Children's voices, Oh how sweet; when in innocence and love like the angels up above, they with cheerful hearts and happy faces greet. The playground children are out in droves today, but it's the Las Lomas Eleven I'm talkin' 'bout. Eleven kids, one recent Primary graduate, three teachers, two presidencia, two musica adds up to the sweetest, most loving and innocent angels singing and speaking you can imagine. And I don't mean one-liners rehearsed and prompted, rushed and barely audible. The graduate, my deacon, Helaman, was the announcer, keeping the program moving with a very priesthood demeanor. Three short side benches were turned 90 degrees like a choir loft; the 18 year old director's magic hands cued the singers to rise; the three big back row boys took over and set the pace; BJ raced to keep up; each of the eleven in turn took the pulpit and preached a mini-sermon between numbers; the Primary ladies and one man sang a special number; but two year old Matilda stole the show.
I thought the crowd was going to erupt in a standing ovation when she finished. She is too small to be seen over the pulpit so her mother held her up, and without prompting she launched into some kind of oration I dearly wished to understand. She went on and on, loud and clear, without benefit of notes or help, for several minutes. The gasp was audible and the stir palpable and the spirit powerful and sweet when she finally finished. Our spirit hands were clapping like crazy and we were on our feet fairly cheering in our hearts. Yes, it was a good Reunion Sacramental Primaria Anual. Maybe the best I've ever seen and felt. I think Mattie's message was straight from the pre-existence. “And Father said. . .”
We got lots of participation today. I knew I was to teach the deacons, which means all 5 or 6 of the Aaronic Priesthood, but BJ was not expecting to teach today and had just begun her next week's preparation. When the leaders and 3YW finally arrived they told her it was her day and that they had already had the lesson she was preparing. What to do? Think quickly. I gave a lesson on chastity to one girl two weeks ago; the girl isn't here today; teach it again to the others. Saved! I think she did better the second time around and felt pretty good about the experience. I taught about the power of example, using a flashlight in the pitch dark clerk's room.
The clerks' room is like a bank vault, reinforced concrete, with a 4-inch thick solid door with heavy deadbolts all around and a special 6 inch key in the center of the door. Jorge Sepulveda, our secretaria (clerk, exec., all in one), and I do the diezmos and ofretas (tithes and offerings) in there each week. I think the lesson was understood, followed by a short English lesson. I'm caught between the horns of a dilemma. Our consejero sumo (high council rep) Jorge Contreras forbade me from speaking any more English in the Rama (branch), but el Presidente Cerda tells me to teach the YM English along with the lessons. What's a poor boy to do? I also conducted Sacrament meeting, mostly improvised, without notes except hymn numbers and announcements. Asistencia 63. “Our” two families were there again—one is getting interviewed for callings. It's starting to feel like I am learning something. I also sold 6 more Liahona subscriptions. Anonymous donor, you may have to dig deeper or call for reinforcements. We're lovin' our work in the branch.
In the office, we are getting help in the form of two recovering sick Elders who can't proselyte just yet, but I got a new assignment which takes me out two days a week inspecting apartments with Elder Dorius the other couple missionary guy. This leaves Mom in the office with Sister Dorius. I had a great experience; she'll have to speak for herself. We inspected 6 apartments, one of which is not acceptable and will be closed, one of which was filthy, four were acceptably clean but in need of some stuff, all are furnished with mattresses and folding chairs—not much else, and one sixth floor penthouse with a breathtaking view from every room and the balcony, of the ocean, the Rio Maipo, the ships, three towns on little hills with circular streets—a fantastic panorama for the two sisters who rattle around in its three bedrooms/two baths. The carpet is ratty and the bathroom moldy, but the pensions (apartments) pretty much are all such. “Penthouse” describes the location, not the quality. Elder Dorius thought it was too luxurious for missionaries. I'd let them stay. They are both Latina and have/will never live in such a place before or hence. It just happens to be a tall building on a hill by the ocean. Who can complain?
Pablo and his mother are out again. The girls have brought out a play tent/house painted with Cinderella, Snow White, flowers, rabbits, etc. It's inside the jungle gym where the boys can't bother them, sort of. Boys at play sound different from girls at play. They sing different word-tunes.
Great first cutting of alfalfa, tall and dark green—happy cows live in Chile too. Strawberries at the street market, about 2 lbs for $2US. They won't sell them by the case, have to be weighed. No half-ripe ones either. Potatoes 6 lbs for $2; deep orange juicy 'cots right from the tree; spuds with the dirt still fresh on them, onions like softballs 6 for a mill pesos. Lots of familiar trees: sycamore, tulip poplar, sweet gum, lombardy poplar, weeping willow, eucalyptus, and my all time most hated smelling tree, Russian Olive. As a teen delivering papers, riding my bike through the war surplus student housing at Utah State, streets lined with those foul creations. I hated that. My nose is allergic; they make me sick. We have to walk right through several on the way to the office. Yuck.
We MAY BE walking less. We agreed to buy the embassy man's old but very nice Mazda 626 for a cool 5 grand US. Yes, cars, even old ones, are more pricey here; so is gas. Our expenses are about to double. His California car arrived and he is getting it registered and insured this week. The Mazda is the best we've seen and we can pay with a US check and no Chilean Carnet number. Getting it insured and registered is another issue. It may have to sit at the office for a few weeks until we can. Actually, it may sit at the church every night, because the conceirce says there are NO parking spaces for rent in the building. You can park it on the street across the way. No one will bother it; this is a quiet neighborhood. Maybe—maybe not. We may still have to walk to the office every day. Bummer.
The office elders “sacrificed” their p-day to take us to see it. That meant leaving the mission, driving through the rich east side up into the foothills of the Andes to the fine neighborhood of the car owners. Money climbs the hills in Santiago, too. (He is a young DEA agent here for six years; was also DEA in San Francisco; very familiar with Humboldt County. Ya don't say.) It also meant going right past Appleby's. Later we got hungry and had to eat somewhere, so . . . They didn't seem to mind eating there again-Dutch, or seeing the beautiful car dealers once more. Slow down! Hummers! There's a Maserati! Look at that huge Beamer! Aww it's too Mommy. When I get rich I'm going to have a-----------------. They may be missionaries but they are still kids.
When we pick up the car someone(two or more) will have to “sacrifice” another p-day. Any volunteers? Whoa!, not everyone at once. The mission van will only hold 8. We told President King we wanted to go see it—the people are in his ward—he said OK, but had no idea where these people lived. Just as well. He might have said no, nunca, nada. What happens in Los Condes stays in Los Condes, si? I hope we are not corrupting these poor elders. One said “I want a transfer to this mission.” Dissatisfaction moulders. We will be accountable.
The results of an unscientific survey taken from the Las Lomas church gate during the hour long Primary practice Thursday 5-7pm: Every few minutes I took a count of the people, dogs, cars, and buses visible in the two blocks left, one block ahead, and one block to my right.. dogs—up to 5 at any one time; buses—0 to 3; cars—0 to 4; people—12 to 30, never less, and not for their health; joggers—0 all the time; bicicletas—I forgot to count; strolling guitar players—up to three at a time, with four singers, probably Jehovah's Witnesses. Entertainment—constant and gratis.
Do I have a spiritual thot this week? Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven. We can not give too much. We can never get ahead of God. He always blesses us more than we deserve. We are all beggars, in a good way. He is the giver of all. Ask and ye shall receive. Knock and you'll most likely be told to go away. Doorbells are called rejection buttons. Actually they don't have doorbells; they have fence bells or no bells at all, in which case you holler a greeting, or if you are in Argentina, clap loudly. In any case the result is the same: most baptisms here come this way, but it is a lot of discouraging, or fun, work. Some elders love it; some despise it. Take your pick. It's up to you.
A very pregnant woman dressed in all black just walked by. Doesn't black make you look bigger? I hope she's not in mourning. She seems to be smiling. Good. I love sitting here two hours a week. I love writing these memoirs. I don't keep a daily journal, and I still haven't sent a letter, but you knew that. Of all the hundreds (here she comes back again—exercise?), or is it thousands of my followers, most of all I hope my grandkids enjoy and learn from what I write. Are you listening? I'm doing it mostly for you, now and later. This is a little “happy” from GRAMMY and Gramps.
WE LOVE YOU BECCA.
WE LOVE YOU LAUREN (AND SCOTT)
WE LOVE YOU HANNAH (YOU TOO, DALANEY)
WE LOVE YOU LINDS
WE LOVE YOU PARKER
WE LOVE YOU SAM
WE LOVE YOU MADDIE
WE LOVE YOU CAROLINE
WE LOVE YOU MATTHEW
WE LOVE YOU JACK
WE LOVE YOU JOHN
WE LOVE YOU JONATHON
WE LOVE YOU SOPHIE
WE LOVE YOU CADE
WE LOVE YOU EMMA
WE LOVE YOU AVA
WE LOVE YOU ELLA
WE LOVE YOU BABY SCOTT (Do we know boy or girl yet? Any names come to mind?)
AND WE LOVE THEM WHAT BORNED YA AND RAISED Y'ALL UP.
AND WE LOVE AND MISS NOAH AND CHARLIE
LET'S STAY TOGETHER FOREVER.
She has come by four times, the latest with a husband type person. Married? Who knows? While I was spell-checking and editing she came by twice more with husband and daughter. It's a cool evening, just twilight with a nice breeze from the ocean. That's all for now.
Tues: 7:30 pm
No time to add much. We will pick up our “new” car on Sat, but will have to park it at the office, so we'll walk just as much but be free to go to the temple, the store, the coast, the branch. Today we couldn't get on the freeway to take the pouch; later learned that a big tour bus and a semi were in a firey head on—about 20 dead, more than that injured; details sketchy. You'll know more about it than we will.
Cherries 80 cents a pound, strawberries a dollar, but turkey—about $2 a pound. Ten for Thanksgiving at our little apartment—two couples and 6 young missionaries including us.
Thanks to all who contributed to the box. It was more like a shipping container. No wonder it took 23 days to get here. They had to put it on a separate ship. We loved all the goodies and letters and drawings. It was like Santa had come early. They do celebrate Christmas, not Thanksgiving. I wish I had my Santa suit. Trying to find a beard and cap at least.
We're headed home with a trolly full of fruits and veggies. LUV TO ALL
MOMANDDAD
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
November 17, 2010
The final exam is the hardest. Everything you should have learned is tested. You are expected to be able to apply what you learned earlier to increasingly complex problems and prove that you have mastered the material. If not, then remedial measures may be needed. Life is a demanding school master. You can't slip by on charisma and good looks. And when you have neither anyway you've got to cut the mustard. Can anyone tell me what that means? I don't think I have ever cut the mustard; the cheese yes, but the mustard? Here the mustard is runny and pale and doesn't need cutting. You could drink it; same with the yogurt. In fact, you can buy big jugs of liquid yogurt. You can; but I don't.
I thought I had learned to obey. It had become pretty easy to do the right thing. Then I retired and slipped into a new lifestyle. Not sin, just leisure, lovely, lovely leisure. I loved being able to decide each morning what I wanted to do that day. And if I wanted to do nothing, I could spend the whole day, maybe two, doing just. . . nothing. Or piddling. Or doing the things at the bottom of the list, first. I like to do that sometimes. Otherwise they never get done; and they need a chance just like the really important, high priority stuff. But life changes.
This is the biggest change of lifestyle and the hardest test I've ever faced. All my life I've asked: Is there anything in this church that is optional? Anything extracurricular? Or is it all prerequisite? Primary 101; Mutual 102: Scouting 103: Priesthood 104...meetings...activities…projects...meetings... go and do...sit and listen...do it again...meetings...activities...early morning...Saturday and Sunday...Tuesday and Wednesday...firesides...youth conferences...dance festivals...service projects...you know the routine. “But Mom, Do I have to go to every dance? What about ME? ME? ME? I'm nearly 70 years old. Do I still have to do it all?” “Yes, Blair, pretty much everything.”
There is no ME in mission. Applying the concept of losing yourself is a real test. Of faith. Of endurance. Of will...or won't. What if I don't? I guess that's why God allows p-day. It used to be called d-day=diversion day. I have a short attention span. I need some diversion. I have trouble staying on task forever. I. I. I. There I go again. Mom is with me here. We both suffer. Diversion Deprivation Disorder.
The question here is will I? Do what I've been called to do? Do whatever is necessary? Do what I promised long ago to do? Do what my Father in Heaven expects me to do? Do what will bless His children and build His Kingdom? Get up and go every morning, again? Teach a lesson from a manual I can't read and can hardly pronounce? (My fourth week.) Walk the walk? Try to talk the talk in an unknown tongue?
I didn't anticipate what a test this would be. I hope I can endure it well and return with honor. It is not an easy thing, but I must do it. I will do it. I am learning to do it. I haven't passed the final exam yet. God, grant me time. Please, patiently give me opportunity to master the course and graduate. Thy will, not mine be done. I bend my will to thine.
President King was surely inspired, even before we arrived, to give us a variety of assignments. It's easier for me to do several things than only one. I know it's not supposed to be easy, but thanks for the discernment. I really enjoy what we do and where we do it and who we meet in the process. I love driving to the coast every week. Herds of horses. Dozens of potato and onion pickers filling tall orange sacks. Some tractors for plowing etc., but lots of bent over laborers and a stack of bicycles at the corner of the field. A skinny bike bowing under a not so skinny woman. We love road trips, so anywhere we get to drive we are there taking in all the sights. We'd make good tourists.
The freeway is a little different here than at home. Pedestrians, bikers, bus stops, people walking across where there is no nice walkover structure (one has a restaurant above the freeway), fruit and egg vendors, but no horse carts. They have to use the frontage road. The crews are out mowing and painting and cleaning the right of ways—all by hand. One guy with a weed whacker and another holding a 4x8 plastic shield to protect the cars, both in helmeted hazmat-looking bullet-proof suits . Men with hoes hacking weeds out of the median, others with water hoses every morning watering the trees, flowers and grass. They keep it looking pretty good. We hear that there is low unemployment. If you want to work, we'll find or invent you a job. The Caribinaros (national police) ride motor cycles, are armed to the teeth, and also wear bullet proof suits of army green. The speed limit varies from 80-120, and you can bet that right after the limit drops there will be a couple of little green men standing on each side of the road with radar guns pointed in your direction. Haven't got me yet.
We're also learning new office and computer skills. I work in Excel doing different spread sheets for supplies and orders. We're now tracking every letter and package we handle. Already it is obvious that the rich get richer and the poor get nothing. I'm using Google Earth to find referrals and send them to the right missionaries or mission. I get to put on an apron and fix fans, irons, heaters, etc. We get to work in the Branch Sundays and Thursdays. Sorry we don't have inspiring investigator stories. We don't get to do that.
Mom is adding piano students and is building a waiting list of possibles. Her first member-friend, Bristella, the caterer-cook-bishop's wife who feeds us on Wednesdays, starts tomorrow, trading piano lessons for Spanish lessons. She, and BJ, are excited. She also said she would find us a whole Thanksgiving turkey. I've yet to see one. We may settle for a whole pechuga (breast, of poultry).
We're having the 8 office staff over for Thanksgiving dinner. Anybody surprised? Then you haven't met Hermana Betty Jane Pack. She's buying new plates and glasses, and has started the table decorations already. The menu is set and assigned. We just have to find a few more things, like cranberries, pumpkin, allspice, two more spoons, and two more chairs. Two may have to sit in the little rooms on the white porcelain thrones. NOT.
Yesterday we hit the grocery shopping lottery. (Yes they have a lottery. You buy your tickets or play the machines in one of the closet-sized street stores.) We borrowed the mission truck and went to Sodimac Home Center and a huge Lider with underground guarded parking. StoveTop Stuffing, Betty Crocker cake mixes (one flavor to choose from: chocolate fudge, yummy), Great Value p-nut butter and raspberry jam, Old El Paso taco sauce and refried beans, Oreos, more Jean Nate in the Christmas gift display, a new microonda (microwave) made in Chile. Not a crystal of brown sugar, although they sell something akin. (not even close!) The ship from the states must have just unloaded. Good timing. It's all gone by now. We're not the only ones who crave familiar US stuff, although we have never met a non-missionary gringo in Maipu. It is Chilean through and through. Who is buying all the US stuff? As with any lottery you pay more than you win. In this case at least 2-3X US prices, but we still feel like winners.
Occasionally we have members identify themselves to us on the street. It's a thrill when they do, like the one Friday who said she or her kids or grandkids (not sure what she said) had been on missions to Argentina, Columbia and somewhere else. She was bubbly and excited, visited briefly, and was on her way. Or the 14 year old boy who came from way across the plaza to introduce himself and ask about us. And the funniest, a young woman who assumed we were lost and escorted us to the office, where we were going anyway. Or the three drunks who called me “brother” and wanted to talk. “Sorry, Bro, but I gotta go!”
We kept the truck, a big white Ford crew cab (although not as long as Doug's old Ford “train”), overnight to move some stuff from our apartment, then took it to the branch this morning where it drew stares and questions. We've been telling people we are going to buy a car. No, it's not ours. It belongs to the mission. We're just borrowing it. We are waiting for visas, identification cards and numbers, status and opportunity. I hope it will be soon. Actually, it may be Sat. An LDS US Embassy worker ordered a new car which is to arrive Fri. Our budget is growing; maybe we can afford their 1997 Mazda 626. And they will take our US check! My presidency meetings have moved from Thursday nite when cabs are plentiful to 8:00 am Sunday when you have to call radio taxi and pay the tariff. We yearn for the freedom of having our own car. You can't imagine.
By the way, I found something the Branch could really use. Their hymnbooks are ratty and torn, pages and covers missing, covered with graffiti, not a pretty sight and not enough of them. If someone wanted a quick and easy Christmas project, you could put the money in our account and I could order them from the distribution center here. The other day I ordered about 50,000 pamphlets and pass along cards for next year. Hope it's enough. I'm not sure what they ordered in the past. We've been out of the pamphlet “The Plan of Salvation” ever since we arrived.
Someone in our family offered our branch 12 gift subscriptions to the Liahona magazine. Thank you very kindly. I made a deal with the branch: buy a subscription for yourself, and my family will buy a gift subscription for the family of your choice—relative, less active, investigator, can't afford it, whatever. It's catching on. I sold one today—about $7US. The Liahona is the Spanish version of the Ensign, New Era, and Friend all in one. Only 11 more to sell. Every family should have it.
Last night I lost one of my branch callings. There is no longer a standing ward activities committee, or separate welfare committee meetings, nor a requirement to fill every position on the chart if the ward doesn't have enough people, and the option for fewer leadership meetings. Lighten the load of the bishop by solving many (most) things at a presidency level. Do it and report it; don't wait for the bishop to tell you what to do. What have we been thinking, people? One major calling per person, and one major calling per family with young children. Guess we old people will be carrying more of the load, eh? New church handbooks; good changes. We watched the training broadcast at the area office in English with the dozen missionary couples from the three Santiago missions. First time we've met most of them.
On the way home after 5 hours at church today we picked up four missionaries walking the miles to their dinner appointment. They almost fit into the back seat. We told the greenie that he would have to get in the bed, Mexican style. The other day I saw a wheelchair in the back of a pickup. When we got closer I saw a man lying in the bed of the truck. Necessity is the mother of invention. These people make do and waste nothing.
However, in our underground parking area, across from our stall is a big expensive Mercedes, and two spaces to the left is a bigger Mercedes SUV. I just saw someone across the way bring up from the parking area a big flat screen TV, and another couple carrying some kind of appliances up to the fourth floor. Not everyone is poor. We see thousands of people spending lots of silver in every store we visit. It appears that many (maybe 50 out of 120) of our building tenants have cars, although every morning we see/hear quite a few walking out to work and in the evening coming back loaded with grocery bags. In the afternoon EVERYONE is carrying something home. A little bit every day. We wanted to shop BIG while we had the truck and spent over $250 on groceries. Won't have to carry much for a while, but were dead tired after bringing it up from below. No elevator here.
Tired. Tired. Tired. This is the hardest thing we have ever done, physically and mentally. We hope and pray the health holds up. Already we have seen two senior couples go home from adjacent missions for health reasons. Critical, life and death issues. Another young sister broke under the stress and leaves tomorrow. Our aches and pains are nothing. We are strong and well and have no reason to believe that will change. Just exhausted every night. We catch a nap when we can, like Sunday afternoon, and slept till 10 on Saturday, so we're OK. We don't get any naps in the daytime weekdays.
At night when we are in bed, about 10:30 the Assistentes walk by our open bedroom window and Elder Acosta (Uruguay) says “Goodnight Elder and Sister Pack… We love you.” We answer and fall into sweet dreams. It's so sweet.
The woman across and up one is out on her balcony folding her leopard skin something. I just got my picture taken, in the background of grandma shooting the nieto on the monkey bars. Today it was Pablo's dad tending him on the playground and calling him every minute: Pablo-this; Pablo-that; Pablo, Pablo, Pablo. Poor, loved, over guarded Pablo. Parents are very solicitous of their kids. It's heart warming. . . but, there is a cultural acceptance of unwed parenting. It doesn't seem to be a big deal if your teenage daughter has a baby. “Que bueno!”
And as the weather warms the clothing seems to shrink: shorter, lower, cropped, tighter, bellies, . There is a different standard of modesty than we are used to. The older ones are very modest; the younger ones not so. Women have been recently liberated here: divorce legalized, birth control available (apparently not well used), limited sex education. The younger generation is shaking off the shackles of the old Catholic morality and it shows in the exposure and the big bellies.
Where in the US would you see so many fathers and daughters, of all ages, mothers and daughters, mothers and sons, fathers and sons, old and young, mid and mid age, holding hands, walking arm in arm all over the place? We love it. Pros and cons.
It's Sunday evening, my usual writing time, with addendums the next few days until I email it. Tonight I want to spend some time captioning and tweaking my photos. I have a lot that are out of focus. I can't seem to get Picassa to fix that. Any suggestions? I notice that if I shoot the same photo twice the second one is almost always in focus, unless I'm zooming a long way. I like to point and shoot. I don't like waiting for the camera to do its thing. I want it NOW. I don't always have time to wait a second. The moment is gone; the arrow is flown; the smile has melted.
I just had a bag of microwave popcorn (Lider brand-very good) from our new microwave and piece of Betty Crocker with Betty Jane icing. Good Night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bad bugs bite. So far they haven't.
Now it's Wed. 17 Nov. I have edited, but have little more to add. We are on our way to Bristella's for lunch, 2:15 every Wednesday, then leaving work early. We got some letters this week. Thank you so much.
WE LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. YOU CAN'T IMAGINE HOW MUCH. YOU ARE THE BEST!
MOMANDDAD
I thought I had learned to obey. It had become pretty easy to do the right thing. Then I retired and slipped into a new lifestyle. Not sin, just leisure, lovely, lovely leisure. I loved being able to decide each morning what I wanted to do that day. And if I wanted to do nothing, I could spend the whole day, maybe two, doing just. . . nothing. Or piddling. Or doing the things at the bottom of the list, first. I like to do that sometimes. Otherwise they never get done; and they need a chance just like the really important, high priority stuff. But life changes.
This is the biggest change of lifestyle and the hardest test I've ever faced. All my life I've asked: Is there anything in this church that is optional? Anything extracurricular? Or is it all prerequisite? Primary 101; Mutual 102: Scouting 103: Priesthood 104...meetings...activities…projects...meetings... go and do...sit and listen...do it again...meetings...activities...early morning...Saturday and Sunday...Tuesday and Wednesday...firesides...youth conferences...dance festivals...service projects...you know the routine. “But Mom, Do I have to go to every dance? What about ME? ME? ME? I'm nearly 70 years old. Do I still have to do it all?” “Yes, Blair, pretty much everything.”
There is no ME in mission. Applying the concept of losing yourself is a real test. Of faith. Of endurance. Of will...or won't. What if I don't? I guess that's why God allows p-day. It used to be called d-day=diversion day. I have a short attention span. I need some diversion. I have trouble staying on task forever. I. I. I. There I go again. Mom is with me here. We both suffer. Diversion Deprivation Disorder.
The question here is will I? Do what I've been called to do? Do whatever is necessary? Do what I promised long ago to do? Do what my Father in Heaven expects me to do? Do what will bless His children and build His Kingdom? Get up and go every morning, again? Teach a lesson from a manual I can't read and can hardly pronounce? (My fourth week.) Walk the walk? Try to talk the talk in an unknown tongue?
I didn't anticipate what a test this would be. I hope I can endure it well and return with honor. It is not an easy thing, but I must do it. I will do it. I am learning to do it. I haven't passed the final exam yet. God, grant me time. Please, patiently give me opportunity to master the course and graduate. Thy will, not mine be done. I bend my will to thine.
President King was surely inspired, even before we arrived, to give us a variety of assignments. It's easier for me to do several things than only one. I know it's not supposed to be easy, but thanks for the discernment. I really enjoy what we do and where we do it and who we meet in the process. I love driving to the coast every week. Herds of horses. Dozens of potato and onion pickers filling tall orange sacks. Some tractors for plowing etc., but lots of bent over laborers and a stack of bicycles at the corner of the field. A skinny bike bowing under a not so skinny woman. We love road trips, so anywhere we get to drive we are there taking in all the sights. We'd make good tourists.
The freeway is a little different here than at home. Pedestrians, bikers, bus stops, people walking across where there is no nice walkover structure (one has a restaurant above the freeway), fruit and egg vendors, but no horse carts. They have to use the frontage road. The crews are out mowing and painting and cleaning the right of ways—all by hand. One guy with a weed whacker and another holding a 4x8 plastic shield to protect the cars, both in helmeted hazmat-looking bullet-proof suits . Men with hoes hacking weeds out of the median, others with water hoses every morning watering the trees, flowers and grass. They keep it looking pretty good. We hear that there is low unemployment. If you want to work, we'll find or invent you a job. The Caribinaros (national police) ride motor cycles, are armed to the teeth, and also wear bullet proof suits of army green. The speed limit varies from 80-120, and you can bet that right after the limit drops there will be a couple of little green men standing on each side of the road with radar guns pointed in your direction. Haven't got me yet.
We're also learning new office and computer skills. I work in Excel doing different spread sheets for supplies and orders. We're now tracking every letter and package we handle. Already it is obvious that the rich get richer and the poor get nothing. I'm using Google Earth to find referrals and send them to the right missionaries or mission. I get to put on an apron and fix fans, irons, heaters, etc. We get to work in the Branch Sundays and Thursdays. Sorry we don't have inspiring investigator stories. We don't get to do that.
Mom is adding piano students and is building a waiting list of possibles. Her first member-friend, Bristella, the caterer-cook-bishop's wife who feeds us on Wednesdays, starts tomorrow, trading piano lessons for Spanish lessons. She, and BJ, are excited. She also said she would find us a whole Thanksgiving turkey. I've yet to see one. We may settle for a whole pechuga (breast, of poultry).
We're having the 8 office staff over for Thanksgiving dinner. Anybody surprised? Then you haven't met Hermana Betty Jane Pack. She's buying new plates and glasses, and has started the table decorations already. The menu is set and assigned. We just have to find a few more things, like cranberries, pumpkin, allspice, two more spoons, and two more chairs. Two may have to sit in the little rooms on the white porcelain thrones. NOT.
Yesterday we hit the grocery shopping lottery. (Yes they have a lottery. You buy your tickets or play the machines in one of the closet-sized street stores.) We borrowed the mission truck and went to Sodimac Home Center and a huge Lider with underground guarded parking. StoveTop Stuffing, Betty Crocker cake mixes (one flavor to choose from: chocolate fudge, yummy), Great Value p-nut butter and raspberry jam, Old El Paso taco sauce and refried beans, Oreos, more Jean Nate in the Christmas gift display, a new microonda (microwave) made in Chile. Not a crystal of brown sugar, although they sell something akin. (not even close!) The ship from the states must have just unloaded. Good timing. It's all gone by now. We're not the only ones who crave familiar US stuff, although we have never met a non-missionary gringo in Maipu. It is Chilean through and through. Who is buying all the US stuff? As with any lottery you pay more than you win. In this case at least 2-3X US prices, but we still feel like winners.
Occasionally we have members identify themselves to us on the street. It's a thrill when they do, like the one Friday who said she or her kids or grandkids (not sure what she said) had been on missions to Argentina, Columbia and somewhere else. She was bubbly and excited, visited briefly, and was on her way. Or the 14 year old boy who came from way across the plaza to introduce himself and ask about us. And the funniest, a young woman who assumed we were lost and escorted us to the office, where we were going anyway. Or the three drunks who called me “brother” and wanted to talk. “Sorry, Bro, but I gotta go!”
We kept the truck, a big white Ford crew cab (although not as long as Doug's old Ford “train”), overnight to move some stuff from our apartment, then took it to the branch this morning where it drew stares and questions. We've been telling people we are going to buy a car. No, it's not ours. It belongs to the mission. We're just borrowing it. We are waiting for visas, identification cards and numbers, status and opportunity. I hope it will be soon. Actually, it may be Sat. An LDS US Embassy worker ordered a new car which is to arrive Fri. Our budget is growing; maybe we can afford their 1997 Mazda 626. And they will take our US check! My presidency meetings have moved from Thursday nite when cabs are plentiful to 8:00 am Sunday when you have to call radio taxi and pay the tariff. We yearn for the freedom of having our own car. You can't imagine.
By the way, I found something the Branch could really use. Their hymnbooks are ratty and torn, pages and covers missing, covered with graffiti, not a pretty sight and not enough of them. If someone wanted a quick and easy Christmas project, you could put the money in our account and I could order them from the distribution center here. The other day I ordered about 50,000 pamphlets and pass along cards for next year. Hope it's enough. I'm not sure what they ordered in the past. We've been out of the pamphlet “The Plan of Salvation” ever since we arrived.
Someone in our family offered our branch 12 gift subscriptions to the Liahona magazine. Thank you very kindly. I made a deal with the branch: buy a subscription for yourself, and my family will buy a gift subscription for the family of your choice—relative, less active, investigator, can't afford it, whatever. It's catching on. I sold one today—about $7US. The Liahona is the Spanish version of the Ensign, New Era, and Friend all in one. Only 11 more to sell. Every family should have it.
Last night I lost one of my branch callings. There is no longer a standing ward activities committee, or separate welfare committee meetings, nor a requirement to fill every position on the chart if the ward doesn't have enough people, and the option for fewer leadership meetings. Lighten the load of the bishop by solving many (most) things at a presidency level. Do it and report it; don't wait for the bishop to tell you what to do. What have we been thinking, people? One major calling per person, and one major calling per family with young children. Guess we old people will be carrying more of the load, eh? New church handbooks; good changes. We watched the training broadcast at the area office in English with the dozen missionary couples from the three Santiago missions. First time we've met most of them.
On the way home after 5 hours at church today we picked up four missionaries walking the miles to their dinner appointment. They almost fit into the back seat. We told the greenie that he would have to get in the bed, Mexican style. The other day I saw a wheelchair in the back of a pickup. When we got closer I saw a man lying in the bed of the truck. Necessity is the mother of invention. These people make do and waste nothing.
However, in our underground parking area, across from our stall is a big expensive Mercedes, and two spaces to the left is a bigger Mercedes SUV. I just saw someone across the way bring up from the parking area a big flat screen TV, and another couple carrying some kind of appliances up to the fourth floor. Not everyone is poor. We see thousands of people spending lots of silver in every store we visit. It appears that many (maybe 50 out of 120) of our building tenants have cars, although every morning we see/hear quite a few walking out to work and in the evening coming back loaded with grocery bags. In the afternoon EVERYONE is carrying something home. A little bit every day. We wanted to shop BIG while we had the truck and spent over $250 on groceries. Won't have to carry much for a while, but were dead tired after bringing it up from below. No elevator here.
Tired. Tired. Tired. This is the hardest thing we have ever done, physically and mentally. We hope and pray the health holds up. Already we have seen two senior couples go home from adjacent missions for health reasons. Critical, life and death issues. Another young sister broke under the stress and leaves tomorrow. Our aches and pains are nothing. We are strong and well and have no reason to believe that will change. Just exhausted every night. We catch a nap when we can, like Sunday afternoon, and slept till 10 on Saturday, so we're OK. We don't get any naps in the daytime weekdays.
At night when we are in bed, about 10:30 the Assistentes walk by our open bedroom window and Elder Acosta (Uruguay) says “Goodnight Elder and Sister Pack… We love you.” We answer and fall into sweet dreams. It's so sweet.
The woman across and up one is out on her balcony folding her leopard skin something. I just got my picture taken, in the background of grandma shooting the nieto on the monkey bars. Today it was Pablo's dad tending him on the playground and calling him every minute: Pablo-this; Pablo-that; Pablo, Pablo, Pablo. Poor, loved, over guarded Pablo. Parents are very solicitous of their kids. It's heart warming. . . but, there is a cultural acceptance of unwed parenting. It doesn't seem to be a big deal if your teenage daughter has a baby. “Que bueno!”
And as the weather warms the clothing seems to shrink: shorter, lower, cropped, tighter, bellies, . There is a different standard of modesty than we are used to. The older ones are very modest; the younger ones not so. Women have been recently liberated here: divorce legalized, birth control available (apparently not well used), limited sex education. The younger generation is shaking off the shackles of the old Catholic morality and it shows in the exposure and the big bellies.
Where in the US would you see so many fathers and daughters, of all ages, mothers and daughters, mothers and sons, fathers and sons, old and young, mid and mid age, holding hands, walking arm in arm all over the place? We love it. Pros and cons.
It's Sunday evening, my usual writing time, with addendums the next few days until I email it. Tonight I want to spend some time captioning and tweaking my photos. I have a lot that are out of focus. I can't seem to get Picassa to fix that. Any suggestions? I notice that if I shoot the same photo twice the second one is almost always in focus, unless I'm zooming a long way. I like to point and shoot. I don't like waiting for the camera to do its thing. I want it NOW. I don't always have time to wait a second. The moment is gone; the arrow is flown; the smile has melted.
I just had a bag of microwave popcorn (Lider brand-very good) from our new microwave and piece of Betty Crocker with Betty Jane icing. Good Night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bad bugs bite. So far they haven't.
Now it's Wed. 17 Nov. I have edited, but have little more to add. We are on our way to Bristella's for lunch, 2:15 every Wednesday, then leaving work early. We got some letters this week. Thank you so much.
WE LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. YOU CAN'T IMAGINE HOW MUCH. YOU ARE THE BEST!
MOMANDDAD
Friday, November 12, 2010
November 12, 2010
Sun. pm
So she made a little cake with her last handful of Duncan Hines and a little oil. She had faith that the Lord would provide another and that her barrel of meal should not waste and the cruz of oil would not fail until the Day that the Lord calls her back to WalMart in the land of milk and honey. The milk here is cooked, boxed, and barely tolerable on cereal. You wouldn't want to spoil a yummy piece of carrot cake with cream cheese and walnut frosting with a glass of Parmalat would you? Not me. Can't wait until bedtime, when I can have seconds. By the way, the blood sugar has not been above 101 the times I've tested it here. Target is below 120. I don't test after cake. Instead of milk I cherish my daily cup of Coke Zero, about $5 US for 3 liters. Lasts about a week.
The Sunday roast turned out to be greasy pork and the corn on the cob “imported from the United States” according to the persuasive street vendor, tasted like field corn shipped back in June sometime. The (real) potatoes and gravy are now a Sunday expectation without disappointment. On Fast Day they were especially welcome. Fried zucchini rounded out the plate along with a tasty loaf of Pan, Campo, Rustica, which we took to mean crusty homemade country style bread in a round dome-shaped loaf that you tear not slice and slather with mantaquilla (butter). No disappointment here either. I bought some local honey (miel) but have only finger tasted it. For breakfast I'll have some more pan y mantaquilla con miel. (It was delicious.) We're becoming Chilenos.
Mom and I each taught our lesson, so to speak. I had seven minutes, six boys; she had one girl and three women who didn't speak English. Her interpreter didn't show. Emergencies, she said. We did our best and leave the rest to the Spirit to carry a message into the hearts of the jovenes (young people). We are trying to simply speak more—Spanish or English-- in all our contacts with people. I bore a simple testimony without notes today and chatted up the cab driver all the way home. He understood me enough to go off on long rants about drugs, kids these days, his four kids and three grandkids, Mormons he knows, living near the LDS church in Los Cerrillos. I guess I understood some of him, too. It's getting fun to try, frustrating but fun.
It rained all day so no kids on the playground, but jovenes partying until well past midnight. They told us it was going to rain, but silly geese, we left the paragua (umbrella) home as did many others at church. Most of them were seen holding lesson manuals or garbage bags over their heads as they made their ways home, walking of course. Very bizarre weather they say. When our Branch Pres got home (walking in the rain) he called us to make sure we had gotten a cab. Touching. How could we not love these people?
Rejoice! Both of “our families” were at church again. We haven't been to their homes again, but we do make over them at church. They seem to like the attention, and it's not just from us. They are truly welcomed by the branch. Little Ignatio, who was named and blessed last Fast Sunday, is growing like a weed. Aracelly almost burst when I told her our daughters had asked about him and were sending a gift. She couldn't believe it. Such simple gratitude gets into my heart—and my eyes, too. These people are the salt of the earth. Good and genuine. They have not lost their savor, and they never complain about not having a car. We're trying not to.
The Primary Presidency asked Mom to play for the Primary Children's Sacrament Meeting in two weeks. It's my Sunday to conduct. They have two practices the next two Wednesdays with all 11 children. I can't wait to enjoy whatever they have created and prepared. So far we've not been disappointed with anything our Branch and Stake have produced. First Class all the way.
A good sign. Two year old Matilda told her mother she wanted to be my friend. Her mother got young Elder Grow to translate for her to me, but I understood what she was saying well enough to answer her and Mattie directly, bypassing Elder Grow. One small step; one small friend; one giant satisfaction. I just ache that we are not allowed to hug these kids. They are angelic. For several weeks Mattie wouldn't come near me or look me in the eye. Now we're buds.! We're lovin' it.
I promised details. Applebys right? Right! A few weeks ago Mom promised the office staff she would take them out to eat before Elder Roundy leaves the office. He leaves Tuesday. In our staff meeting last week Elder Acosta (Uruguay) asked the pres if we could have an office activity this Saturday, at Appleby's he found online. Mom was game, we did, she paid. The bill was bigger than she anticipated, but the food was all-American. Coke Zero in big ice-filled glasses with free refills (all three unheard of), nachos, ribeye steak and not puny either, medium rare to perfection, steamed broccoli, large napkins, an English speaking waiter, photos, laughter. A fun time was had by all and Mom swallowed the bill and still hasn't spent as much as she would have at home. This was in an area called Las Condes: Lexus, Peugot, Mercedes and a BMW dealership two stories tall and a block long. The Dorius's had never been there. “We're not in Maipu any more are we?” Hardly. We also saw a Ruby Tuesday nearby. Next month? Dutch, maybe. We've been told you can get anything in Santiago you can get in the US—I think it's all in Las Condes.
We are so grateful for our kids and grandkids. You and many others are such a support to us. We have decided to track all the letters and packages that come to the mission from now till the first of the year. I hear that many missionaries have zero support and get just that many letters. I want to know who and do something. One couple told us they had not had a letter, package, email from any of their kids or grandkids since they left home. Sad. Not to brag but to say THANKS, Beth tells us our blog has had over 250 hits. Amazing. We love your comments and welcome more. We'll respond if you include your email. I apologize for whining about not getting letters. I just counted up all the letters I've written on paper and mailed to any of you. Big Fat Zero, Nada, Nothing, Nunca. I promise to do better. I do try to answer each email personally.
Mon. pm
Back at the open window again. Kids hard at play. Beautiful day. We came home early, no meetings, p-day clothes, a nap, and time to write. We won't have this luxury for the next 6 days at least. Just our schedule. We really have considerable control over some of our time. We wake at 6:30 or 7:00 (can you believe it?), get up and going by 7 or 7:30, at the office about 9, earlier sometimes for special needs like today (more later), take our lunch or eat out on the way to the correo about 2pm (Big Macs and Doble Quartos con cueso today). Sometimes we work late getting the pouches ready; sometimes we Skype; sometimes we have branch or stake meetings; we are going to come home early every chance we get. To bed between 10 and 11. P-day on Saturday. Branch 2-4 nites a week.
Last Sat. after Applebys we were dropped off at another big mall we hadn't been to and spent about 5 hours shopping, eating ice cream (three flavors with toppings and whipped cream in a tall parfait glass for about a buck and a half), enjoying the people, chillin'. Again, we were impressed. Families by the hundreds, kids of all ages, many people holding hands, three generations together, not a negative spot in the day—if you subtract the PDAs. Even at church, couples, not all of them teenagers, overdo the goodbye k.i.s.s.i.n.g. (Hear those jets flying over? There is an air force base, an international airport, and at least two flying schools not far from us.) Poor Mom was so disappointed. She looked for hours in all the department stores for summer shirts, blouses, skirts, etc. She couldn't find a thing she liked in her size. Today we stopped in our local downtown Corona and she found three for about $25 US. You never know. She's going back tomorrow.
Elder Barlow (Las Vegas) tells his friends who are coming to Chile to buy only one suit in the US for the MTC and travel, then get three at Corona for the price of the one they brought. He says they are very good quality. Maybe he's been here too long. But I might try one. Sixty bucks isn't too big a risk.
Mom has found and befriended a hairdresser next door to the correo. For $11 she got a very nice cut, shampoo and comb-out. Then Soledad came at me with her scissors, but I begged off until otro dia. Men's haircuts are $4 and she has some two-fer deals we might try. I'm not quite ready. OH! What luck! At the mall is a jumbo grocery store called JUMBO. You go right into it at the end of the mall just like Sears. After striking out in every other store we've been to for two months, she found her much needed Jean Nate'. Good thing too because she was down to fumes. I made her get two. About the same as US. I got two 12 oz. jars of $5 off-brand p-nut butter. Both imported, go figure.
This is Cambio Week in the mission. In Mississippi we call it transfers; they call it changes. Every six weeks missionaries go home, come in or get changed--areas or companions or both. About two-thirds of the 160+ missionaries were changed in some way the last two days. It is a mammoth operation which takes half of the six weeks to prepare for the next one. The office is abuzz and a mess until the deed is finished. Whew! We finished about noon today. That's why we got to come home early.
The “Go-Homers” leave late Monday to fly all night and get home before afternoon usually. We don't get to go the airport or their final meeting and interviews, but we got to see and greet and congratulate all of them as they came to the office. I'm in charge of making sure their luggage makes weight requirements, which vary by airline and destination. South American flyers only get to take one 30kilo and a small carry-on. It's hard to make weight even when you're allowed two 23kilo, a carry-on of questionable size, a personal bag and your suit pockets stuffed full of the heaviest stuff. Poor Elder Simmons (Bountiful) had to take the stone base off his treasured lapis lazuli (precious and famous Chilean stone) eagle carving and leave it behind. Saved him about 6 pounds. Another left his boots. It's gut wrenching to do and to watch. Sweet, Sweet Day.
Today the 82 cambios and their companions came in like an army, on foot, by bus, truck, delivery van, any kind of vehicle a willing member could find. As we approached the office gate they were streaming down the street with everything they own. An amazing sight. For about an hour they meet and greet on the outdoor soccer/basketball court every LDS church has. They know who is going to be changed, who is getting one of the 20 greenies to train, but no one knows who their new companion is or where they will serve.
Then the Assistants bring out printouts of all that information, announce who the new zone leaders and district leaders are (we lost 8 of 12 zone leaders who went home yesterday), and post the changes on the back wall of the church property. A semi-controlled semi-mad dash ensues. Then there is lots of hugging and tears, celebrating, and perhaps some private misgivings that hopefully will be worked out quickly. I don't have companion problems on this mission, but I understand being assigned somewhere or with someone you didn't think you wanted. Sometimes you don't find out till a while later how tough it's going to be. It's one of the miracles of Missionary Work that there are very few comp on comp homicides.
The greenies fly in early in the morning, get fed, interviewed, oriented, and meet their new trainers who have just come out of the temple. The trainers help pull the luggage and take their new companions home (somehow—welcome to Chile, Elder) to rest before the evening appointments. BJ and I have the pleasure of giving each greenie a brand new pillow, but not until Thursday. This change all 20 were North American males. When we have Latinos and Sisters things are slightly different, but you get the picture.
Literally. Beth helped me upload all our mission photos to somewhere in the sky where with the right secret information you can see them, including today and yesterday's pix. They don't have captions yet. Adopting new technology is sometimes a tedious process—for me. I'm going to leave you now and try putting on captions.
Tues. pm
Dog poo in Maipu. It's everywhere. And it gets tracked everywhere else. Somebody needs to teach these street dogs to doo it on the grass not the sidewalk. It's especially hazardous in the dark. So far we have kept our souls clean, but the nose is assaulted by every breeze. I learned how the street dogs survive. They climb into garbage containers (I haven't actually seen a dumpster), so people hang their garbage on fences, trees, wherever, in plastic store bags, but the dogs are clever, and every Monday and Friday morning, before the truck gets there the street to the office is strewn with remnants. However, unlike our Lamar County sanitation workers, the Maipu Municipal workers in their lime green caps and vests sweep and pick up the stray garbage. I also saw a woman pulling a shopping trolley like ours, reaching into it and pulling out a pork chop now and then for an especially worthy dog. How does she know? The butcher truck sometimes has scraps to throw. The dogs are well fed.
As are the people. Not many skinny ones on the streets. I think it's the daily ice cream. And bread. And those late night onces (say oon-saeys)--church or family gatherings for snacks about 10 or 11. Cheese might play a part. Completos piled high with mayo, catsup, avocado? My weight? I've actually lost a few, very few. My belt still fits, but my coat is loose. Fully dressed and pockets loaded I topped 106 on Monday. Impressed? Kilograms.
Fri. pm
Seven kids and two adults came to the Primary practice. It was better than you'd think. I got some more photos captioned and into folders. May send them to the sky tonight. Got to get this on its way. Bye for now. A very tiring week. LUV LUV LUV LOVE LOVE LOVE
Mom and Dad
Editor’s note: Pictures are coming. Another syncing needs to take place though. We made some progress but we are not finished...yet.
So she made a little cake with her last handful of Duncan Hines and a little oil. She had faith that the Lord would provide another and that her barrel of meal should not waste and the cruz of oil would not fail until the Day that the Lord calls her back to WalMart in the land of milk and honey. The milk here is cooked, boxed, and barely tolerable on cereal. You wouldn't want to spoil a yummy piece of carrot cake with cream cheese and walnut frosting with a glass of Parmalat would you? Not me. Can't wait until bedtime, when I can have seconds. By the way, the blood sugar has not been above 101 the times I've tested it here. Target is below 120. I don't test after cake. Instead of milk I cherish my daily cup of Coke Zero, about $5 US for 3 liters. Lasts about a week.
The Sunday roast turned out to be greasy pork and the corn on the cob “imported from the United States” according to the persuasive street vendor, tasted like field corn shipped back in June sometime. The (real) potatoes and gravy are now a Sunday expectation without disappointment. On Fast Day they were especially welcome. Fried zucchini rounded out the plate along with a tasty loaf of Pan, Campo, Rustica, which we took to mean crusty homemade country style bread in a round dome-shaped loaf that you tear not slice and slather with mantaquilla (butter). No disappointment here either. I bought some local honey (miel) but have only finger tasted it. For breakfast I'll have some more pan y mantaquilla con miel. (It was delicious.) We're becoming Chilenos.
Mom and I each taught our lesson, so to speak. I had seven minutes, six boys; she had one girl and three women who didn't speak English. Her interpreter didn't show. Emergencies, she said. We did our best and leave the rest to the Spirit to carry a message into the hearts of the jovenes (young people). We are trying to simply speak more—Spanish or English-- in all our contacts with people. I bore a simple testimony without notes today and chatted up the cab driver all the way home. He understood me enough to go off on long rants about drugs, kids these days, his four kids and three grandkids, Mormons he knows, living near the LDS church in Los Cerrillos. I guess I understood some of him, too. It's getting fun to try, frustrating but fun.
It rained all day so no kids on the playground, but jovenes partying until well past midnight. They told us it was going to rain, but silly geese, we left the paragua (umbrella) home as did many others at church. Most of them were seen holding lesson manuals or garbage bags over their heads as they made their ways home, walking of course. Very bizarre weather they say. When our Branch Pres got home (walking in the rain) he called us to make sure we had gotten a cab. Touching. How could we not love these people?
Rejoice! Both of “our families” were at church again. We haven't been to their homes again, but we do make over them at church. They seem to like the attention, and it's not just from us. They are truly welcomed by the branch. Little Ignatio, who was named and blessed last Fast Sunday, is growing like a weed. Aracelly almost burst when I told her our daughters had asked about him and were sending a gift. She couldn't believe it. Such simple gratitude gets into my heart—and my eyes, too. These people are the salt of the earth. Good and genuine. They have not lost their savor, and they never complain about not having a car. We're trying not to.
The Primary Presidency asked Mom to play for the Primary Children's Sacrament Meeting in two weeks. It's my Sunday to conduct. They have two practices the next two Wednesdays with all 11 children. I can't wait to enjoy whatever they have created and prepared. So far we've not been disappointed with anything our Branch and Stake have produced. First Class all the way.
A good sign. Two year old Matilda told her mother she wanted to be my friend. Her mother got young Elder Grow to translate for her to me, but I understood what she was saying well enough to answer her and Mattie directly, bypassing Elder Grow. One small step; one small friend; one giant satisfaction. I just ache that we are not allowed to hug these kids. They are angelic. For several weeks Mattie wouldn't come near me or look me in the eye. Now we're buds.! We're lovin' it.
I promised details. Applebys right? Right! A few weeks ago Mom promised the office staff she would take them out to eat before Elder Roundy leaves the office. He leaves Tuesday. In our staff meeting last week Elder Acosta (Uruguay) asked the pres if we could have an office activity this Saturday, at Appleby's he found online. Mom was game, we did, she paid. The bill was bigger than she anticipated, but the food was all-American. Coke Zero in big ice-filled glasses with free refills (all three unheard of), nachos, ribeye steak and not puny either, medium rare to perfection, steamed broccoli, large napkins, an English speaking waiter, photos, laughter. A fun time was had by all and Mom swallowed the bill and still hasn't spent as much as she would have at home. This was in an area called Las Condes: Lexus, Peugot, Mercedes and a BMW dealership two stories tall and a block long. The Dorius's had never been there. “We're not in Maipu any more are we?” Hardly. We also saw a Ruby Tuesday nearby. Next month? Dutch, maybe. We've been told you can get anything in Santiago you can get in the US—I think it's all in Las Condes.
We are so grateful for our kids and grandkids. You and many others are such a support to us. We have decided to track all the letters and packages that come to the mission from now till the first of the year. I hear that many missionaries have zero support and get just that many letters. I want to know who and do something. One couple told us they had not had a letter, package, email from any of their kids or grandkids since they left home. Sad. Not to brag but to say THANKS, Beth tells us our blog has had over 250 hits. Amazing. We love your comments and welcome more. We'll respond if you include your email. I apologize for whining about not getting letters. I just counted up all the letters I've written on paper and mailed to any of you. Big Fat Zero, Nada, Nothing, Nunca. I promise to do better. I do try to answer each email personally.
Mon. pm
Back at the open window again. Kids hard at play. Beautiful day. We came home early, no meetings, p-day clothes, a nap, and time to write. We won't have this luxury for the next 6 days at least. Just our schedule. We really have considerable control over some of our time. We wake at 6:30 or 7:00 (can you believe it?), get up and going by 7 or 7:30, at the office about 9, earlier sometimes for special needs like today (more later), take our lunch or eat out on the way to the correo about 2pm (Big Macs and Doble Quartos con cueso today). Sometimes we work late getting the pouches ready; sometimes we Skype; sometimes we have branch or stake meetings; we are going to come home early every chance we get. To bed between 10 and 11. P-day on Saturday. Branch 2-4 nites a week.
Last Sat. after Applebys we were dropped off at another big mall we hadn't been to and spent about 5 hours shopping, eating ice cream (three flavors with toppings and whipped cream in a tall parfait glass for about a buck and a half), enjoying the people, chillin'. Again, we were impressed. Families by the hundreds, kids of all ages, many people holding hands, three generations together, not a negative spot in the day—if you subtract the PDAs. Even at church, couples, not all of them teenagers, overdo the goodbye k.i.s.s.i.n.g. (Hear those jets flying over? There is an air force base, an international airport, and at least two flying schools not far from us.) Poor Mom was so disappointed. She looked for hours in all the department stores for summer shirts, blouses, skirts, etc. She couldn't find a thing she liked in her size. Today we stopped in our local downtown Corona and she found three for about $25 US. You never know. She's going back tomorrow.
Elder Barlow (Las Vegas) tells his friends who are coming to Chile to buy only one suit in the US for the MTC and travel, then get three at Corona for the price of the one they brought. He says they are very good quality. Maybe he's been here too long. But I might try one. Sixty bucks isn't too big a risk.
Mom has found and befriended a hairdresser next door to the correo. For $11 she got a very nice cut, shampoo and comb-out. Then Soledad came at me with her scissors, but I begged off until otro dia. Men's haircuts are $4 and she has some two-fer deals we might try. I'm not quite ready. OH! What luck! At the mall is a jumbo grocery store called JUMBO. You go right into it at the end of the mall just like Sears. After striking out in every other store we've been to for two months, she found her much needed Jean Nate'. Good thing too because she was down to fumes. I made her get two. About the same as US. I got two 12 oz. jars of $5 off-brand p-nut butter. Both imported, go figure.
This is Cambio Week in the mission. In Mississippi we call it transfers; they call it changes. Every six weeks missionaries go home, come in or get changed--areas or companions or both. About two-thirds of the 160+ missionaries were changed in some way the last two days. It is a mammoth operation which takes half of the six weeks to prepare for the next one. The office is abuzz and a mess until the deed is finished. Whew! We finished about noon today. That's why we got to come home early.
The “Go-Homers” leave late Monday to fly all night and get home before afternoon usually. We don't get to go the airport or their final meeting and interviews, but we got to see and greet and congratulate all of them as they came to the office. I'm in charge of making sure their luggage makes weight requirements, which vary by airline and destination. South American flyers only get to take one 30kilo and a small carry-on. It's hard to make weight even when you're allowed two 23kilo, a carry-on of questionable size, a personal bag and your suit pockets stuffed full of the heaviest stuff. Poor Elder Simmons (Bountiful) had to take the stone base off his treasured lapis lazuli (precious and famous Chilean stone) eagle carving and leave it behind. Saved him about 6 pounds. Another left his boots. It's gut wrenching to do and to watch. Sweet, Sweet Day.
Today the 82 cambios and their companions came in like an army, on foot, by bus, truck, delivery van, any kind of vehicle a willing member could find. As we approached the office gate they were streaming down the street with everything they own. An amazing sight. For about an hour they meet and greet on the outdoor soccer/basketball court every LDS church has. They know who is going to be changed, who is getting one of the 20 greenies to train, but no one knows who their new companion is or where they will serve.
Then the Assistants bring out printouts of all that information, announce who the new zone leaders and district leaders are (we lost 8 of 12 zone leaders who went home yesterday), and post the changes on the back wall of the church property. A semi-controlled semi-mad dash ensues. Then there is lots of hugging and tears, celebrating, and perhaps some private misgivings that hopefully will be worked out quickly. I don't have companion problems on this mission, but I understand being assigned somewhere or with someone you didn't think you wanted. Sometimes you don't find out till a while later how tough it's going to be. It's one of the miracles of Missionary Work that there are very few comp on comp homicides.
The greenies fly in early in the morning, get fed, interviewed, oriented, and meet their new trainers who have just come out of the temple. The trainers help pull the luggage and take their new companions home (somehow—welcome to Chile, Elder) to rest before the evening appointments. BJ and I have the pleasure of giving each greenie a brand new pillow, but not until Thursday. This change all 20 were North American males. When we have Latinos and Sisters things are slightly different, but you get the picture.
Literally. Beth helped me upload all our mission photos to somewhere in the sky where with the right secret information you can see them, including today and yesterday's pix. They don't have captions yet. Adopting new technology is sometimes a tedious process—for me. I'm going to leave you now and try putting on captions.
Tues. pm
Dog poo in Maipu. It's everywhere. And it gets tracked everywhere else. Somebody needs to teach these street dogs to doo it on the grass not the sidewalk. It's especially hazardous in the dark. So far we have kept our souls clean, but the nose is assaulted by every breeze. I learned how the street dogs survive. They climb into garbage containers (I haven't actually seen a dumpster), so people hang their garbage on fences, trees, wherever, in plastic store bags, but the dogs are clever, and every Monday and Friday morning, before the truck gets there the street to the office is strewn with remnants. However, unlike our Lamar County sanitation workers, the Maipu Municipal workers in their lime green caps and vests sweep and pick up the stray garbage. I also saw a woman pulling a shopping trolley like ours, reaching into it and pulling out a pork chop now and then for an especially worthy dog. How does she know? The butcher truck sometimes has scraps to throw. The dogs are well fed.
As are the people. Not many skinny ones on the streets. I think it's the daily ice cream. And bread. And those late night onces (say oon-saeys)--church or family gatherings for snacks about 10 or 11. Cheese might play a part. Completos piled high with mayo, catsup, avocado? My weight? I've actually lost a few, very few. My belt still fits, but my coat is loose. Fully dressed and pockets loaded I topped 106 on Monday. Impressed? Kilograms.
Fri. pm
Seven kids and two adults came to the Primary practice. It was better than you'd think. I got some more photos captioned and into folders. May send them to the sky tonight. Got to get this on its way. Bye for now. A very tiring week. LUV LUV LUV LOVE LOVE LOVE
Mom and Dad
Editor’s note: Pictures are coming. Another syncing needs to take place though. We made some progress but we are not finished...yet.
Monday, November 8, 2010
November 8, 2010
(Written 11.6.10 and received 11.8.10)
There is no joy in Mudville today. (Never heard of Mudville? Ronnie; help me out) Not because Mighty Casey has struck out. Much worse. Because Elder X (I really don't know his name) has been sent home from his mission dishonorably. I don't know why, thankfully; but I grieve. His parents are broken hearted, and they grieve. His stake president who met him at the end of his miserable 8 hour bus ride from the Quito, Equador, airport grieves; tomorrow his ward, his friends, his bishop will grieve. In the days to come hundreds of missionaries, members, converts, investigators will grieve. The faith of some will be shaken. But worst of all he grieves not.
I wonder if he will go to church tomorrow, or ever. I wonder if he even got on the bus at the airport. I wonder how a man who bears the name of Christ on his very clothing every day can dishonor his calling, his parents, his God and Savior so badly that he has to be SENT HOME. Those are terrible words to hear or overhear. What a selfish course. No joy. I will remember every time I slip that missionary name tag on my pocket.
In the office the last three days we have overheard the mission secretary, Elder Roundy, one of the finest young men I've ever met, making dozens of long distance calls to government officials, airlines, bus lines, mission presidents, stake presidents, trying to get tickets and people to meet this young elder (I'm not even sure he is still an Elder). Airline tickets home are usually purchased three months in advance. In two days Elder Roundy made the arrangements, but we all bore the burden. The five office elders took him into their apartment last night here, without joy.
Even today as we took the office staff to Appleby's (more later) the mood in the van was somber. I don't know how much they know, but they knew him and worked alongside him and loved him and are deeply affected. They can hardly imagine a worse thing for a missionary. On the wall of the office: RETURN WITH HONOR. It's on their rings, in their journals, on tee shirts, and engraven upon their hearts. There is no Joy in the Chile Santiago Oeste Mision tonight.
In contrast: On Monday, 13 Elders and Sisters from our mission will return to their countries and homes and families and stake presidents WITH HONOR and JOY. They will come and go with their heads high, their hearts full and their memories sweet. As they arrive at our office early Monday morning there will be joy and laughter, backslapping, hugging, expressions of love, exchanged gifts, tears, gratitude, humble pride—well deserved. Even those who have to go home early for health or personal reasons can return with honor.
Before this mission I did not comprehend what a tremendous sacrifice and service these young men and women lay on the altar. They give their hearts, might, minds, and strength. They work ceaseless hours. They thrust in their cycles with ALL their might and lay up a great harvest – for their converts, for themselves, for the kingdom of God. I can't say enough good about them. When I learn which one of them was sent home, my grief will multiply. My joy will be diminished.
I see in my mind's eye the contrasting homecoming scenes. On the split screen of my imagination I see missionaries running to jump into the waiting hugs of their loved ones who share their joy; joy and rejoicing. But on the left the picture is dreary and sad-- no rejoicing here. As I fast forward, on the right I see happy girlfriends, temple marriages, heavenly homes, children raised with the confidence of a lifetime of service, sacrifice and obedience. On the left are only questions. How will he be treated by the girls in his ward and stake? Will he be shunned and rejected? Will they be charitable and try to help him stay on the straight and narrow? Will he? Will he have a mighty change of heart and truly repent as he once invited others to do? Will he Remember the Redeemer as he Repents with Remorse, Restitution, Resolve? Will he make it back to the temple, where he once made sacred covenants? Will he ever know joy? Will he? Will he? Will he?
I don't know. I have seen it both ways, but the success ratio is pitifully small. The road of dishonor is a rough one and few there be who return from their detours. Repentance is always difficult, but I think this is about the toughest. And the saddest. It usually involves serious sin; sometimes, as it seems with Elder X, there is no remorse or desire to repent. That is a slippery slope indeed. The fall is fast and far; the return slow and painful. Sinning without remorse, sinning with the conscious plan to enjoy it now and repent later, are dead end roads. They lead to disaster; usually there is no turning back.
Every time I have participated in a church disciplinary council I have thought “That could have been me if . . . . “ I take these experiences as flashing signs on the highway of life: KEEP RIGHT!! (DON'T) YIELD TO TEMPTATION!! DANGER AHEAD!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION!! STOP!!, before you crash and burn. By careful navigation you can enjoy the journey without fear, without mortal injury or eternal suffering, with a clear conscience. With joy.
I am so grateful for the warning signs along the road of my life. I tell people: I love the law of chastity. It has kept me healthy, guilt-free, confident in the presence of the Lord, joyful in my marriage. I recommend it to everyone. Remember: God is wholeheartedly in favor of sex-- after all He invented it, BUT He is just as strongly against sin, and He made the rules. His children are that they might have joy. There is only one way.
Parents: Please read this and talk about it with your families. I want all my grandchildren and whoever else reads this to understand clearly what I am saying. Wickedness NEVER was happiness. Please keep all of God's commandments, always, all of your life. Please serve Him all of your life by serving others. Please do not dishonor and disappoint your parents, grandparents, bishops, teachers by disobedient choices. Please do not disappoint your Father in Heaven who loves you more than you can imagine. Please do not trample the Savior's blood under your feet. Please RETURN WITH HONOR from your missions and from mortality. I will be there waiting with open arms and a heart full of JOY.
I want to live with you forever in the highest degree of the Celestial Kingdom. I want to be in the temple with every one of you when you are married. We give new converts a laminated picture of the temple and the words “Tres Veces en Blanco” or 'Three Times in White', and pictures of Baptism, Temple Marriage, and Celestial Kingdom. I want to see all of you tres veces en blanco. Then my joy will be full.
Please.
Will you?
LOVE, GRAMPS
There is no joy in Mudville today. (Never heard of Mudville? Ronnie; help me out) Not because Mighty Casey has struck out. Much worse. Because Elder X (I really don't know his name) has been sent home from his mission dishonorably. I don't know why, thankfully; but I grieve. His parents are broken hearted, and they grieve. His stake president who met him at the end of his miserable 8 hour bus ride from the Quito, Equador, airport grieves; tomorrow his ward, his friends, his bishop will grieve. In the days to come hundreds of missionaries, members, converts, investigators will grieve. The faith of some will be shaken. But worst of all he grieves not.
I wonder if he will go to church tomorrow, or ever. I wonder if he even got on the bus at the airport. I wonder how a man who bears the name of Christ on his very clothing every day can dishonor his calling, his parents, his God and Savior so badly that he has to be SENT HOME. Those are terrible words to hear or overhear. What a selfish course. No joy. I will remember every time I slip that missionary name tag on my pocket.
In the office the last three days we have overheard the mission secretary, Elder Roundy, one of the finest young men I've ever met, making dozens of long distance calls to government officials, airlines, bus lines, mission presidents, stake presidents, trying to get tickets and people to meet this young elder (I'm not even sure he is still an Elder). Airline tickets home are usually purchased three months in advance. In two days Elder Roundy made the arrangements, but we all bore the burden. The five office elders took him into their apartment last night here, without joy.
Even today as we took the office staff to Appleby's (more later) the mood in the van was somber. I don't know how much they know, but they knew him and worked alongside him and loved him and are deeply affected. They can hardly imagine a worse thing for a missionary. On the wall of the office: RETURN WITH HONOR. It's on their rings, in their journals, on tee shirts, and engraven upon their hearts. There is no Joy in the Chile Santiago Oeste Mision tonight.
In contrast: On Monday, 13 Elders and Sisters from our mission will return to their countries and homes and families and stake presidents WITH HONOR and JOY. They will come and go with their heads high, their hearts full and their memories sweet. As they arrive at our office early Monday morning there will be joy and laughter, backslapping, hugging, expressions of love, exchanged gifts, tears, gratitude, humble pride—well deserved. Even those who have to go home early for health or personal reasons can return with honor.
Before this mission I did not comprehend what a tremendous sacrifice and service these young men and women lay on the altar. They give their hearts, might, minds, and strength. They work ceaseless hours. They thrust in their cycles with ALL their might and lay up a great harvest – for their converts, for themselves, for the kingdom of God. I can't say enough good about them. When I learn which one of them was sent home, my grief will multiply. My joy will be diminished.
I see in my mind's eye the contrasting homecoming scenes. On the split screen of my imagination I see missionaries running to jump into the waiting hugs of their loved ones who share their joy; joy and rejoicing. But on the left the picture is dreary and sad-- no rejoicing here. As I fast forward, on the right I see happy girlfriends, temple marriages, heavenly homes, children raised with the confidence of a lifetime of service, sacrifice and obedience. On the left are only questions. How will he be treated by the girls in his ward and stake? Will he be shunned and rejected? Will they be charitable and try to help him stay on the straight and narrow? Will he? Will he have a mighty change of heart and truly repent as he once invited others to do? Will he Remember the Redeemer as he Repents with Remorse, Restitution, Resolve? Will he make it back to the temple, where he once made sacred covenants? Will he ever know joy? Will he? Will he? Will he?
I don't know. I have seen it both ways, but the success ratio is pitifully small. The road of dishonor is a rough one and few there be who return from their detours. Repentance is always difficult, but I think this is about the toughest. And the saddest. It usually involves serious sin; sometimes, as it seems with Elder X, there is no remorse or desire to repent. That is a slippery slope indeed. The fall is fast and far; the return slow and painful. Sinning without remorse, sinning with the conscious plan to enjoy it now and repent later, are dead end roads. They lead to disaster; usually there is no turning back.
Every time I have participated in a church disciplinary council I have thought “That could have been me if . . . . “ I take these experiences as flashing signs on the highway of life: KEEP RIGHT!! (DON'T) YIELD TO TEMPTATION!! DANGER AHEAD!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION!! STOP!!, before you crash and burn. By careful navigation you can enjoy the journey without fear, without mortal injury or eternal suffering, with a clear conscience. With joy.
I am so grateful for the warning signs along the road of my life. I tell people: I love the law of chastity. It has kept me healthy, guilt-free, confident in the presence of the Lord, joyful in my marriage. I recommend it to everyone. Remember: God is wholeheartedly in favor of sex-- after all He invented it, BUT He is just as strongly against sin, and He made the rules. His children are that they might have joy. There is only one way.
Parents: Please read this and talk about it with your families. I want all my grandchildren and whoever else reads this to understand clearly what I am saying. Wickedness NEVER was happiness. Please keep all of God's commandments, always, all of your life. Please serve Him all of your life by serving others. Please do not dishonor and disappoint your parents, grandparents, bishops, teachers by disobedient choices. Please do not disappoint your Father in Heaven who loves you more than you can imagine. Please do not trample the Savior's blood under your feet. Please RETURN WITH HONOR from your missions and from mortality. I will be there waiting with open arms and a heart full of JOY.
I want to live with you forever in the highest degree of the Celestial Kingdom. I want to be in the temple with every one of you when you are married. We give new converts a laminated picture of the temple and the words “Tres Veces en Blanco” or 'Three Times in White', and pictures of Baptism, Temple Marriage, and Celestial Kingdom. I want to see all of you tres veces en blanco. Then my joy will be full.
Please.
Will you?
LOVE, GRAMPS
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
November 3, 2010
Hi everybody!
It's Saturday afternoon and I have an hour before we catch a cab to the Stake Super Saturday. I'll let you know how it compares. Yesterday when we went out it was clear and cold and the snow on the Andes was all the way down the mountains, but not into the city. GORGEOUS!!!! You haven't seen mountains unless you've seen these. There are none others like them even though there are others that are also spectacular. These are like the Wasatch Front doubled in height (because the valley floor is closer to sea level, and they are simply higher) and would stretch from Arcata, California to Hattiesburg, Mississippi like a humungous spine. One of the highest peaks is rounded on top like it was a huge bubble of something that just kept growing and growing and never flowed out. I need to find out its name. I've never seen a mountain peak like it. It had rained the night before and the air was as clean as creation. You could see forever. This experience bore witness to me of the great creator. His might and power are great; He all things did create. Muchas Gracias, Padre Celestial.
We have had a very busy and tiring week. Three all-day zone conferences in Spanish. We actually came late to one and cut out in the middle of another. BJ has rehearsed about 100 missionaries to sing Christmas music for the all-mission Christmas celebration. I think it's the only time when all the missionaries are together in one place. They sang their lungs out. It was amazingly beautiful. Some, especially Latinos (who comprise close to half the mission), have never sung in a group like this. Everyone who watches her do this wonders and asks where she got this talent. Yes, it's a gift, but she works hard at it and is exhausted after doing it three days in a row. This is what she was doing when I came into Jacksonville 3rd Ward and sat down in Sacrament Meeting in January of 1963. I had never (have never) seen anyone like her. She never ceases to amaze me. She is AMAZING!!
Week after next is Change Day (transfers) and we are getting more incoming greenies than go-homers, so the mission will be about 180. Getting ready and doing all the changes is a three week process and we have some new responsibilities. One of them is to weigh the luggage of the go-homers. If they are overweight they have to pay through the nose or leave stuff behind. Last change one sister was about 50# overweight (I mean her luggage was, I’m not sure about her) and wouldn't/couldn't let go of anything. I don't know how much she had to pay. Some of the South American airlines only allow one piece of luggage, so some Latino missionaries travel light.
After every go-home week we have a ton of newly donated (but not new by any means) clothes and shoes to sort through, saving what may useful and giving away the rest. I'm in charge of that. I still have six garbage bags of stuff to dispose of from last change. I was under the misimpression that there was a Bishop's storehouse which took it. Turns out it was one bishop and he doesn't want any more. I will offer it to our Las Lomas Branch or a family who is out of work and might be able to sell it for a few pesos. What we have to give away isn't much good, but what a thrill to outfit a poor missionary whose clothes have worn out with a “new” outfit. One this week needed a white shirt. When he saw how many we had he sheepishly asked if he could have two or three. Then he found a pair of tennyrunners that fit his long feet and was as thrilled as a 4 year old on Christmas. No shoes his size. The one pair I had were as bad as the ones he had. No deal.
We order and distribute all the supplies. This week a shipment of El Libro de Mormon arrived. Twenty nine cases, about 1025 copies, about two months supply. But, some pamphlets we haven't been able to get for months. Don't know why. Some things we copy in the office, but the copier is broke and beyond repair, so we walk a couple of blocks to a tiny copy store and get them for 10 pesos each, about 2 cents—not bad; cheaper than a new copier and paper. You pay for convenience, right? We try to save the widow's mite, but we are glad to also have Brother Huntsman's tithing. Do you think he would spring for a new copier? We need things copied all day long.
Each returning missionary gets a GoHomer Book, with copies of all his weekly letters to the President, photos, events, successes, converts, companions, areas, leadership assignments, release papers, etc. It is a really nice spiral bound volume, a nice souvenir for Mom and Dad.
Sunday 9:30 pm. A quick report on the weekend's activities. After spending all morning Saturday preparing our lessons, neither of us got to teach after all. Fifth Sunday. The Super Saturday was Super. They take their activities seriously. Two hours of the CES guy doing power point stuff about the Book of Mormon, Scripture Chase—sort of, with chocolate of course, then a year-end written test, then the fun began. Another dance festival, not a ballroom dance, but a staged event like the Bicentennial gala, only this time the dances were from all over Latin America with power point geography lessons taped or narrated by students. The two hours of non-stop dancing was exhausting for us. I can't imagine how tired they were. Of course our branch did the best, grand finale, from Mexico, with our seven youth, three sisters and four brothers from two families and the Branch Pres belting out live singing. His lack of talent was compensated by an abundance of volume and enthusiasm. Cab rides there and back: about $8 US. Costumes and electronics and surround sound : perfecto. As high tech as any of your events.
Today has been exhausting, even though we didn't get to teach. Branch council after the block; my first time to do the tithing in nearly 30 years; BJ played for a baptism without her glasses, sacrament meeting too. She was fit to be tied. I called it a miracle. She called it something less complementary. Hurry home for a quick spaghetti and salad, then I'm off to a “Bishopric Meeting” in another stake. Two cab rides and an hour later I arrive at the biggest LDS church I've ever seen. No wonder all the cab drivers know it as the Templo de los Mormones. Turns out it was three missions and all their stakes, at least a thousand people. Only bishoprics, stake presidency and relief society presidency. Elder David McConkie, the grandson of BRMcC, of the General SS Pres spoke. It was called a teaching meeting and that's what he talked about for 15 minutes then he had to go. He spoke English with a translator. I enjoyed it. The next three hours were Spanish: the temple pres, the entire area presidency and a wife or two, a young adult choir, hard seats, hot and sweaty in the middle of the gym, no visibility. They have looooonnnnngggg events. Sacrament meeting runs over every week. When it's about time to close they announce another speaker. BJ on her way to the organ has to be waved off. Cab fare today: over $20 with a free ride home with Andres and Sandra Toledo, bless their hearts.
Now I am at the little window watching the condominio's Halloween party. Decorations, refreshments, music, costumes. I don't know how trick or treat works, but we donated a bag of chewing gum, a very popular item among the elders. Hope the parents let the kids have some. Looks like the kids each got a bag of treats, some of them have plastic pumpkins. Their costumes are cute, mostly preschoolers. They are laughing and screaming and having a ball. Tomorrow is All Saints Day, hence tonight is a hallowed evening. They have celebrated All Saints for centuries, but only recently adopted some of our Halloween traditions. Why not”:L}{PO somewhere here in the dark is a question mark key. I just can't find it. I love Halloween. Have since I was a kid and filled three pillow cases. Didn’t you hate when people gave you an apple instead of something good? There's the key. I like to dress up and pretend and fool people and eat lots of candy. In Mississippi the only trick or treaters we get are our grandchildren. I'm enjoying this. An adult bumble bee just walked by the window. I see an adult witch handing out goodies. I wish I could go out and participate, but it is bed time and my PJs wouldn't make a very good costume.
Missionary blessing: we were having trouble hailing a cab Saturday. Turned down several times. A non cab stopped and a woman got out and said “Hermana. . . . . “ That was a clue she was LDS. They gave us a free ride to our stake center, far from theirs and their home. Very friendly, but none of us knew where we were going and couldn't speak each other's language. We agreed to let the spirit guide us. When we stopped to ask directions miles from where we started we were at the very intersection we needed and the four street vendors all knew where the church was and pointed us in the right direction. As we got out of the car they gave us each a popsicle. Yummy. We had them write their names and address, but getting out of the car I dropped the paper along with my invaluable hand drawn map and all our names, numbers, addresses, and cab driver instructions. I guess we'll rely on the spirit from now on. Our memories aren't all that good.
Is this hilarious or what? Now they want us to teach Seminary four nights a week. I don't see how we possibly can. No time—no lingua—no approval from the mission pres. Hope he says no or I may lose my testimony of being called by revelation. Looks like desperation hard at work in our struggling little branch. As we've visited other wards and stakes we see that we are indeed the least among them. Today at the region meeting there was a huge parking lot filled with hundreds of cars. We have two, sometimes. The branch Pres asked me in council meeting if we were getting our car this week. A little old abeula can't walk to the bus stop to get to church. She needs (our) help. Gladly. But the car is still very iffy. I learned today that we need to buy it in someone else's name, just like internet, which we still haven't been able to arrange. We hear rumors that they also want BJ to do a stake Christmas Choir. She will love it.
The party goes on till eleven. No school tomorrow. We're going to bed. It's not a holiday for missionaries. Good night, moon.
Monday at 11 :30 pm. Blair's Beauty Parlor is closed. The only patron is drying her newly colored hair and heading to bed. This gives the hairdresser a few minutes to relax and tell you we had a nice day. We had the office to ourselves till mid afternoon. The Post Office was closed for All Saints Day, but I didn't see people lining up for worship. In fact I don't see many churches at all, at least none in our neighborhood. A few little home churches in someone's house. Elsewhere we have seen some nice looking churches. Ours are the best/ SHE LIKES IT! \ We have green, watered, mowed lawns. Things are kept in good repair and painted, Red, pink, brown, white, orange—yes they are different than yours. The Mormons and the Latter-day Saints really know how to do things. The First Evangelical Baptist Church next door to ours is.. .well, I really shouldn't run them down for the way their building and gravel yard look. I understand that they don't believe in the law of tithing. I've never seen anyone there, but we go to another building on Sunday when they have church.
Tues. , 10:00 pm
We left the office early (6pm), came home and took a nap, supper, and a few minutes to finish this. Another nice day. We drove the pouch to the coast, always a relaxing treat. It was very foggy. On the way back the tops of the Andes poked above the fog as if they were just floating in mid air. A shipload of new cars had arrived in San Antionio, Chile's main port, and the highway was loaded with car transport trucks—empty ones headed to the coast, full ones headed inland. I didn't recognize the brand name. This is the first time we have done it all by ourselves and we didn't make one wrong turn!! Tomorrow we do the city route all by ourselves. Two months ago I doubted if we would ever be able to do this. This is a real metropolitan, 6 million plus city, but we have learned a lot of the major streets and freeways. We stopped at the street market (feria) in Penaflor for fruits and veggies and got the sweetest strawberries as big as a child's fist for $1/lb and cherries for a whole lot more than that. They are just coming on somewhere to the north, but the strawberries are local.
We love what we are doing, even though it is different than we thought. Our branch people have taken us in and loved us. We have met a lot of our stake people, several of whom speak good English. One Chilean couple we've become friends with both served missions English speaking, married (childhood sweethearts), went to BYU, taught at the Provo MTC, had three kids in the USA (citizens), graduated, returned home and started a business teaching English to businesses on contract. They are using the situational practice techniques they learned at the MTC and we think they will be successful.. They have been so kind and helpful to us. True friends, Vilma and Sergio Aguilef.
My best friends in the branch are Pablo, the EQ Pres who speaks a good bit of English, and the first counselor in the branch, Erasmo, both single RMs in their mid twenties with novios (girlfriends) trying to finish their educations and get married in a few years. Our daily friends are the missionaries. We get an email from each district leader each week requesting supplies. We have started replying to each one with a couple of encouraging sentences. Then we deliver their stuff during the week and see them face to face. They don't see the email until the next Monday on p-day when they get to go online again. They are so nice to us. The office elders and APs are our buds. They each separately commented on Mom's new hair color. Today, on election day we all wore red ties. Mom said red is for republicans. The democrats will have to use another color. We don't know how the election went, but will sneak a peak at CNN.com tomorrow to find out.
Of course, Mom is beloved in the office, the branch, the stake, and the whole mission. I heard a rumor that the stake wants her to do a Christmas choir for them, too. She hopes so. By the way, the mission pres said no way to the seminary idea. (Whew!) He says we are already overworked. We have to break the news to the branch pres. The current teacher, another RM, now has to work nights. Seminary at 8 pm seems to work well here. People tend to stay up later and there isn't much to do. Walking home tonight at six we were overwhelmed by a mob of students getting out of the colegio (high school level) on our street and heading for home and bus stops, etc. Didn't see any parents picking up kids or kids driving to/from school. The school parking lot holds about six cars but is never full. It is some kind of industrial arts school, boys and girls. Don't know the curriculum or what time school starts; they aren't there when we pass about 8:30 am. Uniforms of course with too-short plaid skirts and knee socks.
Made an offer on a car today. Haven't heard from the owner, but we will have to have a cosigner—actually he will own the car until we get status. The pres and family go tomorrow to stand in line all day to get their visas and ID numbers. They have been here over 4 months. You also pay your bills by standing in long lines, at the utility companies or the bank where you deposit your payment directly into the account of your landlord, etc. It's not real handy, but if you pay on time and in cash there are Serivpag contracts with some stores where you can pay some bills at a little booth with a shorter line. Handier. The line at the Maipu water company (I forget its name) is literally blocks long as the deadline for payment nears. Go at 7am and be out by 9 if you are lucky. There is a Servipag at a closet size liquor and tobacco store near the office where we paid two bills today with NO LINE AT ALL. It still takes a while for all the paperwork. As we waited a man came up to buy one cigarette, and an old woman bought an ice cream bar on a stick. Elder Barlow says the owner makes a killing. I am fascinated by the different ways of doing things here. Some better; some not.
We are well, happy, working hard (harder than we have for many years), tired at night but sleeping well, in good health, and getting into the groove. We're more brave about speaking Spanglish, learning slowly, and not discouraged, just surprised how incredibly hard it is. One brother said Spanish is easy, right? Sure, if you grew up with it. We laughed together. We get to laugh a lot. Our waitress yesterday corrected my request for pepper and we laughed. Keep laughing. Keep sane. The grocery clerk said (I think) that my Spanish was very good for only being here two months.
We love you all and your letters, photos and emails. Sorry we haven't been able to Skype lately. We hope to get internet a week from Friday, in someone else's name, of course. Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bad bugs bite. ByeBye. Chiaochiao.
MOM AND DAD, etc.
Wednesday afternoon:
Just checked the Hattiesburg American site. Yea!! Republicans in, Gene Taylor out. Prince Harry and Princess Nancy crippled. I am running on battery and will have to send this quickly. Brought the wrong power cord. Looks like no skyping today. Sorry. Hot today. LUV LUV LUV
It's Saturday afternoon and I have an hour before we catch a cab to the Stake Super Saturday. I'll let you know how it compares. Yesterday when we went out it was clear and cold and the snow on the Andes was all the way down the mountains, but not into the city. GORGEOUS!!!! You haven't seen mountains unless you've seen these. There are none others like them even though there are others that are also spectacular. These are like the Wasatch Front doubled in height (because the valley floor is closer to sea level, and they are simply higher) and would stretch from Arcata, California to Hattiesburg, Mississippi like a humungous spine. One of the highest peaks is rounded on top like it was a huge bubble of something that just kept growing and growing and never flowed out. I need to find out its name. I've never seen a mountain peak like it. It had rained the night before and the air was as clean as creation. You could see forever. This experience bore witness to me of the great creator. His might and power are great; He all things did create. Muchas Gracias, Padre Celestial.
We have had a very busy and tiring week. Three all-day zone conferences in Spanish. We actually came late to one and cut out in the middle of another. BJ has rehearsed about 100 missionaries to sing Christmas music for the all-mission Christmas celebration. I think it's the only time when all the missionaries are together in one place. They sang their lungs out. It was amazingly beautiful. Some, especially Latinos (who comprise close to half the mission), have never sung in a group like this. Everyone who watches her do this wonders and asks where she got this talent. Yes, it's a gift, but she works hard at it and is exhausted after doing it three days in a row. This is what she was doing when I came into Jacksonville 3rd Ward and sat down in Sacrament Meeting in January of 1963. I had never (have never) seen anyone like her. She never ceases to amaze me. She is AMAZING!!
Week after next is Change Day (transfers) and we are getting more incoming greenies than go-homers, so the mission will be about 180. Getting ready and doing all the changes is a three week process and we have some new responsibilities. One of them is to weigh the luggage of the go-homers. If they are overweight they have to pay through the nose or leave stuff behind. Last change one sister was about 50# overweight (I mean her luggage was, I’m not sure about her) and wouldn't/couldn't let go of anything. I don't know how much she had to pay. Some of the South American airlines only allow one piece of luggage, so some Latino missionaries travel light.
After every go-home week we have a ton of newly donated (but not new by any means) clothes and shoes to sort through, saving what may useful and giving away the rest. I'm in charge of that. I still have six garbage bags of stuff to dispose of from last change. I was under the misimpression that there was a Bishop's storehouse which took it. Turns out it was one bishop and he doesn't want any more. I will offer it to our Las Lomas Branch or a family who is out of work and might be able to sell it for a few pesos. What we have to give away isn't much good, but what a thrill to outfit a poor missionary whose clothes have worn out with a “new” outfit. One this week needed a white shirt. When he saw how many we had he sheepishly asked if he could have two or three. Then he found a pair of tennyrunners that fit his long feet and was as thrilled as a 4 year old on Christmas. No shoes his size. The one pair I had were as bad as the ones he had. No deal.
We order and distribute all the supplies. This week a shipment of El Libro de Mormon arrived. Twenty nine cases, about 1025 copies, about two months supply. But, some pamphlets we haven't been able to get for months. Don't know why. Some things we copy in the office, but the copier is broke and beyond repair, so we walk a couple of blocks to a tiny copy store and get them for 10 pesos each, about 2 cents—not bad; cheaper than a new copier and paper. You pay for convenience, right? We try to save the widow's mite, but we are glad to also have Brother Huntsman's tithing. Do you think he would spring for a new copier? We need things copied all day long.
Each returning missionary gets a GoHomer Book, with copies of all his weekly letters to the President, photos, events, successes, converts, companions, areas, leadership assignments, release papers, etc. It is a really nice spiral bound volume, a nice souvenir for Mom and Dad.
Sunday 9:30 pm. A quick report on the weekend's activities. After spending all morning Saturday preparing our lessons, neither of us got to teach after all. Fifth Sunday. The Super Saturday was Super. They take their activities seriously. Two hours of the CES guy doing power point stuff about the Book of Mormon, Scripture Chase—sort of, with chocolate of course, then a year-end written test, then the fun began. Another dance festival, not a ballroom dance, but a staged event like the Bicentennial gala, only this time the dances were from all over Latin America with power point geography lessons taped or narrated by students. The two hours of non-stop dancing was exhausting for us. I can't imagine how tired they were. Of course our branch did the best, grand finale, from Mexico, with our seven youth, three sisters and four brothers from two families and the Branch Pres belting out live singing. His lack of talent was compensated by an abundance of volume and enthusiasm. Cab rides there and back: about $8 US. Costumes and electronics and surround sound : perfecto. As high tech as any of your events.
Today has been exhausting, even though we didn't get to teach. Branch council after the block; my first time to do the tithing in nearly 30 years; BJ played for a baptism without her glasses, sacrament meeting too. She was fit to be tied. I called it a miracle. She called it something less complementary. Hurry home for a quick spaghetti and salad, then I'm off to a “Bishopric Meeting” in another stake. Two cab rides and an hour later I arrive at the biggest LDS church I've ever seen. No wonder all the cab drivers know it as the Templo de los Mormones. Turns out it was three missions and all their stakes, at least a thousand people. Only bishoprics, stake presidency and relief society presidency. Elder David McConkie, the grandson of BRMcC, of the General SS Pres spoke. It was called a teaching meeting and that's what he talked about for 15 minutes then he had to go. He spoke English with a translator. I enjoyed it. The next three hours were Spanish: the temple pres, the entire area presidency and a wife or two, a young adult choir, hard seats, hot and sweaty in the middle of the gym, no visibility. They have looooonnnnngggg events. Sacrament meeting runs over every week. When it's about time to close they announce another speaker. BJ on her way to the organ has to be waved off. Cab fare today: over $20 with a free ride home with Andres and Sandra Toledo, bless their hearts.
Now I am at the little window watching the condominio's Halloween party. Decorations, refreshments, music, costumes. I don't know how trick or treat works, but we donated a bag of chewing gum, a very popular item among the elders. Hope the parents let the kids have some. Looks like the kids each got a bag of treats, some of them have plastic pumpkins. Their costumes are cute, mostly preschoolers. They are laughing and screaming and having a ball. Tomorrow is All Saints Day, hence tonight is a hallowed evening. They have celebrated All Saints for centuries, but only recently adopted some of our Halloween traditions. Why not”:L}{PO somewhere here in the dark is a question mark key. I just can't find it. I love Halloween. Have since I was a kid and filled three pillow cases. Didn’t you hate when people gave you an apple instead of something good? There's the key. I like to dress up and pretend and fool people and eat lots of candy. In Mississippi the only trick or treaters we get are our grandchildren. I'm enjoying this. An adult bumble bee just walked by the window. I see an adult witch handing out goodies. I wish I could go out and participate, but it is bed time and my PJs wouldn't make a very good costume.
Missionary blessing: we were having trouble hailing a cab Saturday. Turned down several times. A non cab stopped and a woman got out and said “Hermana. . . . . “ That was a clue she was LDS. They gave us a free ride to our stake center, far from theirs and their home. Very friendly, but none of us knew where we were going and couldn't speak each other's language. We agreed to let the spirit guide us. When we stopped to ask directions miles from where we started we were at the very intersection we needed and the four street vendors all knew where the church was and pointed us in the right direction. As we got out of the car they gave us each a popsicle. Yummy. We had them write their names and address, but getting out of the car I dropped the paper along with my invaluable hand drawn map and all our names, numbers, addresses, and cab driver instructions. I guess we'll rely on the spirit from now on. Our memories aren't all that good.
Is this hilarious or what? Now they want us to teach Seminary four nights a week. I don't see how we possibly can. No time—no lingua—no approval from the mission pres. Hope he says no or I may lose my testimony of being called by revelation. Looks like desperation hard at work in our struggling little branch. As we've visited other wards and stakes we see that we are indeed the least among them. Today at the region meeting there was a huge parking lot filled with hundreds of cars. We have two, sometimes. The branch Pres asked me in council meeting if we were getting our car this week. A little old abeula can't walk to the bus stop to get to church. She needs (our) help. Gladly. But the car is still very iffy. I learned today that we need to buy it in someone else's name, just like internet, which we still haven't been able to arrange. We hear rumors that they also want BJ to do a stake Christmas Choir. She will love it.
The party goes on till eleven. No school tomorrow. We're going to bed. It's not a holiday for missionaries. Good night, moon.
Monday at 11 :30 pm. Blair's Beauty Parlor is closed. The only patron is drying her newly colored hair and heading to bed. This gives the hairdresser a few minutes to relax and tell you we had a nice day. We had the office to ourselves till mid afternoon. The Post Office was closed for All Saints Day, but I didn't see people lining up for worship. In fact I don't see many churches at all, at least none in our neighborhood. A few little home churches in someone's house. Elsewhere we have seen some nice looking churches. Ours are the best/ SHE LIKES IT! \ We have green, watered, mowed lawns. Things are kept in good repair and painted, Red, pink, brown, white, orange—yes they are different than yours. The Mormons and the Latter-day Saints really know how to do things. The First Evangelical Baptist Church next door to ours is.. .well, I really shouldn't run them down for the way their building and gravel yard look. I understand that they don't believe in the law of tithing. I've never seen anyone there, but we go to another building on Sunday when they have church.
Tues. , 10:00 pm
We left the office early (6pm), came home and took a nap, supper, and a few minutes to finish this. Another nice day. We drove the pouch to the coast, always a relaxing treat. It was very foggy. On the way back the tops of the Andes poked above the fog as if they were just floating in mid air. A shipload of new cars had arrived in San Antionio, Chile's main port, and the highway was loaded with car transport trucks—empty ones headed to the coast, full ones headed inland. I didn't recognize the brand name. This is the first time we have done it all by ourselves and we didn't make one wrong turn!! Tomorrow we do the city route all by ourselves. Two months ago I doubted if we would ever be able to do this. This is a real metropolitan, 6 million plus city, but we have learned a lot of the major streets and freeways. We stopped at the street market (feria) in Penaflor for fruits and veggies and got the sweetest strawberries as big as a child's fist for $1/lb and cherries for a whole lot more than that. They are just coming on somewhere to the north, but the strawberries are local.
We love what we are doing, even though it is different than we thought. Our branch people have taken us in and loved us. We have met a lot of our stake people, several of whom speak good English. One Chilean couple we've become friends with both served missions English speaking, married (childhood sweethearts), went to BYU, taught at the Provo MTC, had three kids in the USA (citizens), graduated, returned home and started a business teaching English to businesses on contract. They are using the situational practice techniques they learned at the MTC and we think they will be successful.. They have been so kind and helpful to us. True friends, Vilma and Sergio Aguilef.
My best friends in the branch are Pablo, the EQ Pres who speaks a good bit of English, and the first counselor in the branch, Erasmo, both single RMs in their mid twenties with novios (girlfriends) trying to finish their educations and get married in a few years. Our daily friends are the missionaries. We get an email from each district leader each week requesting supplies. We have started replying to each one with a couple of encouraging sentences. Then we deliver their stuff during the week and see them face to face. They don't see the email until the next Monday on p-day when they get to go online again. They are so nice to us. The office elders and APs are our buds. They each separately commented on Mom's new hair color. Today, on election day we all wore red ties. Mom said red is for republicans. The democrats will have to use another color. We don't know how the election went, but will sneak a peak at CNN.com tomorrow to find out.
Of course, Mom is beloved in the office, the branch, the stake, and the whole mission. I heard a rumor that the stake wants her to do a Christmas choir for them, too. She hopes so. By the way, the mission pres said no way to the seminary idea. (Whew!) He says we are already overworked. We have to break the news to the branch pres. The current teacher, another RM, now has to work nights. Seminary at 8 pm seems to work well here. People tend to stay up later and there isn't much to do. Walking home tonight at six we were overwhelmed by a mob of students getting out of the colegio (high school level) on our street and heading for home and bus stops, etc. Didn't see any parents picking up kids or kids driving to/from school. The school parking lot holds about six cars but is never full. It is some kind of industrial arts school, boys and girls. Don't know the curriculum or what time school starts; they aren't there when we pass about 8:30 am. Uniforms of course with too-short plaid skirts and knee socks.
Made an offer on a car today. Haven't heard from the owner, but we will have to have a cosigner—actually he will own the car until we get status. The pres and family go tomorrow to stand in line all day to get their visas and ID numbers. They have been here over 4 months. You also pay your bills by standing in long lines, at the utility companies or the bank where you deposit your payment directly into the account of your landlord, etc. It's not real handy, but if you pay on time and in cash there are Serivpag contracts with some stores where you can pay some bills at a little booth with a shorter line. Handier. The line at the Maipu water company (I forget its name) is literally blocks long as the deadline for payment nears. Go at 7am and be out by 9 if you are lucky. There is a Servipag at a closet size liquor and tobacco store near the office where we paid two bills today with NO LINE AT ALL. It still takes a while for all the paperwork. As we waited a man came up to buy one cigarette, and an old woman bought an ice cream bar on a stick. Elder Barlow says the owner makes a killing. I am fascinated by the different ways of doing things here. Some better; some not.
We are well, happy, working hard (harder than we have for many years), tired at night but sleeping well, in good health, and getting into the groove. We're more brave about speaking Spanglish, learning slowly, and not discouraged, just surprised how incredibly hard it is. One brother said Spanish is easy, right? Sure, if you grew up with it. We laughed together. We get to laugh a lot. Our waitress yesterday corrected my request for pepper and we laughed. Keep laughing. Keep sane. The grocery clerk said (I think) that my Spanish was very good for only being here two months.
We love you all and your letters, photos and emails. Sorry we haven't been able to Skype lately. We hope to get internet a week from Friday, in someone else's name, of course. Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bad bugs bite. ByeBye. Chiaochiao.
MOM AND DAD, etc.
Wednesday afternoon:
Just checked the Hattiesburg American site. Yea!! Republicans in, Gene Taylor out. Prince Harry and Princess Nancy crippled. I am running on battery and will have to send this quickly. Brought the wrong power cord. Looks like no skyping today. Sorry. Hot today. LUV LUV LUV
Missionary Zone Conference
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