The trip was surreal. I felt I was in a dream or a player on a stage. The four of us, Scott, Jay, Joe and I, crammed into the tiny plane full of excitement, anticipation, and fishing poles. This was a trip I'd been hoping for but wasn't sure would happen. We were headed to a native village to meet Scott's Athabascan friends and fish.
I don't feel it would be appropriate to relate the details of the day in a blog. We were guests, after all, and I want to be respectful of that. I would extend the same courtesy to you if you had me over (and some of you need to have me over in August so start planning).
I will say our native hosts were very hospitable and excellent cooks. (They were watching Rachel Ray on TV. That should shatter some stereotypes). I hope, hope, hope I get invited back.
As for the fishing, we only caught one salmon that we could keep and eat. I tried to show them how it's done, but they were too proud to listen to this white woman.
Did visiting the natives home help you decide what you should do about being a full time missionary out there?
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