It's Sunday. That's the day before Monday. Are you hearing me? I am so apprehensive about tomorrow. I called to make my reservation on Spernak, the bush airline. The guy I talked to was surely a biker in his other life. "Yeah, uh-huh, Mmmm, Naaaa." And he sounded BIG. So I'm hoping I know where I'm supposed to go to get on the plane. And hoping I don't end up skyjacked to Siberia, which can't be that far away (or much colder).
Then there's the arrival in the village. Will someone pick me up at the airstrip or will I walk to the school? Fortunately there is no snow yet and I have good warm clothes. Then what? I've taught school for the last straight 20 years but I've never been a volunteer. Hope I don't just feel in the way.
And what to take? I'm packing clothes, cosmetics and toiletries (but not enough to give the impression I'm too girly), sandwiches (roast beef and PB&J), chips, Starbucks ground espresso as a hostess gift for whoever hosts me (the principal, I think). I'm taking my netbook and a Sprint hotspot, so I may be able to blog and FB tomorrow night (otherwise I'll write in Word and paste it Tuesday night). As I'm writing this I'm thinking I should take a sleeping bag and not assume there will be a bed with linens. I know who to call to get one from GPM (global partnership ministries).
The sermon this morning was on reaching out to the various culture groups in Anchorage. There are 72 different spoken languages in this little city. Yagheli gheli (really good, Athabascan) I'm ready to go. No, I'm not. Yes, I am. No, I'm not. I'm going anyway!