Eight Flies with One Swat--Tales from the Mountain Tops and Valleys Below--#2

Yes, truly, eight flies with one swat. We were soon to be surrounded by many different critters as you will see in the photos below. But first—let me acknowledge the sources for the materials in these blogs about our years in Nepal. Bill’s parents plus our good friends Martin and Deidre Bobgan, kept every letter we ever wrote them. So now we have those, in addition to my own personal journals. So you are getting “source” materials here and not just memories!

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Our first several months in Kathmandu were spent in intensive language study of Nepali. Hari was our daily tutor and we worked very hard to practice both the verbal and written language. Devangri, the written script, is not easy. I’ll paste the local greeting of “Namaste” here for your to see.

नमस्ते

We had been much looking forward to soon heading to our tribal assignment with the Tharu people of southern Nepal. But while we were in language study in Kathmandu, Jonathan became quite ill with pneumonia. He was admitted to the mission hospital twice. You can imagine how difficult this was. During this season we learned how powerful Satan comes on and how through prayer and fasting, Jesus puts him in his place.

Jonathan was almost a year old now and very verbal. His first word (besides the voiceless “cookie” at eight months) was not mama or dada, but “icture.” He loved pictures on the wall and went around pointing to them all. One letter said that “His massive vocabularly includes door (which he opens and closes), miste for 'Namaste,' the Nepali greeting, and da, which means everything else.”

To get ready for living in a Tharu village, we first had to make a trip down to the village location to find housing. Because there was much stuff to take, including a 300 watt generator (there was no electricity for miles around), Bill took a truck down the Raj Pat, possibly one of the windiest and most dangerous roads in southeast Asia. Jonathan and I followed by a small Cessna plane to Bharatpur, the nearest airstrip town. Wycliffe’s partner JAARS provided air transportation to local towns for all the Wycliffe teams--a great blessing.

Bharatpur was seven miles from where the Tharus live. During this first trip to explore the land, we were able to rent a room in a local village, Tarni Bazaar (also known as Ratnanagar). This was not part of the Tharu village we were going to, as a house there was not yet available and ready. The local room cost us the equivalent of $4 a month. It was large enough for us to all sleep in and cook in. Here's a photo of Jonathan outside our front door with two goats, a dog and a local girl who liked to hold him.

Our friend and house helper, Sita, came with us to help care for Jonathan and cook, and she lived with us in this rented room. One day a pan of boiling water fell off the burner and severely burned Sita’s left arm and stomach. We took her into Bharatpur where a Nepali doctor cleaned and dressed it and treated her with shots and medication. It was God’s grace that she lived. Without house help, I had to wash all Jonathan’s diapers by hand for the first time in my life. The photo here is our room from the outside, complete with diapers and baby clothes on the line.

Within the first week we also were robbed of all our cash by someone who had tried to pose as a friend. So we were learning to love and forgive from the very beginning. But one of the hardest things was the heat and humidity and flies, huge cockroaches, mice, and critters that shared our room. One day I actually killed eight flies with one swat. As monsoon season approached, it seemed to rain all the time, so outside was quite muddy too.Then Jonathan and I got quite sick with bronchitis. There were many new experiences that were challenges, but I wrote, “We have much for which to praise HIM. And do.”

The biggest miracle during this time was meeting Ram Kissan Rawat, who would be our Tharu language helper and eventually the first follower of Jesus among the Tharu people. Ram's parent had a “premonition” that someone important was coming that Ram would meet and work with. So when we asked if he could spend the monsoon season with us in Kathmandu, they were very supportive of him doing so. This picture is of Kissan's parents and one of his sisters. The cowdung house with tile roof was typical.

With his help, we returned to Kathmandu and began language study. This photo is of Kissan and Bill hard at work. How grateful to God we were and are that He brought Kissan into our lives.

Let me give you an overview of what it took to get to where we lived in the village.

1. First you fly from Kathmandu to Bharatpur in a small plane that landed on a bumpy dirt airstrip.
2. Then you, and all your luggage, walk trying to find a local bus that makes the seven mile trip to Tarni Bazaar, the town where we first stayed.
3. From there, you walk half a mile south down the road toward the Elephant Camp.
4. You arrive at our village, Devauli, our new home. Whew, it was never an easy thing, but each time Father provided all we needed.

There was one English speaking church in Kathmandu at the time we were there, named Rabi Bhawan. Every Sunday coffee and tea were served after the service. I think I can identify some of our co-workers and friends in the background--Jessie and Warren Glover, and Dick Hugoniot!

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Philippians 4:6-7: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

The song that rings in my heart for this season is "Great is Your Faithfulness, Oh, God my Father." Great is Thy Faithfulness music and words

"Great is Thy faithfulness,” O God my Father,
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.

Chorus
“Great is Thy faithfulness!” “Great is Thy faithfulness!”
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
“Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!

Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

The Ends of the Earth and the Cold Cement Floors of Kathmandu, Nepal - Tales from the Mountain Tops and Valleys Below - #1

Mount Everest, Nepal

Missionaries are supposed to go to the ends of the world, right? And who gets to choose where those ends end? It was all in Father's plan book. We had asked for an assignment to Russia since Bill had studied Russian (which he had tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me on our honeymoon!). But Russia, as a country, was not open to linguists or Bible translators and the relationship between the US and Russia was not overly friendly. 

So Wycliffe assigned us to Nepal. It sounded like a great assignment with the Himalayas and Mt. Everest. But this country also had a challenging political climate, one that did not allow citizens to "change religions." Our job there was to be linguistic technicians. Our group planned to analyze the more than 30 unwritten languages in Nepal (not counting dialects) and to provide written works of "high moral value." We would get one of those 30 people groups to work among and come to love.

Before Bill and I met, and I was hoping to go to the ends of the earth, I told the Lord I would go anywhere.....but please don't send me to India. I'm not sure why, just seemed like a harder place to live. So the Lord, in His kindness, sent me to a country just north of India, a country that shared many cultural similarities and challenges.

After Bill finished his final linguistic courses in Norman, Oklahoma, we began to pack up all we thought we would need for the next five years in Nepal. Five years was a normal term  in those days before the team got time back home. Back then you didn't fly home every year. It was a lifetime commitment to go and stay where He sent you. 

We also needed to spend time on the road around the west coast sharing the work we would be doing with friends and family and then trust the Lord for financial provision. We found many friends who committed to pray for us and some who were able to give. We, as yet, didn't know how greatly we would need and depend on those prayers and the God who answered in many mysterious and wonderful way.

We had loving friends and family send us off at the LA Airport. You can see us all here. I’m not sure who took the picture, but I’m glad we have it. Jonathan was 8 months old when we left. He began walking at 7 months (he's always been precocious), and he entertained the stewardesses by walking up and down the aisle. The flight wasn't even half full so they had time to play with him and we had time to rest.

From the left moving towards the back: Bill and Jonathan, me, my sister Nancy, her husband Orv, our good friend Marilyn Pendleton, Bill's Dad, and John and Kathy Watters. In the front is my mother, Bill's mother, and another Wycliffe single lady named Becca travelling with us to Nepal (she later married a Nepali named Hari who was our first language teacher).

We flew from LA to Tokyo and stayed there a couple of days; the father of our travelling companion Becca wanted us to have a good time on the trip and sponsored the stay in Tokyo. Then on to Kathmandu through Calcutta. By the time we arrived we were exhausted. We also weren't prepared for the cold weather with cold cement floors and no central heating. There was only one kerosene heater for the whole small apartment. So many things were different. I wrote about the differences three days after arrival and then again three weeks later. At the end of this blog is what what I wrote, a bit dog-eared with age but still fresh. So read them if you want to learn more about Nepal over 40 years ago and the difference three weeks can make in perspective...at least in mine!

In our packing, we included a trunk of Gerber baby food. I’m not sure what we thought Nepalese babies lived on, but we wanted to be sure Jonathan had what he was used to while he transitioned to local food. As it turned out, he adjusted well to the Nepalese rice and lentils and dahi (yogurt) and didn't need all that Gerber baby food! Good thing since the trunk didn't arrive for several weeks. Lost in airspace.

Here are a couple photos from those first days.

Jonathan is "helping" us unpack (!) and Bill is cooking on the kerosene burners in our apartment kitchen. We were grateful someone loaned us a high chair.

And so our years of life in Nepal had begun. We were excited for this new adventure with Him, and full of hope and trust. Little did we know that He had brought us here to change us and our hearts more than just to work with the people we would come to love. We thought we were there to translate the Bible into an unwritten language and help these indigenous people come to love and trust Him. Well, that's what happened too, but it turned our lives upside down and inside out in the process, as you will read in the upcoming Tales from the Mountain Tops.

And Then There Were Three....Not Four: The Arrival of Jonathan Milo Leal

Yes, the arrival of one baby, not two, was the next big happening in our lives. From Mexico we returned to Santa Barbara to await his birth. It was good to have my mother, the nurse, not far from our apartment. And God provided a place to live when we traded locations with Bob and Jan Mugele. They were going to Jungle Camp and had an apartment to let out and we had some jungle camp supplies no longer needed. We didn't have much furniture, but it was home and it wasn't in a jungle.

We waited for the due date, March 31. It came and went. Days went by. But still my labor didn't move forward. Soon two weeks had gone by. I began to wonder if I was really pregnant. I had one false labor and then finally felt something stronger begin to happen on April 15. We were looking forward to a natural delivery and had practiced the exercises. After waiting 24 hours at home for contractions to be closer, we went ahead in to the hospital. We were part of a county plan for those with very low income, so had to wait for the doctor on call. And that night, it was very busy with babies seeming to being born every hour. The doctors were busy catching THOSE babies, not ours.

After 16 hours in hospital, they broke my waters. Still no baby.  By this time I was so exhausted and felt close to being delirious. I have no idea how many contractions I had, and hard ones after the water broke. We were most grateful to have a doctor friend in his residency working that night. Dr. Steve and Karen Lynip were friends from church, and future Wycliffe missionaries to the Philippines, and they were looking out for us and our baby. 

When the doctors took an x-ray, they found that Jonathan's head was too large to fit through. We also learned then that he was just one baby! After 28 hours in the hospital, they finally took me to surgery for a C-Section. So at 7:58, on April 16, 1970, Jonathan Milo came into our lives. He weighed 8 pounds and 3½ ounces and was 22½ inches long. And he was really cute!

I remember when they were wheeling me out of surgery and told me I had a little boy, I was thrilled. When they brought him to me, it was love at first sight. I'm not sure I forgot the pain, but I knew the joy was much greater. I spent the next ten days in the hospital, recovering. That was a normal time back in those days. But it was a good time for Jonathan and I and Bill to all get acquainted before the move home. 

After his arrival, Grandma Munroe/Martin was there to help, and Grandma and Grandpa Leal arrived very soon to meet their newest grandson, and the only one with the Leal last name. Now Grandma Leal had magic hands. She could calm him down when he was crying and when nothing or no one else could. I know they prayed a lot for Jonathan.

Jonathan turned out to be a really good baby. He slept the night by the time he was one month and also took long afternoon naps. But when he was awake he was really awake and oh, so active! He babbled a lot and I, the burgeoning linguist, recorded every sound I heard him make! 

• First week, all vowels 
• Next two weeks vowels plus g and k
• 4th week ngu which sounded like Agnew 
• 5th week laterals and r and babbles 1/2 hours at a time
• By 2 months he was putting two syllables together as "gugu" and mimics "ank-you." 
• He tried out Da-ty and Mama at nine months and liked to sing and hum up and down the scale. 
• At 10 months he said "Hi" and lifted his hand in the air. 
• At 11 months he did the local greeting of "Namaste," putting his hands together. His biggest word was "iture" which meant picture. He was fascinated by pictures on the wall and used his index finger to point to everything on the wall, 100 times a day.

When he was about three months old, we took him to church to dedicate him to the Lord. It was a special time of releasing him from us to Him for His purposes and plan. We continue to trust Him for His best for Jonathan today, dearly beloved son.

At 12 months he and Daddy invented their first game. Bill said Jon to him one day, and he said Da with the same intonation. Bill said Jon, Jon and he said, Da, da, then on to Jon, Jon, Jon and Da, da, da. He was quite clever with patterns, and rhymes and he picked up just as much Nepali as English in his early years. By 18 months he was talking in sentences such as "wanna see it."  At 20 months he started combinging Nepali and English sentences such as "duita cars" meaning two cars and "hummy sidhiyo" meaning our bunny died, is finished (we were raising rabbits for food). At two years he loved nursery rhymes and learned several new ones a day. He also liked to tease Daddy by calling him "Bill."

In his first year of life he had many firsts: walked at 7 months, said his first word at 8 months (voiceless "cookie" which meant graham cracker), and moved to Nepal at 8 months. He was walking up and down the aisles of the plane as we traveled and the airline stewardesses loved to watch him and play with him. He quickly adjusted to Nepali food and loved daal bhaat (rice and lentils) and buffalo milk from an early age. When he was 11 months he took the spoon from me and insisted on feed himself from then on. Sure wish we had digital cameras back then too! But for now, here is a picture of Jonathan Milo Leal, the wonder baby--and his first birthday! You can see he was more interested in the candle and fire than the cake!

Psalm 127:3-4: Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. (And we were definitely rewarded AND in our youth at 22 and 24 years old.)

Jonathan's favorite song as a young child was, Father, I Just Thank You for Making Me, Me: The Butterfly Song

OK, I'm ahead of our move to Nepal, so that's all until the next blog!

Jungle Survival was the Name of the Game: Advanced Base

During the next ten weeks of our Jungle Camp experience, the adventure went deeper. After arriving at Advanced Base, we had to build our own champa and furniture to live in. Bill did really well working with a local man as he put up thin walls and a thatch roof. It looked something like the photo here, with plastic on top of the thatch roof.

Bill built a bed for our sleeping bags and a table and chairs for eating. I wish we had a picture of this eating arrangement as one chair was way too high and one way too low (you might recall the previous experience of him with the block and plane) . Here we played card games of Rook and drank lemon grass tea fresh from the jungle with our neighbors, and good-friends, Carl and Sharon Kotapish. When I told Grandson Ethan this story, he did a water color of our champa in the jungle with the table and two sizes of chairs! He put in a pond too, which wasn't there (artist's license?)!

One unexpected thing we encountered here was army ants. One day while we were resting we "heard" them coming. Thousands of ants all marching toward our champa. We moved out of their way as quickly as we could, watching in fascination as they climbed up and down our walls and took whatever bugs they could find. We watched them spin and take one very large spider. It all happened within an hour and they were gone, on to the next champa. If you've never seen army ants in action, you need to watch this brief National Geographic video: Army ants in action

We also encountered a lot of jungle animals during this stay. One day I was walking down the trail and met a possum. I stopped. He stopped. I looked him in the eye and he rolled over and played, well, dead like a possum! I quietly stepped away and got Bill and another camper who came back and killed the possum for us to cook and share. First we marinated it, then we pressure cooked it. Finally it was ready for the feast. However, when it sat on the table ready to be eaten, all I could think of were his eyes--his doleful eyes. I couldn't eat a bite, though some meat would have been nice.

Learning to build and use a raft from local materials was also one of the challenges needed for survival, as you can see below.

Then there was the survival hike. At some point during Advanced Base each person was taken away from their "home" to go on a "survival hike." You had to be READY at all times. All you could take with you was what you had on you (always a machete and water jug), so you learned to have as much on you as you could for such a time as this, typically a three day trip away. Husbands and wives went at different times.

Bill had an exciting time. He had been carrying lots of stuff for many days and hadn't yet been called. But when his time finally came, he didn't have a lot on him. He was stuck out there in the jungle with scant supplies.

He heard that a local fern called cheeb was edible and he tried eating it. Later, as he dealt with his nausea, a swarm of army ants came through the area. He moved off to the side and let them go through. He said it was the only time he's seen a spider jump, and even bounce, trying to get away from the ants.

After a day or two the staff divided the group into "survivors" and "searchers". He was among the searchers and they decided on a code word to call out to identify other members of his group. The word they chose was bodega which means storehouse, thinking about food, of which we had not had enough. As it turned out the other group had chosen the same tactic and the same word, bodega. As people with group sounded the cry and heard others, they had no idea they had actually found each other until one from each group saw each other. In the photo you can see him beginning to cross the bridge, returning from his survival experience.

They had a special survival hike for pregnant women (there were four of us) and took us all together. We each were taken out to the jungle and had to construct a make-shift tent in which to sleep for the night. The weather was not good, much rain that season, and the Jungle Camp directors had mercy on us. Unexpectedly they came and collected the expectant moms after dark so we didn't have to sleep there. When I got back, Bill was feeling low and missing his wife. He had let the fire in our stove go out, so I returned to a dark and cold champa. I,  tired and worn out and very pregnant, was hungry, uncomfortable, and not pleased! Bill eventually got the fire going and we ate and felt better.

In the end, the small plane came to pick us up a few of us at a time--if the weather was clear. We waited three days at the airstrip before it was clear enough for it to land. They allowed the VERY pregnant women and the families to return to civilization after Advanced Base, while others went on to some extended village living.

Jonathan was due to arrive the end of March and it was mid January when we returned, so I was about 7 months pregnant at the end. We were ready to head home, but had come to love God in new ways for how He had prepared us for the next stage of the journey.

Wycliffe's Theme Song: … is available at http://youtu.be/Tkzu_sz3EGQ 

Faith, Mighty Faith, the promise sees and looks to God alone.

Laughs at impossibilities, and shouts it shall be done. And shouts, and shouts "It shall be done!"

And shouts, and shouts "It shall be done!" Laughs at impossibilities, and shouts it shall be done.

Into the Jungles of Chiapas, Mexico: Main Base

Next it was time for Wycliffe’s biggest training ground—the "next" final frontier: Jungle Camp. We left Oklahoma and headed back to California to pack up for our next move to the jungles of southern Mexico.

We planned to take a train from the border down to Chiapas where we would meet up with other new recruits. My sister drove us to the border at Tijuana in our little VW bug and dropped us and our luggage. I was pregnant and rather emotional. It really helped in the following cross-cultural encounter.

In a nutshell we arrived at the border without proper documentation. Bill discussed options with the border police with no success. Here we were at the border with no transportation or anyone to call for help. The officers would not give us any leniency. They gave Bill a phone number to call. The person who answered gave him another phone number. This continued for a while. Finally the person who answered the phone told Bill to call Ponce de Leon and gave a phone number. Ponce de Leon was a famous early Spanish explorer and we finally understood we were being given the run-around. At this point, I sat down and cried. It was then that they weakened --when they saw the tears. They stamped our cards and let us pass through.

So we were out of the frying pan and heading into the fire. We made it to the train station, boarded the train for the three day train ride to southern Mexico. Thinking there would be food available, I only packed about a dozen peanut butter sandwiches, without jelly or jam, to hold us between meals. However, there was no food service and we had to grab food at the various stops. We ate a lot of peanut butter sandwiches. It was a very long and challenging trip down, but we finally made it to San Cristobal de las Casas.

Along with the other recruits we were oriented for a day and night while we recovering from the trip and then we moved out to Main Base in the jungles of southern Mexico, close to the border of Guatemala, for our first eight weeks of training. Here we were provided a small hut with bed and desk in which to live. The picture below shows what  they looked like. (All photos from Jungle Camp were kindly shared by good friends Carl and Sharon Kotapish.)

There was a common dining area where we all took turns preparing meals. Below, you can see Bill on the right, with Carl and Sharon, preparing a breakfast meal.

We ate very simply and whatever was cooked—even when someone forgot to put salt in the oatmeal! At Thanksgiving we had a wonderful turkey and at Christmas time when we were living in our champa at Advanced Base, we were generously given the gift of a tin of butter. What a treasure that was.

During this first eight week period we were taught skills of survival in the jungle. Two of the instructors were Spence and Lee Ann Wimer. They were very good friends from my Biola days; I was a bridesmaid in their wedding. During this time, I learned woodworking and the mechanics of a working engine. Bill recalls that he also tried to learn woodworking, but he could not plane a block of wood into a perfect square. He kept trying till all that was left was a splinter. I, on the other hand, came out with a nice perfect square.

We all had lessons in navigating a cold rushing river in a canoe, including managing capsizing skills for survival. Bill became quite capable at canoeing us out of danger. The river was called the Hatate (ha-ta-te). We dubbed it the Coldtate (cold-ta-te) because we had to bathe in it and it was icy cold! Learning to survive in a jungle environment on our own was one of the main goals and no small assignment.

We also made a three day trip to a local village, walking and by mule. We had to spend the night on the trail sleeping in a jungle hammock, tied to trees. To make it stable, we had to secure it to the ground. We tried. But we ended up falling out of it! Repeatedly. Not the nicest sleeping arrangement. We walked through rivers and a lot of mud. They had donkeys that they graciously let the pregnant women ride ... at times.

At one point there was so much mud, the shoe on my paralyzed foot came off and the mule stepped on it. We rescued and cleaned it and made it so I could wear it again. When we got to the village we were each assigned a village home to spend the night in. We slept there, but didn't do much sleeping. Besides trying sleep on a bench, we watched overhead as the herds of rats in the rafters made their nightly vigils. We were very glad to be back to our little huts in the campsite.

By now I was about six months along in the pregnancy and getting larger and larger. One of the other trainees was a doctor. He heard two heartbeats with his stethoscope and thought I was carrying twins. We later joked that our firstborn had the energy of twins and we were very glad he was only one! There were no ultrasounds back then, so we didn't know until his birth whether it would be one or two.

During this period at Main Base, we were assigned a paper to write (that was graded). I wrote mine on "How to Survive and Thrive While Pregnant at Jungle Camp." I know I survived, and the thriving was only by God's grace and goodness to meet me in my weakness.

Once the eight weeks were over, we were "ready" to move on to Advanced Base where we would learn and practice more advanced skills. All this was to prepare us for our field assignments in whatever country and village we were placed. Later during permanent field assignments, many lived in even harder situations than jungle camp, and some less difficult, but equally challenging. I'll tell you about our assignment in Nepal soon. But first we need to complete Jungle Camp ... in the next blog!

The UC Berkeley Year: Between the Wedding and the Jungles of Mexico:

Yes, we were some of those who lived through the 60's and survived! We witnessed a decade of key changes in our culture and country, some of which are described below. It was an exciting time. I'm grateful that God allowed us to experience what happened and that now we can reflect back with the eyes of faith. Romans 8:28 explains the view through which we see life with His perspective.

During Bill's year at UC Berkeley, to complete his BA in math, we lived in a small apartment very close to campus. During this year I learned to cook, though another of Bill's favorite cooking stories involves the lunches I would pack for him. We were on a very tight budget so sometimes I would buy and cook chicken necks. Guess how much meat you find on chicken necks? Not too satisfying. So we did find other foods like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

During this year, I substitute taught for the Berkeley Public Schools. This "happened" to be the first year of integration in these schools and there were often fights between blacks and whites on the playground. I was (am) short and was very young looking then. I was sometimes mistaken as a student. Once I was shoved around by some of the kids there, and another time was stopped by a faculty member who wanted to see my hall pass. But I loved the teaching and at the end of the year was offered one of 20 position openings for the next year. I was told there were 2000 applicants. I declined as we were heading towards Wycliffe, but felt quite honored.

It was a great year full of new and old friends. Bill had planned to room with John Watters that year before we were engaged, but of course that changed. Nevertheless, during that year, we spent many wonderful Sunday afternoons and evenings with John and Kathy discussing interesting philosophers and thinkers, eating fresh baked bread, and watching The Smothers Brothers and Goldie Hawn.

It was also the year of the political riots at UC Berkeley, 1968-1969. The flashpoint was an empty lot that the University had planned eventually to use for building. It was taken over by student radicals and named "People's Park." The University wanted it back and the police accommodated, violently. The result was a wave of riots. We lived on the same street as the park and and one day I came back to find our apartment street barricaded. I had to show my driver’s license to prove I lived there and get though. When I got home I was shocked to find Bill there quite different. He was clean-shaven! His mustache and beard were gone! The police had been rounding up and arresting anyone looking like a hippie and he didn't want to join them in jail.

OK, here's another example that reminds my husband of Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables) who said "I make lots of mistakes but I never make the same mistake twice."Out of my experience of this this year in the “integrated” schools I wrote a couple of articles about substitute teaching that got published. Being naive, I submitted to 2 different magazines and got accepted by both. The first journal, Grade Teacher, sent a $10 check which I promptly I cashed (a lot of money back then, especially for us). Then I wrote the other magazine to have them withdraw my submission. They replied by slapping my hand: it's bad manners to submit to two places at once. It was already being prepared for publishing though they had neglected to tell me. I learned my lesson.

After this year, we headed back to Oklahoma for Bill to take his first semester of linguistics and for us to apply to Wycliffe as a couple. We were very grateful when we passed the rigorous application process and were accepted to Wycliffe as Bible translators!  We would soon be headed to the jungles of southern Mexico for Jungle Camp.

During this summer I taught Phonology to first year students under the leadership of Dr. Dow Robinson and his wife Lois. Little did I know then what a key role they would play in the rest of my life.

Something else VERY big and important happened during this summer. I became pregnant with our first child who would soon be named Jonathan Milo Leal. We were excited, expectant parents! You’ll hear more about him soon.

To Wed or Not to Wed

Up to the day we were married, I wondered if I loved this man enough, like I "should." I wrestled with the whole idea of making such a big commitment to love someone deeply all my life. In the end, I acknowledged that it was Father who brought Bill and me together--it wasn't by my making. He, not me, arranged all those serendipities to bring our two lives together. And so by faith I embarked on the greatest adventure that two people can take together....to follow Jesus into the future and trust him through thick and thin.

Our wedding was very small and special. We wrote our own vows and took communion long before it became common to do so. Our music was only a beautiful horn, played by Wycliffe friend Dottie Herzog. We were married in a Plymouth Brethren church south of Oklahoma City. Only 18 people were present. The date was July 12, 1968. Bill was only 20 (and had to have his parents sign off on our marriage license) and I two years older. We were SO young. And now only three more years until our 50th anniversary!

You can see some of those present here. Janet Barnes, the friend who introduced us, is helping me with the veil. My sister, my bridesmaid, came out from California along with my mother and step-father.

 

 

We honeymooned in a small cabin at Lake Carl Blackwell. I wasn't a very good cook at the time and could only make spaghetti. So here’s one of Bill’s favorite stories: One night I tried to make instant mashed potatoes. However, first there was too much water, so I added more flakes. Then it was too dry so I added more water. This went on back and forth for several minutes. Soon we had a huge heap of potatoes to eat. After that we ate real potatoes and I learned how to cook some good recipes. Bill had studied Russian in college, thinking of going there for Bible translation. So finding a Russian tutorial on the TV in the cabin, he decided I should learn too. It's safe to say that not much Russian learning happened during that time.

So now I was Dotty Leal instead of Dotty Munroe. I guess nomads can change names. And this wasn't the first time I'd changed my name either. Much earlier, I had moved again, this time from Glendale to LaCrescenta right before seventh grade. I was wanting to be popular, so I told everyone my name was Dotty. I went by Dotty for the next 25 years. Later, during a season of inner healing, the Lord said my name was Dorothy, that I was a “gift of God,” something hard for me to believe. For me Dotty had been a people pleasing name and Dorothy is a God pleasing name.…and person. And "Leal" is Spanish for "Loyal". How special is that! Bill reports that he's deeply pleased to have received God's loyal gift. I think it was the other way around and since I'm writing this blog, I get the final word!