This is the seventh post in a series written by Frieda, my mother. These are her memories of her first rambunctious child and their adventures on the mission field. Click this link to start at the beginning.
My parents went to the States for a six-month home assignment when Sara was about two-and-a-half. We went to see them off at the airport, and Sara seemed totally unimpressed by their flying off in the big plane. Not long afterward, though, we were at a little park where there was a World War II airplane that people could go inside and explore. Hal started up the steps, and Sara shocked us by almost getting hysterical, screaming, “No, Daddy, no!” We were mystified.
I would tell her Grandma and Grandpa were in the States. She had seen them go up. Before that I had taught her to respond when asked, “Where does Jesus live?” by pointing up and saying, “Up in heaven.” She started getting the answers confused and saying that Grandpa and Grandma were up in heaven and Jesus was up in the States. No wonder she didn’t want her daddy to get on an airplane! Six months later we started telling her Grandpa and Grandma were coming back in a new truck, and she would laugh as if this were the greatest joke imaginable. She didn’t believe us until she actually saw them come back in the truck–on the highway, of course, and not from the sky!