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What in the world were we doing in Nome, Alaska? Wendy and I both wondered the same thing as we stepped off the plane and set foot on the arctic tundra. It was a rainy day in July 1987. After 17 hours and three different flights, our family of four (including a 4-year-old and 18-month-old) arrived at our destination. For six weeks we would call Nome home and claim the title "short-term missionaries".

I was approached by our denomination to help out during a staff crisis at a missionary radio station that serves Eskimo villages on the Bering Sea in Alaska (and Russia). Because Wendy and I desire to serve the Lord wherever he needs us, we opted to spend our extended summer vacation way up north.

After being greeted at the airport, we were escorted to a plain but functional three bedroom house where we would stay. After unpacking our three suitcases and eight cartons of food supplies, diapers, and toys, we were driven around a town famous for a 19th-century gold rush and the Iditarod race. We were quickly introduced to wild blueberries, dried salmon, and powdered milk. Although we never did try the Eskimo delicacy of muk tuk (whale blubber), our spiritual expedition allowed us to develop a taste for the following:

Exposure to a different culture. My wife, Wendy, grew up in Mexico as an MK (missionary kid), and it's been her desire to introduce our children to life in another part of the world. True, the folks in and around Nome are U. S. citizens, but their lifestyle is far removed from the suburbs of San Francisco where we lived. Mushers and sled dogs; unpaved streets; cluttered front yards with junked cars, worn-out washing machines, and garbage waiting to be covered by nine months of snow; Arctic dialects; 90 percent alcoholism and 90 percent unemployment; 22 hours of daylight in the summer (reverse it for the winter). Our two daughters, Kristin and Allison, played outside at midnight with the neighborhood kids whose eye slant and skin coloration aroused their curiosity.

Real community. The radio staff of ten welcomed us with open arms. We were a contact with the "outside world." Nome is only accessible by boat (in the summer) and by air. As we sat around studio B in the radio station that first night, we munched popcorn and played a homemade version of Wheel of Fortune. The game provided a fun way for us all to get acquainted. Instantly we felt a connection with our new friends. Within a couple days, Wendy and I detected something unusual. The staff related on a level we were not accustomed to back home. There was a refreshing candor and vulnerability to their interaction. As we met other people in the community, we discovered that the quality of relationships among the staff permeated the people who claim the permafrost as home. The shared experiences of risk, isolation, and a hearty existence resulted in a depth of belonging that we had not seen before (or since). As young as they were, even Kristin and Allison sensed the atmosphere of genuine acceptance and friendship.

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