My Memory Card

These weeks go by in a blur and sometimes, when it’s time to write another blog entry, I struggle with remembering what we’ve done the previous week.  When this happens, I just pull the memory card out of my camera, download the pictures onto my computer, and remember the sights, sounds, and feelings of the past seven days.  I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t called a ‘memory card’ for that reason, but it seems so suitable.

Last week, we attended seminary and institute in Ashburton.  This little seminary class of Samoan students is quite remarkable.  One of the fathers picks up each student every morning and delivers him/her to the church for seminary.  The kids come dressed in ‘Sunday best’; shirts and ties for the boys and skirts for the girls.  Their teacher, Mata, is like a tiny drill sergeant.  She takes her calling very seriously and her class responds well to her methods.  Discipline is never a problem.  I recorded them singing a ‘scripture mastery’ song; a fun way to learn D&C 8:2-3.

While driving to Ashburton, we passed this beautiful bush. The color was so vibrant and beautiful, that I made John pull over to take a picture.

The picture does not do it justice.  Here’s a close up of the blossoms.

I have been watching out for them ever since and have found them in many glorious colors.  They are azaleas.  I’ve seen azaleas before, but none like these.  They are in the same family as the rhododendrons which are spectacular here as well.  We took a walk through the botanical gardens at Hagley Park where the azaleas are in full splendor. 

Friday night was the YSA Halloween party.  The institute building was transformed into Hogwarts and we had a Harry Potter night with classes on magic and wizardry.  Because I am not a Harry Potter fan (I know this statement will open me up to all kinds of criticism, but I read the first book and could make it no further), I felt a little out of touch the entire evening.  Those of you who have read the whole series will recognize the following members of the faculty:

Headmaster Staufferdore (John’s costume once again from the versatile ‘handi wipe’ cloths here at the institute.),

Severus Snape (Trevor should be an actor.  He is in his element when he’s in costume.),

and Professor McStauffergall.

Tui in the sorting hat.

David Campbell learned the art of shrink wrapping from Professor McStauffergall.  (Thanks Uncle Scott for this activity that has been a family favorite for years.)

A walk through the campus for more beautiful sites.

A momma Paradise Duck watches over her babies.

Tomorrow, November 1, it will have been a year since we entered the MTC.  What a year it has been; two new grandchildren, 9,000 earthquakes with weeks of boiling water, deaths of well-loved family and friends, hospitalized granddaughter, new friends, homesickness, adjustments, growth, and learning.  When Elder Holland promised senior missionaries “the experience of a lifetime”, he was speaking the absolute truth.  If anyone out there is looking to escape the doldrums, come along.  You will never be bored!

Orphaned…again.

When my sweet mother died seven years ago, I was heartbroken but at peace.  She had been frail for several years and I knew it was coming.  When my father died three years ago, I was devastated.  Not only would I miss this funny man who had been the best of fathers, but with his passing I became an orphan.  I no longer had a parent with whom I could share my joys or my troubles.  There was no family home I could run to for that feeling of security and stability—the closest thing to an anxiety free environment.  But, I still had Uncle Hap and Aunt Leah.  They had always been like parents to me.  They and their nine children lived one block away from us when I was a child, and we felt as comfortable in their home as we did in ours.  They scolded us and loved us just like Mom and Dad did.  When Mom got frustrated with her eight, less-than-perfect children, she would run away.  I always knew that she was hiding out at Holmstead’s, because we always got a call from Aunt Leah telling us to be nicer to our mother and to get busy doing our chores.  We always thought the food in Aunt Leah’s fridge was better than what we found in ours.  We spent every holiday together.  It was a great way to grow up.

When I left for this mission, I was pretty sure that Uncle Hap would not be there when I got back, but my Aunt Leah…she was going to outlive all of us.  I talked to her in May when Uncle Hap died.  I couldn’t comfort her because she was too busy telling me that everything was going to be all right.  She had lists of things to accomplish yet and no one doubted that she had the will and energy to complete everything on her agenda.  When I received word yesterday that she had died, I felt as though I had been orphaned a second time.  Now my siblings, my cousins, and I are left without a generation smarter and wiser than we are.  No one there to reassure us and tell us that we are doing all right, and that things will be okay.

No one in New Zealand ever uses the word “aunt”.  They always speak of their “Auntie”, and aunties have a very special place in kiwi culture.  The word does not always denote a relationship of birth, but always indicates a person of great importance in one’s life.  Aunties are strong women who love, support, lead, and protect.  Their influence is second only to parents.  Auntie is a wonderful term of endearment.  I will miss my Auntie Leah.  She taught me how to sew, how to play the flute, how to organize my home and my life.  She was the voice of calm and strength in every difficult situation.  Nothing phased her.  “Life gets difficult sometimes, but “by gad” you just keep going”, and “go” she did.  She never stopped.  She did more genealogy, performed more acts of service, and fed more people than anyone I have ever met.

When Auntie Leah’s son Lee emailed me about his mother’s stroke, he said that there would be a position of power open when I got back.  I don’t know of anyone who can fill her shoes.  We are all mewling children compared to this powerhouse of a woman.  We will all miss you Auntie Leah.

I have been reading ‘The Wind in the Willows’.  In Kenneth Grahame’s book,  Mole, becoming bored with his life, leaves his home to spend time with Water Rat in a more exciting world.  While on a particular adventure, they come within sniffing range of Mole’s old home.  At first he didn’t understand the smell that affected him as an electric shot.  “Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way!…it was sending out its scouts and its messengers to capture him and bring him in…The home…wanted him back, and was telling him so, through his nose, sorrowfully, reproachfully, but with no bitterness or anger; only with plaintive reminder that it was there, and wanted him.”

Mole could feel a “big sob gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the surface presently…in passionate escape”.  The “wafts from his old home pleaded, whispered, conjured and finally claimed him imperiously.  He dared not tarry longer within their magic circle.  With a wrench that tore his very heartstrings he set his face down the road and followed submissively in the track of the Rat”.  

I can feel those “caressing appeals” from home this week, and I feel a “big sob gathering” as I think of my extended family being together sharing tears, laughter, and much remembering.  I’m picturing Auntie Leah’s resolute face and her fearless voice, “It’s going to be all right, honey, really it will”.  And I’ll do as she would do, put my face down the road and complete the work I’ve started.

Rugby World Cup

We have been in New Zealand nearly a year.  For the past twelve months the focus of the nation and every kiwi in it has been the Rugby World Cup.  This picture, taken last December at Cathedral Square, shows how they anticipated the games right down to the hour and minute.  

Citizens of Christchurch were devastated when their stadium was rendered unsafe by the February earthquake.  This city would no longer be a venue for the games, but their enthusiasm was not shaken.  The All Blacks have been a part of every news broadcast, they star in almost every commercial, and they are revered more than the head of state or the Queen.  In fact, our first introduction to them was on the flight from Auckland to Wellington.  They were the stars of the inflight film which walked passengers through airline safety precautions.  All the kiwi passengers cheered and I asked, “What is an All Black?”  I’m surprised someone didn’t throw a can of fizzy at me.  All of the excitement and buildup is comparable to Salt Lake City during the Olympic games of 2002.  Black flags with a silver fern and signs that say “Go All Blacks” are everywhere you look.

The games started out with a huge parade and opening ceremony.  There were hakas and Maori traditions to welcome the nations of the world.  And then the games began.  I, who am about as uninterested in sports as anyone can possibly be, even watched parts of matches and tried to figure out the rules of the game.  We found ourselves favoring certain players like Piri Weepu and Ma’a Nonu.  The All Blacks kept winning.  They looked great as they marched through Tonga, Japan, France, Canada, Argentina, and Australia to reach the World Cup Final. 

We knew every television set in New Zealand would be tuned in for the game.  I was even planning to watch.  Sure it was on Sunday night, but not until 9:00—the Sabbath technically ends when the sun goes down, doesn’t it?  Twelve months of having our focus directed to this moment in time.  We were on pins and needles.

Then, our new stake president, President Ormsby, got up in sacrament meeting.  How nice that he could be in our ward to make announcements about the coming stake conference. He’s such a nice man and a good leader.  But..wait…he’s saying something else.  “Brothers and sisters, there is an athletic event on tonight.  Remember, we are a peculiar people, and although everyone else in New Zealand will be watching, we do not watch sports events on Sunday.  It is not consistent with keeping the Sabbath Day holy.”  And then he sat down. 

The whole congregation was stunned.  Mouths hung open, shoulders drooped, and countenances lost their glimmer and glow.  There was no way to justify it now.  The stake president had spoken and we would obey.  I can’t say what the members of the other wards in our stake did, but Riccarton ward members did not watch rugby (well the members I know).  I went to bed, read a book, and fell asleep before the match got a good start.  The cheering and honking that took place in the streets at midnight, gave us a clue as to the results.

I read one British commentator who said it was “comfortably the best RWC final we have been treated to”.  The final score: French 7—All Blacks 8.  That is all we know.  Don’t ask us who scored or why the scoring remained so low.  Don’t ask us who was the hero of the game or how the fans reacted to the victory.  Don’t ask us what it felt like to be an All Blacks fan on the eve of such a victory. 

And you know what?  We’re perfectly okay with not knowing.  It’s only a game.    

Kiwi Culture…ummm

Friday morning at 7:30, John and I were at the grocery store in the Riccarton Mall.  Pak n’ Save is usually empty at that time of day, but this day there were hoards of students all dressed in costumes.  I asked one of them what was going on and was informed that Uni was having a “tea” celebrating the last day of class work.  (This next week will technically be a study week in preparation for finals that will be administered in the following two weeks.)  Each costumed student was purchasing a substantial amount of alcohol.  What ensued was a wild day, full of bingeing and bad behavior.  By 9:30 a.m. they were urinating on the busiest streets in town.  I snapped some shots of several of them as they walked by the institute building.  They weren’t shy about posing for the camera.

In three weeks, when exams are finished, they will have another drunken brawl.  Drinking is a huge part of the culture here, and as I watch these young people do disgusting things and develop habits that destroy their  lives and their bodies, I am so grateful for the Word of Wisdom.  I’m also very proud of a large portion of our Young Adults who fell prey to the pull of their peers and participated for a time, but have managed to extricate themselves.  They, too, appreciate this commandment with its attendant promises.

When I first came to New Zealand I was fascinated by the fences and walls that surrounded each and every house.  A view down a nearby street gives an idea of what I’m talking about.

Initially I thought the privacy they offered would be advantageous, but I’ve come to appreciate American homes with their defined front doors (here it’s hard to tell where to enter) and open yards that seem to say, “Come on in.  We’re home and we’d love a visit.”  On my walk this morning, I noticed someone had accidentally left their gate open and I got a view that is very unusual.  Notice the gumboots—definitive Kiwi attire.

I love walking through the kiwi reserve that is only blocks from our house.  It is peaceful and beautiful.  It reminds me of the Sacred Grove and has become a place for prayer.

I know that people back home are putting their yards and gardens to bed for the winter.  Here everything is in bloom.  Just a sampling….

These smelled delicious…

And these reminded me of President Uchtdorf’s talk in General Relief Society Meeting…

President Uchtdorf used the Forget-Me-Not to discuss five things we should not forget.  Among them he said we should not forget to be happy now and not wait for the “golden ticket” (alluding to the story of ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’).  “In their anxiousness, people begin to forget the simple joy they used to find in a candy bar.  The candy bar itself becomes an utter disappointment if it does not contain a golden ticket.”  I think I got more than my share of the “golden tickets”.  John, my children and grandchildren, my testimony, my membership in the Church, my parents, my brothers and sister, my extended family, my friends, and this mission are all golden tickets.  I hope that there were some left for the rest of you.

I was so sad to hear about Aunt Leah’s stroke.  My wonderful Holmsteads have had much to deal with this past year.  Our prayers are with you.

Busy as…….

We made a quick trip to Nelson to meet with the seminary teacher there.  Jenny Reneti invited us to her home for dinner, a lovely spread with all kinds of vegetables and peaches with passion fruit/mango yogurt for dessert.  We always enjoy visiting with Jenny and her husband James.  They are a wonderful Maori couple, very devoted to the gospel and their family.  Their son James is a black haired, black eyed, brown skinned, replica of our Jonathan.  His mannerisms and expressions were so familiar, and he and his sister made me homesick for my grandchildren. 

We have always taken the coastal route when traveling north.  This time we went up the middle, through beautiful farm country and Lewis Pass.  It was raining all the way up, but I did manage to get a picture of some mountains for Brad.

On the way back, we had clear skies and interesting patches of fog.

It was a beautiful drive.  Spring has brought with it the vivid green that will forever remind me of New Zealand.

Thursday, the kids planned a BBQ before institute to celebrate John’s birthday.  He thought they were having a dinner for Martin Bourne who was teaching his last class that night, and was quite surprised with birthday cakes and a special gift…

…an All Blacks jersey.  These things are very dear, but he looks flash as in it and Bob’s your uncle.  (Those of you who took the last vocabulary test will be able to interpret that last sentence.)

We watched conference this last weekend.  It was recorded off the satellite and there were some technical difficulties, but we enjoyed what we heard.  I will definitely want to read it when I get my Ensign to pick up the parts I missed.

I am surprised, but I quite like attending conference at the chapel with rows of YSA who pass bag after bag of candy up and down.  They also plan a picnic between sessions.  Working with YSA pretty much means party after party.  What’s not to love about that?

A Gift

We are finishing our institute class this week.  In preparation for a lesson on Thomas S. Monson, I have been reading all the talks he has given in General Conference since he became the president of the church.  He drew my attention to a scripture, and with the help of the Holy Ghost, I knew I had found a verse that was just for me at this time.  Doctrine and Covenants 88:33 says, “For what doth it profit a man if a gift is bestowed upon him, and he receive not the gift?  Behold, he rejoices not in that which is given unto him, neither rejoices in him who is the giver of the gift.”

In past blog entries, I have acknowledged that we are where we are supposed to be, doing what we are supposed to be doing at this time in our lives.  I have never questioned that.  I have also been honest about my struggles while going about the Lord’s work.  I have experienced great things in New Zealand, but I have been counting the days, weeks, and months, constantly looking forward to the time when I can return to my home and family and to things that are familiar and comfortable.  Basically, I have been glad to be of service, but constantly praying for the courage to make it through.

As I read this scripture, I had a complete paradigm shift.  This mission was not a sacrifice, an experience to be endured.  It is a gift from the greatest of all givers of gifts. This gift was chosen for me by someone who has a perfect knowledge of my desires and my needs.  It was given in love, and, as well chosen gifts are, was given with a desire to please and bless.  I have been looking at my mission through different eyes and can see so clearly that it has been a gift that touches so many aspects of my life.

The gift of a strengthened marriage and family.  John and I began this mission just five months after he retired. We were still figuring out how to spend 24 hours a day with each other in a harmonious manner.  What better way to make the adjustment than on a mission and with the Lord’s help.  Whatever frustrations we have had, have had to be settled quickly so that we could succeed at our work.  We have prayed more earnestly, and more often, for success here and for our children and grandchildren at home.  I have studied his goodness and finally realized that his ability to love is directly related to his eagerness to serve.  I have read stories about missionary companions who shine shoes or other small acts of service.  I could write a book about a companion who anticipates every need and tries to meet it.  I am trying to apply principles learned from him and they are magical.  We have always been blessed with a great marriage, but this mission has helped make it serene and heavenly. 

From the vantage point of a mission, I have watched my children circle the wagons and help each other.  They have supported one another in illnesses, in new babies, and in new roofs.  I am proud of my children.  I can see maturity, goodness, and strength in each one of them.  At home I was so close that I couldn’t see they had become competent adults.  This mission has allowed me to see them in a new and enhanced light.

The gift of understanding and increased faith.  Some concerns that I have prayed about for years are still unresolved, but the Lord answers many questions almost immediately and those answers are nearly always found as I study the scriptures.  Because we study the scriptures so often on this mission (we will have read the Book of Mormon three times this year, the Doctrine and Covenants and Covenants from cover to cover, the Gospels, and many talks given by latter-day prophets), inspiration comes very clearly at times.  This mission has provided learning and growth in areas of eternal significance.

The gift of nature and the beauties of Christ’s creations.  The camera lens allows us to share this gorgeous country with people back home.  Photos, however, do not capture the sound of waves against cliffs or the feel of the ocean breeze.  They cannot depict the majesty of trees or the scent of flowers.  This mission has given me new appreciation for the Creator and His handiwork.

The gift of love.  The greatest gift is the love I feel for my new loved ones—my piano students in Ashburton, seminary students and teachers, the Bells and Bournes, and especially, the young single adults of Christchurch.  These people are warm and beautiful, opening their hearts and arms to us.  We love everything about them.  They are the best part of this wonderful gift.

Another quote from President Monson’s talk [“Finding Joy in the Journey”, Oct. 2008], “Said one well-known author: “Both abundance and lack [of abundance] exist simultaneously in our lives as parallel realities.  It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend…when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives—but are grateful for the abundance that’s present…the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth.”

Let me share the glimpse of “heaven on earth” I felt last night.  The Christchurch YSA presented a musical fireside—“Come Follow Me”.  The choir performed several numbers and Ellen Chan and I invited others to speak, sing in groups, and share original music and original poetry.  Trevor Anderson made a video about the YSA in this stake that was so touching.  Everyone worked so hard to get the word out.  I have never been to an event in Christchurch that was so well attended.  The missionaries all came with investigators.  Ellen had targeted the young men and young women, hoping to get them enthused about the YSA program.  Many came and they had to have felt the strong feeling that was there.  I had one young woman come up after, tell me that her 18th birthday was on Monday, and that she would be at institute on Thursday night.  Non-members in tears reported that they had felt something so wonderful that night.  The unity and satisfaction that was felt by the YSA’s will translate into a leap forward for this program.  I can feel it in my bones.  It was a beautiful evening—another gift.