitation</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/an-unexpected-invitation.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ Chief Wabak from the village of Lonlipli pulled me aside the last day of the Health Care Ministries Clinic in his area. “Missionary, we want to do something special for you and the team.” He said. “Maybe we could do a traditional dance? We would let you take pictures.” Vivid images of naked villagers that the team had treated paraded through my mind. I was quite sure that watching them dance in little more than their birthday suits was not something the team would be interested in.  ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Fri, 10 Dec 2010 07:22:22 -0800</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://webbministries.com/an-unexpected-invitation.html</guid>
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		<title>A Heavy Basket</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/a-heavy-basket.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ The hills to my right were split with a deep fissure; vines clothed the gash with thick green cloak. To my left the ocean tortured and harassed by the constant wind took its frustration out on the rugged broken coastline. Before me the two were tied together by a braided rope of gurgling streams.  Car sized boulders lay scattered along the stream bed like marbles strewn by the hand of a giant.  The streams danced over and around them, here joining hands, here springing apart, swirling into deep pools carpeted green by velvety moss, frothing with foam under small waterfalls and gleefully splashing proud boulders that tried to hold themselves aloof above the frolicking water. ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Thu, 09 Dec 2010 18:38:20 -0800</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://webbministries.com/a-heavy-basket.html</guid>
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		<title>Holy Ground</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/holy-ground.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ The mud beneath my feet is oozy black yet flecked with bits of brown stone. I am standing beneath an enormous bougainvillea bush, it’s lower branches have been consistently pruned so that it forms a spreading canopy about seven feet above the ground. Grey wisps of cloud seep through the tangle of branches that form the shelter leaving behind a heavy dew that falls in large cold drops down the collar of my shirt.  The community is called Ponmui. ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Sun, 14 Nov 2010 13:20:05 -0800</pubDate>
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		<title>Small Bryan</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/small-bryan.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ Tonight I was anxious to meet the next “Small Bryan”. Pastor Peter and his wife are dear friends, they had waited seven years since the birth of their daughter; praying and believing God to give them a son. Numerous miscarriages had punctuated their wait. I hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with them for the last two months so I was eager to find out if this child was a son. As I walked across the well groomed church yard I anticipated the feel of a newborn in my arms. Boy or girl; babies are fun. 
 ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Sat, 30 Oct 2010 22:14:44 -0700</pubDate>
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		<title>In the Father's Right Hand</title>
		<link>http://webbministries.com/in-the-fathers-right-hand.html</link>
		<description><![CDATA[ My cell vibrates in my pocket and I scoop it out, noticing the familiar number of one of our pastors I answer with a Bislama accented, “ello” The voice that answers is urgent and demanding, “Missionary there has been an accident at the work site, Nathan has fallen off the roof, it is serious.” The phone disconnects.  In a moment I am off of the chair, and halfway into the parking lot waving down a taxi. Renee and the kids follow me not knowing what is happening. I usher them into the first taxi instructing Renee to go and be with Jennifer. I jump in the second taxi and urge him to go to the school as fast as he can. ]]></description>
		<pubDate>Tue, 12 Oct 2010 10:06:19 -0700</pubDate>
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