Blogging, Writing, and Publishing

The days seemed to melt into each other as John learned the intricacies of his new plane. He enjoyed the privilege of flying the only yellow airplane in the nation; the main reason he named her Buttercup. Even people deep in the forest who had no affiliation with missionaries felt a sense of ownership when they saw the plane fly over. “I’ve come to know the sound of your plane,” Marta said. “That’s what the Johnsons said at my last stop. It’s really nice to be wanted.” John beamed. “Are you so sure it’s you everyone wants to see?” Marta teased. “All right, so everyone wants to know what I have in my cargo bin. I feel like Santa Claus year round.” “I guess it’s good to see you too. I need to use my English now and again so I don’t forget,” said Marta. “That’s so nice of you to say so.” John enjoyed the game they often played with each other. The lines around her eyes when she smiled told him of the joy he had brought to her. It was such an easy smile, and he didn’t have to try hard to g...

   “Let’s help them,” Tucker said, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him toward the commotion in the forest.      The village surroundings had been busy with the sound of leaves crunching, vines cracking, and rhythmic chants for the past 30 minutes. Tucker led laughing gleefully as they went to investigate. Finally they found twenty men pulling on thick vines as they advanced the progress of a huge sago palm toward the village.      “It is big, John. It will bring us lots of food. The kind you eat a lot of last time,” said Tucker.      “I don’t remember eating food from a tree. What do you mean?” John asked as he stepped in behind one of the men.      Both John and Tucker were now struggling with the cumbersome tree. They made slow progress as the tree scraped across the jungle floor inch by inch. Awkward at first, John soon fell in with the rhythm of the cadence and found the load easier to bea...