Hadjika Vadjika

This is sweet and eccentric Jemma. She dresses like a very elegant gypsy and only took her hat off just long enough to be baptized—-then donned it immediately. Now that it’s summer she’s changed her look from long fur coat, boots and this hat, to flowery bandannas and swirly skirts. She always the first one there, and always has a serene, and very stylish smile.

I’ve been keeping a list of some random stuff to try and capture the flavor of life in Vanadzor. Partly because my kitchen has no less than five layers of linoleum at the doorway (just stacked, not installed) I’ve tripped more than once, but I’m trying to keep my balance spiritually, and missionarily, by doing what’s right every day, so that these odd little things don’t completely throw me off.

We were at a birthday party. I was wearing a silk blouse and spilled a little something. My neighbor took a big pinch of salt and rubbed it into the stains, which immediately disappeared. Completely.

We were showing all of our English classes “Up” as a treat. The power went off—you never know for how long. So a cute little 7-year old marched to the front and recited poetry complete with theatrical gestures worthy of the very best Hamlet. Then others recited spontaneously, and Ani sang a beautiful Armenian folk song, and the power came back and we finished the film. Elder Blunck tried to lead us in a chorus of “She’ll Be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain” and that’s when the movie came back on. Thank goodness.

We were at another party. During the mandatory dancing afterwards (that’s what “Hadjika Vadjika” is by the way—a dance/song. Hadjik and Vadjik are men's names. The "a" is the definite article they put at the end of a name or noun.I’m going to bring a DVD home and we are going to do it together. A new family tradition. You’ll love it.) —–anyway, during the dancing a music video came on of an old man singing a sweet song about carrots. Very weird, but very cute. We danced to that, too. It doesn’t matter—-you just keep dancing.

I had my hair cut. But then I found myself suddenly having my eyebrows dyed. Until it wore off I looked like I had caterpillars on my forehead. I wish I had beautiful Armenian eyes, but I had to refuse the next time she wanted to, and she could not understand why. But now she has moved to Ukraine, so I don’t know what to do about hair or eyebrows.

I actually know a darling young woman who not only minces, but titters.

We have an English student who, on the first day, announced that he had escaped from themental hospital and at one time survived by drinking his own blood. I personally don’t hold that against him, but it made our class of all woman a little uncomfortable so we moved him to the Elders’ class. He is now a progressing investigator and attends church faithfully and reads the Book of Mormon in two languages. We have an endowed member who sent a new pair of garments to her teen-aged granddaughter thinking she’d like to wear them, too. Elder Blunck might very well make me erase some of this, but I just wanted you to know about things that throw me off at times. It’s good and true that missionaries are the most prayed for people in the world. Maybe no one is specifically asking that Sister Blunck will be able to keep her balance, but I know for sure that God knows what is best for each of us.

Then Do What is Right

You can’t force spiritual things, as we know, and I’ll tell you the honest truth—every time Elder Scott came into the room (a meeting with just missionaries, the kitchen where I was helping to get his dinner on, and where he was so gracious and gave me a hug, and the big meeting with all the members from here and Georgia) I just felt encircled in pure sweet unforgettable love. I’ve talked to many members who were able to shake his hand and have a personal moment with him—-I think time may have stood still for him to have contact with every one there. I wouldn’t be surprised.

Soon after that we went to Tsakadzor for the best Young Single Adult Conference I’ve ever participated in. We were the parents for the week of the Georgian group—mostly new members, and serious investigators who we hadn’t known before. If you remember my pictures from our first two, you’ll appreciate that we not only had hot water and a clean bathroom, but clean sheets and wonderful accomodations in an old Soviet resort which must have been decorated by an old Soviet hippie. Art everywhere, green plants everywhere—-and maids and food servers with frilly white aprons and caps. We didn’t come on a mission to take a shower. But it was a nice surprise to have a charming place to stay while we tried to keep up with all the workshops, dancing, and very well-planned activities.

The thing that’s on my mind is that there’s always the rest of the story. (I hope not with Elder Scott’s visit—that was perfect). I’ll tell you, Armenians, much as I love them, know how to pout. Literally. We have a man & his wife who have turned in all their church materials, & are not coming to church anymore, and are pouting hard because they weren’t invited to Tsakadzor. We have a grandma and a YW President who are pouting because our darling 12-year old branch chorister couldn’t go to the District Youth Conference with the 14-18 year olds. The young woman is fine—she seems to be resisting the pouting lessons she’s getting from her elders.

We all could learn from Seda. When things don’t go her way, she fasts and prays and looks for the good in every one. Her reaction to our sulking couple was great sorrow and a day of fasting for them, before Fast Sunday, even. Her reaction to her husband’s six years of inactivity (honoring his mother’s demands that he not have anything to do with the Church) was to tell her children that they were going to love their grandma and their dad and treat them with the greatest respect, and then she went to work fasting and praying and serving with all her might. And now when she sits in the congregation, and when she looks at the men sitting on the stand, she sees her husband sitting to the right of the Branch President and serving as his first counselor. Elder Scott’s main lesson to us was to do what is right. It works far better than pouting.