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?