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!

Dr. Kenneth L. Pike and Me

My first encounter with Dr. Kenneth L Pike was during the early morning class I had with him as professor. It was the morning after Janet and I had arrived at SIL that first summer. You may remember it was 3 a.m. when we got in, so we hadn't slept much. Somehow we managed to make it to class on time, but the only seats left were in the front row.

Dr. Pike lectured my very tired brain all about tagmemics. I’m sure he gave a thorough foundation for the whole grammar process. Then, five minutes before the end of class, he announced a short quiz. I panicked and quickly looked over my notes. I hadn't noticed that Dr. Pike had turned on the overhead projector with the quiz questions lit up. Just as I closed my notebook and picked up my paper and pencil, he walked up to my desk, took my piece of paper for answering the questions and tore it to pieces in front of the whole class (about 100 students). He said, “We’ll have none of that in this class!” I was horrified and just sat and waited for class to be over. I never got to take that quiz.

What happened next is forever etched in my mind and heart. I knew I needed to apologize so waited until after class. Then I went up and told him I hadn't been cheating, but was very, very sorry for not closing my notebook quickly enough. He looked up at me with a gentleness and sincerity that overwhelmed me, and said, “No, it is not you, but I who must apologize to you. I have such a problem with my temper. Please forgive me.” Forever after we were friends for life and Ken gave the wedding prayer for us during our marriage ceremony. And I learned over the years of his deep faith in Jesus that was the foundation for this man's life.

Kenneth Lee Pike

Wikipedia has a fairly accurate description of the man and his accomplishments.

Somehow tagmemics must have got into my brain that summer anyway. But before telling you my strange etic-emic dream, let me give you the background--read ahead if you don't want a mini-linguistic lesson! That summer I learned that etics deals with each individual part of a language (for instance, in phonetics it includes each individual sound that the human mouth can make), and emics is the system of how the parts work together to make meaning (in phonemics it's how all the sounds work together). Here's an example in English: when we say dogs, the s says the zzz sound because the g is voiced (we're using our vocal cords). And when we sat cats, the s says the sss sound because the t is voiceless (no vocal cords involved). As English speakers, we naturally think of both as just an s at the end. But a linguist hears the difference.

So, now back to the dream. One night that first summer (before Bill and I were dating), I was still confused about the difference between etic and emic. I tried to get many people to explain it clearly. Then one night I had a dream in which I was about to get married. But in the dream I suddenly realized that we couldn't get married! When I told my finance, he asked why. I simply said, “Because we get along fine etically but not emically.” When I awoke I understood a bit more about tagmemics and the difference between etics and emics. And I’m grateful to report that Bill and I get along fine emically.

Two summers later, after the proposal, I ended up working as Ken Pike's secretary. He, a Nobel Peace Prize nominee, was still a very intimidating man, and I was afraid to ask him for some days off for our honeymoon until a week before the wedding. He was very gracious in his gentle rebuke that I should have asked sooner. It would have been professional and respectful. He knew about the wedding because his wife Evie, and Bill’s mother, Mary, were helping to organize the wedding for us and gave us a great shower—we still have the complete set of stainless silverware we were given!

Later after we were married, when Bill was at UC Berkeley, Ken and Evie were living in the area. Ken had a sabbatical year studying at Stanford. During that year we were able to get together and share lives. He even read us some of his poetry! It was interesting, and rather like the man, a bit intriguing and challenging. Several years after that, when we were working in Nepal, Ken came to help us and our SIL colleagues figure out and analyze the unwritten languages with which we were working.

How grateful I am for how God has populated my life with amazing people. He wrote many books, published many things, made some incredible monolingual demonstrations, but I will forever remember his kind and humble heart.

The Boy, the Kiss, Another Tree, and a Proposal

I became physically sick and anxious about my whole life, and ended up with a high fever and stomach pain. My mom, the nurse, suggested I take time off from teaching and come home to get better. She had just remarried and moved to Santa Barbara where her new husband worked at Westmont College. 

Westmont College also just happened to be where that boy Bill was going to school. Here we were, many months later and halfway across the country, both in the same town, unplanned by us. 

After a few days, the doctor thought it best to admit me to the hospital for further testing. He put me in an ambulatory ward so I could leave the room and the building for brief periods with family or friends. My mom let Bill know where I was and he began showing up at my hospital room … every day ... with flowers. Different flowers every day.

Now you might remember from my account of summers in Oklahoma that Bill was rather different than what I had imagined I wanted in a husband. I was about to have my perspective dramatically and permanently reoriented. He would sit and talk with me, walk me in the sunshine outside, and just listen to my heart and share his. Every day for three weeks he kept coming.

One day, we walked to a nearby park. We found a tree to climb and sit in and again talked seriously about life. Somewhere in the talking came the first kiss ... and the proposal. It all happened so very fast and was so very unexpected. But after those three weeks in Santa Barbara we were engaged ... and married three months later. (In this drawing you can see where the proposal happened. The branch was really a low branch, but I love Ethan’s picture below anyway!)

So God reached into my heart to heal me and gave me His biggest gift since Jesus--someone else who loved me when I didn't deserve to be loved, someone else who would protect me all my days and love me more than my human heart craved. He gave me a man with whom I would spend my life, one that I needed if I were to do His will on earth: His biggest provision, my husband Bill.

During this time and forever after, Bill loved me, accepted me and even when he saw my broken box, he loved me and believed in me. More than all that, He saw the good that God had put in me and rejoiced that I would be his. From him I learned of the Father's love for the bride, and for the prodigal son. And in the years that have followed, I continue to learn from Bill of the constancy of the Father's love--ever caring, providing and loving.

2 songs describe this season: Oh, the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus (starts at 1;07) and Amazing Grace

Exodus 34:6-7: “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands,and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin."