Those who have spent any significant time in the developing world well understand the wide range of emotions Westerners experience when engaging deeply and personally with the local culture and citizenry.  Our student interns in Uganda this summer have developed a highly cathartic practice of gathering together over a meal nearly every day to share with each other the “highs” and “lows” of each day.

Last night, as our team of twenty-six reflected back upon the week-long, just-completed whirlwind through three adult high security prisons, we gathered in groups to share our “highs” and “lows” for the week.  Many tears were shed during this much-needed emotional exhale, but not nearly as many as were shed during the week.

When it came my turn to share, I started with my low for the week, which brings me back to last Sunday afternoon as the project metaphorically kicked its legs as it anxiously climbed into the starting blocks and waited for the clap of the starter’s pistol.  (My next blog post will provide a fitting bookend to the week with a description of my “high”).

My biggest concerns going into the prison project centered around (i) the availability of Ugandan lawyers to represent the prisoners, and (ii) the production by the prosecution of what Ugandans call “disclosures” – a copy of the evidence against the accused person from the court and police files.  Both of these critical ingredients for plea bargaining to be successful have been in short supply in prior projects, which is why I have been begging, pleading, and cajoling our Ugandan counterparts to ensure this advance work was done before we arrived.

On last Sunday afternoon, however, my morale was residing just a few meters north of the Mariana Trench.  After lunch, Joline and I accompanied Andrew Khaukha (project manager on the Ugandan side) to the Katojo Prison in Fort Portal for a pre-project scouting trip to ascertain (i) how many prisoners were interested in plea bargaining, and (ii) what type of facilities would be available to us.  We were heartened to learn that more than one hundred had registered to participate, but disheartened to discover that no public address system, chairs, tables, or tents had been secured for our work at the prison – this, even though the Chief Justice (top dog) and Principal Judge (third-ranking judicial officer in the country) would be traveling the four hours from Kampala to Fort Portal to ceremonially launch the week-long program.

That lack of preparation foreshadowed what quickly became my low for the week – we had no files waiting for us and only a couple Ugandan lawyers were confirmed for the next day.  This left me with a piercing sense of foreboding as I imagined having to tell the seven American lawyers who had paid handsomely for the privilege of devoting a week of their lives to trying to help a judicial system that struggled to help itself.

“Don’t worry, Prof, it will be fine.  Let me take care of it,” Andrew said on Sunday afternoon with orders of magnitude more confidence than I could even imagine at that point.

And yet, over the course of about three hours, Andrew had Harry Pottered into existence everything we lacked.  We rented four “hundred-person” tents and one hundred plastic chairs from a local hotel (they didn’t have any spare tables), and “hired” a reasonably effective PA system from a kid who met us at a gas station.

A handful of diplomatic calls to local lawyers produced a half-dozen promises to be at the prison at 8:30 the next morning, and a stern (though respectful) call to the lead prosecutor in the area led to him coming to our hotel that night during dinner.  While most of us ate, our “Secretariat” designed both electronic and paper systems to ensure that the thirty-five sets of disclosures were properly catalogued and evenly distributed to the seven teams that, by this time, consisted of (i) one American lawyer, (ii) two Pepperdine law students (one is actually a Baylor student who has joined our program for the summer), and (iii) two Uganda Christian University law students (we have been including UCU students in our prison projects for several years now).

Not only did the prosecutor deliver to us thirty-five photocopied files, but he also stayed and reviewed his copy of the files, and then wrote out initial plea offers for each of the thirty-five prisoners.  This would enable the teams to convey these offers to the prisoners during the interviews the next day.

For the next few hours, the teams reviewed and discussed the files in preparation for their work.

Tennessee lawyer Austin Watkins, Missy, DT, and UCU students

LA Public Defender Brad Siegel, Cat, Jenna, and UCU student

Baylor Professor Brian Serr, Baylor student Megan Pepper, Mark, and UCU students

Utah Judge Mike DiReda, Emily, Morgan, and UCU students

We arrived at the prison just before 8:00 a.m. on Monday in an effort to get things started before the CJ and PJ arrived, along with their retinues and the press corps.  Our Nootbaar Fellow, Nicole Banister, is in Uganda for a year as a mediator in the Family Division of the High Court and is with us this week.  She and I (along with one of our students) were the only of our American team of twenty-six who had ever been in a prison in the developing world.  (Three years earlier, Nicole had been a student intern in Uganda during our first-ever prison project in an adult prison, which had actually taken place in this very prison).  Our team members’ wide eyes started to water a bit as the reality of the prison conditions bum rushed them.  As we walked in, the warden informed us that there were over 1,200 prisoners, even though the capacity was 318.

We were escorted into a concrete courtyard where all 1,200 prisoners were mingling with even wider eyes as the “mzungus” set up shop under the just-erected tents.  After we assembled into seven groups at around 8:30 (the agreed-upon starting time), we looked around in vain for the lawyers.  Though the ceremony was scheduled to commence at 9:00, no one besides us could be found.

This was completely expected, though, as a Ugandan event starting on time is a winged unicorn.  Not wanting to lose any time, we conscripted a guard to locate and sequester those prisoners for whom we had files so we could begin interviewing them.  By 8:45, we were rolling.

At around 9:30, local governmental figures began arriving, along with a few local lawyers, three of whom had participated in the project three years ago.  Fortunately, I recognized them, and they recognized me.  As they arrived, I briefed them on what we were doing and placed them into a group.

Finally, at around 10:00, the guests of honor, the press corps, and PA system arrived.  Fifteen minutes later, the speeches began.  Two hours later, they mercifully ended.  Among those speaking were CJ, PJ, me, the local mayor, the local High Court Judge, and a few others.  During his speech, CJ introduced his wife to thunderous applause from all present.

Soon thereafter, I spoke.  And yes, you guessed it – I completely forgot to even acknowledge my better half, much less ask her to stand to be recognized.  After I spoke, the emcee joked (in the local language) that I had been to Uganda so many times that I needed to get myself a Ugandan wife.  Everyone laughed heartily at this except, of course, Joline and me.

A few minutes later, the emcee called me and the CJ up to close the ceremony, telling me that CJ had some gifts he wanted to present to me.  These gifts were copies of the Ugandan constitution, the plea bargaining rules, and the sentencing guidelines – the tools we are using in this project.  After receiving these gifts, I seized the opportunity to seize the microphone to thank CJ and to take a shot at redemption.  “Thank you, My Lord,” I said because that’s how judges are addressed here, “we will use these tools as we assist the Ugandan advocates in delivering justice to these assembled prisoners.  For a moment, I feared you were going to present me with a Ugandan wife!  But my wife, Joline, is actually here with me, and I would like her to stand for recognition.”  I got the laugh and applause I sought from the crowd, and I think Joline will let me come home next week.

Phew.  Better late than never, right?

Eventually, six Ugandans advocates showed up, completing all but one of our groups.  In the afternoon, about five prosecutors arrived at the prison.  This allowed any group for which the prisoner accepted the plea offer – or who wanted to present a counteroffer – to move toward complete resolution right then and there.  In fact, about a dozen plea agreement forms were filled out, signed by the prisoner, signed by the Ugandan lawyer, and signed by the prosecutor.  All that remained was the taking of the plea in court, and sentencing by the judge in accordance with the plea agreement.  In Uganda, however, that last piece can take a really long time.

That night, several prosecutors, most of the Ugandan defense lawyers, and the local High Court judge joined us for dinner.  The prosecutors brought with them about fifty new files.  They hadn’t yet made photocopies, but they agreed to allow our teams to look directly at the original files – something that rarely happens – in order to allow the team members to prepare for the next day’s interviews.  This case preparation continued late into the night.

The next day, a crowd of prisoners who had been skeptical of plea bargaining assembled and asked to be added to the program.  There were over a hundred of them.

Case preparation continued in earnest until about 2:30, when we had to wrap things up and get on the road to our next destination.  At one point, I looked around and saw about seven hundred prisoners watching us from within a thirty-yard radius.  Not a single guard was around, yet we didn’t feel even a modicum of fear to be unprotected so close to so many accused of murder, rape, aggravated robbery, kidnapping, etc.

When the dust settled, the teams had completed settlement agreements on close to seventy cases.  While the American members of our teams were quite pleased with these individual outcomes, I was elated that the Ugandans (prisoners, prison officials, prosecutors, and defense lawyers) all seemed to understand the process and pledged to continue without us after we left.

Just after nightfall, we arrived at a safari lodge on the lip of Queen Elizabeth National Park, which is where we would be spending the next five nights.  Unfortunately, however, we weren’t able to enjoy the stunning view of the Park for several more days, as we routinely left before sunrise and returned after sunset.

More in a day or two.

Tricked out motorcycles and flowing beards littered the music video of one of my favorite songs when I was just waking up to rock and roll.  Unfortunately, adherence to ZZ Top’s lingering directive to “Hold on Loosely” transformed my iPhone into a “bye-Phone” last Thursday night on the way home from a pizza dinner with our student interns here in Uganda.

Allow me to explain (and stay with me here).

I can’t fully articulate the philosophical underpinnings of the solution to Bart Simpson’s timeless Zen-infused riddle of, “How is it possible for something to suck and blow at the same time?”  I can, however, provide an irrefutable example — Kampala traffic.

As my colleague Jenna and I were steeping in the suck/blow phenomenon in a circa-1980 Toyota Corolla, I lowered my window to half-mast to compensate for the taxi’s comatose air conditioner.  We were dead still, and had been for about ten minutes, so I pulled out my iPhone 6 Plus and started thumbing away at my e-mail backlog.  Because the phone is so big, and because I generally type with the phone in the vertical position, I hold it near the bottom as I type.  And because I am a huge ZZ Top fan, I hold on loosely to the phone while typing.

As I did so, I acquired a new friend who spontaneously materialized from the darkness and reached through the window to generously relieve me of the burden of responding to my pile of e-mails.  He then darted through and around the coil of traffic and vanished almost as quickly as he had appeared.  I was so momentarily befuddled by my unhanding, I fumbled with the door lock and latch long enough to permit myself only a fleeting glance at the back of his head.

This most unpleasant turn of events presented me with the singular pleasure of discovering how to locate and erase my “lost” iPhone.  Hint: substantial delays inject themselves into the process when one forgets the answer to the two supposedly simple security questions necessary to log into iTunes from another continent.  Apparently, I don’t remember EITHER my best friend in high school OR my first car, though apparently these answers were supplied by me when I was in more lucid state.  This bout with early-onset Alzheimer’s earned me the opportunity to enjoy Apple’s “hold music” for the better part of an hour.  Surprisingly, the Easy Listening selection failed to temper my rising frustration.  Ultimately, the Genius who brought an unceremonious halt to my impromptu sing-along session with Simon and Garfunkel was able to assist me with (i) locating a signal from my erstwhile prodigal phone, and (ii) triggering the “erase” feature on said phone.  I briefly contemplated hiring another taxi so I could locate and assist my new friend as he answered my e-mails (at least that’s what I assume he was doing), but as I zoomed in with the GPS locator, I realized that it could only mark out a 100-yard radius in a neighborhood with, shall we say, lots of room for improvement in the safety category.  And no, I didn’t call the police.  If you have ever been to Uganda, you know precisely how effective that would have been . . .

The next evening, after the closing ceremony of a spectacular week-long mediation training program delivered by Mitch and Selina, I had the opportunity to demonstrate just how mentally gifted I really am.  The forum for my display of intellectual prowess was on the way to the airport to pick up my wife and about ten others flying in from all over the United States and from Rwanda.  Because so many Uganda rookies were coming in at the same time, I decided to accompany the driver in the court’s thirty-passenger mini-bus to go and fetch them.  I also invited along one of our students interning in Uganda who is a bit sweet on one of our other student interns currently based in neighboring Rwanda working for the Chief Justice of that country.  Let’s pretend her name is “Shelby.”

Shelby and I decided not to tell her boyfriend “Ricky” that she was coming to the airport with me so it would be a surprise.  In fact, we affirmatively lied to him.  (Lying is OK if it is done in the name of love, right?).  Luckily for Shelby and me, we got to experience the suck/blow traffic again.  This time, however, I didn’t roll the window down, but opted instead to slide the windows open as buses are designed to do.  As Shelby and I were talking and looking at her computer, a shady looking dude approached the motionless bus from my side and peered into the window from his tippy toes.  As I slid the window shut, the dude’s buddy lurch-reached into the bus on Shelby’s side and swiped her purse.  Like his compadre from the night before, he disappeared into the darkness as I yelled out the window, “Stop the thief, he stole a purse!”  The onlookers stared at me quizzically, likely confused by the claim that my purse was stolen.

Guess what was in Shelby’s purse, besides credit cards, a debit card, cash, and her driver’s license?  Yep, her iPhone.  She quickly activated the tracking software and erased her phone.  The moral of this story?  Jim is a pee-brained idiot.  (And yes, I know I spelled pea-brained wrong, but I was being ironic).

I added an exclamation point to this truism just moments later when Ricky e-mailed me as he boarded his one-hour flight from Rwanda to Uganda to let me know all was well.  My inner Einstein typed back (on my internet-connected computer BECAUSE MY iPHONE HAD BEEN STOLEN) that Shelby and I would see him soon.

“Wait, you just told him I was coming with you to the airport?” she sadly asked.

See?  I am an idiot.

I am also unspeakably cruel.

In an effort to make up for my spoiling the surprise, I had Shelby hide while I greeted Ricky and the other intern from Rwanda after they landed.  Ricky gave me a hug, even as his eyes skipped and darted around and among the other airport greeters.

“Did you get my e-mail about Shelby coming?” I asked.

“Yes, just now,” he said with a blossoming smile.  “Where is she?”

“Sorry, Ricky, I was just kidding,” I said with an even bigger smile.  “She’s back at the hotel waiting for you.  That was mean, wasn’t it?”

“Are you serious?  She’s not really here?” He looked like a kid whose puppy had just been snatched up by an owl.

“Actually, she is here, but she is hiding,” I said, as I pointed to where she had been earlier.  Only she wasn’t there, she had moved a bit and was still not visible.

“Where?” he asked frantically.

When I didn’t see her, I plumbed the depths of depravity even deeper by saying, “Just kidding, she’s not really here.  Got you!”

I thought he was going to hit me, but Shelby thankfully jumped out and hugged him, thus saving me what would have been a well-earned bloody nose.

A few minutes later, Joline arrived with lawyers Aaron Echols (Dallas-based Pepperdine Law grad whose wedding I was honored to perform), Austin Watkins (Nashville-based Pepperdine Law grad who lived in my house when I lived in Uganda in 2012), Mike DiReda (Utah judge with whom I graduated from Pepperdine in 1993), Brad Siegel (Los Angeles Public Defender who has helped host several delegations of Ugandan and Guatemalan judicial officials on SoCal study tours), Darren Gardner (DC-based Kirkland & Ellis associate I met during the Divine Collision and REMAND tour earlier this year when we showed REMAND at Kirkland’s DC office), Brian Serr (Baylor Criminal Law Professor I also met on the Divine Collision tour), Jon Wood (Ohio-based corporate lawyer who roomed with one of my Pepperdine colleagues while in law school), and Avery Wood (Jon’s daughter who just finished her freshman year at U of Alabama).

Shockingly, nothing was stolen on our ride back to town.

Saturday was a day of shopping and sightseeing by the group.  Joline and I ducked out twice – first to catch up with good friends from Baylor with whom we are exploring and implementing joint global justice projects (more on that in later posts), and second to spend some time with my God son and his family – the Kiryabwires, with whom Joline and I have become quite close over the past six years.

The K Kids

On Sunday morning, thirty-three of us (including four drivers and two armed body guards) piled into a mini-bus, a van, a truck, and an SUV.  The destination was Fort Portal where our one-week prison project would launch the following morning.  For lunch, we stopped at what should be considered one of the eight wonders of the world – a sprawling resort constructed from logs on a ridge overlooking a breathtaking crater lake and valley.  Lunch was great, but the views from Kyaninga Lodge are other-worldly.

Jim and Joline at Kyaninga Lodge

Prison Project Team

That evening, we were joined by 13 Uganda Christian University law students and then broke our group into seven teams to review thirty-one sets of photocopied police and court files we had just received.

The next post will begin with our entry into the Katojo high security adult prison, which was built for 318, but currently houses 1247.  Just over 1,000 of them have no lawyer, no court date, and dwindling hope as the months and years have dripped away.

The African prison rookies sported wide eyes and a tight hold on their computers.  As they soon learned, however, the roller coaster they were boarding required them to hold on more tightly to their emotions and to their conception of reality.

More soon.

I can’t help but recognize the metaphor in the rising sun peeking over the seven hills of Kampala this Sunday morning.  I have no memory of ever taking the time on any of my prior visits to Uganda to sit still and appreciate the beauty and simplicity and constancy of the equatorial sunrise – 6:45 a.m. every single day.  I need to do better.  I need to daily draw a connection between the faithfulness of this sun rise and the infinitely more sustaining son rise that gives all of this meaning.

I find myself feeling less anxious about the soon-to-unfold events of this trip than perhaps any other of the prior eighteen.  I’m not exactly sure why, but I suspect it is because this one is starting out less frenetic than the others.  And that’s not an accident.  I am often a slow learner, but I eventually tend to figure things out.  My modus operandi has heretofore been flying in the night before the launch of a series of fast-paced programs.  This has too often led difficult sleep adjustments (ten-hour time difference), not to mention awkward wardrobe malfunctions due to the dilly-dallying of my suitcases on one or more of the layovers.

As the details of this three-week trip began to crystalize, my hyper-organized Global Justice Program colleague, Jenna DeWalt, gently suggested that we build into the schedule some leeway to allow those traveling with us (most for the first time) to get their feet under them before we ask them to run.  Good advice well taken.

So we set off on Thursday afternoon – Jenna, Judge Mitchel Goldberg, and I from Los Angeles, and Selina Shultz from Pittsburgh.  We hooked up with Selina in Amsterdam, ultimately landing in Entebbe a little before midnight, and settled in at our Kampala Hotel at around 1:00 a.m.  Fortunately, there was nothing eventful about the flights, other than the fact that all of our suitcases made the journey with us – I am now 13 wins and 6 losses in this department, but who’s keeping score.  (I guess I am).

This three-week trip is conveniently divided into three substantially equal parts.  The first week is mediation training, the second is the prison project, and the third is conferences.  Those who know me even moderately well know than I am incapable of training anyone in mediation.  I know my limitations, but I also have friends, who themselves have friends.  Which leads me back to the all-star mediation trainers, Mitch and Selina.  Which, in turn leads me back to John Napier.

In 2009, Pepperdine launched its Nootbaar Fellows program, pursuant to which a Pepperdine Law alum serves the Uganda Judiciary for entire year.  John was our first, and became the first-ever court-annexed mediator in the country.  Since then, the fellowship program has helped launch a movement to expand mediation to the entire country in an effort to reduce court congestion and case backlog.  Since Pepperdine’s Straus Institute for Dispute Resolution is the world-leader in dispute resolution training, it only made sense to invite Straus to partner with our Global Justice Program.  This partnership led to the first-ever national mediation training workshop in 2014, and its follow-on workshop that begins tomorrow.

Mitch was one of the trainers in 2014 and has been itching to return for round two.  Having received an advanced legal degree in dispute resolution from Pepperdine, Selina has become one of the mediation trainers for Straus and jumped at the opportunity to join this trip.  So Monday morning will kick off a week-long training workshop for fifty Ugandan judges who will soon become the core of Uganda’s mediation corps.

But all work and no play makes Jimmy a dull boy, so we spent Saturday in one of my favorite places in Uganda – Jinja.  Before heading out of Kampala for the two-hour drive, we stopped to say hello to our Pepperdine summer interns who are serving eight-week internships with Ugandan judges.  One of them, Emily, jumped in the car with us (along with Nicole, our current Nootbaar Fellow, who is serving as a year-long mediator in the Family Court); four of them had gone ahead to Jinja for a day of white water rafting and bungee jumping.

Our first stop was the Source Café, which was started by a team of missionaries nearly twenty years ago.

First Stop in Jinja

From there, we dropped Mitch, Selina, Emily, and Nicole off in a fishing village on the banks of the Nile River for a two-hour tour of the Nile and Lake Victoria, which is the source of the Nile.  While they were touring, Jenna and I went to visit an American friend and her husband of about two years.  It was a joy to catch up with her, a few of her many adopted Ugandan girls, and to meet their adorable new son.

Before returning to Kampala, our group met up with four of our student interns and watched them climb a rickety platform, strap their feet to a rubber band, and then hurl themselves a couple hundred feet toward the Nile.  There is nothing like bungee jumping in the developing world if one wants to tempt fate.

What could possibly go wrong?

Having done this twice in 2012 (once each with my two youngest kids), I passed on the opportunity to become a recidivist.

Strapped to Joshua on my first plunge in 2012

Today is final preparation day for the mediation training.  While Selina and Mitch are training their hearts out the rest of the week, Jenna and I will be preparing for the arrival of a team of American lawyers on Friday who will work alongside our student interns, Ugandan lawyers, and Ugandan law students on our annual prison project.  This year, we will work in three prisons (Fort Portal, Mbarara, and Bushenyi), the first of which was the site of our first-ever pilot plea bargaining program in adult prisons in 2013.

Day One of 2013 Prison Project in Fort Portal’s Katojo Prison

Stay tuned for regular updates over the next three weeks.

For those wondering about the title of this post, it derives from 1980s novelty song that raced to #1 on music charts around the world.  I will let you decide whether this was or was not a clever way of indicating that this my nineteenth trip to Uganda.

One of my favorite songs when I was in college was “18 and Life to Go” by Skid Row.  That pop-metal song crashed back into my life as I traveled to Uganda this weekend for the 18^th time.  My commitment to my beloved second country ensures that while this is trip 18, I do have “life to go” in my travels here.  But before discussing this upcoming week’s activities, here is a quick recap.

The Divine Collision book tour Henry and I started in late January ended in early March after a whirlwind spin through Texas involving three chapel talks at Baylor, a national radio interview, and three screenings of REMAND in Waco, Dallas, and Houston.  It was so good to catch up with dear friends along the way.

Breakfast in Dallas with Echols and Delaneys

Prior to Henry’s departure, the BBC broadcast the radio interview Henry and I did with them and published an extensive feature on our story.  The Washington Post also published a nice article.  Following the BBC story, I received calls and e-mails from Nigeria, Ghana, the UK, and Uganda, some of which have raised intriguing new possible projects.

On March 3^rd, Henry traveled back home to resume his medical school studies.  We loaded him up (down?) with lots of first-world “essentials” (developing world “luxuries”) for his family – frying pan, Tupperware, chocolates, etc.

We stopped at the beach in Malibu on the way to the airport for one last photo and said our emotional goodbyes as Henry boarded the plane for his 21^st flight during the trip.  Memories to last a lifetime.

Farewell to Malibu

I also sent Henry home with the near-final cut of REMAND – the documentary about how his case led to substantial reform in Uganda’s criminal justice system.  (Incidentally, the final cut will be shown on April 12^th at the Historic Egyptian Theater for the first and only time prior to going on the film festival circuit – tickets available here.  Please pass along this invite to others).  Henry showed the documentary in his local village to a crowd assembled the night before he returned to medical school.

Prior to returning to Uganda, Henry had learned that he was among a list of approximately 200 of the then-remaining 360 students in his medical school class (which had started with 500 eighteen months ago) who had to re-take one or more of his examinations from the prior semester in order to advance to the second semester of his second year.  Henry was quite surprised that he had to retake Immunology, which he had believed was one of strongest subjects.

Upon returning to school, though, he discovered that he had not performed poorly on the exam, but instead that his was one of eighty students’ exams that had been lost by the professor.  All eighty had to take it again.  Soon thereafter, Henry was notified that he passed the retake and advanced to his fourth semester.

When all the dust settled on the third semester, only 280 of the original 500 students remained.  The “sifting” process will continue for a few more semesters, with the expectation being that around 200 will graduate at the end of six years.  Henry is quite confident he will be among them.

During this 18^th trip, I will be nailing down the details of the upcoming summer prison project (June 17-27), finalizing a couple national conferences we will be hosting in late June/early July, arranging everything for this summer’s student intern class, and exploring new projects and expanding existing ones.

Before I left Malibu, I had my second call with a government official in Nigeria about potentially working with them on judicial reforms, and hosted a delegation of Guatemalan lawyers who are exploring possible criminal justice reform along the lines of those undertaken by Uganda.

Divine Collision continues to be received and reviewed well – thanks to those of you who have shared your thoughts on Amazon.  If you have had a chance to read the book, please let your voice be heard.  My publisher tells me that getting to 100 reviews on Amazon is an important benchmark.  As of today, we are nearly halfway there:)

Pardon my Super Bowl metaphor, but I couldn’t resist.  Today feels like a touchdown, goal, grand slam, ace, slam dunk, and hole in one all wrapped up in a Chipotle burrito.  Henry lands in a couple hours for a five-week, six-state tour of the U.S. – the very day Divine Collision is officially released.

As chronicled in Divine Collision, this day has been a long time in coming.  It was almost derailed more times than I have fingers and toes, including two weeks ago when his final exams were rescheduled to conflict with his trip.  Fortunately, Henry can be quite persuasive, and was able to convince the medical school dean to reinstate the original exam schedule so he could get on the plane.

On Monday morning, I spoke with him while he was on the way to the airport, and he was positively giddy.  He texted me from the runway just before departing from Entebbe (Uganda) for Amsterdam.  On Monday evening, he texted me from the security line at Amsterdam while he waited to board the final flight to Los Angeles.

We have numerous surprises in store for him, including a trip to the happiest place on earth.  He will be singing for his supper, though, as we will be appearing at numerous colleges, universities, high schools, churches, theaters, and bookstores along the way.

If you want to meet him (and get your book signed by him also), please feel encouraged to come to one or more of the events, including a potluck at my house this coming Sunday at noon.  Seriously, you should come.  (E-mail me for directions – jim.gash@pepperdine.edu).

I had a great trip to Waco, Abilene, and Lubbock earlier this month, and very much enjoyed the chance to speak with so many folks at these places.  I will always remember my first-ever book signing at Lubbock Christian.  More that event from the campus newspaper here.

And I certainly won’t ever forget the bat (yes, a bat) that circled ACU’s Moody Coliseum and dive-bombed me and the crowd of a couple thousand for the last eight minutes of my chapel talk.

We had a chance to screen REMAND at both LCU and ACU, and the press attended the ACU gathering.  More on that here and here.

I recently wrote an article for Relevant Magazine about how Bob Goff exploded my life – more on that here.

Also, I have had the privilege of talking to several folks in recorded podcasts/broadcasts.  The first was the Eric Metaxas Show, the second was with Dan Darling of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention, and the third was with Mike Schutt of the Christian Legal Society.

A few days later, I was invited to kick off Justice Week at Oaks Christian High School with a talk to the entire school, which is now on youtube here.

I will endeavor to chronicle on this blog, Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter Henry’s adventures around the country over the next five weeks.  Thanks for following along.

One final note – if you are planning to buy the book, I would be grateful if you did so in the next week or so, as initial sales figures are rather important.  Also, if you would be so kind as to provide a review of the book (once you have finished it) on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and/or Goodreads, I would be much obliged, as my publisher tells me that the sooner we reach a critical mass on these, the better.