Garnering Grain, Banishing Boll Weevil, Respecting Record and Roll

"Having seen... afflictions in the course of my days, nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord... therefore I make a record..."  (1 Ne.1:1)

Ending our maintenance break visit "home", we visited kind brother David before he drove us to the airport.  I awed to see the black elephant bookends, souvenirs from Dad's visits to Sri Lanka on David's family bookshelf.       Then David showed me his prize-- a personalized triple combination printed in 1958 (the final year of Dad's mission.)  David pointed out the missing sections--137 and 138 (added in 1981) including the vision of the Redemption of the Dead--containing verses that David used for his talk at Dad's funeral.  Then he pull out a book marker of Romans 10:15 "And how can they preach unless they are sent?" that one of his quiet seminary students had offered as a tribute and gesture of kindness, after receiving a testimony of such last year.  Special things. 

 As we swept out the door, David brought out a printed copy of Dad's journal, and handed it to me to take with me home to Tegucigalpa, 50 double-sided typed pages that have since wormed their way into my mind and heart.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Our travel went well.  Meeting a military X-ray technician and an architect student leader from Illinois, I engaged in lively, lovely conversations; but missed a little "rest" in the "rest" of the ride home.

Arriving in Tegucigalpa's airport, all went well (aside from  the nonworking escalator going up, with Val's heavy carry-on) until we got to customs.  I remembered May 2013, where Val's vitamins spilled all over the floor, watching my medicine roll through without a hitch.  When Val's suitcases passed through the machine, the rolling stopped.  (To our grandchildren: "Do you think Grandpa is jinxed?")

We had carefully packed, crated, and hoisted two extra 50 lb bags, (make that 300 total pounds of luggage)  

 [and to an unsuspecting eye, the culprit bag was actually the smallest blue--70 lbs at least--carry-on!]

from Utah to AZ to WA to TX, in an effort to include red lentils and quinoa,

 

which we could find only in specialty stores at exorbitant rates here.   After traveling over 3,000 miles we were halted at Toncontin customs two miles from our house and required to secure signatures from the Honduras Engineer of Agriculture to verify that we will not plant our 80 pounds of grain.   After spending spent $21 in cab fares and 6.5 hours trudging from quarantine director to agricultural engineer, from crowded cubicle to dirty reception office, and paying another $28 in signature fees, the hostage grains were released from custody, and we rejoiced to find our land legs walking in the front door with the last of our luggage!  It was then that we realized that (even though it was not exactly our turn) we had agreed to brave early morning to dress and be ready before 7 a.m. on our first breath back.  Mom reminds me I taught her during early morning seminary years that "there must needs be opposition in ALL things."  Remember this.  (She also warns it is not our job to "BE" the opposition.)

With one hour to unpack, Val hit the sack at 7:30 p.m. and I followed at 8:30. The phone did not work.  And I could not find my key.  Nor could Val.  The cleaning people had come and most things we tried to find, we could not. The best part of the evening, came when the phone rang with President Ocampo asking if we had made it home safe, with a comforting word to not worry about my key.  It was good counsel, because...when I woke and looked on top of the laundry bucket at the bottom of the closet, there was my key!  In a plastic Ziploc.

Val and I untangled every cord in the large surge protector and in the process, learned that the plug that went to the Magic Jack telephone had become ajar and unplugged from the power source.  
(Never mind the cords...communication can be worth the price...and besides, it is the rage! Honduras style!)


Our prayers were answered--the life line home again connected!  And, we figured out, before losing our phone number by default, that the Magic jack contract, a few days short of ending, could be re-upped to spare us changing phone numbers.  Val came home again with his locker key still missing. We prayed and looked for his key.  I decided to clean out his sock drawer.  Sure enough, in the back, as I was sorting white and black socks, I heard something "clink."  Joy in treasuring keys restored!! 

  

After three days of work, with intermittent sleep, too much pushing forward without taking a breath caught us by the heels.  In missing three days in the temple, laying horizontal, I read Dad's journal that Amber transcribed and David had printed and generously shared (years 1991 to 1995--when Amber was born, I met Val, and Dad traveled everywhere from Australia to Beijing.)   In the middle of it all, Dad managed to pen on Sundays and in between.  Even church friends were flattered, thinking he was taking notes, when in reality, he was sharing scores of the BYU ball games.

Lessons learned--we can never be too busy to notice the good that God gives us in our lives.  When we take note, there is more to note!   Unpacking, I found and read a gift, Everyday Missionaries, by Clay Christensen of Harvard.  More about this later.  When finished, I opened up my book by Alonzo Gaskill,  Sacred Symbols: Finding Meaning in Rites, and Rituals and Ordinances.  

The writing is filled with rich images found in religions from Hindu to Gnostics, that bring to mind ideas that help us identify purpose and truth seen throughout time and found about us everywhere. 

When Megan asked if I was excited or reluctant to go back to Honduras, I replied, "How would you like to live in the temple?"  Working daily in a castle on a hill, with persons whose lives are fixed on serving and giving, lifts and elevates.  I will admit, however, that upon receiving  affirmative response to our request to return to Utah a few days early to attend a family wedding mid-October, I squealed and smiled.  But Val sobered, working to restrain tears.  We love our friends.  A more fulfilling workplace would be hard to find.


       

 

Where could you find a better place to celebrate Anniversary numero veinte uno--21!?

 

So, with compassion for compilers of "a millennium of stories"

I look from May to July and scratch my head.  Fast forwarding a third time through Libro de Mormon, I concur again with Nephi's younger brother: 

 "[T]he time passed away with us, and also our lives passed away like as it were a dream. " 

 (Jacob 7: 26)      [funny, how our lives sometimes seem to come full circle!]

(Dream Weaver in downtown Museum of National Identity)

Beverly writes every day to her children on a blog. With my blog bursting with birthdays,  I refer you to hers for day to day occurrences to President Cazier's to see recent outings and our visit from Sherryl and Bob. 

(Click the blue underlined words above to view further photos and family letters.)

                

Pres. Cazier, however, did not include the newest fashion--recyclable to keep up with the Times!

 (Neither dress, or saco--suit--work in our line of business, but Val is saving up to wrap dishes for Guatemala.)

And neither of their blogs will feature our battle with bugs:  I learned online we were sharing cupboard space with the boll weevil (it is the gorgojo we talked of earlier) which in some cases are found in what you buy.   Our studies applauded freezing grains after a hearty cleaning (so we will verify--rather than plant them--we freeze them!)

 We see a moth or two now, but boll weevils have all but disappeared, and we have encountered only one cockroach, though it met a high-pitched yelp, resembling the "Dear!" which urgently descended the stairs the year Val's pajamas caught fire as he read with his back too close to the kitchen stove!   May we become brave as our baker Cesar (below) to never flinch in the face of danger.

So, recognizing Val's avoidance of scent (try to imagine searching out scentless--and soft--toilet paper in a land where it is not a sure thing to find any, in frequented restrooms) and realizing Tuesday 7/15 would leave exactly 13 weeks,  I decided to count the remains of our Price Smart 20 double-count package.  Fifteen left.  Here is the question..can this missionary couple "make do"  until October?  Keeping you posted...




We thrill to read of a violin choosing our enchanted Romanian missionary niece

                                                                                 learn of Anna serenaded by African investigators

 and hear of Jake passing a Colorado flight exam minus winds (in the same weather window that stranded Don and Virginia Cazier in nearby Colorado motel room--prayer can work wonders!)

We daily send up prayers to fill an empty (but beautifully spruced, painted, cleaned, newly carpeted) Spring City, Utah, mini-farm house near Ephraim (25 minutes north of Manti.) We hope to secure a wonderful family, if you have a mind to spread the word.

               (Click here for more details)

                       
                         

Riley, Allina, Mark and family visit Seattle area this week to learn if there is as much global warming in Seattle as Scottsdale...we'll see how that goes!  So glad, to pounce in on and hear reviews of reunions in Paris, ID   with rodeo, parade, dancing, karaoke, and family stories.

A recent NY Times article touts the power of a strong family narrative.  Challenges with cranky customs and battling bugs can make a great story, and joy in telling it--when there are ears to hear, and things to be learned.  Live your story, share it with us.  We love you!!


Upcoming post:  Family History Perk:  birthday present for Cherie featuring family history vignette

"Twenty-year-old Under Cover Agent"

Blessings to  you...
Laurene and Val