Mission Monday

From South Africa:

On Saturday, we did a little bit of a photo shoot which led to other things, but one of them was making a dummy that was life size. His name is Fred. We had a really fun time taking him and putting him in the boot (trunk) of the car, and then asking one of the members if he knew how to hide a dead body. He thought we were joking until he saw the 'body' in the car. He jerked back and muttered a few things and it took him a little bit to realize that it was just a dummy. His face was priceless, and I wish that I had taken pictures of that, but I didn't. I did however take pictures with Elder Heaton, Fred and I. Fun times that I'm going to remember for the rest of my mission.

From Madagascar:

We were just sitting down (to teach a family) ... when a gendarme (police/soldier) comes in and sits down to listen. We prayed and started teaching the family and he starts interrupting all the time. We kept teaching as best we could...Anyway, once we (answered his question) and got back to teaching the family he kept interrupting. Then we just layed down our testimonies and said nothing could separate us from our knowledge. Elder Cartmill was on fire. With the Holy Ghost of course. Then we closed it off and he left. I was a little bummed by how it went, but we made sure not to argue with him and we didn't get into any Bible bashing with him. Then once he left the family freaked out and were all just so thrilled because the missionaries before had apparently gotten really confrontational and angry or just embarrassed and didn't know what to say when someone tried to argue with them...  Anyway, it was really cool after that and the Spirit was way strong, which was great because the guy was pretty confrontational and was doing a pretty good job of keeping away the Spirit at the beginning. The family was still freaking out right before we closed, so we asked them if they wanted to be able to feel this all the time, they said yes of course! So then we snagged them and got them to promise to read the Book of Mormon every day and come to Church each week and work towards baptism. It was great!

Mission Plaques

There is a tradition that goes back as long as I can remember to honor those who are currently serving missions.  Just before they leave, they are "given" a plaque with their picture, the name of their mission and when they are serving, and sometimes the missionary's favorite scripture.  The missionary-to-be gets to hole the plaque during the Sunday meeting, but then it is hung up at the church.  I love looking at the collections of missionary plaques and seeing where they all went, and I always have a little prayer for each of them.  They are in the Lord's hands.

Alec and Ben were no exception, and they have their handsome faces on these nice wooden plaques.  However, when we moved, the old ward had to give us the plaques so we could take them to the new ward.  Due to conference and maternal forgetting, I was able to keep the plaques for a few weeks.  I loved, loved loved seeing their smiling faces in my room.  I really didn't want to give them up.

Sigh.  Eventually, I did hand them over to the new ward, and they hang up at the church now.  I suppose all mothers get to the point where they have to share their babies with the world.  Maybe I'll have to make up my own shrine.

A Bunch of Sillies

I thought I'd take a picture of my me and the man building a playset for the kids.  See, we bought this nice, redwood fort/sandbox/slide/swingset thingie at the end of the summer.  I've been wanting a swingset for the little ones for a while, and as I passed the "play outside" aisle in the hardware store, there was only one swingset left - and it was 70 percent off!  I have a hard time making snap decisions.  I said yes, then no and started to walk away, then reconsidered and looked terribly wishy washy for the longest time.  Finally, I put my hand on the giant box, as if to protect it from the imaginary mob of Black Friday shoppers, and told Chris to go get us a big flatbed cart.

We brought it home (with three kids!  In a smallish vehicle!) and unloaded it in the back yard.  When Trent got home, I had to sheepishly confess my spontaneous purchase.  He was actually proud of me.  The next morning, we walked about the yard, trying to decide where to put it.  Here.  No, away from the cement.  Near the house.  By the chicken coop.  This spot is more level; that one is rocky.  But we never felt really happy about any of the places we thought to set it up.  So we covered the box with a tarp and left it under a tree until we could come to a decision.

Within a few days, we were packing up our entire household and moving away.  I'm glad we didn't set up the swingset, or we would have had to take it right apart again.  We moved the by then soggy box and piled all the lumber in our new backyard.  

My dad has been eyeing the growing pile of... things on his basketball court.  He even made mention that he would like to use the court again to play some ball.  (He hasn't played basketball in years.)  I know he is anxious about us moving in, and the amount of stuff a big family uses.  We'll get organized, I promise.  Unfortunately, this has turned out to be the slowest-to-get-settled moved that I've ever had (and it's the 15th move for me since high school!).  It's just a challenge to move all your life into a place that is already full of someone else's life.

Anywho, we started setting up the playset today.  I'm so grateful that Dad found the instructions and rescued them from the rain!  Trent and I worked for about 5 hours on a project that the instructions said takes 2 to 4 hours.  They lie.  We're nearly a third done, and I was too busy to snap a cute little with-my-man-selfie as we did a big project together.

After dark, I came in and snuggled with my babies.  They are still babies, aren't they?  They love making funny faces on the phone, to the point that it's hard to get them to give me a nice smile.  I love them.  I even love their unseasonable fuzzy haircuts because they played barber on each other.  And I know they love me.  I have the phone.  Of course they love me.

Selfie Day 4

I was sitting on the couch, reading a book when I remembered that I hadn't shot myself today.  So I did. I love you my hair ended up all swoopy like I was stuck in the 80's.  I also loved how I was able to sneak in a picture of Chris, who hates me to take his picture.  It's ok - I hate me to take my picture, too.  How many more days do I need to do this?  Is three more enough to show my posterity that I really did exist in their lives?

Love that boy.

Mission Monday

From South Africa:

If anybody has sent me letters, I haven't gotten them because there is a mail strike here in SA. No mail is getting through, and it is in such a backed up state, even though they are trying to do their best with the mail that they have, and it is backing up, like nobody's business.

I've really enjoyed working and being in the field with our investigators. We have had some really good lessons, and have a few of our investigators really solidly progressing towards baptism. Our first date is on the 9th of November, so it is coming up quite quickly. I'm super excited and he is ready for it!


From Madagascar:

One thing that I've been hearing a lot about from Malagasies is the Ebola. They tell me that 2 people have it in America and everyone is freaking out. One Malagasy told me that the Ebola is very bad for Americans because they have huge potato processing plants and "once" Ebola gets in, everyone will get sick from their potatoes that they eat every meal (most Malagasies think that since Americans don't eat rice every single meal, there must be something else we eat just as much). She then went on to tell me that Malagasies wouldn't get the Ebola because they have better food, and the Malagsy people are strong. So there you have it. No need to worry about Ebola here, my rice and cold meat will keep me safe! (Also, it's always "the Ebola" so I capitalized it to show what a big deal it is here.)

Selfie Day 3

I am not a seasoned enough selfie-taker that I can just turn on my phone and snap away.  No, the very thought makes me very, very self-conscious.  It is partly because I don't want to look like I'm taking a selfie (I must think there is something inherently wrong or vain or selfish about it... need to do some introspection there), and partly because I really do not like being in pictures.

But I wanted to show that I did, indeed go out and do something social.  With a group of people who were mostly strangers.  And at a girlie event, no less.  

Yes, I went to a baby shower.  Do not get me wrong - I am all for celebrating the coming of a new life into the world.  I am all for women uniting together in what makes us uniquely feminine.  I am all for cheering a new mother into this wonderful and frightening and joyous journey of family-making.  And I am all for this particular family.  The new baby's mother is a beautiful, gentle young woman, and her mother-in-law is the most kind person I have ever met.  Of course I would do what I could to support them.

But I do not know how frilly pink streamers and silly party games have anything to do with celebrating a new life.  To me, traditional shower games are somewhat of an insult to any shred of intelligence, and the requisite small talk is nothing short of painful.  When I had my first baby and was subjected to the traditional shower, I begged my mother to not force me to play party games.  Instead, we learned infant CPR and tied quilts.  Obviously, I survived being feted, and I adored my extended family for being so supportive and welcoming to me and my new little one.

I do not mind being with people, but it is just more challenging.  Please, do not stop inviting introverts to baby showers.  Just realize that it is more strenuous for me than it would be to an extrovert.  The exertion is part of the gift.  As an aside, I think I shall send my very naturally-gregarious husband and our equally charming and friendly daughter to the next shower in my stead. They would probably love it!

So here I am, standing in the hallway outside the party room.  You can see the dangly pink thingie in the doorway - an invitation to enter, I suppose.  If you look very closely, you might even be able to make out the pile of pinkly-wrapped gifts on the table just past some very kind woman-knees.  See, I can be social sometimes!  Next time, I'll bring some knitting.

Selfie Day 2

I'm not sure what caused the sad eyes, the drooping head, or the knuckles dragging on the floor, That's what "I'm hurt" looks like among the younger set of our home.  I'm sure I didn't teach them to do that, but even their oldest brothers hunched their backs, hung their heads, leaden arms hanging limply from the shoulders, slowly slinking away when they felt bad.  It's pretty pathetic looking, and it certainly tugs at my mother-heart.

I was working at the counter, trying to do some paperwork, when this little one of mine moped around the corner.  His eyes on the floor, his feel shuffled along.  I'm not sure how he didn't walk into anything, but he wouldn't have hurt himself even if he had.  He came and stood beside me for a minute, then reluctantly lifted his head to show me his tear-stained face.  He lifted his arms and quietly pleaded, "Hold me, Mommy."  What else could I do?  I lifted him into my arms and held him, heart to heart, for a long, long time.  I only released my embrace when he felt better and wiggled to get down.  "I'm ok now," he said, miraculously cured, and raced off to play.

And I have a record that I was a comforting mother with cozy arms.  It's a lot of what I do.