Mind is kind. . . . . . .

When we go to yoga classes, 4.5 hours a week, and relax between tortures, Gagik will say soothingly "Feel the change in your body; mind is kind." My mind gets kinder all the time. It has to, or I'd never learn the lessons that I was sent here to learn. Here to earth, & here to Armenia.

Even though Vanadzor has pictures of Santa all over the place, and little tables along the sidewalks everywhere with zillions of ornaments you can buy one at a time, they don't really celebrate the Santa part of Christmas. They are decorating for New Year's Day, which is their huge holiday. I don't think they really BELIEVE in Santa, like I do. When I tried to buy the Santa garland the lady didn't want to sell it to me----I think she just didn't want to have to take it down. She tried selling me ten other things, but I stood my ground. The little nativity scene I had bought in the big city at the Marriott Hotel. You don't see anything about the birth of Jesus, and you don't hear Christmas carols. We only have two in our Armenian hymn book--Silent Night and Far Far Away on Judea's Plains. We did go to a presentation about The Virgin Mary at the Armenian Apostolic Church. And I think our branch party has been cancelled for about the 4th time.

On Wednesday our wonderful mission president and his wife, the Carters, came for a Christmas activity with the missionaries here. I was in charge of dinner, and we all decided that taco salad would taste good. The sisters made tortilla chips out of lavosh, and I made a huge pot of chili, and roasted a frozen Brazilian turkey, since I couldn't find any other meat that was good. We began with a program of reading scriptures about Jesus' life, and I was so touched by it that the chili burned while I stayed to listen. Christmas miracle#1---it gave it kind of a smokey khorovatz taste, and everyone claimed they loved it, and they ate it all, except what couldn't be scraped off the bottom of the pan. I had decorated the table quite beautifully. That made me happy. I am learning that things don't have to be my way, but when no one else really cares one way or the other, then I do it my way. We had a talent show and played the white elephant game and had a great time. After choosing someone's bag of leftover brown sugar, & getting it stolen I ended up with an x-ray of Sister Cornwell's lungs, & Elder Blunck got some Christmas lights from Target that were just as frustrating to get working as anything Armenian. But they do work. Some of the grandchildren were concerned about whether or not we had lights & we do.

Christmas miracle #2---We (the YSA girls & I) had made hundreds of snowflakes (3-D and Martha Stewart-style) over course of the last few weeks for our assignment to decorate the YSA party in Yerevan with snowflakes. I had engineered plans for the placement, & tied the correct lengths of sparkly yarn onto each one. We were prepared. For some of them it was their first encounter with a stapler or paper clips or tape dispenser. And certainly with doing something other than taping random pieces of tinsel garland around and calling it good. Sorry. We were asked to do snowflakes.

We got up early the next day to decorate before the 12:00-7:00 party. Riding a marshutny always involves:

--everyone arriving late

--stops along the way for a drink of water and another to get gas. It's a 2-hour drive, people, but this is a tradition. This time someone wanted to stop for tissues. I said "Mama-jan, please no!" and gave him a package from my purse. We really needed to get there on time. Really.

--more people than the capacity of the marshutny

--loud music

--smoking driver

--bumpy roads, hair-raising encounters with flocks of sheep and herds of cows and drivers passing no matter that it's a two lane road and you really can't see around that curve

--etc.

But back to the miracle: we finished hanging the last snowflake at 11:55. It looked so good that they kept them up for two subsequent Christmas parties and are going to glue hearts on them for Valentine's Day.

Christmas miracle #3---the next day. Gagik had done his homework and came back for another lesson, and committed to praying to know if Joseph Smith indeed was a prophet.

Next day---Christmas Day. The young missionaries came early for breakfast and had such a good time that they've invited themselves back for New Year's breakfast. We got hungry later and ordered pizza. We asked them to please make it with the actual oregano-laced sauce they used to use. They sent, instead, two containers of oil and vinegar salad dressing.

Still Christmas Day, but the picture of miracle #4 decided to go to the top of the page. It's Elder Blunck baptizing little Diana, on her 8th birthday. She is the granddaughter of Alvart who was baptized recently, by Elder Blunck, in Armenian both times. She sang at her baptism, and bore her testimony after receiving the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Apres!

Then got a phone call and met Maria to run a mile to show her where to buy 6 foot long icicles. There was only one package left. That really could be considered a miracle. And I bought the last Shrilling Chicken which you'll have to just wait patiently to see because there's no way to describe it. Christmas Day--stores are open. A good thing when you just have to have a Shrilling Chicken.

We also went to someone's home, had a very nice dinner, with chilled plates, chilled forks, chilled noses--it's just the way it is here. But kind minds, and warm hearts.

SUNDAY:

Before & After

The Vanadzor Tabernacle Choir had sung for Sacrament Meeting & then we had our Primary Christmas lesson:

We had a glorious time making decorations for the branch Christmas Tree. The District Primary President visited and I think she was impressed with our good branch. She was a little alarmed that I was using such pretty yarn (leftover from snowflakes) to hang decorations, so I gave her the rest of the skein to make something useful. I have a feeling that it will return to me in the form of a scarf or cap. They have very kind minds.

Logic Puzzles

Logic puzzle #1 almost solved: Last week I watched this construction site for awhile as I waited for something or another. (That is our Relief Society room in the far left of the picture. They have been building this who-know-what-it-will be for a year.) There were four workmen, and two were working hard shoveling sand onto shallow pallets, while the others lounged about. Then they would all pick up an end and take it somewhere, and return, and repeat. I wondered why only two were actually working until I saw that there were only two shovels. This week I watched again, only this time there was one workman, with one shovel, and a real wheelbarrow. And he hauled off more sand in five minutes than the four of them had done in thirty. But does that mean there are three unemployed workers now? And where's that other shovel?

We've known this goat for almost five years . He's parked outside the one hour photo across the plaza from the church building. He's on wheels and every night they drag him by the horns back into the shop. He's stuffed with straw and his head has been in the process of falling off ever since we met. He represents a theory I've had lately that we all started out as good as can be back when we only had a spirit to worry about. But I won't be surprised to learn that when we inherited these bodies---and became strangers here in the world----we also had some screws that weren't quite tight, or some wires that got crossed, just to see how we would deal with driving such "wretched machines". (C.S. Lewis)

One of these days I'll get my own head sewn on straight. Sometimes when I'm trying hardest I end up doing my worst.

This is the statue in front of the entrance to our meetinghouse. You can see Elder Blunck at the door. Vanadzor has some wonderful sculptures.
* Logic puzzle #2: The storekeeper in Yerevan who had affordable and good peanut butter. She stopped carrying it because she said that the minute she put some out on the shelves it would all get bought. Apparently she's not into volume merchandising.

There's something about this mouse-in-a-jar with the same markings as his friend that always captures my attention.

Our mission goal from now until Christmas is to baptize twenty-five new souls (I mean in the entire mission.) Our sisters have already had 5, with a 6th tomorrow. Last week Elder Blunck, in perfect Armenian, baptized Alvart. This is not puzzling at all-----this is the result of some mighty good work by some very great sister missionaries.

STAYING ON THE PATH

We traveled on Saturday and again on Sunday to attend meetings in Yerevan with Sister Dibb of the YW and Sister Stevens of the Primary. These are some of our members, while we're waiting for gas. They are posing with a cute little thing we learned from our visitors. "I will stay on the path back to my Heavenly Father!" If you hold your hands just right it looks like you really are hanging on to an iron rod. We do have a Heavenly Father, and there is a path back to Him.

Ani had awakened the night before, got out her English dictionary, and wrote a letter to President Monson which she slipped to Sister Dibb to deliver, and I know Sister Dibb will graciously give it to her father, who will be touched. I'm sure our visitors learned from those they came to teach, and we all learned so much from them----what they said, and the kind of people they are. I know it was a time that Heavenly Father was smiling down on this little group of us who are helping one another along the path.

Masta Pasta Part 2

Rose hips growing wild under the beautiful Vanadzor sky

Armine with a small part of her harvest from which she makes her healthy juice

This video doesn't begin to show ALL of the pasta hanging outside, nor the very meticulous process of hanging one long strand at a time. But you do get to hear the rooster, and I think the image of all this pasta is almost like a ballet.

The Masta Pasta Maker from Vanadzor!

OK, so the video starts out sideways. And I know the Chinese are credited with inventing pasta, and the Italians have turned it into an art form.

But with borrowed videos, and figuring out ALL BY MYSELF how to load a video, and kicking myself for not bringing my own camera, I'm going to tell you something you probably didn't already know. My friend Armine, mother of Ani and Araks, lives on the outskirts of the city. She is a provident, and talented woman. God told her that Friday was the only day she would have left to make her years' supply of pasta (and He was right because it's been raining and windy ever since and you'll understand the significance of that in a minute.) Armine has great faith and great gratitude for every blessing she has. And she listens.

So she brought in 100 kilos of flour, and all the neighbors she could find, and all day and into the night and the next day they made pasta.

After they have made the dough they throw it onto the floor, (between sheets of plastic) and knead it by dancing on it for two hours! Then they roll it out, slice it, and stretch it out with the technique of wrapping it around their arms.

They hang it outside, one long strand at a time, on the clotheslines to dry. It's an amazing and beautiful sight. That afternoon we feasted on fresh pasta topped with yogurt, garlic and butter, and it was as delicious as anything I've ever eaten. From a kitchen with no running water and a woman with an endless supply of energy, who gives me the best haircuts, and, in fact, cut my hair after lunch that very day. I did catch her yawning during our Vanadzor Tabernacle Choir rehearsal this afternoon. She can yawn and sing at the same time.

That's Armine you're hearing, and here's a quick Armenian lesson: you hear her saying "jan, jan" over and over, which means "dear". For instance I am Quir Blunck-jan, and appropriately this segment ends with "shat lav" which means "very good".

IF YOU'RE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT......

Primary is a pretty special time of the week for me. I feel a little more at home there than when I was teaching Gospel Doctrine in Armenian. Wouldn't you??? I bribed the branch president to let me be the Primary pianist by agreeing to direct the Vanadzor Tabernacle Choir and it's been a good thing. This particular Primary day was extra special--- six almost perfectly behaved children. They were good little lambs.

Last Sunday we had twelve, which, with our resources, was like having 150 at home. Terrifying. Nuneh, our friend who had been buried alive for two days after the earthquake, was teaching for the first time. She had prepared the lesson with Seda and me on Tuesday, and then went home and made a visual aid and had notes from the manual. I silently prayed for her the whole time and it all worked out fine. The way things do.

Seda wanted the children to learn "If You're Happy and You Know It" in English. So we sang the lesson version which is: "help your friends", "say your prayers", "tell the truth" and "share your toys" in English, and it held their attention for almost forty five minutes. They did so well that I told them I'm going to record it and give a DVD to our General Primary and YW visitors in November. I'm also going to record the VTab singing "I Know My Savior Loves Me". My inner stage mother is just popping.

ANOTHER ONE FOR THE GRANDCHILDREN

This is the Pooh-Pa standing on top of the highest mountain in Armenia called Mt. Aragats. From there he could see Mt. Ararat where Noah landed with the ark. He climbed up with three of his friends----a man in his 30's, a man in his 50's and a man in his 70's. He's hoping that they will be interested in learning about the Gospel. He has lots of friends, and all of the children in the neighborhood say "Hello!" to him in English and throw him their soccer balls when we walk by. He always makes them laugh.

It was a hard climb---but he made it to the top and had a great time. There's another hard path we're all trying to climb---the path that leads to Heavenly Father and Jesus. Here's a suggestion that can help us get to the top, from President Heber J. Grant who was the prophet when Pooh-Pa was one year old:

" Do not do something that you can not ask God to help you to do"

Maybe you could talk about this at Family Home Evening next week?

SHOPPING IN WONDERLAND

I think I like to shop more than I will admit. But I prefer to do it alone, and to help myself and to have as much privacy as possible in a public place. And I really just miss going to the grocery store and finding what I need and checking out and going home. Here, as I've mentioned before, every little market that calls itself a supermarket, has the market-lassies who plant themselves next to you while you try to select something from the puzzling inventory, which is still better than fighting your way to the front of the counter and having to ask for every little thing from behind the counter, which is what you have to do in the non-supermarkets.

As we've driven to Yerevan I've noticed a new supermarket just outside of the city. Today I persuaded Elder Blunck to walk there after dropping his suit off at the laundry (no dry cleaners, but they do a pretty good job of cleaning a suit however they do it.) As it turned out, what seemed to me to be a short distance as we drive by in a taxi turned out to be a two hour walk.

The market was very attractive, very clean, and very devoid of customers, except for us. We got more cheerful attention than I ever wanted . There were at least 6 or 7 lassies everywhere, happily ignoring my "I don't know Armenian OR Russian" and chattering away and not letting me buy the baklava I wanted to buy---I think they were telling me it wasn't as good as the twinkie-like things I finally bought just to make them happy. And they didn't carry anything I can't find in the 11,0000 shops closer to home. They were relentlessly ubiquitous and merry and bright and I could hardly wait to escape.

I couldn't help but ponder the possibility that even though the Gospel is packaged very attractively---indeed first class is the only way to describe the way the Church does everything it does---I hope we, the members and the missionaries, don't get in the way of people who are interested in the truth but need some peace and quiet while the Holy Ghost works with them.

We found a nice taxi to take us home and I was very grateful for the driver who wasn't interested in talking. (Sorry if this sounds curmudgeonly----I appreciate the fact that these dear people have no privacy their whole lives. The elders even have to sometimes divide and conquer when they're teaching---one sits and chats with the sociable ones who are coming and going and visiting, and fixing food, while the other takes the serious investigator aside and teaches.)

SEDA'S BIRTHDAY

Seda does so much for everyone in her world that I wanted her to be pampered for her birthday. I bought her a cute picnic basket and dishes, and since the weather was so beautiful, planned a relaxing picnic, American style. She thought the best place to have it would be her brother-in-law's very nice summer cottage.

I roasted chicken, made salads, & chocolate birthday cake, and had what I thought was an abundant feast, ready to eat. But Armenians just can't not do what they always do, which in the summer time is khorovatz----barbecue on a wood fire. Karin, Seda's husband, got the fire going and cooked pork, eggplant and potatoes.

So my offering was rounded out with Armenian food. I think they were just concerned about confronting American food and needed a back up. "One man's ways may be as good as another's, but we all like our own best." (Jane Austin ) Nowhere is that quite as true as it is in Armenia. We all liked each other's food and Seda didn't have to work as much as she usually does.

I have tried no less than five times to post more pictures and can't get it to work, but we had a jolly old time eating and then dancing the night away. Seda can't not dance---and she's very good at it. Her best birthday present, though, is that her family is planning to be sealed in the new Ukraine temple in March. (They were actually sealed early in July, and her husband is the new branch president. Seda is one happy woman!)

MENK UNENK UHNTANIK

The majority of the Vanadzor Branch is single women of all ages. And we love them. I would like to introduce you to a not so typical family, but one for whom we have great hope of becoming an eternal family.

Samvel is the father of Lena, Rima and Kamo, and the husband of Nuneh. He has hearing and speaking disabilities, but he is a hard working, cheerful man and a great father and husband. I can say that because he has a happy wife and wonderful children. He seems to be able to fix anything. He has a baptismal date of October 9th. The family all said he didn't even need to be taught because he knows everything about the church already, but he's being taught just in case.

Next to him is Elder Cheney and darling Rima, who is nicknamed "Butterfly" by Elder Blunck. Her sister Lena is our branch chorister and the most dependable and faithful 12 year old I've ever known. Her hair comes to her knees and she is unfailingly cheerful, beautiful and bright.

Then we have cousin Laura, who is a college student, and was recently baptized. She is very faithful and and everything a young adult member should be including beautiful and intelligent.

Nuneh is the lucky mother of the three children. She was buried under a wall for two days after the earthquake 20 years ago, and is grateful to be alive. She was a young girl then and suffered some effects from that trauma, but hasn't let that get in the way of being a good wife and mother and a happy member of the church.

Elder Larson is holding Kamo who is a typical 9 year old who loves to play with his friends. Kamo's Papik is a dignified and good man who loves his family and is not quite ready for baptism, but committed to overcoming some minor things that are in the way at the moment.

Grandma Laura is in the Relief Society presidency and is hoping to go to the temple soon. (In fact, she was able to receive her endowment in July 2011.) She was very apologetic last time we visited because it was Sunday and she had just learned that day in temple preparation class that we shouldn't go shopping for food on Sunday even if we have guests coming. Being a good hostess is just what every woman does, but we praised her endlessly for making the right decision, and she served us tea and bread at the end. Actually not having the full spread, from our point of view, allowed lessons to be taught without all the distractions. We were right in the middle of our no water at all week, but that didn't stop her from using her nice cups and saucers and plates. She is very genteel. I think it is thanks to her that the girls all play the piano and that they are all busy doing their homework every time we stop by. They pray daily as a family and I know that heaven will be populated with families just like the Matevosyans.

GOOD SABBATH!

This is Navere and all of his family, except his brother Sogomon, who was there, but not in the picture. Sogomon is 14 and a teacher, and a very handsome young man who passes the sacrament each week in his priesthood uniform and a very sweet smile. Elder Thylin, who's from Sweden, came from Gyumri to baptize Navere because he had been such a good friend to the family before he was transferred. We had visited them with the Elders many times. They live in a big dorm for the homeless, and I have to confess that every time we visited it was so dark that I really didn't know what the boys actually looked like. It was very early in our mission and I tried hard to learn their names, and even wrote them down, and studied them. Now these strange names roll from my tongue, but back then, 1/2 a mission ago, it was a struggle.

We went several times, with an appointment, to find the mother not home, and I had planned lessons, wanting so much to help her become a better mother to these sweet boys because, in spite of my own failings, I'm Marjorie P. Hinckley in comparison. But they kind of disappeared on us, or maybe we on them.

The sisters found them, and the boys started coming alone. I didn't know they were the grandsons of Siranuge, who is a faithful member who lives on a hill so steep that taxis can't make it up, and who walks with one cane, and sometimes two. Families don't sit together in church, so it's hard to match people up sometimes.

It was a wonderful baptism, and the mom came, and has been coming cheerfully ever since. Grandma had a bad hair day, meaning that's not a pink hat she has on her head, and little sister Sirangue toddled around, and it was a very happy day.

The boys and Grandma came to the Kiev temple cultural event (which really was astonishingly good),and the temple dedication which was such a moving experience.( A dear Santa Clara sister had given me 12 beautiful temple handkerchiefs and neither of us could have known back then that all 12 would be used on that day by worthy members shouting praises at the dedication of the first temple in Eastern Europe.) The brothers politely shake hands with everyone coming and going, and how we hope they can stay strong through adolescence and the mandatory two years in the army, which undoes a lot of good boys.

They were back again today, and so was the whole family, including Grandma Siranuge happily sporting beautiful chestnut colored hair. We have had unfailingly great fast and testimony meetings. All of our pouters are cheerfully back in the fold, which proves once again that love, and fasting and prayers, are the best people skills. A convert of three months bore her testimony for the first time, and said how much the gospel has helped her, and how much she learns each time she comes, (which is every time). She said how thankful she was to learn from the testimony just preceding hers, that she should carry her scriptures everywhere she goes, just as she does her passport. (And a happy p.s.: just before we came home her husband was baptized and her dream of going to the temple could very well become a reality.)

Good testimonies, good hymn singing, great post meeting class on preparing for the temple. Good to hear that one member paid his tithing for the first time today, and bore a strong testimony. Good to hear a testimony from a member who learned from the temple dedication that President Monson is a real person who is alive at this moment and leading the church. Some concepts we take for granted aren't that easy for people on the other side of the world to grasp.

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.

Hope ya' know...

I love this line from Elder Cook’s Conference talk. I think it’s the reason we have blogs, and journals, and friends—because somebody needs ta’ know. Sometimes we just have times that are so intense that while we’re going through them we just keep thinking “I’ve got to write this down, I’ve got to remember it, and somebody else needs to know all about it too.” Then when we start talking about it, or writing it , it somehow doesn’t really seem all that interesting anymore, and we just get on with our lives (another great line from Conference—Elder Snow). We had a week like that a week ago, but now this past week has obliterated everything I wanted to write about the week before.

#1 memory this week: We are surrounded by green hills. In those hills you will find a man, his bones held together by his earthy, leathery skin, who chops downs big bagfuls of edible green things—nothing you would ever find anywhere but in these green hills. We visited his family this week. They live in a very humble, very rustic home. It’s hard to tell what the walls are covered with—-mostly layers and layers of wood smoke. (I would say his smoke, too, but he just smokes one after another and never exhales.) There is a TV and the requisite china cabinet with fancy dishes, and a very nice replica of the Salt Lake Temple which the former Branch President made for them. The little bit of everything else is threadbare. The whole family was sitting in the living room bundling the greens to sell in the marketplace. To my great and happy surprise one of the daughters is Marineh, who I thought lived in the city. She has the sweetest radiant smile, and crippled legs, and somehow has to go up and down the rickety wooden stairs how many times a day to milk the cows, and do her other chores. While we were there she made the trip and poured us out two pop bottles full of warm milk to take home. Her mother makes cheese to sell, so this was a hugely generous gift. I had given her a CTR ring weeks ago, which she had given to her mother. Luckily I had a purse full and gave another to her, and to the little children in the family.

Captions for the photos: Top left and bottom right: our bath buckets, and our flames in your face water heater—just so ya’ know. The elders today said “You know, usually senior couples live in much nicer apartments than the elders.”

Then: Standing on the beautiful new bridge in Tbilisi which isn’t open yet to ordinary tourists. The guards who let us up only knew that we were Americans. If they had known our apartment wasn’t as nice as the elders, they would would have snubbed us.

Nine year-old Martune, who was baptized just today. He is the happiest person I have ever met. His smile will take him far in this life. Keep smiling, Martune.

Seda is the most faithful person in the world. I could talk about her for hours. She has had amazing spiritual experiences, and is second only to Martune in the happiness department. Or maybe, considering that she’s older and has had many challenges, she would really be first.

This house is being built next to us. They have spent weeks on the grand stone entry. I wanted you to see how buildings are constructed here. They do amazing things with blocks and cement. (As of the day we left to come home it still looked exactly like this, except, strange to relate there is a garden behind the wall.)

We are standing in front of the Armenian letter “B”. I was told my smile wasn’t sincere. And it wasn’t. I was tired and sick and I hope ya’ know I had had a very exhausting week.

Sanam—our Relief Society President. A very intelligent and faithful sister—a mathematics teacher, who also teaches Seminary and is my piano student. I’m a little in awe of her, but she calls me Sister Blunck-jan, which is high praise.

P.S. The Monday after: Marineh and much of her family were at Church sporting their rings. But the huge blessing is that Seda’s husband was sitting by her side at Sacrament meeting, and stayed for all the meetings. This is the answer to 6 years of fasting and prayer, and an amazing story I’ll tell you soon.

Something for the Grandchildren

If we had a bumper I might be tempted to get a bumper sticker proclaiming my grandkids to be better than everyone’s. We really do miss Rani, D, Tali, Marcus, Tiari, Rachel, Joel, Jake, Heather, Wesley, Abby, Whitney, Justin, Troy, Audrey, Dallin, Chad, Kyle, Alison, Griffin, Truman, Eva and Mae, and your parents, too. We’re trying to be good so we can all be together for a very long time—as in forever. We appreciate your prayers—-they really help—and we pray for you, too. We thought you would like to hear about what the children here did for a Primary activity this last Tuesday. This can help you understand a little about what it’s like to be in another country on a mission.

Try to imagine what this was like: We met at the Church and walked across town to a park. There was a playground but you had to pay 100 dram to go in and play so we didn’t. There were funny little rides that pretty much just went around and around, and didn’t look very safe or pretty. There were weeds, and trash, and lots of children and their moms and women selling sunflower seeds wrapped in pages of old books. When we got there we had a prayer, right out on the sidewalk, and the Primary president gave a little talk about how God created such a beautiful world. Then everyone waited in line and got to go on one ride. After that we walked to the other side of the town and went to a restaurant. We each had one piece of pizza. It had no tomato sauce (which would make some of you happy) and it had corn, mushrooms and red peppers and Armenian cheese. We all had a cup of red flower tea (Word of Wisdom approved.) No one complained, no one asked for something else, no one yelled, or misbehaved, or ran around. Everyone ate all of their food happily and used very good table manners, (except for one boy who licked the sugar shaker, which is not good manners). They were all very happy and thankful for the good time they had. In other words they all were very good children—just like our perfect grandchildren. And I think they had just as good a time as if they had gone to Disneyland. (And by the way, they all loved Pooh-pa’s bird calls and Piccolo Petes.)

One of the boys who came is named Martune. He is 9 years old and he is going to be baptized this Saturday. We hope he will keep coming to Church and be a good missionary some day. We think you would like these children if you were here with us. There are good people everywhere in the world, and Heavenly Father loves us all.

The Vanadzor Tabernacle Choir

3-7-10

Just got home from a fabulous Fast & Testimony meeting, (although I had to convince Pres. Heleyan that it’s perfectly appropriate to sing “Did You Think to Pray?” as an opening song in Sacrament Meeting, because he had been trained that it’s not, and he monitors my song choices as a very conscientious hymn policeman), a near fabulous Primary (where I presented 15 year old Hovanas with a CTR ring and an injunction to stay away from Primary, because he’s seldom where he belongs, and is always causing problems—and to always Choose (untrirzh) the Right ( chishta) ), and the third consecutive rehearsal of the Vanadzor Tabernacle Choir. I can’t love these people enough. They LOVE being in the choir, they go home and sing all week trying to remember the tune (which has been a challenge, but they are eager and humble learners), and even though it’s Fast Sunday, and we’ve already been at church for 4 or 5 hours, they don’t ever want to stop. We’re going to perform in two weeks for Sacrament Meeting, and Hermineh suggested we all wear white— which was a great idea. Guyaneh will solo verse two of “We’ll Sing All Hail to Jesus’ Name”, while the rest of the choir oooh’s (oooohing is how I taught them to carry a tune in the first place, which was Seda’s idea, and a good one , because it was too hard to concentrate on words and melody when we were first learning), and Elder Stephenson and Elder Blunck will sing harmony as they are the only men. We finish with a rousing “YE DO REMEMBER HIM” in fortissimo, and if you could see the testimony in their eyes you would melt right away.

5-6-10

I just found the above—and I’ll give you an update. The choir DID sing—only half of them showed up and I wanted to wait—but they sounded amazingly good and we’re now practicing “I’ll Go Where You Want Me To Go”, which we’ll sing as soon as we polish it a smidgeon. This week the Primary will sing “Saturday Is a Special Day”. Unpolished. Pres. Heleyan is starting to like, & request, special musical numbers. I had to beg to let him allow the Elders & Ani to sing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” as a special closing song on Easter because it was Fast Sunday when we don’t have musical numbers, but he was willing to relent to the spirit of the law. I think he’s keeping score of his concessions, and is going to spring something huge on me without warning.

Hovanas—whose mother is a progressing investigator—has disappeared. We think to get some help for his problems. We’ve never been able to figure out if he’s just naughty, or undisciplined, or possessed with a legion of devils. He’s gotten lots of love from all of us, but there are members who say they won’t come if he’s allowed to be there. It did help for a time when the elders washed his mouth out with soap—-a parenting technique that is probably out of favor in America, but considered innovative here.

The pictures are of our Sense and Sensibility sisters—Ani and Araks. They clearly love each other and couldn’t be more opposite. Araks is always teasing Ani about dressing like an old lady, (she doesn’t, she just earnestly tries to follow the guidelines in “For the Strength of Your”) and being so stuffy, and Ani worries about Arkak’s spirituality, (although Ararks IS a good girl) but they never take offense from one another. Ani has just started hair dressing school, which consists of shadowing a seasoned hairdresser , and Araks just moved to Yerevan because Vanadzor is too provincial, and found a job working in an office. I have never considered office work all that fascinating, but big cities have the promise of excitement, if not the actual experience.

Death, Missionary Farewell, Wedding, Baby Shower

All of these events took place during the week of 2-16-10. Sorry these posts are so long, and so un-illustrated. But we are now caught up, kind of, and from now on they’ll be new, and maybe I’ll start taking pictures again, instead of writing 1056 words.

Tigran is a sweet young man who has been staying home from church to care for his dying mother. The Relief Society sisters and I took a solemn walk to his home to pay our respects. She was laid out in the spotless living room–where everything was draped in white, and she was in a tiny wooden casket, blanketed in gold satin. Tigran, and his grandmother, were stunned with grief. But we are hoping that when his mourning has softened he will be able to serve a mini-mission in preparation for a real mission soon. Beautiful Armenian flute music was playing softly, and even though it was funeral music, and even though their traditions are rock solid & they think I’m just plain weird, my sisters will help me get a CD of this lovely music which will be just remind me of Armenia in general, and not funerals in particular.

Anahit is the beautiful daughter of our Branch President. We had taken her to Yerevan to help her with her missionary wardrobe. And more shopping again here, and more struggling to convince her that mid-calf doesn’t mean at the knee, no matter how cute the skirt is. She had wanted to dye her hair blond, but I think we convinced her that blond Armenian girls send the wrong message. Our new American Sister Ferguson , serving in Gyumri, had considered dying her naturally beautiful blond hair darker, because, well, it attracted unwelcome attention. But the minerals in the water are taking care of that for her naturally.

Anahit had several going away parties, and danced until she dropped to get all the dancing out of her system for 18 months. The party we had at her home made me feel as if I’d been initiated as one of the girls. They love missionaries with a fervor and treat us as if we were visiting royalty. But this time they let me into the kitchen to do dishes afterwards! And I saw how they manage to wash a gazillion dishes with no running water. Big pans of water were steaming on the stove, and they have an assembly line to wash, rinse, stack, dry—it took very few minutes to wash very many dishes. I think I was awarded this honor because I had brought a chocolate cake. Yes, I can now bake a cake without burning it. Life is good.

We worked hard to prepare a special musical number for Anahit’s last sacrament meeting in Vanadzor. I accompanied her, Elder Blunck, and Elders Santo and Stephenson, singing “The Olive Tree” (a seminary song on lds.org) and it was amazingly beautiful, even though she had a bad cold. I wanted to do it again for the closing song. Now maybe people will join the branch choir which President Heleyan just called me to lead, as a bribe so that he would allow me to work in the Primary, which just lost their pianist, and maybe be a Primary teacher instead of Gospel Doctrine teacher. I think I can learn more Armenian in Primary than teaching about the Abrahamic Covenant which I did last Sunday, too. I prepared a handout in Armenian —-I have better Armenian handwriting than English, for sure.

We took Anahit and her family to Yerevan for her setting apart. She kept saying “This is like a dream!”, and I kept replying that yes, it IS like a dream to be a real missionary. She is going to Ukraine, and has already served 5 mini-missions. We will miss her lots.

We stayed to attend Elder Tadevosyan’s wedding to his beautiful Christina. (We served with him in Georgia). They will go to the temple as soon as they can. It was a happy time, and we saw old friends with whom we had gone to the Swiss Temple, and talked to his mother who is the Armenian lady who had a conversion story in the Ensign last year. (Different last name—many Armenian women don’t take their husband’s name.)

She is a very strong member, and will have a four-generation LDS family as soon as Grigor and Christina give her a grandchild—-she’s counting on that as soon as possible!

We came home yesterday to join the Relief Society sisters to troop over & meet Araks’ newest grandson—Davit—who was dressed from head to toe in pink ruffles. (More than in the picture, which I took later.) He has two older brothers (age 1 & 2) and they really wanted a girl, and had prepared accordingly. A family of ten lives together—mostly strong members of our branch. His mother is a member, and he has an endowed grandma and a returned missionary aunt, and his little cousins, another boy and a girl, all come to Primary.

We have eaten many Armenian feasts, but this one topped them all. I had brought a little gift for the baby, and the sisters had pooled their resources and brought a nice money gift, but we were completely outdone in the generosity department. I wish I had brought my camera. I’ve been very lax with pictures, because I over did it in Georgia.

If I could do roast chicken and potatoes half as well as Araks and her daughters—well, I could rave all day, and not come close to describing how flawless it all was. They showed me how—-next time I can face a cute little chicken head I’ll give it a try.

Hegine, the daughter who is a returned missionary, spontaneously gave us a lovely dance performance, to music on the TV, as we were leaving. She was as graceful and happy and beautiful to watch, in her jeans and bedroom slippers, as any bride on her Armenian wedding day. She now comes to our home every other day to read the Book of Mormon in English, and to have a private English lesson. She can’t afford to go to the university, and she works 16 hours a day, every other day, as a taxi dispatcher. We told her we would be her university, as best we can, and we love her visits.

Barev Dzez

I can’t figure out why the older posts don’t show up, even in “archives”, and why we can’t get pictures on right. My girls have such snazzy blogs, but their skills are their own—they certainly didn’t get them from their parents. We are having a million adventures a day, but blogging is at the bottom of my list of things to do. The local priest stopped the elders and literally ripped their name tags in half , so now they have unique souvenirs to take home. I imagine he thought he had done something important to stop the work, but, His Honor, the Priest, only made them more determined to get the Truth to these children of Israel. Noah literally landed in Armenia, because Mr. Ararat used to be here—-now it’s in Turkey. The mountain didn’t move, but the borders did. We do have mountains of tradition and indifference, and I get the feeling that the clerks at the supermarket make fun of us every time we walk in, but we’re all trying to do our little part which will add up to having a temple here someday. And we all hope that they will honor the architecture and incorporate some of the unique design of His Honor, the Priest’s, beautiful churches.

I have to tell you something we thought was funny. I made a burrito last night for David (it was very tasty), but I made it with lavosh, so the wrapper was roughly the size of a cheap bath towel. It was so huge that when I set it before him he asked “And what are we going to name this new baby?” Have we been here too long? Is that funny at all?

Bela's Feast

Bela invited us to attend her activity at 1:00 on Thursday. She had just been called as the Single Adult leader, for those 31 to 110. When we arrived she was in the kitchen preparing the hospitality. That’s what they call refreshments.

In a tiny kitchen, with two ity-bity tables, she had prepared plates of a carrot and pepper relish, plates of preserved cherries, and more plates of pickled green tomatoes, carrots, hot peppers and cauliflower, a potato salad, bread, and bottles of homemade cherry juice. She had a lovely cake waiting, potatoes boiling merrily on the little stove, she was cutting up cilantro, and tiny red onions. Everything was tidy, no messes anywhere and she must have hauled everything from home, including stacks of the saucer sized china which all meals are served on in every home. You eat little dabs on little plates and end up more full than when you eat way too much food on the manhole cover-sized plates at any American restaurant. Part of that is because Armenians never serve less than eight separate menu items, usually many more.

I have noticed two things during the brief time, and many meals, we have shared with members: #1 they are confident and good cooks, #2 I have a lot to learn from them. They work with the least amount of equipment and ingredients, and cook circles around anything I ever thought I could do. I think my cooking here is getting the elders ready to deal patiently someday with new brides who are learning to cook, and serving forgettable meals.

When everything was just about ready to serve she drained the whole potatoes, sprinkled them with a little salt (if you notice the salt shaker on the table of leftovers you’ll see that the lid has been pried off. There is something very appealing about the way they don’t shake salt—they strew it with their fingers in a very grand manner. I have started a collection—10 so far—of Armenian salt dishes) and then she piled them onto a tray with a flourish, festooned them with onions and cilantro, and served them steaming hot.

Bela is also a Gospel Doctrine teacher and a branch missionary, and she is also married, which makes me wonder why she has this particular calling. And since I wrote this she has disappeared—apparently to Yerevan to the hospital for her heart, but no one will really give me a straight answer. (As it turned out it was for her heart---she was leaving her husband, and we've seen her many times in Yerevan where she is happy, has new teeth and clothes and is loving life. And her former husband is a member who the elders love, and who occasionally shows up for church.) For this activity we read 1 Nephi 1. Then we feasted on Bela’s good food and visited. I sent poor Elder Blunck home for the camera—too late to take a picture before we had eaten most of it.

The members have all been challenged to read the Book of Mormon, and we have another activity where we all read together weekly, and Elder Blunck is in charge of that. The first time we read 1 Nephi 1 AND 2 and played “Old Kentucky Fair”, and had cocoa and bonchiks—only two menu items, American style. We’ve tried all kinds of hospitality combinations—raspberry tea and hot dogs for instance—but the Branch President doesn’t want people coming for just the hospitality, so he discontinued that, but now and then he surprises us with lamajos, or some other little treat. As of today we are now well into the Isaiah chapters. The members are mostly from the lost 10 Tribes—Gad and Asher, etc., and they don’t have any problem with Isaiah.

Memo to myself: It's probably best not to prepare a big meal on a no-water day.

(Kept the picture small so as not to frighten the grandchildren.)

January 8, 2010

We got up right at 6:30 and studied all morning then met the Elders at the Church so that they could translate some of my Sunday School lesson for me. (We don’t have manuals in Armenian.) They did a good job, and at 11:00 I met sweet Ani to give her her second piano lesson. She is doing so well, and is teaching me to say “right hand, left hand, play it again” & all those things a piano teacher needs to know. I already knew how to say “very good” & “well done”.

At noon Seda and President Helelyan showed up—actually he showed up first to tell us that he had found an internet provider for us. And Seda was planning to take me to buy a stove. So the four of us took off and went to the internet place first. They will install the our hook up tomorrow. Then we went to the stove place, and bought a stove, just like that. The stove fellow gave me a new year discount of about 10,000 dram and insisted that I needed the model with a rotisserie feature in the oven, at no extra cost. He tied it to the top of an old car and we all drove home together (free delivery includes the buyers & their entourage), whereupon he untied it, set it by the front door of the building and drove off. Elder Blunck & Pres. Helelyan toted it upstairs, and we were soon joined by Seda’s husband who works as an electrician at the school nearby. He and President had to run off to buy a fitting, but that gave Seda & me time to peel off all the labels.

I then learned how to buy a chicken. (It’s intimidating because you have to ask the chicken clerk to give you the one you want out of a big bucket of chickens—and how do I know which one I want or how long they’ve been sitting there?) When you get it home cutting up a chicken is a whole nother thing when it still has feet and a head. Actually I didn’t see the head until I started to cut off the feet, & let me tell you it was startling.

I figured it would work well to just cut up some vegetables, stuff the poor little chicken with a lemon and some bay leaves, wrap it all in foil & bake it. I learned the hard way how this new oven works. It’s both gas and electric. The electric version doesn’t get hot enough to melt butter, so I switched to gas and promptly burned all the vegetables due to the fact that it’s a very small oven & I had the pan too close to the gas. I’m not sure there’s a thermostat, although I had asked & asked, & I think that they thought a rotisserie was enough of luxury, so what on earth was I babbling about. I’m really not very confident about trying to bake cookies or rolls. They’ll either burn on the top or the bottom. But if these people can cook with their stoves, I’d jolly well better learn to cook on my deluxe model.

So what does all this have to do with missionary work? First of all, we have to live, & I’m trying to have it not take up the whole day. But the huge part of my day, and all day tomorrow, will be to try to prepare to teach Moses Chapter One in Armenian. I will be kind of like a trained speaking monkey, and have to read most of it, and understand very little of what I’m saying—except I know the lesson in English, and I believe what I’m teaching and love it, and the members are so sweet. They’ll be patient with me, and they’ll think I actually can understand Armenian. Not only am I having to write the whole thing down in Armenian, but I’m having to switch from the Armenian printed alphabet, which I was barely confident in, to the handwriting style, which has enough differences to drive me crazy. For instance the printed “z” looks just like the handwritten “g”—so I can’t get away with handwriting z’s for g’s. And President Helelyan has instructed us to use the blackboard every time. Thank goodness I only teach once a month. (Except he wants me to be prepared every week in case someone doesn’t show up.)

And it’s a no water day, which means I have a kitchen full of greasy dishes. (The meal turned out ok—the chicken was very fresh & tender.) I’ll have to wash things in the bathtub, tomorrow , where I can get hot water. What does all this have to do with missionary work??? I ask myself this question 50 times a day. (I’ve asked it twice already in this post.) The answer is “baby steps”—we’re building relationships with people, we spend a lot of time walking, and we both are conscious of trying to have loving countenances which will somehow spread the Spirit into the hearts of the people we pass by, (it’s really hard even to learn people’s names, & who they’re related to & when you speak one word of Armenian to them—like hello—they assume you can understand everything they say, and chatter away—-and then you learn later that they’ve been telling you that they want you to get them a new pair of trousers, or that their son is in jail, no the hospital, no really jail. They have names like Gago—-or maybe it’s Guga, or Goga, it’s all strange on the tongue, & easy to forget from one minute to the next) but somehow it’s all doing us more good than anyone else, and we’re very grateful for the experience.