at the club

The leaders of the village asked us to prepare a Bible Club for 150 children,

 the first Bible Club ever in their village, 

and in the language of their heart 

(as well as in the national language.)

Then, on the eve of our family's departure from Davao, when I had all of our supplies packed, the leaders suggested that we open it up to additional villages, adding 100 more children.

Wow.  

I rapidly worked to get more supplies together, at least for some of the crafts and activities, so that everyone could participate. But I wasn't worried.  I was confident that God was in charge of this turn of events.

In the end about 150 children attended after all, so we had extra supplies to share with Sunday School teachers!

The Club was to start at 2:30 Monday afternoon.

Leanne and I arrived at the church just after 1 o'clock,

 

...and several excited children were already there, waiting for us.

All of them were dressed up.

And many of them had Bibles with them.

  

Sunday School teachers arrived and helped us to push back all the pews in the spacious church

 

and children came inside to wait quietly

while others waited not-so-quietly! (can you find Michael?)

The teachers were excited to each get a packet with supplies for the day

The teachers were dressed up, too,

in a sort of Sunday School Teacher uniform.

Ibu makes a list of the group names

The teachers asked if they could name their groups for the club.  

Of course!  This was THEIR Bible Club!

So they chose to name each group after a fruit or a vegetable.

:) 

The club started each day with singing; 

in their own language, in the national language, and in English, too!

All the children were barefoot - they left their shoes at the door

Excited to begin

Next, two teachers taught the same Bible story -

each of them in one of the two languages.

Then the groups split off to discuss the story together.

Lots of serious discussion seemed to be going on,

in a buzz of language we weren't able to fathom!

Children practiced and memorized lots of Scripture,

and some of them recited for the whole group.

Parents and village leaders watched and listened from the sidelines

Each day of the club was blessed in some special way.

We wish we had more time and space to tell the stories!

But we'll let the photos do most of the work.

More of the Bible Club in the next post!

introductions

Upon our arrival in the "Na*" Village,

we had a couple of days to settle in.

Amy and Elise with their friend Christy, unpacking in our room

We had time to walk through the village,

Michael, Amy, Elise and Christy walk toward the market

and Michael made friends with Pak Agus, 

who gave him rides on his motorcycle

We met families in the village;

the woman below (in the pink T) was out in her rice field, 

protecting their family's almost ripe rice

from preying birds

It was a pretty special opportunity to be out in a rice paddy,

and to see the rice ready for harvest!

 We joined in the meals with 20 or more co-workers at the workshop,

meals that always included a big bowl of rice,

and often cooked greens and or some fish to go along with it.

I found after awhile that rice for breakfast was a stretch for me.

Especially when it was spicy rice!

We loved it when the cooks would spoil us with some eggs for protein.

I WAS happy to get my morning cup of tea every day though.

You can see that even Mark and Michael joined me!

Maybe if I put that much sugar in our tea at home you'd drink it there, too?

These sweet girls were the daughters of the cooks,

and they watched us eat every meal,

eventually becoming more comfortable with our family

We spent time with the Sunday School teachers

who would be hosting the Bible club,

working on a variety of preparations with them.

Ibu Eva records a Bible story in her heart-language

Though I couldn't speak their language, they were fun to work with!

Michael, Mark and Roger walking to church

On Sunday morning we walked to church, and though we didn't understand much that was said, there were some familiar hymn tunes - reminders of the universality of the body of Christ.

men in batik

with our co-workers on the walk home again

 The quiet pace was short-lived.  We'll blog about the Bible Club next time!

*Pseudonyms are used in place of language names.

village bound

Thursday, June 9th.

With Michael now feeling better, but both girls still unwell,

we made our way back to the massive "J" airport,

arriving extra-early so that we wouldn't miss our 4 p.m. flight.

We shouldn't have worried.

We sat in the dark, crowded boarding area for four weary hours

waiting, waiting, waiting.

We know now that this wait is fairly typical for that airline; 

the advice goes: if you want a timely flight, take the first flight of the day.  

From there it's all down hill.

That was the COLDEST airplane I've ever shivered on.

I guess they had used up all the heat, too, by the end of the day...

When we arrived in the city of "P", we de-planed out on the tarmac,

and walked straight into the baggage claim area.

All two mini-belts of it. (above)

At least it was easy to navigate!

A fellow-worker met us here, an angel in disguise (thanks, Matt!)

who took us to our room for the night.

Friday, June 10th.

By the light of the next morning everything looked a little brighter.

All three jr. members were once again interested in eating,

and the event-center where we stayed not only had the glorious option of

dry white toast (perfect for recovering stomachs)

but it also boasted lovely and quiet ambiance.

The mural below was gigantic, covering a whole wall,

 showcased by a gentle spiral staircase.

Mark, Michael and I found our way to the local mall that morning

to stock up on a few supplies we'd need in the village, 

and food for the day.

I found myself intrigued by all the displays of proper head coverings for ladies,

 

but also by the large display of familiar Christian authors at the bookstore - 

all in the national language!

In the grocery area we passed over the Lays Salmon Teriyaki Chips

in favor of wonderfully familiar British digestive biscuits.

What a treat!

And then to KFC for lunch,

 a piece of fried chicken with delicious rice -

and most people (including Michael!) eat the rice as finger food.

Soon it was time to head to the bus station for our ride to the village.

This was the public transportation we took.

I felt like I was in the middle of a scene out of a movie.

The driver seemed to understand what we needed; at least we hoped so.

He and another passenger in the front seat were liberally sharing their cigarette smoke with us,

and they cranked up the radio a few decibels for our listening pleasure.

Our fellow back-seat rider was very friendly

and to our relief, after a pretty crazy ride, we finally did pull into the bus station.

There we boarded a private van and began the last leg of our journey to the village.

Mark sat up front with his phrase book,

conversing amazingly well with our driver, Pak Simone

We were told it can be a five hour trip.

Pak Simone got us there in just over three hours.

We passed fields of corn,

and fields of rice,

fields being planted,

fields being harvested.

Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, 

and see that the fields are white for harvest.

John 4:35

We drove past homes,

busy markets,

 remote villages,

and reminder after reminder of the dominant influence here... 

Darkness fell and we were more glad than ever that we were riding with Pak Simone,

someone who knew the roads and all of the potholes and dangerous corners.

It was very dark out on those mountain roads,

and we were thankful to reach the village at last.

my hotel

   Four of us are jammed in the back seat of a taxi; two adults and two teens, all balancing heavy backpacks on our laps, and one focusing on NOT throwing up in this car.  

   Michael perches in the front seat, his leg space full of a 17-kilo duffel, with his 11-year old legs resting on top.

   Mark efficiently whips out his travel folder and tells the driver the name of the street and the name of the hotel where we will spend the next several hours.  In response, there's silence from the front seat. 

   Well, after all, it IS 3 o'clock in the morning.

   The driver finally begins to speak.  All in a language we don't know.  The only word I catch is "Marriot."

"Tidak," says Mark.  "No."  He then repeats the name of the street and the name of the hotel.   

   There's silence again.  The driver eventually responds once more, naming yet another hotel.  "Why doesn't he get it?" I wonder.

   It's on the 3rd repetition of this process that the humor and embarrassment simultaneously penetrate my fogged brain.  Because the name of our hotel, the name Mark keeps on repeating, is "My Hotel."

   This poor driver must have been wondering WHY these arrogant, ignorant Americans keep on insisting that he deliver them to "THEIR HOTEL" on a given street?  Are they expecting him to somehow miraculously guess which one out of a whole block-full of hotels they want?!?

   At that point we showed the driver the paperwork with the name "My Hotel" in print.  

   "Oh...That's a new one," he says.  He's not seen it before on that street.  Thirty minutes later, as the taxi deposited us at the door of "My Hotel" I felt just a little redeemed, and I couldn't help but chuckle over how much confusion a name like that might cause!