Spanish Keyboards...

drive me nuts. Our Apple died, or is dying, so my only option is our Dell with Spanish language keyboard and all kinds of keys I cant find. Like that last apostrophe.

Its hot here during the days now, and the farmers are burning the sugar cane fields, so every night we watch fires burning against the night sky. We wake up to huge chunks of ash on the house and surrounding lawn. Since I get bronchitis so easily, we try to get in the house early and stay in until morning. Its worked pretty well, except last week, when the particles gave me a sinus infection. The pain drove me to ask for pain killer, and the ones the Mission Doctor gave me are taken rectally. Not sure what I did to make her so mad, but they worked. Shout out to my sister, Linda, who once ate a sepository because she didnt listen to the doctors instructions. I was using my teeth to open the packet, thinking Id just swallow the capsule when it slid out, when the word sepository on the packet caught my eye. Thank you, Linda.

These young missonaries, and right now theyre younger than ever before, lots of them just 18 and fresh out of high school, keep me hopping. As their president, they sometimes want my advice, especially when they struggle. One North American stopped by the other day to tell me that he wants to go home. Why? Because he doesnt like Mexico and he doesnt like the Spanish language. All I could think to say was that this is a challenge because this is the only country he will serve his mission in, and they speak a lot of Spanish here. He left disappointed. Another came in to tell me he doesnt like his companion. The only thought that came to mind was get over it. I think the words getting out because interview requests have dropped dramatically. These are kids, though, and sometimes that fact hits you square in the nose. Like last night, when the stench from the feet of the two Elders sitting next to us at the baptism almost made us barf. My job is to gently teach, so after the baptism, I told them their feet reeked, gently. They said they were out of soap and water at their house, and had been for awhile. This a 24 hour teaching job.

The mission home is beautiful, but nothing works for more than 30 days. The guy who takes care of the house forgets to pay the bills, so every month or so we arrive home to a dark house, or a house with no gas, or no internet, or a host of other things. And the outages go from 2 to 6 days. Our helper in the house is great, but every time we leave and she does laundry, some article of Jannas clothing disappears. We figure she needs it more than we do. But last week, Hayley visited us, and after we went hiking for the day, Hayley discovered that her favorite shorts were missing. She paid $1 for them at a thrift store in Utah, so she was really ticked off. She had to return to Utah before our helper returned, which was a secret blessing for our helper.

Speaking of the hike with Hayley, she is famous for dragging whomever is fortunate enough to host her on hikes, or better said, death marches. This one was to a pyramid, hiking 3200 feet straight up a mountain, clinging to rocky ledges. The view at the top was great, but my hell, Hayley, your mom and I are too old for this stuff. We had a minor accident on the way down, well Hayley did, but Im running out of space so you will have to ask her.

The missionaries are encouraged to contact people in the street. In a role reversal back in January, two of them, Elders Celis and Elder Berger, were walking through a neighborhood when an 11 year old girl asked them if they would like a peanut. Elders are always hungry, so of course they said yes. They asked the young girl where she lived, and she said right over there and led them to her front door. Dad was not thrilled when he opened the door and saw the Mormons standing there, but at his daughters insistence he let them in. That led to a discussion of religious things, and last night the entire family, dad, mom, and 3 daughters, were baptized. Pretty neat. One of our missionaries, a Mexican woman 32 years old, wasnt a member of the Church and couldnt read just 5 years ago. While learning about the Church with the missionaries, she attended one Sunday and the bishop promised her that if she read the Book of Mormon, she would learn to read. She just arrived in the mission field, and reads beautifully. Thats the sort of faith we see, and its inspiring to be around it every day.

We are said at the passing of Jannas brother, Mark, but grateful for our memories of him.

Soon, Easton and Jude, our grandsons, will arrive, okay, Bryan and Maren too. Anybody want to see a pyramid on top of a mountain?

So, Greg Nelson, what do you think? Those of you who dont know Greg just need to know that he recently told me that Jannas blogs are better than mine which, if you know Janna, set off all kinds of crowing around here. Been hard to live with her since :)

On the topic of family, we can never find Harper home because of some boy named Andrew, so we call Blair... And Paige and Anthony?  Gypsies drifting between Idaho, Utah, Arizona and Louisianna, all while attending BYU-I. Reid face timed Janna the other day and we learned that he lives on a rocky Hawaiian cliff with an incredible view of the surf. We dont know how he always does it. Hayleys back at work and looking great. Even wearing mascara. Maren and Bryan? Busy. Go Aztecs. Thanks, Reid and Bryan, for the website.

Mexican Christmas!

I glanced at the ugly Christmas trees at Walmart a few miles from our home, and decided instead to climb 2 miles up a mountain trail to "Corta Su Arbol" in Amecameca. At the top, I learned that "Corta Su Arbol" supplies Walmart with trees. I saw a few Posadas, and witnessed thousands of hikers clog the freeways on their trek to worship the Virgin in Mexico City. Of three freeway lanes, two were impassable by car for the hikers for days and days. Impressive faith. Makes me glad to be a Mormon. Not that our ancestors didn't do their share of walking, but now we just drive to Salt Lake City. I loved how Christmas in Mexico means family gatherings, mostly without presents. We could hear the laughter from their homes as we passed by in the days of Christmas.

It was fun for Janna and I to host Reid & Malinda and Blair and Harper for Christmas. Reid's spanish came roaring back, he lit every firework we could buy, and everyone loved the day in Taxco, the silver capital of Mexico, way up in the mountains. The flu made the rounds between us, but no one seemed to pay too much attention. As a mission, we focused on service to the communities we're in, and helped out a lot of people. Then, on the 24th, the missionaries caroled in the "Zocalos" of those same towns. Hundreds stopped by, listened, and mingled with the missionaries. It's cold here, so they all had jackets and scarfs, beanies, it was fun. 

Missionaries can be pretty competitive, so I worried about our first mission wide soccer tournament, zone against zone. A zone is a group of 26 or so missionaries, and the faces change over time as missionaries are transferred to other areas. The zone "Meyehualco" won the tournament, and Humberto, the stone cutter on my way home, cut a stone trophy which sits in the mission office. When they think I'm not listening, the elders tell the newly arriving missionaries that they were part of the winning "Meyehualco" team. Hmmm, I went to San Dieguito High School in the 70's, so I could have the math wrong, but apparently all 126 missionaries played for the "Meyehualco" zone that day and the other zones had no one.

We are reflecting on our first six months in the mission field with these incredible young men and women. They carried us the first few weeks. We could see they were sharp, but we didn't know much. Being a mission president and his wife is like jumping on an Amtrak at full speed. No time to train you, just get up here and start working. So, we watched them, and learned from them, and we're now beginning to understand our role. It has just about killed us to let them go home when it's their turn. When you're asked to give what they are asked to give, you bond real quick. I won't try to list their names because there are so many and I might leave one out, but we have watched them go through something tough yet rewarding, and we will never forget them, not one. We worry what will become of the mission as each leaves, and takes their experience and love for the Mexican people with them, but the younger ones step up and fill in the holes. We have never laughed or cried more in six months. The assignment is relentless, but we're not tired.

On my birthday, Elders Buchanon, Pleites, Ojeda and Ramos invited us to the baptism of two families of 5 each in one baptismal service, or 10 people, and Elders Zufelt and Parker invited us to work with them and gifted me a Bolivian looking sweater and beanie. On the 18th of December, the entire mission gathered to enjoy a Christmas Conference. Janna directed games and a gift exchange (126 gifters!), and she and the Birds, a senior couple on assignment from Utah, baked cookies. We hired a local to cook tacos, al pastor con pina, suadero, and gringos. And great skits poking fun at their lives as missionaries. I guess we're too new because no one poked fun at us. I don't think the man before me reads my blog, so I'll say this, Elder Lauritzen does a perfect impression of him, including "Bueno, bueno, bueno".  I laugh and think "ugh, it's just a matter of time." But what could they come up with? I mean ... . We finished with Christmas Carols and testimonies, then the mission gifted them a pair of socks and a few pieces of candy. It was the only gift many of them received.

Janna and I witness miracles every day, practically every hour. Our favorite time is spent out with the missionaries, walking the streets, sometimes late at night, in small pueblos in the country or in the big city, from one appointment to another, teaching and working with the people. As we do, we are silenced by just how good these missionaries are, and just how much they strive to emulate their Savior, Jesus Christ.

Man, I want our kids and their families to move here, and then I want this never to end.

Our best wishes to everyone that 2014 will be a great year!

Solo

I told him that our twins say that I’m the worst driver ever.  Before he got in, “He” is a Mexican man, a leader in our Church, we call him an “Area Seventy” and he’s over me.  Anyway, he asked for a lift to his home after our meeting last Sunday.  About halfway there, he turns to me and says “your twins are right.  Do you know I’ve had two heart attacks? I don’t want a third.  If you die, the Church can replace you in a day or two.  But if I die, the Church will have to wait until the next General Conference to replace me.  And that’s not ‘til March.”  He didn’t look like a man who’d had two heart attacks when he jumped out of the car at his home.  Not sure how he’s going to get home from our next meeting.

Some things are different in Mexico.  The Dr. Pepper cannery overfills its soda cans, so you get showered in DP when you pop the top.  Makes no difference if the can sits first, or you go slow.  And every 5th or 6th Whopper candy has no center, just a deflated chocolate ball.  Kinda disappointing.  There are 82 speed bumps on the way to my office.  164 round trip. Every day.  Yeah.

We struggled a bit getting the English speaking missionaries to mix with the Spanish speaking missionaries on their first day, and vice versa.  Until yesterday.  Instead of picking them up in two groups, we rented a bigger van and picked up the Spanish speaking missionaries at the mission training center in Mexico City, then swung by the airport to greet and pick up the North Americans.  Neither group speaks much of their counterpart’s language, so it can be a bit awkward on the 1.5 hour trip back to the mission office.  Yesterday, we got ‘em all laughing with language bloopers.  Like when I told a local leader that Janna is a “slut” when I meant to say that she’s “prepared.”  Or when my North American assistant, on his first day in country, asked in Spanish for a “beer” instead of a “napkin.” Or when my Mexican assistant was struggling with the word “focus” as he read the English edition of the missionary manual out loud in his room and found his North American companinons rolling on the ground laughing in the adjacent room.  Brought back memories of my first mission, 39 years ago, when I conjugated the word “member” and instead of asking a beautiful teenage girl if she was a member of the Church, I asked her if she was my girlfriend.  Same scene back then in the adjacent room.  Anyway, the trip back to the office flew by and they’re all pretty good friends now.

Janna’s been in Utah for a few weeks with hip replacement surgery, so it’s lonely at home.  I attended a seminar of all mission presidents in Mexico last week, the only single man there.  It helped that the seminar was in Huatulco, a beach resort in the southern part of Mexico, so I swam and body surfed between sessions.  It was all inclusive, so I ate some too. Oh, and I found a new taco place on the road to our home.  Better than “Super”.  By the way, if you’re a friend, stop writing me to tell me that when you’re at VG’s, you think of me.  For at least two reasons.

I have envied my dad and his baseball coaching career for years.  But now, near the end of my working years, I get to be a coach, sort of, of 120 incredibly unselfish young people.  I thought about Dad when I played catch with one of them a few weeks ago, a Dominican who was abandoned and homeless before his mission.  He’s a pitcher, with the hope of playing professional baseball when he gets back.  I “clocked” him at around 90-95 mph.  More than a year into his mission, no workouts.  There were only two gloves, mine and dad’s antique one.  Since I had to catch his fastball, I took mine and tossed him dad’s.  Dad had to be loving those 20 minutes.

Yesterday, I was teaching the missionaries about developing Christ like love for the people here.  One of them, a brand new one from Colombia, a 19 year old girl with “salsa,” the only one among her mom and 8 siblings who joined the Church after the missionaries knocked on their door in Colombia, serving here in Mexico without any family support, jumped up in tears.  We could feel her passion as she shared her life story, the love she feels from Christ, and the love she feels for the Mexican people.  She gets it, and when she was done, we were done.  The other missionaries got it, too.  No dry eyes.  This is an incredible journey with these young people.  I pray every day that time will slow down.

Janna and Hayley are recovering, for which we are very grateful.  All our family and friends are in our prayers.  Thanks for your support.  Looking forward to receiving Elder Tadeo from our Stake back home in just 6 weeks!

90 Mexican Days!

Mexican's celebrate Independence Day on the 15th, even though the actual date is the 16th, but they start sending up huge earth shaking fireworks from their backyards beginning a week before and keep at it, sometimes in the middle of the night, for at least a week afterwards. Janna was in Utah having her hip examined, and members of the Church and neighbors told me it is too dangerous to be out celebrating the holiday, so I bought a Mexican flag, hung it from the wall surrounding our home, and hunkered down in "Harper's" room to watch our neighbor sending up fireworks brighter and louder than any the Del Mar Fair sends up. And not one cop showed up. What a great country!

We recently received 18 missionaries, 8 from Mexico and 10 from the USA, and sent home 10 who finished their 2 years. It's a busy three days because the new ones come in from the USA and from the Mexico missionary training center, so that's a trip to a very busy airport in Mexico City, return, then a longer trip to the training center to receive the Mexican missionaries, all in one day. They have to be trained, fed and assigned to companions, who also must be trained. Then the departing ones have to be interviewed, fed and housed until we head back to the airport for their flights home. It's exhausting, but one of the most fun things we do. The North Americans are so nervous when they arrive. 9 of the 10 we received from America are Utahns, and they peppered us with questions about the water, food, danger, water, food, the members, water, food, and how the missionary efforts are going. The ride home from the airport with them is really fun, watching their wide open eyes as they look out the windows of the combi. It's got to be a sobering moment for them. It's been a week now, and we saw them today, and they're all speaking Spanish and smiling, so that's a good start. 

I had three "special interviews" last week that I will never forget. The missionaries interview most of the people who want to be baptized, but I interview the people who have tough things in their backgrounds. Like murder. And other things. 

One young man in his early twenties, heavily tattooed, sat across the desk from me and recounted to me how he had joined a gang in America a few years back, that he killed two people to get into the gang, and then killed six more "in defense". In defense of what? His gang's drugs, prostitutes and territory. He and I both wept when he told me of his childhood, life in the streets, and the light he sees from the missionaries who are teaching him. They were already teaching his mom and sister a few months ago when he returned to Mexico, fleeing for his life from the gang, and at first he didn't want anything to do with them, but he changed his mind as he listened to the lessons from an adjoining room in the house. It was interesting to sit so close with someone so young who has walked in such darkness, the darkest sort, crossed over really, but who now craves light. He's the second murderer I've interviewed. Like I said, some folks here don't think life's worth much. I never interviewed a murderer as a Bishop or Stake President, so this is new territory for me. Sad that this country is in the grip of so many Book of Mormon sorts of secret societies, killing for gain. Troubling that his killing was exported to the USA. 

A young woman came to see me yesterday. She'll be baptized this Saturday, along with her husband. She was abandoned by her father and mother before she was 10, left to raise her younger brother in the streets, worked in a bar at age 12 to support them both, co habited with her now husband at age 15, pregnant at age 18, and very, very angry at life and pretty much everyone in it...except for the missionaries, who smiled and greeted her every time they saw her and her brother in the streets, beginning with Elders Olson and Soto more than 5 years ago. She never really spoke to them, but she remembers their names from the name tags. No matter how bad things got, she never forgot those missionaries. And when things couldn't get worse, in the late stages of pregnancy two years ago, she walked a couple of miles to the nearest church building and stood on the curb for 3 hours, hoping the missionaries would pass by, which they didn't that day. Every day for the last 2 years she's looked for missionaries, until two walked by her window 3 months ago. She grabbed her baby and screamed from her doorway that she wanted them to teach her and her family. They've been going to church for 7 or 8 weeks now. She's a fighter, still angry about a lot of things, but starting to let go with the help of the Lord, the missionaries and the members. Janna says she'll be a great Relief Society President. 

Finally, a young woman came to see me who left a bad marriage, moved in with her parents, and found the missionaries at her door a few months ago. She was ecstatic to be baptized two weeks ago, wants her young son to be a missionary one day, and asked me through tears in her interview "why didn't my LDS girlfriend ever talk to me about the church when we were young? I could've avoided so much pain".

Our lives are a whirlwind of people, and we love it. I could not do this without Janna. She's amazing with these young people. Won't deny that we miss our family and friends every day though. Dan Sieber, know you're reading this. How's it goin' big fella? 

This Week

Hard to think of anything but Hayley this week. And we still don't have a diagnosis. She has an amazing friend in Sarah Thrasher, that much we know. And family and friends who love her. And great missionaries who decided on their own to pray for her.

On a lighter note, the longer our days, the more grateful we are that we can get our hands on Coke Zero down here. Oh, and I lost the first mission wide arm wrestling championship. In the first round. To an Elder who is half my size.

So much going on. The missionaries here have been in the habit of teaching the 3rd lesson first, and we decided to teach the first lesson first, unless the Spirit dictates otherwise, which is consistent with the missionary handbook. That's the "Restoration of the Gospel" lesson. And we want them to teach it with the pamphlets provided by the Church. Some of our missionaries are struggling with the change. But one decided he liked it when he taught the Restoration first and the woman he was teaching, recognizing the picture of Joseph Smith's vision, said "hey, I was baptized into your Church when I was a girl. But we moved and I've never been able to find the Church again". Now they're teaching her husband, son and brother, none of whom are members of the Church. And the missionary reports that the connection never would've been made without teaching the first lesson first. As Harper would say, "weird, follow the rules and things work out."

I am trying like mad to get the English speaking missionaries to teach English to the Spanish speaking missionaries. There's a certificate program for those who learn sufficient English, and it helps lift them into better schools and jobs after their missions. In a twist, I learned yesterday that two Spanish speaking missionaries who are companions make each other do push ups if either of them speaks Spanish in their apartment. That's how bad some of them want to learn English. And I can't get some of the English speaking missionaries to slow down enough to teach what is so easy for them? Gonna keep working on them.

We never feel threatened, probably because we're with the missionaries. Our missionaries don't think it's any big deal to be robbed, happens all the time. And they shrugged when I told them that yesterday authorities found 13 dead bodies near our mission office. It's a tragedy, but life here is tragic for many people. The Lord sent some tough young people here.

That's all for now. The storms have backed off and the days and evenings are pleasant, the countryside very green. We wish that we could get to the missionary training center in Mexico City to greet some of the young people from back home who are arriving there to prepare for their missions. But it's too far, and too much traffic. Neat to see their pictures, though, and to hear about them greeting each other.

Praying that we get some good news on Hayley today.