I drove alone to transfer point. The solitude of the moment brought introspection. My heart is hurting again. Missionaries that I love deeply are transferring and others will go home. It has happened before and those hurts have healed. So why the tears? As I contemplate, I compare transfers to getting a cut. Over time the cut heals, but just because one cut heals doesn’t mean a new cut doesn’t have to go through the same healing process.
I arrive at transfer point. There are hugs and hellos and then some goodbyes. We are a little late so not only is there work to do; but also, a little bit of pushing. Soon the vans are gone. President pulls away only to have to circle back around. Someone forgot to put their bike on. I sarcastically think to myself. “He’s loving that.” But years of practicing control makes him able to circle around without it being a big deal. A few minutes pass, and I realize that Elder Kin_____, our recent assistant, has left without saying goodbye. Tears spring into my eyes. How did that happen? Perhaps it is because Cowboys don’t cry so they just ride off into the sunset while no one is watching, or because when there is work to be done people like Elder Kin___ and my husband are so busy with the task at hand, they don’t think about anything else. I am mad for a moment and then Elder Robbin’s teachings that champions don’t go to the blamming list pops into my head, and I have to take my own responsibility. How could I have gotten so busy that I didn’t search him out? My ride home is lonelier than usual. I enter a quiet home, and start getting ready for tonight’s departing group. A memory of my first transfer keeps me company. Elder Ko____ and a couple of others showed up ready to vacuum and straighten up. At that time I hardly knew what I was doing, but I was glad to have the help after hosting 30 missionaries. Eighteen plus months later, life is much more predictable. Things happen in cycles. Including a hurting heart that heals with time. Feb 26, 2017
Six p.m. on Saturday is one of my alert times. You know like when your body tells you it’s lunchtime without having to look at the clock. It just knows. Without realizing it, I start to feel anticipation for something good. It is the time the Saints begin gathering for Stake Conference. My calling has allowed me to be privy to many stake conferences. With the background of prelude hymns, I sit on the stand and watch - wondering. My personal experiences of going to stake conference influences my interpretation of what I imagine is happening. I notice old friends who haven’t seen each other for a while as evidenced by their greeting. Many who once served side by side, but are now in different wards or different callings wave to each other. I watch, wondering if they are reliving moments from their past. Others sit; quietly seeking the solace that comes from the spiritual outpouring that is there. I marvel at the difference in those attending. Age and walk of life are definitely varied, but that doesn’t seem to matter; they are all part of the gathering. How blessed we are to be part of the gathering of Israel and not the scattering. I am not like my ancestors who were driven from the places they loved, having to start over again and again. I am well aware that I am part of an era that prophets of old foretold. An era that provided the hope they needed to carry on. Saturday night we was in Joplin for Stake Conference. Sitting next to us was a man who proudly proclaimed that he and his wife were going to be sealed in May. He confided that he’d never prayed in public and was nervous to say the opening prayer. Several times he sought the confirmation from my husband about when he should approach the podium to pray. To my right was one of the speakers. With shaking hands, he related that he had been a member for about a year and a half and would receive the Melchizedek Priesthood the next day. In his talk he expressed gratitude for the missionaries who were using their priesthood as they baptized and confirmed him. Rea____ sat next to him. She had not only been baptized less than a year ago; but also, had shared the gospel with several friends. As she spoke she proclaimed in amazement that a year ago she wasn’t even a member of the church and here she was speaking in Stake Conference! Another speaker sat in the seats behind us. Her baptism date had been 11/11/17. She was the product of members who had reached out to her. Each speaker spoke with power as they professed how the gospel had blessed their lives. Names of missionaries I knew were spoken with a reverence as they related how “their missionaries” had taught them. Names like Andru_____ and Anders______, Lop______ and Rob_______, Lin______, Russ_____ and Hel_____. I couldn’t help but feel a gratitude to be part of this gathering. The next morning more faces where added to the crowd. The first couple of rows were reserved for new converts and those who would be advanced in the priesthood. I watched as a young mother came in and briefly whispered to her husband. She then left, bringing back an older woman supported by a cane. She settled her into what used to be the mother's seat and left to sit in the back. When the conference business was commenced, I watched as members raised their hands to sustain the leadership of the stake. I knew that there were some whose sustaining had come at the price of forgiveness and faith. I also knew there would be some who in the coming months would have experiences that would lead them to understand better what it meant to sustain someone. Again the meeting opened and closed with prayers from people whose activity level had at one time waned. After offering the closing prayer, the sister sitting next to me said that she had not been to church in 3 months. With tears streaming down her cheeks she said that she needed to get a new job so she could come more often. It had felt so good to be there. I met more members and investigators who had been brought by others. Driving to the last stake conference, I’d recalled some of the sacrifices my ancestors had willingly made to follow God – experiences of courage and trust. I wondered what experiences I’d had that would be placed beside theirs. I couldn’t help but think that it was not too late to live so that I had some experiences worthy to stand with theirs. Oh, how blessed we are to be part of the gathering! A series of small miracles allowed Elder Udy to make it to Salt Lake City late last night. Tuesday,the doctors in Springfield had scheduled a series of procedures that would take anywhere between 3-5 days to complete. It just so happened that the doctor came in right as Sister Udy was talking with Dr. Donaldson our Area Medical Advisor. She gave the phone to the doctor in Springfield and they were able to determine that the procedure could happen in Salt Lake. (Thank you to Dr. Donaldson and Sister Atherton our mission nurse who have been incredible!) In a matter of hours Elder Udy was on his way.
We still need many prayers in his behalf, but certainly having him closer to home will make things easier on his family. Thanks again for your prayers! Sister Wiener is reporting her mission this Sunday, February 19. Her church starts at 1:00 pm. The address of the church building is 1208 W. 12400 S. Riverton, UT 84065. We appreciate all she has done for us!
The following is part of her release letter: During her 18-month stay we learned that Sister Wiener never wanted to inconvenience anyone and was always willing to do what needed to be done. She was one who quietly went about doing good. She might sponsor a missionary’s dinner or buy a suit without anyone knowing. After being out for a little while, I noticed that she wasn’t going home even though I had told her to leave. After pressing her, she explained that she didn’t want to go until I left - in case I needed something. Most times she was the last to leave the office. Often she did the “above and beyond”. She interpreted my messy notes, patiently reminded me of things I needed to do, and anticipated many situations – being prepared before I asked her to be. Another part of Sister Wiener’s service that was wonderful to watch was her interaction with Nathan Bunch. When she first came, she really wanted to be part of a missionary conversion. One day at the gym she met a young man. Unbeknownst to her, that day he had prayed for a sign that he should get baptized. Her talking to him, ended up being the sign he was seeking. Their friendship continued to develop. During her time here she was the extra support he needed. Certainly that friendship will be a very significant blessing from her service. Sister Wiener formed other friendships that benefited both those she knew; as well as, us as missionaries. Sister Wiener’s friendships ended up getting us temple names to do on a mission temple trip, help with cars, and knowledge about where to get haircuts and dental appointments, and a whole slew of other things. Her service to Sister Loveland, and I was unmatched. If we needed it, she would do it. Intensely independent, if she didn’t know how to do something she did what was necessary to find out how to do it. Consequently we are sure she can do anything. Just a few of those things include driving a 15-passenger van, driving a moving van, shuffling cars, and fixing copiers. But most importantly, Sister Wiener answered phone calls. With the phrase, “Hello, Arkansas Bentonville Mission” came kindness, a listening ear, common sense, courtesy, calmness, and anything that the person on the other end needed – all done with a charity like the Savior’s. There are two phrases from the scriptures that fit Sister Weiner – “no less serviceable” and “hold up-that which ye have seen me do.” She will definitely continue to serve where she is asked, and she will be diligent. She will go forward, serving where she can, quietly calming any storm she finds around her. To her friends, her family, and her ward we say, “Thank you for sharing her.” We love her and will treasure our time that we were lucky enough to serve together in the Arkansas Bentonville Mission. Rogers & BentonvilleJoplin & MonettSaint Robert, Springfield, Springfield South, West PlainsIt was a small branch baptism. But the number of vehicles in the parking lot led me to believe everyone in the branch was present.
The view from the stand was different then any I'd ever encountered. An 80-year-old man dressed in white sat quietly on the front row. The bracelet-like tattoos that encircled his wrists were a reminder of years past. Seated next to him, was another gentleman. The white of his hair matched the white he was wearing. For a moment I stared in confusion, I could not imagine how a gentleman sitting in an automated wheelchair would be able to baptize someone. However my questioning was soon interrupted by the thought that I'd seen enough missionary's ingenuity to know that it would all work out. Lar___ had a stroke 6 1/2 years ago which left him with a very impaired memory, and unable to walk without great difficulty. Regardless of his immobility, he often offered to drive the missionaries to their appointments because in his own words "while driving them my memory returns. " As I watched I wondered if Sil____ had asked Larry to baptize him because he admired His determination to continue living well - regardless of the struggle, or was it an outward manifestation of how Silas viewed himself now - able to do all things because of the atonement of Jesus Christ. Others in the room also caught my attention. Three gentlemen to my right sat side by side. One wore a blue sweater with a medical necklace hanging down. As he told me of the struggle he's had the last six months over coming open heart surgery, I couldn't help but wonder if the necklace was a badge symbolic of the struggle he was over coming. The next gentlemen's eyes sparkled. His fixed grin revealed missing teeth. The white tennis shoes he wore were in stark contrast to the dress shoes others were wearing. He did not seem conscious of the difference. I imagined the timeless love he felt from fellow worshipers, had left him secure. The third of the trio sat with trimmed beard, glasses, and tweed suit jacket - my stereotypical professor. Their camaraderie assured me they were friends. To the naked eye, the only commonality was their difficulty hearing and their absence of a spouse. but that is the way wards are. Our love for the Savior and our fellowman bind us together. On the stand, to my right, was a teenage girl sitting at the organ. In other congregations, she would have been busily playing while we sang. Not so here! Her sole job was to push the button that started the pre-recorded music allowing the congregation to sing with accompaniment. There were others in attendance, like the couple who had moved from Arizona to be closer to their daughter and her children. But two in particular caught my eye. One was the ward mission leader. His pressed Gray suit seemed out of place among the slacks and Levi's worn by the other branch members. Later I would find out that he was not a native. The stake president had asked him and his family to attend the branch for a year. They drove 45 miles or so from Greenwood every time they came to church. The last person was the Branch President. His conversation was so complementary of the missionaries. Repeatedly he asked that we would be sure to leave them in the Branch. His anxiousness left me wanting to tell him, "Don't worry they're staying", but that was President's job and he would tell him soon enough. As the Branch President stood he made a comment " Sil__, the person who baptized you also baptized me 10 years ago." Of course he had! This is the mission field! Most of the ward or branch are converts to The Church. Most of them had driven 20 to 30 minutes to come, but distance doesn't seem to matter out here. The Church is their life. The time and distance it takes is just an outward indication of their inward commitment. As I left Poteau, my heart was warm. I had seen covenant keeping at it’s best. A man who wanted to be in Christ’s Church; a man who exercised his Priesthood regardless of his difficulties; and many others who’s daily lives were an outward indication of an inward commitment.
Early January 2nd missionaries loaded their belongings onto three moving vans and a trailer. Unusually cold temperatures caused their breath to trail behind them. It lingered as they moved. These temperatures were unusual; but this was an unusual day. Tulsa, Tulsa East, and Bartlesville Stakes would now be in the Oklahoma City Mission and the missionaries who had been serving in those areas would help open 24 new areas in the Arkansas Bentonville Mission. With the decision being made by the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles early in December there was not much time to orchestrate the whole change, but it’s been my experience that when God is involved things happen. Certainly the change had too many coincidences to be anything short of a miracle. In early December, on our way to Tulsa, we had a conference call with Elder Southward and President Mansell of the Oklahoma City Mission. It was decided that the smoothest way to transition would be for a set of each of their missionaries to come on December 28th into each of our areas. (That was their regular transfer date). Both sets of missionaries would have a few days together so that they could be introduced to the area, investigators, and members. For us that meant we would have our normal transfer on December 14th and then just a couple of weeks later we would have another transfer. And, three weeks after that there would be another transfer for us. Change can be a little wild, but it felt right. As if to confirm our decision, as soon as we hung up from the conference call, President and I had the idea that we should see if President Mansell could meet us in Tulsa that night since we were already going to be there. He was available. So he drove to Tulsa and our daughter brought a copy of all the leases, maps, zone make ups and other bits of information. Our office crew got right to work and had it all neatly organized and on its way in a couple of hours. Turns out that this was not the last time that the office crew would drop their normal tasks and pitch in to make things happen. Other hurdles were maneuvered. Because we had 4 sisters who were going home on December 14th, four Sister Missionaries from Oklahoma City Mission came early and were companions with one of our Sisters. Then on the 28th our 4 Sisters left their area and drove to a new area in our mission. The rest followed on the 2nd. With just a week away, we still had quite a few apartments to rent. The next few days were an intense scurry of activity. Phone calls, deposits checks, turning on electricity, and more phone calls, pounded out the time. The day before the transfer, we had two miracles. Two Sister’s apartments fell through, but two bishops didn’t fall through at all! One arranged a spot for the Sisters to temporarily stay after the apartment we were planning on fell through, and the other bishop talked the landlord into taking the Sisters even though they don’t rent to corporations. His selling point. “These three members of our church rent in this same apartment complex they will have the same kind of character.” “If they are like that, we’ll make an exception.” The landlord ended up saying. Along with the transfer of missionaries came the transfer of furniture and kitchen supplies. The other mission closed their apartments, loaded the vans and sent them to Tulsa. We picked them up and then drove them on three different loops stopping a long the way to give supplies to the new apartments. The missionaries that did this did an exceptional job! Really everything ran extremely smooth. (Lucky for us you only have to be 21 to drive a Penski truck.) It took one more day of President and I going to Springfield to take care of two trucks and bringing the extra supplies back while Elders Kea___, Whit______, and Rad_______ took care of a truck and supplies here. When I pulled in later that evening and they were freezing cold, my heart went out to young men who love the Lord and their missions enough to do whatever needed to be done. It seemed the final miracle of the day took place when President and I continued on to Fayetteville for a meeting. President had a gas card from a car that went to the top of our mission and it really belonged in a car in Fayetteville. Without realizing it until we got there, we had the card and the missionaries who drove that car were there. Little – but big in our book! And so I again testify that God is involved in all aspects of our life. It is His work, and we are lucky to be part! I am so sorry to everyone who's checked this site and wondered why there weren't any pictures. This was a wild December. It was way good and I learned a ton, but it was busy. I will include some of the pictures we've taken this last month. As I struggled to fight the fatigue, it seemed as if my body screamed, “I’m too tired.” There are times on a mission when you’re just really tired. This was one of those times.
“Go to Applebees.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that the Spirit would instruct me to go there. I’d already been led there two previous times. President had just gone into the Saturday night session of Stake Conference, and I had just settled down for a quick catch-up nap. But that was not what the Spirit had in mind. I was to, “Go to Applebees.”
I soon found myself in the parking lot wondering if I should really go in. I’m not usually that indecisive, but today good and evil were battling with great gusto – go back to the church, go in, go back to the church, go in. In the middle of my mind battle, I made the mistake of thinking, “Okay, I’ll do it, but this is the last time.” No sooner had the thought formed than I received a “loud and clear” message from the Lord, “Oh you only want three chances to change.” That thought turned the tide. I would come back for as long as it took! Immediately I made my way into the restaurant. He was there - just like the two previous times I’d been led there; except this time, I wasn’t with Sister Ba_______ , Sister To_____ or Sister We_____. The hostess offered me a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, and the only way for me to sit was looking toward the wall because in the booth behind me was a couple who were sitting on the same side of the both and facing them would leave me in the awkward spot I was watching them. So I found myself wondering how I was even going to see Jo_____ - much less talk to him. I decided I should go to the bathroom and maybe I could scope out the area and figure out how I was going to talk with him. The Lord is super awesome, which I’ve always known, but really, He is!. As I was leaving the bathroom He solved my dilemma. I took five steps and Jo_______ was standing right there. He recognized me. We talked about his family and then I asked him if he’d read the Book of Mormon. His “yes” brought the split-second, subconscious, “That’s not an appropriate response for someone who’s read the book.” Looking back I’m pretty sure he got the, “you shouldn’t lie to your mother” look. Because he then said, “You’re right, but I did read some of it. One thing led to the next, and soon I was eating while waiting for Jo_____. I’ve served long enough that I know nothing happens without the Holy Ghost’s help, so I prayed that the Spirit could be present in the booth right there in Applebees. Soon we were sitting, and he asked me, “So you say that God will tell me as I read the book that it’s true. How does God communicate that?” This led to the perfect opportunity to explain how one can recognize the Spirit. Recognizing it’s influence comes in three categories. One, it affects our understanding. For example I might have a whole bunch of thoughts that come really quickly. I might have a phrase or word from a song that repeats itself in my mind. I might have a dream. I might feel like someone is talking to me in my mind. I might learn something and it makes sense or seems like I already knew it. Two, it affects us physically. For me, I get tingling up and down my body, or I might have a warm feeling in my heart. And three, it affects our feelings. I might feel right or warm about something or the opposite feel bad about something and know I shouldn’t do it. As I started telling him about physically getting tingling up and down my body, I witnessed recognition. If I was a betting person, I’d put a hundred down on him feeling the Spirit through tingling right then. But I just looked him in the eye as he said, “I think I’ll have to revisit the book.” How will Jo_____’s story turn out? I do not know the exact details - but. what I do know is that right then the Lord wanted me to “Go to Applebee’s”. Why? Because He knows exactly where His children are and He wants them back. When the phone rang it seemed as if I was still lying on the bed, half-conscious, eyes closed, urging myself to get up and take out my contacts before I went to sleep so I didn’t have a headache in the morning. But, I wasn’t. It was 4:45 am the next morning. The voice on the other end was President asking if I was coming to Springfield. I had been vacillating between staying home because Neal didn’t have school, Emily was coming, and the largest craft fair in the nation was in Bentonville, which meant there would be lots of people the Lord could place in my path. (I must admit the fair sounded fun too.) I told him I was going to stay.
A few minutes later, as I knelt to pray, I began to go over my decision with the Lord. I told him my plans and asked Him to help me be able to determine if there was anything else He would like me to do with my time. The usual inspiration to contact a couple of missionaries came to mind, but that was it. I got off my knees and settled into my favorite chair for study. A few minutes later, the familiar sound of rain pounded on my window. Immediately, I knew more people would benefit from me going to interviews than staying home. Springfield it was! There was only one problem. I needed to leave right away if I was to get there in time. I interrupted my sprint past the bathroom mirror with a pause that revealed my hair wasn’t too bad so it would take considerable less time to complete my morning routine. I was delighted. As I slipped my arm into my sleeve, I had the sense that someone had prayed me to Springfield. I had often listened to President Monson say he had gone somewhere and then found out that people had been praying he would come, but that certainly hadn’t happened to me before – at least - that I’d recognized. With the surety that comes when you know you’re doing the Lord’s business, I set out. The steady sound of the windshield wipers seemed to say. Someone is waiting for you, someone is waiting for you. The darkness of the early morning hour didn’t matter. The wet roads didn’t matter. The two hour drive didn’t matter. The only things that mattered was the knowledge I was on God’s errand. When I arrived I was greeted by a zone of Elders and Sisters whose dedication and love for the Lord had often served as an example of what true disciples do. Our prayers and the experiences we shared with each other while President was interviewing was a huge blessing to me. So six hours later, I retraced my route. It was still raining, but I could see. And I was basking in the reminder that, “the object of prayer is not to change the will of God but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant” (BD-prayer). |
Archives
June 2018
|