Sunset

Isn't this a pretty photo? It showed up on iphoto, and as it happens Elder Blunck took it from our back window. I don't take pictures anymore, so I'm glad for this one. People here love to have their picture taken, and they always grab the camera to see how it turned out, and they always show you their photo albums when you visit. Even if you've seen them before. Even if you are the one who gave them all the pictures they have. I think it's all about feeling like they really matter and that someone cares. Which I do, very much. And I wish we could do more to have this yearning to be noticed, and approved, translate into yearning for Heavenly Father's approval, and staying focused on the return trip back to Him. When all is said and done most photos we see are of people sitting or standing in front of something, and they are just to prove they were there. (Exceptions: great photos like Casey's and photos of my kids and their kids! This comment about photos seems a little curmudgeonly, and I like the idea of capturing memories, but I'd rather be making memories. This just comes from a lot of picture-taking going on around here and the kind of poignant need they have to be noticed and validated. Sorry---this is a long rambling thought.) We need more out of life than to just prove we were here.

It's not icy anymore. I have daffodils from Armine in my vase from Rusanna. The road to the church is dry for now-----all the ice had covered up the rocks & rubble. My boots are thin and I hope they last 7 1/2 more weeks.

We have the sisters teaching Gagik in our home now. There should be a Preach My Gospel edition featuring them as the perfect missionaries. Please keep praying for him. He understands so much, and is such a good man. We'll be devastated, truly, if we leave in 7 1/2 weeks and Elder Blunck hasn't baptized him. He said the other day "If I decide to be baptized I want you, David-jan, to baptize me." I told him this week that I hate ujanga pyramids, but I do them because I know he knows more than I do about yoga, and he's doing what's best for me. He understood that I was relating that to us knowing more than he does about the Plan of Happiness and that we, and our dear sisters, are teaching him what is best for him. He said it himself.

Hegine is now taking piano lessons, one of my more brilliant ideas. I know she is very talented and can learn most of what she needs to know in 7 1/2 more weeks. She told me when she was a little girl she used to pretend the table was a piano---she has always wanted to play. I have two other new students. One is talented, one wants to keep quitting because she says she can't do it. But I'm going to give her every chance, and every ounce of my hard-won patience. Since this is a music paragraph I'll tell you that the Vanadzor Tab is working on a number for Easter that will amaze and inspire.

We seem to be busier than ever, but I took a minute the other day and packed all my souvenirs for travel. Mention this post and there is one with your name on it. In 7 1/2 weeks. How far away is that plane, Sister Blunck? I hope far enough away to leave things a little better than we found them, although the minute you start thinking that, everything comes unraveled. It's hard to go on a mission. It's harder to come home. And it's hard to sort out all you've experienced and learned, and to hope for a "Well done" from the One whose opinion matters, and whose love you feel so often, and whose grace you need so much.

Hegine

Ordinarily I would struggle with whether or not to tell you about the young lady who is absolutely certain that Armenian is the Adamic tongue. Do I tell you that Mari and Hamo are working on the challenge of not really having gotten legally married? Do I tell you that Gagik's father died a week ago, and that Armenians mourn for an extended period of time so we're doing yoga on our own for awhile, and are hoping & praying that this loss in his family's life will lead to an accelerated embracing of the restored Gospel when we see Gagik again? Do I do a whole post on Armenian nose surgery? Maybe someday, but today's post wrote itself.

Twenty minutes ago we finished reading the Book of Mormon, in English, with Hegine. She has faithfully come on every day off to read aloud with us. She works 16 hour days, every other day, as a taxi dispatcher. The small amount she is paid would be illegal at home. She tried to quit once and her boss simply wouldn't let her. So sick or well, tired or not, she has come for a year.

Hegine served a mission in Russia and there is absolutely nothing about her that isn't wonderful. She is an extraordinary member missionary. On her precious days off she not only reads with us, she attends Institute, she visit teaches, she serves in every possible way. This Monday she cleaned the whole church building by herself. She is our YSA leader, and plans all of the activities for Relief Society. She lives with her widowed mom, who was baptized while Hegine served her mission, her brother and his wife and three little boys (including David, the one who was dressed in pink ruffles for a year, with pony tails, but is now a toddler with a short haircut), and assorted other family members who come and go, and to whom she always teaches the Gospel.

This photo doesn't do her justice--she is very beautiful, and is the only Armenian or Georgian I have ever seen with braces----she is always trying to improve. She's practically perfect already, and we love her very much.

The Worth of Souls

Mari has always reminded me of a cross between Aladdin and Martha Stewart---kind of a good hearted, upwardly mobile street kid, with a flair for the homemaking arts. She lived in the dorms, which is a euphemism for a large building of one room apartments with no heat, no kitchens, no water (except for the communal bathroom). The first time we visited her it was dark and cold and she lit a candle so we could sort of see, and burned old rags to give the illusion of warming things up a bit. She somehow managed to pay for her mother and step-father and little brother and sister to return to Vanadzor and live with her. The father has gone away somewhere, and the mother works and Mari brings the children to church with her as often as they'll come. She loves to throw parties----she orchestrated her own 17th birthday party a year ago, and delegated music, food, and decorations and was a princess for an afternoon. She had a french fry party in her apartment awhile back----luckily she had a neighbor come over who knew the right way to stick raw wires into the wall and get the hot plate to come on without burning down the fluttering curtains hanging from the doorway. Recently she had a piroshki party and I brought the mashed potato filling for the dough she had prepared. She is quite the little hostess, and we left with a promise to come to her little brother's 7th birthday party the next week. We met her at the church and rode a marshuteny out to her Papik and Tatik's home on the outskirts of the city.This is an aunt---bringing in the bowl of fried chicken. Who knows how it could have possibly been prepared in the tiny room that serves as a kitchen/bedroom without leaving any kind of a mess behind. It was amazingly tasty. No matter how rich or poor they are (& we have yet to meet the rich) they all know how to set the table with every traditional thing required for a proper Armenian meal, including, always, a plate of olives, surrounded by lemon slices, a plate of herbs, bread directly on the table, salads, meat, dolmas, pickles and tiny plates, and tiny glasses which would shame them if they got empty for even a moment (thus the continual hovering over you to keep filling and filling.)
This is Tatik with the dolmas. At the time I was really feeling that this was the most, shall we say, uncomfortable occasion I've ever been to. The people were loud ---yelling with their mouths full, eating and dancing to loud loud loud music, and drinking, (and this continued on during the blessing that Mari gave), and a very strange cousin who wandered in and out, but mixed in with all this was a happy 7-year old with a very large and ornate birthday cake who was hugged and adored and probably felt like a prince for an afternoon.
Little sister is in the pink boots. Karen, the birthday boy is next to her. The neighbor lady who fried the piroshkis is on the left, and Mari's mom is between me and Sister Deaver who was only here for one day on splits. I had been asked by a departing sister missionary to have a good talk with the mom, because she was a very bad mother. Then I was told by a faithful member of the branch that she is a very good woman and a hard worker. I am learning to prefer to think well of people and not pay attention to criticism.
This is Papik, after filling his own glass many times, trying to persuade Elder Blunck to dance, and Mari, keeping the party going. Little did we know that we would be invited to return next week for a wedding party for Mari. No one quite knows how this happened, but we took her with us to Yerevan the other day for a birthday party for Hamo's sister. Hamo is a very nice young man who was just baptized here, but actually lives down there. We don't know how they met. We don't have any idea how this happened, but as soon as she got off at the bus stop, met by Hamo, they went and got a marriage license and shocked us all out of our wits when she called the sisters and said they were married. I think this could be a good thing. I think she was born to be a homemaker.

Hadjika Vadjika Part II

If you don't know what Hadjika Vadjika means, you'll either have to go back to the beginning, or just not worry about it. It's really hard to come up with titles. This is the front of our former yoga studio. We still go to yoga, but at a much more inconvenient time, and in a YMCA pre-school room which doesn't have really great karma. Just lots and lots of stuffed animals--- by far the single most important element in Armenian interior design. Really. I'll tell you about it at home.

"Kalina" is a bakery run by Armenians who speak very good German and make excellent baklava. So the sign is actually in German, not English. There's a lot more snow and ice on the ground since this pictures was taken, and once again angels are protecting me from slip slidin' away.

This is Gagik, our yoga guru, and the living Armenian embodiment of the 13th Article of Faith. He and Elder Blunck are BFF's and he has said, and so have we, that we may very well have been called to Armenia just to meet him. Preach My Gospel talks about the "Questions of the Soul", and of course, there's no doubt that the Gospel can answer those questions. His questions are uniquely poignant and we have spent hours and hours of quality time with him exploring, listening and learning. He and Elder Blunck have climbed Mt. Aragats, we've gone to classical music concerts together, and drunk endless cups of herb tea in his studio and in our home. We've met his beautiful wife and three wonderful children, and have made 3-D snowflakes with his youngest daughter, gone to his son's rock concerts, and watched Gagik and his friends perform jazz on the sidewalk on a hot summer night. Plugged in.

He attended all three meetings last Sunday, and then asked "Do you have any more meetings I can go to today?", then came back for the baptism of a 9 year old girl from Aliverdi. He smiled the whole time and made a special point of congratulating her. He reads scriptures and prays with us, at yoga and in our home, and he stopped in for a minute today before Sacrament meeting to ask to be excused because he had a friend who needed his help. He likes our Church. He has searched for truth all of his life, and spent a year in an Indian ashram and loved the introspective spiritual lifestyle there. He believed in Lenin with his whole heart, might and mind and because of his profound disappointment when he learned the truth about that whole era-----which has affected the people in Eastern Europe more than we can ever imagine----he is understandably taking his time before he will wholeheartedly embrace the Truth because he has to know for sure. We talk a lot about freedom, and choice, and trusting our feelings. He, like everyone here, lives with extended family. His mother, who stays home to care for his ailing father, is reading the Book of Mormon, page by page. She just picked his copy up one day and can't put it down. You can be sure that you will hear more about Gagik.

Next time I will write about Mari, pictured here with Father Christmas. His day job is second counselor to our branch president. (Since then, he's married, had a son and is now first counselor.)

A Little Treat

We had thought that we would be able to attend the new temple in Ukraine, but we'd have had to break rules to have done that, and wouldn't that have invalidated our recommends? We were almost there, though, because we attended all the dedicatory sessions by satellite, as well as the really wonderful cultural event. We're happy to share with you this snippet which features some of our Armenian youth. It's a holding hands around the world moment that, for me at least, helps put the broken appointments, and the people who aren't interested, and the less inspiring moments of a mission into a more eternal perspective.

https://lds.org/youth/video/kyiv-ukraine-temple-cultural-celebration?lang=eng

I Must Go and Fetch the Water Part II

My battery died just as I was taking pictures of the water brigade, so all we have is this one of Elders Gropp and Crawford. I've written about Samvel, the hearing & speech impaired father of Lena, Kamo and Rima. He was baptized Saturday, but not without some tribulation. There was a crew installing new radiators in the building this week. What we ended up with was no heat and no warm water for the font. So Armine led the elders up to their apartment several times to bring back big buckets of hot water and I went back and forth from the church kitchen with pans of steaming water from the electric stove, and we eventually got the font full enough with tepid water so that Elder Larson and Samvel could kneel down in the font with enough water to immerse Samvel. Standing wouldn't have worked. Not exactly a pioneer story (how I love the pioneers) but in our way it was memorable. They didn't freeze to death, and we were only half an hour late starting. We had about 30 people attending--many investigators. So we hope everyone there felt the Spirit and knew how important this ordinance is. Important enough that no one let a little cold water stop it.
I've written about Navere before, also. He was baptized in August. I can't even find the words to tell how much I love him. I took this picture when he came several hours early for a Primary activity. I feel sure that he wants to be at church because things at home are so, um, so difficult. His brother has succumbed to peer pressure and no longer comes, because he's at the age when boys start proving their manliness by ruining their lungs. But Navere keeps coming, no matter how long the walk and how cold. He smiles more now, he interacts with the others more. I think he's happy there. We're teaching out of Primary Manual #4 this year and that means The Book of Mormon. The class is full of boys, and only three sweet girls, and they each have their own copies, and their own highlighters, and we really get into it. I pray that he'll feel the Spirit often enough and strong enough to weather his adolescent years. The Gospel is really the only thing he has going for him-----there's a long list of things working against him. But I know fervent prayers in his behalf can be the very thing he needs the most.

This is my mattress. Smoothed out the best it can be. We have a wonderful old down comforter, and the lumps in the mattress conform for the most part to my own lumps, so I do get a warm & cozy night's sleep. I hate getting up in the dark to go and fetch the water, but we've had hot water every day now, for as long as I can remember, so I'm grateful.

His Hand is Stretched Out Still...........

Years ago when my children were quarreling (gasp!) one of my little ones came to me and said "Those kids are hurting Heavenly Father's feelings!" This (not very good) photo is of a (probably not the greatest) painting that I just bought myself for my birthday. It's a rip-off of the well known Simon Dewey portrait that some Armenian artist probably saw on a discarded pamphlet. But I love the expression on the Lord's face. I think it captures the disappointment that He must feel when we hurt His Father's feelings.

It might even represent what we will see when we stand before Him with our lame excuses for not ever getting it right when all He asked us to do was to love Them with all our hearts and to love others with the same love.

My favorite part of being a missionary is the time I get to spend studying the scriptures and the writings of the prophets. I could write a book of all of the great messages that are sinking deep into my heart, but it's already all in the books. It's all there waiting for us to invite the Spirit to manifest the truth of it unto us.

One of my favorites (Pres. Eyring) is in the sidebar to the right------------------------------------->

Although I find myself falling short regularly, past and present, and undoubtedly future, when I pay attention I realize that it's all between me and the One who atoned for me and who is disappointed when I don't measure up, but who still reaches out and lets me feel of His indescribable love.