A Funny Thing Happened...

People have been busy this week. I don't know what you've been going through, but it's probably a lot. Which is why I've been telling jokes every Friday. And while I hope to do more of that soon, I thought we could use something different. So today, I'm sharing funny stories from missionaries. I've researchesd these, whch means you don't have to. I won't share any names that aren't already made public. And I'm not passing the plate for collection, either. So, if you're ready to go, let's get into it!

First off: It was our first weekend trip on deputation. We loaded the kids, the luggage, and the slide projector/table items into the mini-van. Not too far down the road, child #4 took ill and vomited everywhere. I had to clean her, her coat, and her car seat.

We kept going. We had two appointments that weekend.

When we got to Virginia, we stopped at the motel that the Pastor told us about. We got settled into the adjoining rooms. Soon more children were ill. The room was a horrible mess. I asked dh to go and get some rags from the front desk so I could clean up the mess. They sent him back with one hand towel. Oh my!

The next morning, we were to be out of the motel by 11. That meant that I couldn't stay behind with the kids. I had to take them to the church. By then stomachs had settled, so I sat in the back row with them. I gave them each a cup, just in case they had to throw up as we ran to the bathroom.

No one threw up. After church my kids were still holding their little cups. I don't know why, but some people started dropping money in my kids cups. One of my daughters even got a bracelet in hers.

I was so embarassed! Later I laughed with the Pastor and his wife about my little missionary kids and their "beggar cups".

What a way to start deputation!

Next, We had just been in Japan a few weeks when it happened. For our first year we were house-sitting for a missionary friend on furlough, and found our next door neighbors to be very nice—though without any English skills at all. And we had no Japanese skills at all. Talk about being thrown in, sink or swim!

So anyway, our baby boy somehow got a piece of ice stuck in his throat, and we panicked. We ran next door to the nice lady and began shouting, “Ice, ice,” while we pointed down the throat of our baby. I guess we figured she would know what to do—call the ambulance, do some kind of Asian CPR, we didn’t know. But the poor lady just stood there staring in befuddlement!

Finally the little ice cube melted enough to go down, as they will do. We thanked the poor lady profusely—none of which communicated, of course. It was much later when we found out what was wrong. In Japanese, the loan word “ice” (pronounced aisu) does not mean frozen water but frozen milk, as in “ice cream.” (The Japanese love to shorten foreign words and make them their own.) So from the Japanese neighbor’s viewpoint, the crazy foreigners had run over to her house with their baby, screaming for ice cream to be shoved down his throat! Tsk, tsk. You never can tell with these foreigners.

And just one more.. Once I was headed way out in the country in Florida somewhere, and just couldn't find the country road I needed--could have been a dirt road, I don't remember. I prayed earnestly and then called the church and finally figured out the way. When I got to the church they were singing songs from their old shaped note hymn book as they waited for me. As I walked in, they were singing an old song I've never heard before or since: "I Can't Find the Way Alone!

I hope that blessed you. If so, please consider buying me a cup of coffee, to keep me going.

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