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
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