Seriously though, don’t leave home (or at least the country) without it. Here is our usage of duct tape this week:

1. Patching up the hole in the tortilla bag so they don’t go stale after the puppies foiled attempt at junk food.

2.Even though you have perfectly good wallets in your drawer, a duct tape wallet is just cool.

3.Getting the Christmas tree back into its original box once the branches have been fluffed out is just darn impossible.

4.And last but not least, what else do you do when you live in a country with no Walgreens or medical supply stores?

Blessed Be Your Name in the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Two weeks ago, our friends Josh and Damon arrived here in UB, as a matter of fact on the very day we sang this song in church. That same evening Cori and I went to the airport at midnight to say goodbye to two very dear friends. We grew very close to Diana and her daughter Rachel during a mother-daughter Bible study we did together this summer. Yesterday we returned to the airport to wave goodbye to Josh and Damon as they returned to the US. We feel incredibly blessed by the abundance of friendships that God has given us over the years. Blessed be His name.

Blessed Be Your name when I’m found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

We were anticipating receiving new teammates this week. Richel and Melody Maraat with their three children, Adrian, Ana and Abi left their home in the Philippines last week. They planned to stay 5 days in China to obtain their visa and join us in time for Field Forum. It seems that God had other plans. Upon their arrival into China, the two girls were sent to quarantine due to flu-like symptoms. Richel and his son had to continue on to Beijing in order to claim all their luggage. It has now been confirmed that the girls have the H1N1 virus and must remain in isolation for at least seven days for treatment. A family separated, sickness and in a strange country where you don’t speak the language. Where is God in that? “Lo, I am with you always.” That’s the promise. So while we don’t understand, we commit our dear friends to the loving care of God and trust Him. There is no place like the wilderness to learn to trust His heart when you can’t trace His hand. Blessed be His name.

Blessed be Your name when the sun’s shining down on me
When the world’s ‘all as it should be’
Blessed be Your name

I’m just going to have to share details here for you to get this one. Josh and Damon had asked us for a list of things we would like them to bring. We love friends, and especially when they come bearing gifts, and extra-especially when those gifts include coffee and chocolate! We felt blessed big time when they unloaded their suitcases. Josh informed me he had been able to get everything on the list except the Oreo cookies, because he was afraid they would be crushed by the time they arrived. That’s a pretty big accomplishment. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was going to crush them anyway, because they were going to be the crust to Jonathan’s birthday cheesecake. Especially since all his personal items were covered in cornmeal. The container just couldn’t handle the air pressure changes and his bag looked like a cornmeal factory explosion.

I was too excited about the jello to care. You see, I had meant to specify “peach” jello, because Bernie had been wishing for a peach pie that I used to make every summer when there were fresh peaches. The recipe called for peach jello. But in all the hectic days prior to their arrival I forgot to email and say, “Hey could you pick up a box of peach jello.” Would you like to guess what flavor the first box of jello I pulled out of the bag was? Yep. Peach. Some of you skeptics are thinking…coincidence. I’m about to make it harder on you.

Remember how I talked about the abundance of friends we have coming and going? Cori had to say goodbye to two more friends, Ben and Megan. They had only been here nine months, when the mining company their dad worked for sent them back home to Australia. Cori got a message from Megan asking if we would like some of the things from their pantry they wouldn’t be able to use. Of course, I wasn’t going to turn that down, expecting a bag of flour and sugar, maybe a bottle of ketchup or something.

The doorbell rang on Tuesday morning, two days after I had finished putting away all the goodies. Ben and Megan were at the door with a couple of bags. I thanked them and went to get Cori. They said, “We’re going down for more.” In total, when they had made five trips up five flights of stars, we had over a dozen bags of groceries. I don’t mean the little plastic Kroger bags. I mean tote bags. I felt like I had just robbed Sam’s Club. And right there on the top of the first bag was – drum roll, please – a huge box of Oreo cookies. Would you like to guess what was at the bottom of the bag? Corn meal that was still in the container!

Bernie had been looking for the spice Rosemary a few days ago, but I didn’t have any. There was a bulk sized container of Rosemary. So not only do we now have Rosemary, but so does Christina, Haniki, Marlene and Diane.

Not only were we blessed, but four other families came to visit and left with bags full of things that were just what they needed. There was a large container of “Fairy Dust” sprinkles that had Bekah Wahlen’s name written all over it. I can’t count the amount of times our friends and co-workers said, “Oh, I was needing some of that.” “Now I don’t have to have that shipped from …”

It took me two days to sort through it all and find a place to put everything. God knew and he used someone I didn’t even know to shine some sunshine into our lives. He also knew I was going to need the encouragement of seeing His love for me in the little things. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering
Though there’s pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

On Wednesday we celebrated Jonathan’s 17th birthday. Then on Thursday, we called to say Happy Birthday to my Uncle Gerald in the US. My Aunt Gwen is at the end of a very long battle with cancer. She is at the phase where they are simply trying to keep her pain free as much as possible. The family is all there…except me. When I saw her over our holidays at Christmas I had hopes that she would be there when we came on home assignment next year and that when I left it wasn’t our last goodbye. But now I probably won’t even make her funeral.

We read the news of a fellow missions family with AIM (African Inland Mission). The husband and father of four young children was killed in a plane crash. How our hearts grieve with them. We want to ask “Why?” But there will seldom be easy answers. What do we do?

Every blessing You pour out I’ll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord

We are not promised pain-free lives here. We are promised that God is always with us. We are promised that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. So with tears in our eyes and lumps in our throat we still say it. Blessed be your glorious Name.

You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

It is a choice, isn’t it? Rarely easy. Either because we are so caught up with the blessing that we forget or we’re so overwhelmed by the pain we feel that we can’t. But there is freedom and joy when we get there. And God is glorified and light shines to the darkness.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

** A special thanks to Matt Redman for the lyrics to this song that expresses so eloquently what I cannot.

It was our joy and privilege to participate in the first Baptism service of Cornerstone Church of All Nations. For those of you who aren’t aware of this, a key part of our ministry this year has been helping with the formation of an International Church here in UB. Bernie is serving in the capacity of Interim Pastor and Renee’ is helping out with miscellaneous committees, like planning the first church picnic and baptism service.

The original date was a Saturday afternoon, but that was canceled due to rain and cold weather. Monday afternoon the sun was shining through the blue Mongolian sky. And the change of plans worked its way quickly and effectively through the grapevine, so we were pleasantly surprised that the turnout did not seem to be affected at all.

In typical fashion the directions we had mapped out three weeks previously were no longer accurate but with the help of cell phones we all congregated relatively easily. Jan proved he was as adept with a grill as he was the electric guitar. Our Filipino girls whipped out some chicken that was so good Jonathan was eating it off the grill and the ground. Of course, Bernie’s hamburgers were as tasty as ever even though they did get a little mutilated by being turned with a knife because we forgot the spatula.

There was baseballs and gloves, footballs and frisbees and Cori and the girls managed to entertain themselves without any of those, which was fine with the guys.

The rain that canceled the picnic on Saturday did a good job answering our prayer of three weeks ago – “Lord, please send more water so we can find a deep enough spot for dunkin’!” Well, the pictures prove that was answered abundantly, as we searched for a place where the baptismees wouldn’t get swept down river in the current.

But nothing can compare to the joy of hearing the testimonies of the five young people being baptized. Bernie baptized his first Mongolian believer, then two friends of Cori’s, one Dutch, one American and also the children of our Swiss friends, Marcus and Gertrud. Even the icy cold water couldn’t dampen their spirits. Our Mongolian sister came up from the water and clapped. It is awesome to see that kind of spirit.

So…enjoy our pictures and rejoice with us in the small role we played in this kingdom process and know that we are grateful from the bottom of our hearts to those of you whose prayers, gifts, support and sacrifice made it possible for us to be here.

Those who are astute, probably saw the previous paragraph for what it was: a disclaimer; not about the election, but about our ability to assess things accurately. That said, this is my observation: as the world increasingly wants to separate itself from things Christian, we as Christians want to increasingly try to reign them back in. Renee’, what in the world are you talking about now? No, I’m not just rambling as I wait for the pizza dough to rise. I do have a point.

I see and hear people talking about the need to “Keep Christ in Christmas.” As more and more places of secular employment move from “Merry Christmas” to “Happy Holidays” and as our cities are allowed to put up “Holiday trees” instead of “Christmas trees,” I understand the frustrations.

However, I can’t help but wonder if the issue isn’t that we are insisting on non-believers keeping Christ in Christmas. Perhaps we need to address what we as believers take out of Christmas. We know that the Holidays are becoming increasingly secularized. Could the reason be because those of us who profess to follow Christ have allowed the secular in first? Perhaps we need to ask ourselves: what is the most important thing about Christmas for us? If we answer “Christ”, we must honestly assess how we spend our holidays and ask if that is what others see in us. It is so easy to allow other things to be most important. Obviously, that includes gifts and material things. Could it be the food? Family? Traditions? Sentimentality?

Our family deliberately never celebrated Santa Claus for this reason. There can only be one center, and we knew we would never be able to keep Christ there with Santa around. That is what we had to take out in order for Christ to be where He ought to be during the Holidays. I invite you to join me in asking God if there is anything in our lives that needs to go — “Take ________ out of Christmas.” Only then can Christ truly be the center.

When the phone call came today, it wasn’t just any ordinary Saturday. It was Cori’s birthday and in less than an hour, she would have friends arriving. Not only was the pizza not finished, but I didn’t even have her cake in the oven. Never have I been so unprepared for one of my children’s birthdays. To top it all off, I just wanted to go to bed. I have somehow managed to come down with four different ailments at once (which I won’t go into). So just finishing this task would take more energy than I really had.

Ah, but that’s not all. I had promised Jonathan two weeks ago, that we would host a Christmas Open House (okay, I confess, I love it – normally). Because I’ve been sick, I haven’t been able to do any advance preparations. So that is ahead. And sometime in the next 48 hours I had to finish laundry (without a dryer, remember) and pack, while leaving a clean house for the two Mongolian girls who will be staying here with Sadie.

As soon as I heard the ring, I thought to myself, “We can’t do anything else.” The Mongolian lady started talking to Bernie about the center and water. This would be the place to tell you that after months of renovations and endless shopping trips, the UB Student Center officially opened last night. This past week had gone so well. After the initial trips when we couldn’t find anything that worked, things were falling in place, right down to the cups with sheaves of wheat and the thermoses that matched the wallpaper. Bernie and Onon and I were so pleased to see the fruit of all our weeks of work. A lovely, peaceful place was finally ready for students to come and find a quiet place to study. Then next month, when we arrive back from the US, we could start scheduling events.

We knew that the heater in the front room had been leaking, so Bernie finished what he was doing and grabbed a few towels, expecting to go wipe up some water. He never dreamed he would open the front door and walk into a sauna. The radiator, heated by scalding hot water had burst in the middle of the night and was spraying water into the room. It was literally raining in the room from the steam that would condensate on the ceiling. The walls were wet. The furniture that we spent hours shopping for and having built was wet. Everything was wet.

With the help of teammates, Dennis and Eric, Bernie and Onon spent the next couple of hours cleaning and assessing the damage. The floors that Bernie has labored so long on will have to be redone. The ceilings that Soggi had painted for us will have to be repainted. We are hopeful that the wallpaper will not have to be replaced. Bernie’s guitar is fine (Hallelujah!) but we don’t know yet about the keyboard. The new rug is wet, but should dry, as we hope will the upholstered chairs. We believe that the wood furniture will still be usuable.

So, human nature automatically calls up the question: “Why did this happen?” and even, “Why, God, did You allow this to happen?” The question is not wrong — as long as the heart believes. We have the opportunity to choose to believe that God is on His throne. He was not taken by surprised. He was not out-maneuvered by our enemy who seeks to kill, steal and destroy. He chose to trust us to trust Him. To know that He is more than able to work this for good and for the glory of His kingdom. We’re not sure how or when. We don’t even know if we will ever be able to say, “Oh, this is why God allowed that to happen.” What we do know is that by His grace we as a team give thanks – not for the mess, but for the God Who is able to triumph in spite of the mess. We give thanks for timely words from Scripture that are there before we know we will need them. And most of all, this Christmas, we give thanks because He is Immanuel, God with us – even in a sopping wet Student Center.

In our family devotions last week, Bernie referenced the verse where Jesus tells His disciples that if someone takes their coat, they are to give their shirt as well. “Give to everyone who asks of you…� (Luke 6:29, 30). Cori then raised the question that we wrestle with internally all the time. “If this is what Jesus said, why don’t we give money to the street children?�

Wanting to make sure my daughter is well informed and well trained, I looked at her and gave her my best answer.

“I don’t know.�

And I don’t. Oh, I know what I tell myself. They just have to give it to someone else who will use it to buy vodka (true almost all the time, though I have seen them use it to go buy food). I know that if I gave money every time I was asked, pretty soon we would have nothing left and would have to return to the US and work at McDonalds.

We’ve tried just giving them food, and do this sometimes. But this isn’t really a long term solution. Imagine sitting in one of the nicer restaurants with your husband on your anniversary, and one of the street children slips past the hostess and stands at your tables and looks at your food and says, “I’m hungry.� I wanted to get up and give him my chair. The waiter came and shooed him away, but my appetite was gone. Yet, what would happen to the restaurant’s clientele if everyone gave in to the street children who came in? Then you’d have a restaurant owner out of business.
Not long ago, the young guy that we have singled out caught me as I was going into the grocery store. He offered to wash my car, but I didn’t have time as I just planned to run in and run out. So he rubbed his stomach and said, “I’m hungry.� I nodded, and he knows us well enough to know that we usually try to buy him food. Then he looked at me, and placed his order. “Ham.� Well, that didn’t set so well. I wanted to buy him a package of spinach or a carrot or something.

How do you move from giving out bread to seeing them realize their need for the Bread of Life? How do we as “rich� Americans bridge the gap between our world and theirs? I leave the encounter and go to a warm home. They leave and go who knows where, some to homes, but others to sleep under the streets by the warm pipes. Especially when you know that is not the purpose God has sent you to this city to fulfill.

Jesus stated that the poor would always be here. But He didn’t leave us a detailed plan of how to deal with this. Oh how I wish He had. I ask myself, “What would Jesus do?� I DON�T KNOW. Obviously even He did not meet the need of every poor person.

This past summer I was sitting in church and had purchased a bottle of juice to drink because it was a hot day and there was no AC and little breeze. We were singing and a little street girl came to the doorway to listen. I turned around a saw her and smiled. She saw the juice in my hand and held out her hand for it. I was sitting toward the front and didn’t really want to take it back to her (and honestly didn’t want to give it up – I had already drank half of it). But every time I would look back she would hold out her hand. Needless to say I didn’t enjoy the service very much. On one hand it wasn’t a good precedent to set, but on the other, I felt guilty for not giving it to her. I shared this with Bernie later. He had given the message that day, and he told me that she had hung from the wrought iron bars and listened to the entire sermon. Perhaps had I given it to her she would have just left. Or maybe I just feel better if I tell myself that.

But back to our devotions. This is what we shared with Cori, after honestly sharing our own inner struggle. For us it has boiled down to this. Walk in the Spirit. The Spirit of God knows the will of the Father. There is a quote from one of our Christian forefathers that has meant much to us. “Learn to detect and obey the inward impulse of the Spirit of God.� It always comes back to this – a daily surrender of my life to God. When I am in the right place, walking in fellowship with Him, His Spirit will lead me, even in these little things.

That still doesn’t make it easy. It doesn’t mean we don’t still wrestle with it, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. I don’t think God wants us to boil our lives down to formulas and policies, even though those are sometimes necessary and helpful.

The big issue is for the church here. Please pray with us for a healthy, growing church that in love and compassion can do so much more than hand out a bag of peanuts. Pray for the church in Mongolia, that out of their love for God and compassion for people they would bridge the gap and share bread, thus paving the way for relationships where the Bread of Life is shared as well.

After our marriage (yes, we understand this is way back but bear with us) in 1989 — making next year the big 2 – 0 — we spent three years in Memphis in secular employment and lay ministry in an Alliance church there. We both felt called to missions and were taking time to adjust to life together and see exactly where we were to go.

Jonathan joined us in 1992 and just before his first birthday Bernie accepted a call to pastor a church in Franklin, Tennessee. Yes, we know. It was a surprise to us as well, but a very clear direction. God’s reasons for that were His own, but His wisdom in that was abundantly clear as we learned how to walk with Him in His work.

Cori was born our second year in Franklin. Faith Community Church was a great place for a young family and we got to walk through the parenting process with many good friends. It certainly had its ups and downs, but we loved our church family and totally enjoyed pastoral ministry.

As a matter of fact, it was our desire to stay there a very long time. But….

During our 13 years there we were able to take quite a few short term missions trips. This was something that had been an important part of our life as singles, and was a double blessing as a couple. There was still that spark deep down that had never died, however, so each time we would visit a field, we would be open to God. Was He calling us there? It seemed like no matter where we went, we always returned with a certainty that we were exactly in the place God would have us be. With that certainty came peace and joy.

That is until November 2003. As part of her ministry on a Missions Mobilization team through the C&MA national office, Renee’ took part in a conference in Thailand. Each of the eight team members were requested to lead an extension trip before or after that conference and of course as we are a team, Bernie was also able to participate (actually he did most of the work). We requested the China extension, but two other members who had been before were given those two trips. However, since you go through Beijing to get to Mongolia we were told that if we led that trip we could have a few days between to see China.

We had no idea that would be the life-changing trip. As a matter of fact, Mongolia was the first country we visited where Renee’ didn’t even want to go. We were barely here for a week. But that week we were able to spend with the Mongolian believers, became something we couldn’t forget. Just this week when asked her first impression of Mongolia as short termer replied, “I feel like I’ve come home.” Aaahh, we know the feeling.

When we returned home this time, we no longer had that sense that pastoral ministry in Franklin was what we were supposed to do. We had sat with little groups who were amazed that of our small team of seven, four of them were pastors. They just couldn’t believe there were four pastors in one room. There were very few pastors here, as a matter of fact few men believers.

God never wastes a situation. We would never say that God put us in pastoral ministry only to prepare us for Mongolia. God doesn’t do that. However, we see now that His purposes for us there were for more than ministry to that congregation. It was to prepare us for next assignment. As a matter of fact, most of our previous experiences have in some way been part of His training. We believe that is always the case for all of us.

So, to sum this up, we went home and after a few weeks we talked and realized we were both still not able to put Mongolia in the past. So we prayed. We had several reasons why we could not come to Mongolia. We’re grateful for those hurdles. We saw them come down, one by one, as God confirmed His call. In the fall of 2004 we made the phone call to the candidate office of the C&MA. We spent the next year in the applicant process. In December 2005 we were officially approved and in January 2006 dropped the bomb to our family and friends. We left the US for Ulaanbaatar July 24, 2006.

Now our newbie readers know The Rest of the Story.

It’s a message I find myself needing to hear over and over again. Interestingly enough, it was the final message of our Field Forum and I needed to hear it that day as much as I ever have. I’ve found myself too often recently worrying about my life here and now and what I like about it and what I don’t. It hasn’t taken long to realize that just because I have made sacrifices doesn’t mean I am on a daily basis dying to my life in this world. And that is the only way to a fruitful, unwasted life.

I was reminded again that when the corn of wheat dies it produces much fruit. The potential of an acorn is not just a tree, it is a forest. At the same time (August 7) I was hearing again the message I heard first from Mr. Carroll, that dear servant passed into the presence of his Jesus.

I have sometimes wondered how many who truly believe will enter into the Presence of the Father and actually hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Certainly not all will. But if anyone I have ever known personally will hear those words, it will be Joseph Carroll. At the early age of 18 he determined to be a corn of wheat. From his service in the Australian army in World War II to his ministry to missionaries in Japan to his years in a small Bible school in South Carolina, pouring his life into young men and women, his life was not wasted.

The fruit of his life has resulted in trees on every continent (except of course Antarctica). There are at least four here in Mongolia. I don’t know about the others, but if this tree stands firm, it will of course be by the grace of God, but it will also be because I learned from Mr. Carroll how to live. Here are just a few lessons that I learned from him that have carried me through 15 years of ministry:

I owe him more than I could repay, more than I could ever express. But I know that nothing would repay him more than that I also live the unwasted life of a corn of wheat.

“I want to die and let you give
Your life to me that I might live
And share the love you gave to me
I want to share the love that set me free.” (Keith Green)

I love a good crisis. You know how when you are driving down the highway and traffic is blocked in both directions, one side because of an accident and the other side because of the rubberneckers? I’m causing the problem. Not the accident, the other direction. I’ve now laid it all out there. I am a rubbernecker.

I loved it in the US when something would happen and it would go to 24 hour news coverage. While most desperate housewives were crying about their soaps, I was glued to the tube. If Lisa Patten ever retires from News 2, I will feel like I’ve lost a friend. We’ve tracked many storms together.

Now that I’ve made my true confessions, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to stay indoors the last four days? I wanted so badly to go check things out. I was really ticked when the Mongolian government forced the local TV stations off the air and I had to watch CSI Miami instead of the Mongolians throwing Molotov cocktails. Hey…Bernie was gone, the kids were gone and the dog was asleep. What else is a night owl supposed to do?

If my parents were aware of the riots at the time they were going on, they probably would be surprised to know I didn’t go check things out. I come by this honestly. When I was a little girl growing up in rural Tennessee, it was a big deal if the fire sirens went off. Those were exciting times. You see, my dad was the insurance agent for a large percentage of the town, and it was only right that he should follow the fire trucks and be there to assess the claims and assure his clients that they would be well cared for. Sometimes I got to go with him. Later when I was old enough to drive and hang out with friends, I would run into him there.

Here is a favorite Majors’ family story for anyone still reading. We took a family vacation through New England, including Hyannis Port, Massachusetts. For those of you over 35, you may remember a news story revolving around Senator Ted Kennedy, and the unfortunate death of a young woman at the Chappaquiddick River (if you don’t Wikipedia it). We had a rental car and had taken the ferry over (two of them if I remember correctly). We were in the area and decided to drive and see where this had taken place.

Now Nancy Drew (oops I mean me) immediately became suspicious when I saw that this river was about as deep as the water that stands in your driveway after a gulley washer. I wanted to drive across the bridge as well and see what was on the other side. My Dad, good sport that he is, thought that was a good idea. My Mom calmly pointed out the sign that said “Four wheel drive vehicles onlyâ€? which our rental wasn’t. I don’t remember if my brother took his nose out of his Hardy Boys mystery long enough to weigh in or not. Curiosity won out over common sense and we drove on over. We probably weren’t five yards from the bridge when we ceased all forward motion. There wasn’t any reverse motion either. The only motion I remember was my Mom’s lips saying “I told you so.â€?

Suffice it to say, we made the last ferry by the skin of our teeth after paying some guy money to pull us out with his winch. As it turned, you could see the thoughts turning as well, primarily something about stupid southerners and not being able to read. All I have to say about the matter is “What in the world was Kennedy doing that night?�

So…hopefully the calm that is over Ulaanbaatar is around for a while, but if you should see on the news that they are rioting again, don’t be surprised if you see a short, red-headed foreigner with a camera in the middle of the whole thing.

Doing laundry is such a long process and the further you get into the process the worse it gets. I don’t really mind the sorting part – that’s kind of like a game. Then the machine part isn’t so bad. But when you get to the folding and putting away, that’s just no fun at all. Probably the worst of all is the socks. I might enjoy the matching part if there was always a match. It seems like ever since I left home as a college student I have had a “sock bag.” The sock bag is the place where the socks with no mates go. Sooner or later some of them turn up. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure there are socks in my bag that has been waiting for a mate since those college days.

I’ve learned something since moving here. The explanation I have always heard is that the socks actually go missing in the dryer. Like there is some kind of black hole there or a mysterious suction device that snags them up never to be seen again. Perhaps they are hanging out with all the emails that have ended up in cyberspace somewhere instead of the intended mailbox. I have proved that is not true. How do I know? Well, primarily because we don’t have a dryer. We hang our clothes on racks to dry. Yet in the last two years, socks have been disappearing at an exponential rate. So maybe the washing machine has actually been absorbing the socks, but shifting the blame to the dryer. We have one of those, so it could be a possibility. Of course, just because I find socks between the couch cushions and under the shoe rack doesn’t mean anyone should take personal responsibility. But to be fair, I must share the conclusion that the dryer definitely has gotten a bum rap.

(This is our current dryer. The photo above is the dryer we wish we had…)