We both had a language evaluation about a week ago and each did well. We are “almost finished” with our formal language study in PNG’s trade language. This doesn’t mean that we are fluent, it just means that we know enough (almost) to function well. In reality, I think we are actually done, but Terry, our overseer, doesn’t want us moving on without our fellow-orientees who are still in bush orientation. (Just kidding, Terry. I know you read our blog because you can’t get enough of us.) So here are a few things we would appreciate you all praying for:

Hoax

My time with Hoax is running out. For those of you who have been following the blog, you know who Hoax is, but if not here are some relevant points: Hoax is my #1 language helper; we spend a few hours together a couple times a week; he is a church goer, but is not clear on the gospel; his Christianity is mixed with traditional beliefs. Since we’ve covered the basics of Pidgin, I asked Hoax today if we could start talking about some Biblical stories and concepts so that I could learn some Pidgin words and phrases that might be unique to this subject. Additionally I asked him if we could talk about how Biblical beliefs would compare to traditional PNGian beliefs in order to prepare me for what I might face in a tribe. Both of these are legitimately goals of mine, but as you might guess, I am most eager to discuss the plane truth of God’s word with Hoax. Please be praying for our conversations over the next few weeks–we will start tomorrow with Adam and Eve.

Transition

Soon we will be focusing more of our attention on what comes next, namely partnering with other missionaries and figuring out which tribe to move into. Please be praying for this process–specifically that God will direct us and we will hear him clearly.

The very giant one is Daddy. Daddy is so silly and Everett is so funny. Everett is that tinier one.

She is sitting in a chair, like in Belle’s

He is so funny.

Belle is so funny.

Everett is so funny.

Lucy is so funny.

She is so funny.

The one wearing the red dress is my mommy. The one wearing the blue shirt is my daddy. The one wearing the pink dress and is littler than the other one that is wearing the pink dress is Lucy. And the pink dress that is older than the little one wearing the pink dress is me. And the green blanket is Everett. This is my Family.

My mother has a purse. My mother is sitting in a chair.

My father is standing up and he’s trying to reach and grab Lucy’s hand.

Lucy is trying to reach to mommy and ask if she can hold Everett. Lucy’s sleeves are supposed to be long. Her hair is brown–the curls are because the real Lucy has curls in her hair at the end.

Everett is laying in the grass–I was supposed to draw grass but I didn’t want to. He is wrapped up in a blanket because the grass is pokey.

I am standing up wearing my pink flower dress and I have two rubber bands in my hair and I have a bow. And I am trying to get Aurora, my kitty.

Aurora is running to try to catch a bug

I love my house here.

Friday the Junior class of the missionary-kid high school had a Valentine’s dinner (as a fund raiser.) The invitation said families were welcome so we decided to take the whole gang. I guess when you don’t have a dish washer and the restaurant selection in town isn’t that great, an event like this sounds pretty good. Beforehand my excitement level was only medium at best, but then Elizabeth decided we should tell the girls that we would all be going to a Princess Ball. Game-changer. Despite the fact that dinner was in a school-cafeteria-esque room with sheets hanging from the ceiling to create “romantic” nooks, the girls were dazzled by the flowers on the table and candlelight. Even Everett seemed to have a good time, which is good because if he had been screaming, it would have been obvious that ours were the only kids there.

Afterward, they were all tuckered out:

In America I was totally grossed out by washing ziplock bags. I knew in theory it was a good idea to wash them to save money, but it was sort of where I drew the line. I have been known to coupon and shop at Goodwill, but washing out Ziplock bags? Wasn’t going to do it. Well, along with converting to cloth diapers (which was also something I never thought I’d do!) moving over here has also converted me into a bag washer. That’s right, I wash my Ziplock bags. Every once in a while I break down and throw one away, but not usually. They are way more precious over here. And not just to me. Sometime before going to MIbu Joseph took some popcorn in a large ziplock bag (one of those fancy ones with the zipper pull, you know?) to Ginalyn. Just yesterday her parents they were here, and saw my ziplock bags hanging on the line to dry, and told us about how one of their other daughters has converted that ziplock bag into a school bag that she puts her books and papers and pencils in. Perfect to hold them and as an added bonus, they won’t get wet. Apparently all of her classmates are pretty jealous of this fancy bag and asked her where she got it, and of course she told them “My parents have friends who are white and they gave it to me.”  I think if I had had a classmate carry her books to school in a ziplock bag (even a fancy name brand one with a zipper pull) we would have made fun of her. What a different world we live in here. I had to use some serious self control to not pull out my whole stash of gallon size ziplock bags to provide bookbags for the rest of her school.

Here are a few shots from the day we flew in:

This is what an outhouse looks like in the villages. They have three walls and a great view off the side of a cliff.

This is one of the two church buildings.

These are the Husa’s pets.

Here are the girls trying to help Everett walk (despite their efforts, he is walking quite a lot now.)

Christmas:

Later on we got a Christmas package including shades and makeup.

Here is some of the work on clearing ground for the airstrip.

This was the day we made doughnuts.

*Among the food we gave away was included a few blocks of butter. The evening after we had given away the food, we answered a knock at the door to find Longe’s husband holding the butter. It looked like they had tried to eat it plain which fit with the fact that he was asking how to use it.