Not as easy as you might think

It was our first Sunday in our home church in Tremont, IL and we were called up front to say a few words and be welcomed officially for our furlough time in the States. To our surprise we were presented with an announcement that the church had raised money for us to by a boat.  Although we knew they were working on raising funds, it was a complete surprise that the total amount had already been donated.  To be honest, it was a huge relief, one of the many ways people have blessed us by their generosity over the years.

As many of you know who follow our blog, last year we moved to a missionary school which is located out in the jungle, on the banks of the Amazon.  There are no roads to the school so we knew a boat would be necessary (see this previous post for a map of our location).   Unfortunately, buying a boat here is not as easy as walking into a store and picking out the model you want.  I've been spending many of my days visiting the factory where the aluminum boat is being manufactured.  While they will customize your boat to your specific needs, they don't have any of the accessories needed, so I have spent countless hours running around looking for a battery, bilge pump, hinges, running lights, locks and countless other items that would only bore you.

In addition to the boat itself, we will be needing a trailer to pull the boat out of the water each day.  The reality here is that if we leave the boat in the water theft is very likely.  The school owns a large boat that they leave docked in front of the property.  Someone told me the transmission unit has been stolen 3 times.  The simple solution is to pull the boat out of the water and lock it up out of sight from the river.  Again, no boat trailer stores exist to pick out your favorite trailer.  So, like many of the other missionaries that live here have done, I'm building mine.  

In this long (going on 6 weeks now) process, it's easy to get discouraged.  Why isn't this easier?  Why do I have to go through such lengths just because someone might steal my boat?  Is this really worth all the trouble?

The other day Brin was explaining to one of the girls how doing something difficult builds character.  If that's true, why are we so repulsed by anything difficult?  It seems our whole culture is bent on finding an easier way to do something.  I wonder, have we placed such a high value on ease of use that we are actually missing out on something along the way?  

2 "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." [James 1:2-4]

So, while I'm trying to consider it pure joy, I sure will be relieved when this boat finally does arrive!

sights of furlough

As always furlough, or "home assignment", has been a blur.  We are trying to cram as much in and still maintain our sanity.  Not sure if we are succeeding.  Here are a few snapshots of what we have been experiencing since our last post...

Nate, a former youth group student and good friend, lends me the use of his x-ray machine after I thought I broke my toe coming down the stairs at a friends house.  It seems like we always have our share of mishaps on furlough - some of you may remember last time Mia broke her arm after only a few days back.

All three of the girls have joined our town's swim team for the summer.  Swimming in the Amazon is a little different than laps in a pool, but they seem to be thoroughly enjoying it.  

After an impressive first meet, Mia was put on the A team for backstroke.

The girls were able to experience a tornado warning, nothing came of it but they did like the drama.  Gabriella is convinced that she should be a storm chaser when she grows up.

Our good friends Luke and Debbie hosted a welcome home party for us with an "ugly vest" theme.

Our girls play with the Porritt kids during our stay at their house.

We were able to make the Tremont Turkey Festival, our hometown's contribution to authentic Americana.  Which includes such stand-bys as a pageant, carnival rides, and merchants tent, but also other oddities as a bed race, Turkey Toss, and of course turkey sandwiches and drum legs.  Our girls couldn't get enough.  

As members of the swim team, our girls were able to ride on a float in the parade and throw out candy.

One of the hardest things about living overseas is the distance between family.  Our first month in the States has come and gone (quickly) and we've enjoyed our time mostly spent catching up with family.  With family comes that much loved event - the family picture.  We did truly enjoy the time with our families.  We are now in Tremont, our hometown, where we will spend most of the remainder of our time. 

Josh's family in front of his parent's house in St. Louis.

Brin's family in North Carolina, including the newest member of the family, Luke, who was born just 2 days before we arrived.

  It's always fun to hear the girls as they make comments during new experiences on our travels.  It helps remind us that even though this feels like home to Brin and I, that's not always they case for our girls who were 2, 4 and 8 when we first moved to Brazil.  Here are a sampling of some of the comments we have heard from our girls:

• Gabriella: Dad,what did you have for breakfast?; Me:English muffins, they are in the fridge; Gabriella: [standing in front of the open fridge] What are English muffins?

• [Sitting in the crowded breakfast room at our hotel in Miami, the girls are watching TV as a commercial comes on showing sizzling bacon] Ava: [yelling] BACON, BACON, BACON!!!

• [At the hotel during breakfast, as her mom eats an orange] Gabriella: I didn't take any fruit because I didn't think it was real.

• [From the bathroom] Ava: Where do we put the toilet paper?

Ice skating with Aunt Ronesha.

The cousins: Mia, Maci, Ana and Ava.

good thing they are FLOAT planes

~Post by Josh

The water encroaching on the entrance to our hangar.

As we are busily packing our suitcases and our belongings into boxes for our impending move, we are keeping wary eye on the river.  I've mentioned before how the river level rises and falls sometimes as much as 40 feet between rainy season and dry season.  Working on the bank of the river, where our hangar is located, I have become much more aware of how this effects river life.  Our ramp, for example, which is just a simple concrete boat ramp for pulling the float planes out of the river, must be more than 100 yards long just to accommodate the changing level of the water.  In many areas throughout the Amazon houses are built on stilts, but even so, during higher than normal years, the people are forced to move to high ground for a time.  Evidencing the ingenuity of the people, or perhaps the desperation, I have even seen people build a type of makeshift scaffolding to hold their family and belongings hovering inches above the water until it recedes.

There is a mark a few inches from the top of our ramp at the entrance to our hangar that marks the highest level the river reached in the memory of the local people.  That high level record was set in 2009.  This year we are watching the river particularly closely because the river is already higher than at this time in 2009.  It has been a particularly wet rainy season, and possibly due to a more mild winter in the Andes Mountains and the resulting heavier than normal snow melt.  As of the 1st of May, we are about 1.5 feet below the high level mark and the river doesn't usually peak until the end of June.  The river has been rising about 2 inches per day.  The odds do not look good.  

The view of our ramp from the hangar during a recent, particularly severe, dry season. That is not water at the end of the ramp, but mud. Look close and you can see trails of footprints.

The view of  the hangar from a boat on June 2nd.  The water has about 2.5 ft. before entering the hangar.

Beyond our concern that our hangar will flood, swamping many tools and a parts room that could potentially cause many thousand dollars in damages, our hearts go out to the many people living at the rivers edge.  They have so little already and a flood would make their difficult lives that much harder.  Floods also bring an increase in disease as well as limited access to fresh food and clean water.  Please pray for the people of the Amazon, and that those ministering to them would show the love of God. 

One foot out the door and it feels good!

~Post by Brin

The other day I mused that this will be my first furlough going home healthy. Four years ago we traveled home and I had just started a course of amoeba medication. Many people pointed out that I had lost a lot of weight in those 2 years; a lot of it was just the 2 weeks prior. I held back no details for anyone who lingered in that conversation too long. Then 2 years ago, packing to leave I was tired, slightly feverish. I broke out in the telltale dengue fever rash the day before we were to fly.

Today I am feeling fantastic and ready to go! After I pack up my whole house, that is. And teach all my science classes. And give Science class in Portuguese to our lone 5th grader. I am pretty sure I learn just as much as my student, Duda. She was entertained today when I was amused to hear the word freshwater translated “agua doce.” Sweet water indeed. I will work hard all day and prep dinner ahead of time so I can swim in the river each afternoon....which explains why I have swimmers ear. Stink! I guess I am not perfectly healthy. I also have a gorgeous scrape on my knee I earned playing my first game of futesol (court soccer). Health is a relative term, I suppose. And I thank our Father for mine.  

We are moving again, this time just across the yard. So in the midst of looking for immunization records, making our “to buy in the States” list, attempting to find our least worn out clothing (also least smelly, I apologize ahead of time), and planning dinner dates and picnics all the way into August, we are also packing up our whole house. Which involves interruptions when it rains, or when the electricity shuts off or when I have to take care of someone’s booboo. And there are a lot of booboos with jungly kids running barefoot and pitching themselves into the river.


I end this post with a freebie, because of course it will increase my readership: Free hugs for all!  For my friends and teammates that stay back and for my friends and family that I soon will see!

celebrating an end

We leave for the States in about a month.  We'll be spending 3 short months visiting friends and family, packing as much as we can in before school starts again here at the beginning of August.  So in the meantime, we've been trying to make travel plans, arrange places to stay, dream about where we'll go and what we'll do and who we'll do it with... all while trying to stay focused on our day to day tasks.  

Last week, however, we were able to step back and celebrate the completion of a lengthy project.  Some of you might remember a post back in December about a complete rebuild we were doing on the floats of Pastor Bennie's Cessna 172.  After stopping to do other necessary work, we were finally able to complete the project.  We celebrated the occasion with our families with a churrasco (Brazilian bar-b-que).  It will be good to see the plane flying again, taking Bennie to visit church leaders and provide support to the growing church movement that he oversees.

After driving many of the close to 8,000 rivets that hold together the floats, I'm thankful for the experience the project provided.  

thought on weather

~Post by Brin

I was annoyed as a child hearing my aunt say "You don't like the weather here?  Wait a few hours and it will change." It annoyed me because my other aunts in other states said the same thing. My personality really doesn't do well with frivolous talk, which explains why I have a hard time saying the culturally obligatory "Tudo bem? (Everything good?)" to the lady at the market when all I want is to buy some pineapples and leave. But at the heart of that weather quip lies an interesting truth. The weather did change in Minnesota, that occurred to me while I tried to teach my 5th graders about meteorology and they claimed they had never seen a meteorology report on TV or anywhere really. Well, that blew my whole lesson. Their equatorial life is rain, heat, rain, heat. Do we really need someone to tell us what we already can guess? 

So about weather, I am not a big prayer on that subject. Because I assume that if I am praying for rain, someone else is praying for clear skies. And why should I get what I want? It has been raining for weeks. But I stubbornly planned for Mia's birthday party to be outside. The day arrived and it rained off and on all day just like every other day. But it cleared off an hour before the party and only started to sprinkle just as I was handing out the party favors at the end. I didn't pray for that, one of my students informed me she did and I thanked her and thanked God. 

Mia turned 8 on the 8th. Which my daughters concluded warranted a big celebration. My plan was to have Josh take her up in a plane and call it good. But planes were gone, pilots scarce and we all know about gas prices. So a jungle fairy party in the backyard it is. We invited EVERY girl in the ENTIRE elementary school. Which came to 12 girls. And they all showed up wearing such sweet little fairy costumes, except 1 feisty girl who came in a cowboy outfit complete with guns. Josh and I saw her approach and exchanged looks communicating, "this is gonna be hilarious!" We were not disappointed.

I decided to really impress myself and invite the WHOLE elementary, even the boys. All 4 of them, and technically I recruited them to be ogres that would surprise the fairies by stealing the cake and leading the fairies on a scavenger hunt into the jungle. The boys were up for it and did their roles a little too well. In the middle of Gabriella's "how to be a fairy" lesson, the ogres roared in, grabbed the cake and ran into the jungle. Mia, thinking they were real life party-crashers, stands and yells at them to go away and to quit ruining her party. When no one listens she runs to her room in tears. Some of the fairies (as you can see in the picture) ran the other way, some just stood watching in surprise. The cowboy begins yelling, "Davi (who had taken her guns)!,  Davi! I need my guns!" Now that is entertainment. But we can't laugh too long because someone needs to comfort the birthday girl and coax her out of her room. We tromped into the jungle in search of the cake and I carried one of the frightened fairies even though one of the ogres was her cousin.

Fifth grade ogres and the cake they stole. And no, I didn't trust them to run through the jungle with the real cake. I put out a decoy covered with a pillowcase.

I had to give grades this week. How does that work? For homeschool I just handed out high-fives and rainbow stickers. Gabriella is now preoccupied with her report card, never before having feedback given so explicitly.

An unexpected trip

Harlan Pflederer
September 29, 1917 - February 19, 2012

I'm sitting in an airport terminal as I await my return to Brazil, the memories of the past week tumbling around in my head.   The joy of reconnecting with friends and family as well as the mixed feelings associated with losing a loved one who truly lived a life worth celebrating.  My grandfather, Harlan Pflederer, passed away at the age of 94.  The strongest of my many thoughts and emotions is an overwhelming sense of gratitude.


I shared at the funeral about a memory of my grandpa telling me as a kid, while watching sports on TV, that he roots for whoever is losing.  It's clear to me now that he also had a similar outlook in other areas of his life.  He was drawn to the underdogs, the struggling, the weak.   Everyone that knew him, it seems, has a story of how he touched them, often in an hour of need.  In fact, over a hundred people have taken the time to share a special memory on a Facebook page set up for him during his final days.


I'm grateful to have spent a week talking about, remembering and honoring my grandpa.  I'm grateful as well for all the memories I have of him, many of which involve him doing something to bless others.  But more than all, I'm grateful for the legacy he has left.  A legacy that draws me forward when I find this Christian life difficult.  A legacy not of how to win at this life, but how to embrace what is really important.  A legacy that is sobering as I contemplate if I will ever live up to that standard that has been set.  But I suppose grandpa would be the first to point out that he was nothing special, just a man who loved his Savior.

All of my siblings together for the first time in several years.

(Last two photo credits go to Angie Puckett Photography)

mindflights of the sacred and whimsical

post by~Brin, the mold warrior


Josh has been in the States this past week to attend the funeral of his Grandpa Pflederer. Being away from family during bonding times, like weddings, births and funerals is part of the sacrifice in our calling. It hurts and it is when we feel the distance most sharply. So, we were very thankful that it worked out for Josh to travel back. The girls and I stayed home, trying to mourn and reflect on Grandpa's passing in our own way. Josh will post on Grandpa after he gets up from the fireplace and finishes digesting all his delicious meals.


I shared a moment with myself yesterday. I have been, while Josh has been Stateside, continually grateful to be out of the city. I mean, I liked it when I was there, except on the days which I complained which is probably more than I admit. Extra caution, keen awareness and stress just driving to the grocery store are fresh memories, all of which I do not have out here. This little community is so wholesome, peaceful, safe and quiet, except for a pair (flock?) of birds fighting early this morning. So I laughed at the irony that today Ava has been the victim of a school stabbing. By an adorable five-year old playing with a pocketknife who was probably quite shocked himself that his knife actually drew blood. It was of course, just a nick and Ava cried more out of surprise than pain. But it made me chuckle, to myself of course. And that is what I mean when I shared a moment to myself. A week ago a gang of boys (you could also call them the 4-5th graders) yielding machetes determinedly marched into the jungle at the back of my house. I bet they had pocketknives too. I laughed as it looked like a scene from the book I am reading, which I assume I am the last to read and you all know what I am talking about. Of course, they were just building a secret fort and looking for monkey grapes to bring home for the family. Isn't that sweet? Not really, because monkey grapes are bland, and I wonder if that's really what they are called...maybe some of these boys make stuff up about the jungle knowing I am new at this life. These are some intelligent kids here.


I say it again. I am grateful to be here. And I really like teaching, but honestly it seems I like pretty much everything I have done in the last five years. Which is a lot of different things. And that amuses me. Do I really actually like what I am doing as much as I think I do? I have fleeting, but profound wisps of enlightenment where I recognize God's pleasure in where I am, spiritually, physically, whatever.  I wonder if it is those moments that give me motivation to keep serving Him and have authentic joy in whatever situation He has placed me in. I think jungle trails, humidity, and washing my rugs in the river is just plain fun. And can't imagine living in a desert, where there are no waterfalls, or downpours of rain that suddenly inspire my girls to bolt out onto the field and play a sloppy game of soccer. But even if I can't imagine it, I am certain it would become my new favorite thing if God assigned me to Africa.


Our life is different, and I still haven't gotten into a rhythm whereby I have had time to reflect on my new digs, lifestyle, daily tasks. But, sometimes a few things strike me and I let the moment suspend in my mind. An enthralling moment, like when one of my co-laborers asked for prayers because R$6000 of paper were coming to campus (by boat, of course) to produce workbooks, Bible texts and literacy aids for an indigenous group. He prayed that it would arrive safely and dry, no small feat during the rainy season. I leaned into Josh, "that is a cool thing to pray for." And sometimes I let the moment be delightful, as when one of my students came to my house and thanked me for teaching her. I let that kid stay for lunch. And then sometimes tense, feeling like I parent 20 kids and not my own enough. And in peculiar moments, when I have a comforting sense that I am home but 5 years and many homes later I still have homesickness and wish I could walk over to Sonya's house.


I have never lived at the edge of a jungle so I never really knew how moist it was. It is. And here is how it plays out....

• a new mold that I have never had before. It is powdery and you can actually blow it off, but it grows right back.
• A greenish brown mold grows on my screens, which I didn't even perceive and perhaps it would have been better not to be told. Because upon hearing how often others clean their screens, I checked my own, astounded at their filth, I promptly cleaned 4 of them and then tired. Now the rest just mock me.
• And of course the microbes growing in my fridge as we have no electricity at night. But hey, I am a science teacher now, maybe I am growing it as part of an experiment.
• A source of great animosity: my laundry line. And not even when a pink dragon fly lands on it does it redeem itself from the torture it has produced. I went to look at the clothes a few days ago, not to bring them in, mind you, because I knew they weren't dry. And they weren't, but what they were was moldy and some were now a mud dauber home. I can always find something to complain about, even if the ants are the only ones listening. Don't get me started on the ants. 

Observations as I go about my day....

• a siren calls students to the dining hall at mealtimes. Which makes me wonder if former students that later go to the States for university salivate when pulled over by the police.

• It is a little like Appalachia here. Ava was sad one day when her class was divided into groups by calling out a family name and 4 students went to the "cousins" side while her and one other girl were left cousin-less. 

• The high-schoolers will sometimes ask for a "Student/Staff night". As if they haven't had enough of their teachers at school (and breakfast, church, swimming, volleyball, the dorm-it's always the same people), they also want to hang out at night. I hosted one last week and was delighted to have students from Chinese and German heritage and of course a Brazilian and an American.

• You can make your nutrition students help you with laundry if in the meantime you teach them about eggs. Also, on a side note, I have often said I always want to live in a place that requires rice in the salt shaker. Add to that list, eggs left out of the fridge.

• My kids will accomplish astonishing amount of chores in hopes of Kraft Mac n' Cheese or a handful of dried cherries in their oatmeal. Also, the worst possible punishment is to be grounded from afternoon swim time.

• It was a bummer when Mia dropped my precious (glass) jar of TeaTree oil on the bathroom floor. The plus side is that it's potency quickly permeated the room and is killing microbes as we speak. Or at least they smell better.

• At 9:30 we lose electricity, usually Gabriella has already done all her homework. But the night she didn't, she did her work by candlight looking like she was conducting a mystical ceremony rather than just diagramming sentences.

• We have a soccer field right in front of our house. And it is useful to my family- the girls run around on it and I hung my tent off the goal so it could dry after I dunked it in the river.

• A downpour on the metal roof of our school means that you quit out-loud reading and just do the worksheet.

Any time not in class is considered recess. It is a challenge to keep the girls home.

Mia's pink shorts that were invaded by mold, note her pink neighbor that is sporting a lovely accessory of bird poop. But it was on the inside so I just brushed it off. Judge away, you try to live here.

Of course when it rains you leave the house and run wild with abandon. Some creative boys were pulling a rope on a big puddle and helping the younger kids saucer (ski on a round disk). Outside of the Petrov family I had never seen a saucer. Maybe it is more common than I knew.

Shoes not worn for months still have to be washed. Why these butterflies were so interested I have no idea.

Thanks to all back home who have prayed for the girls and I during Josh's absence. And to those close by who checked on me. I send you all a hug drenched in Amazon rain.

Família Asas

post by~Brin, hunter of mold

Our family has been with Asas de Socorro for just a year. And with any organization steeped with time and culture, getting to know them is a process. We made some big strides this week while we attended the annual Asas conference in Anápolis, Goias; an agricultural state  geographically located near the center of Brasil. With corn to the right of me and soybeans to the left of me, if I were to look down ruby slippers would not surprise me. Ah, but delightful reality hits when we peruse road-side stands to buy braids of fresh mozzarella and homemade doce de leite. 

We have not traveled much within Brazil so going anywhere outside of Amazonia always broadens our knowledge of this country with such contrasting cultures.  

Hearing testimonies of missionaries who have been with Asas for decades as well as the dreams of students soon to graduate from the aviation school and head to the mission field inspires us as well as grounds us with a profound sense of God's blessing as He has allowed us and all of our supporters to be a part of a huge story in bringing Christ to people groups who have not heard.  We left with new friends, a delectable head of broccoli and a fresh burst of motivation to strive forward where God has placed us.  

Mmmmmm broccoli....Does it seem like I am talking a lot about food?  I blame it on Ricardo, a fellow missionary from the far south of Brazil who, during a service, slipped us each 2 fresh cherries from his stash from his recent visit home. That spurred my tongue to hunt for the next cache. If I weren't so busy combating mold I would take the time to turn that last phrase into a poem. 

Cheese has never been so entertaining.

When in Rome.... of course all visitors have to enjoy the local treats which seemed to be heavily themed in corn. We enjoyed the pamonha, perhaps Gabriella a little too much as her pamonha revisted her at 1am.  Sorry, no pictures of that.

At the end of the conference we took two days to travel to a unique little corner of the world called Caldas Novas, which Wikipedia told me was "considered by many to be the largest hydro-thermal resort in the world" (however, citations are needed if anyone has any).  Good thing because, now fully Amazonians, a climate of 65 degrees was almost unbearable and I can hardly fathom how I survived a childhood in northern Minnesota. So we soaked and relaxed with Andres, Camila and baby Tiago  keeping us company.

For a few days we stayed at a Wycliffe guesthouse above the hangar. Each morning Josh could part the curtain and look out the window overlooking a gorgeous view; 10 airplanes all apprearing to be minatures poised in the hand of God.

A witness to change

Guest Blogger: Tom Pflederer (Josh's dad)

 The daily afternoon bath in the Amazon.
 
This is our third time visiting our kids in Brazil, and no trip has provided a more relentless flow of diverse experiences and impressions than this one.  After an exhausting and stressful flight, we spent our first few days in Manaus not settling in, but packing boxes and preparing to move out.  It was long enough to see both sides of city living--the congestion and the dirtiness and lack of security, balanced by the convenience in shopping and church options. 

The move was unlike any other I've seen--who moves by rope and pulley from the second floor, then by truck and boat and tractor and wagon?  We got a first hand look at Asas de Socorro, the aviation ministry where Josh works, and witnessed the dramatic arrival from Ohio of a donated Cessna.  I spent a day working with Josh, seeing what he does.  I shower and shave without hot water and--if I wait until after 9:00 pm, when generator that powers this community goes off--without light.  I sleep on the top bunk with Connie below me, usually sweating our way through the night with a battery-powered fan.

Lowering a heavy, Brazilian hardwood, wardrobe from the second floor balcony.

The transfer from truck to boat was made on the ramp used by the float planes when they are pulled from the lake to the hangar.

Arriving at the school.

Everyone chips in to help unloading the cargo from the boat and transferring it to Josh and Brin's new house.

And I got to meet Benny, the 71-year-old Pentcostal pastor/pilot who was the subject of one of Josh's blogs a couple months ago. Benny has survived a variety of crashes, is pretty casual about pre-flight safety checks, and flies without a seatbelt.  Nevertheless, Josh and I and a couple other mechanic friends accepted Benny's invitation to fly in to his fishing cabin on a remote lake in the jungle, where we caught around 70 pounds of peacock bass.

Pastor Benny piloting our fishing boat, his plane and floating house in the background.

Josh, Tom, Andrés and Joel with our haul (Andrés and Joel are fellow mechanics).

But more than anything else, I have been completely fascinated by this Puraquequara community (called PQQ).

PQQ was started in the early 50's not as a school, but as a print shop.  The ultimate goal of a tribal linguistic missionary is to make the Bible available in the language of a new people group, and for all of western Brazil, it is in PQQ that those Bibles are printed.  It is a far more complex task than one would think.

The rocks are a popular swimming spot at the school until the river comes up and covers them during the rainy season.

Mark, who has been the print shop guy here for almost 40 years, gave me a window into his world--developing unique fonts and keyboards for each tribal language, transitioning to computers in 1992, facing problems with layout and binding and production, struggling with changing technology and limited funds, working most of the time completely by himself, giving up the tribal work he was trained for and loved, spending his life printing books because there was no-one else to do it. 

Mark and his print shop (we're going to let the Cubs shirt slide, only because it was probably a donation).

Still, his shelves are full of copies of New Testaments in strange languages, most spoken only by a few thousand people, evidence of his faithful, unheralded plodding service over four decades.  Mark is a wealth of knowledge and history, but when we part he expresses appreciation for my interest.  He says hardly anyone ever asks questions about his work and really listens to his story.

Of all the perks and curiosities of living at PQQ-- the jungle sounds, candy drops from the sky, swimming in the Amazon, eating peacock bass grilled over an open fire--it's the people who live here who have captivated me most. Like Mark, most of them have some very personal connection with an indigenous people group somewhere in the Amazon Basin, where they have left their hearts and to whom they long someday to return.

Janelle, our nearest neighbor, grew up as a missionary kid in Colombia, living with a tribe there until her family was forced by the government to leave.  Her parents still live there in the city, still trying to minister to their tribe as they are able.  Lots of people here have some connection with the Yanamami Indians, whom we have been told used to have no word in their language for "forgiveness."  It was a graceless culture, based on retribution and consequences.  If your wife slept in too long, you would go and poke her with a hot stick.  Eroch got malaria five times during the four years he lived with the Kulina Indians, says it was the most difficult thing he ever did, and is living now at PQQ trying to figure out the next step.

I will not be here long enough to hear all the stories of the incredibly unique people who live at PQQ.  Brin says every one of them is like a one-in-a-thousand person in the U. S., treasures to be mined.  I am looking forward to hot showers and snuggling with my wife again.  But I am deeply grateful that the Lord in His providence and perfect timing has brought my son's family to this place.

The Pflederer's new house.

Flies from the heavens

Bennie's Cessna 206 docked on a river where we fished.

When I first met Pastor Bennie I wasn't sure what to think.  He's still a bit of an enigma, even after (or maybe because of) all the stories I've heard about him.  Like the time he tied a live pig on the top of one of his airplane's floats, only to find it dangling at the end of the rope mid-flight.  I'm not sure what happened to the pig.  Bennie, on the other hand, is still going strong after almost 50 years of missionary service in Brazil.  He and his wife have overseen the planting of over 400 churches in the Amazon basin.  Bennie was a float-plane pilot before he moved to Brazil from Canada, and he continues to use aviation to help train leaders, visit churches and oversee the many believers that live in the many backwaters of the Amazon river basin.  

For several years, Asas de Socorro has been maintaining Bennie's Cessna 206 and 172, both float-planes.  For the past couple months we have been rebuilding the floats of his 172.  It's a big job, drilling out and replacing around 8,000 rivets.  We've been working with a parts supplier out of Canada and when one of their employees learned about what we were doing he decided to come down to Brazil for 2 weeks and help us with the project.  While the rebuild project has been time consuming and tedious, it's such a practical way that we are able to help Bennie and his ministry - saving him tens of thousands in dollars. 

 

Jason, who visited from Canada to help with our project, myself, Joel, and Ryan, fellow mechanics, riveting on one of the floats.

All of the old skins and parts removed from the floats, most of the parts were replaced due to 40 years of wear and corrosion.

A couple of weeks ago my father-in-law Larry and I got the chance to go fishing with Pastor Bennie.  He appears to truly delight in taking visitors on trips to the interior in his plane to secret fishing spots that he has learned about over the years.  Being from Canada, he is a fly fisherman and ties his own flies.  Over the years he's come up with a fly that the Peacock Bass can't resist.  He told us how he always takes a can of the flies with him on flights.  When he sees someone paddling a canoe on a river below he swoops in low (probably scaring the daylights out of the unsuspecting paddler in the process) and drops a jar of his special flies.  In the can is a note inviting them to his church the next time they are in town.  He says he has lost track of how many people have come through their church and eventually come to know Christ, all because of the fishing flies from the sky.

  

Larry and I on our fishing expedition.

Sometimes I can lose sight of my role in the big picture of mission work here in Brazil.  I'm reminded though, that God has called each of us to do our part in reaching the lost, and no matter our role it is equally important.  Whether it is driving rivets into floats, tossing flies out the window or, like so many of you, supporting us through prayer and financial giving.