Don't Even Think About It 11/6/09

Don't Even Think About It 11/6/09
Weather
Clear and sunny
Temp -7F Wind 7-10 mph

With more road behind us than is before us, I have made a decision not to think about it. That's right, I will not think about it for one second. Actually, I think that I did think about it for a second, and then I caught myself and immediately stopped thinking about it. I have so not thought about it that I have forgotten what it was I was not going to think about.

What was that? I had it a minute ago, but I lost it. That's maddening. You walk into a room to do something and suddenly you have not only forgotten what you were going to do, but you wonder why you are here in the first place. What was it? Oh . . . darn I almost had it. It was something about ripe tomatoes, Basel, pea pods, and green beans. What did dirt have to do with it? Dirt . . . ripe tomatoes . . . fresh Basel . . . grass . . . lots of green grass . . . and water . . . the sound of splashing water . . . a cool shady pool of water . . . the sound of splashing water as I did something with a ripe tomato . . . a salt shaker . . . what's that got to do with it? Water? Tomato? Salt shaker? Basel, peas, green beans, berries, peaches, lemons, Oh!

I remember now. It's home. It is sitting on my deck, eating a ripe tomato from my garden, lightly salted, with a few Basel leaves that I just plucked off a plant, some mayo, yeah, and . . . oh darn . . . it's home . . . and I had decided to not think of home during this whole Siberian winter. Well, I guess I will just have to start again; not thinking of it. It? What was it? Oh darn, I lost it again.

What a memory (or lack there of). What a country.
DS

Ode to Margaret 11/5/09

Ode to Margaret 11/5/09

Margaret Richins, the mother of our close friend, Belva Wilberg, right, died Wednesday in her Sisters Oregon home at the age of 95. We had spoken to Belva and Carl a week ago, just before we left on our visa-renewal trip Saturday. Belva was hopeful that she would get to see her mom in July when she and Carl would return from their mission to Denmark.

What do you do? Do you stay home because your grand- daughter will be getting baptized, or your husband's gallbladder keeps acting up, or your unmarried daughter and her boyfriend seem close to setting a date, or because your 94, soon to be 95, year old mother is getting more frail each month?

I can't answer for others, but for us, no, we don't stay home and neither did Belva. There seems to always be something that will delay our doing what we ought to do doesn't there. Well, that's what priorities are for and I can't set them for anyone else, but the phrase, "If you love them, leave them." Rings in my ears.

Yes, we are missing our granddaughters' birthdays and baptisms; and our daughter's move to Washington D.C.; and our son's daily challenge with stupid people; our other son's new baby; and our daughter's struggle to nurse a surgery-patient husband, a sick daughter, and mentor a newly teenage older daughter, all while keeping up with us. Yep, we are missing all of that and more, but we are where we should be serving God and the people of our mission. Belva and Carl are showing exceptional courage by serving under the critical eye and vocally critical comments of her siblings. YOU GO GIRL!


The following is an email that Belva sent to us which she has allowed me to publish here. She has demonstrated extraordinary courage in doing the right thing in the face of ignorant critics who would have her in Sisters, holding her mother's hand for the last year. There is no sign that Margaret wanted that and there is no indication that it would have helped her live a day longer. Surrounded by a Ward Family in Sisters, a devoted Home Teacher and Visiting Teacher, and long talks on the phone with Belva, she had everything she needed or probably wanted at the time. Margaret has graduated and Belva has passed a critical test, choosing to serve God as well as her mother in these last months of her tour on this earth.

"Just a note that after 95 strong years, my mother passed away in her home on the evening of Nov 4, 2009. I have enjoyed talking to her every few days here from Denmark for as long as we wanted to talk about her busy life and about our mission. It has been a wonderful opportunity to share with her all my discouragements and happy times. Things that you only want to share with your mother. Life is way too short even after 95 years. She will be so missed. All of our children, and Stephanie with her family will fly or drive to Sisters, Oregon for our final good byes. Mother's only living sister, I think that she is about 90..was with her when she died. I was hoping that she would wait until our return home in July.. before she would leave us, but Heavenly Father invited her home this month instead. We hope to fly to Sisters, Oregon as soon as possible and will be there for ten days or so. Then back to Denmark. Life is bitter and sweet. Love you all and wish we could be together to share our lives once again. Keep us in your prayers. Love, Belva"

We love you Belva and we know that your mother, right, loves you and will be closer to you now, with her new-found freedom. Go take care of business and we'll see you on SKYPE when you return.

What a family
DS

The miracles are beginning to come 10/29/09

The miracles are beginning to come 10/29/09
Weather
Partly cloudy, cold, not much snow, morning fog
Ice everywhere High 10 F / Low 5F


Sister Calderwood, a relatively new missionary who arrived on the 19th of August (second from the right in the second row) today reported the following Miracle in Tomsk in the mission email.

Each Tuesday and Thursday the missionaries conduct an English Club meeting where interested people can come and practice speaking their English with native Americans. After the club meeting on Tuesday a woman named Lubov came up to Sister Caulderwood with this story that she writes to us:

I had given the spiritual thought about the Plan of Salvation at the end of Tuesday's English Club. After the end of the meeting, a woman who had been sitting over on the side came up to me very intently and I could see that she was dying to know more about the church. I got her phone number and I did my best to talk to her in Russian, promising that we would call and make an appointment. We went home and called her the next morning but the number was incorrect and we were very disappointed that we could not meet with her.

On Thursday, she came again to English and afterward she came up to my companion, Sister Bistrova, in an excited fluster, explaining how on Tuesday night she had had a dream about our church and in it she had seen a book that she had never seen before, but in her dream she knew somehow that it was the word of God. When Elder Nelson held up the Book of Mormon as he gave his spiritual thought on Thursday and she recognized it as THAT book that she had seen in her dream.

As we met twice with her later, she shared her search for truth. As we all watched the DVD on the Restoration she was almost in tears the whole time. It was clear that there were many events in her life that had pointed her to this moment. She was prepared of God, no doubt or question. She has been prepared in every aspect of the gospel and it really is a miracle. We were able to meet with her twice, but she actually lives 4 days away by train in a town 300 km from Ulan Ude, but wants to move to Tomsk. Lubov is truly one of those miracles that have been promised."

What a miracle. What a country.
DS

It has finally happened 10/29/03

It has finally happened 
10/29/09
Weather
Overcast, cold, foggy, lots of ice
Temp high 10F / low 5F Wind 3-5 mph


Someone has fallen in the storm drain in the street in front of our house, next to the drive way; Sister Woodhouse! Here she is on the far right with her companion, Sister Boggs.

Background:
The right bank sisters, Sister Woodhouse and Sister Boggs, brought one of their investigators, Anna, to dinner tonight before English Club. We had a great meeting during dinner and Anna felt the Holy Ghost as we bore our testimonies of God's love for her and the truth that the sisters were teaching her. Here she is with Anna at a Family Home Evening a few weeks ago.

Deep background:
From the first day we moved into this apartment, I have been expecting someone to fall into an uncovered storm drain in front of our house. It is located in the gutter on our side of the street about 10 yards from the driveway. The picture below shows it during the spring thaw last April, looking at our building from the opposite side of the street. The open storm drain is the first in a series of four, end to end, with this second one missing the grating so that it is about a 18 x 36 inch hole in the gutter. The picture at the right shows it during the thaw with a hole in the center, probably made by some "newby" that stepped on it just at the right time to go through. Earlier in the winter the ice was a foot thick and able to bear even the weight of cars passing over it.
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The picture below is just another of the winter hazards. Here is the uncovered maintenance entry to the heating pipes buried in the ground in front of the houses between them and the street. Someone tried to cover it with an old door, but here it is eschew. During the deep winter these are covered with ice and snow with only the covers, or in this case the collar, showing because they stay warm even when it is 40 below. At night they are all but invisible as you walk past them to our building. With that as background, here is the story.


The three ladies, Sisters Woodhouse and Boggs with Anna, left our apartment in a hurry to get to English Club; they were late of course. From our front door, they could either go through the "woods", the thicket of trees between our building and the street, or right, through the parking lot and then left across the street toward the office and the Oktyabrskaya Metro station on Kirova, right in front of the office.

They chose the latter and headed out almost at a gallop. As they hurried across the parking lot, they missed the driveway and decided to cross the dirt area between the parking lot and street (now covered with snow and ice) just at the right place. Sister Woodhouse was in the lead and stepping off the curb plunged chest-deep into the afore mentioned open storm drain. She describes it this way:

"There were two cars coming from the right and two from the left. We were in a hurry, so we (I) decided we could cross before they got to us if we hurried. I was focused on the cars and making sure the three of us got across the road before they arrived and just didn't see what was there in darkness along the curb of the street.

As I stepped into the hole, my book bag hit the ground and scattered its contents of books, English Club invitations, calendar book, and the usual miscellaneous purse items; across the entire width of the street. As I hit bottom, between four and five feet down, and the purse went flying, the cars stopped with their headlights shining right on me with just my shoulders, arms and head showing. I am sure the occupants got a good laugh as I did my little trick. You can bet that none of them rushed to my aid.

As Anna and Sister Boggs hurried to pick up my bag's contents in the glare of the four cars' headlights, I stood very still in the storm drain, assessing my physical condition. Finding no pain and everything intact, except for a bump on one knee, I struggled to get out of the hole, but with my dress and coat wedged into it with my legs and torso, I couldn't get out. I could not even try to get a leg out of the hole for lack of space. Of course, I started to laugh.

Seeing my struggles, Sister Boggs came over to me and tried to pull me out of the drain by the arm; no good. We were all laughing so hard that it was just impossible. I was wedged in pretty tight and could give no assistance to any attempt to pull me out as well as laughing uncontrollably. I couldn't even jump up to clear the hole because I couldn't bend my legs. I finally had to press myself up enough to bend at the waist and lay on the street. Rolling over, I cleared the hole with as much grace as possible, being on stage and under the spotlight as I was, and got to my feet.

Finally, free of the hole and collecting my things, we waved to the cars and got across the street, again headed for the office and the Metro station beyond. We took a short-cut across the big parking lot next to our building, still laughing so hard it made it difficult to walk straight, when suddenly Sister Boggs disappeared. She had slipped on the ice and landed in a heap of sheepskin leather coat, bag, hat and scarf laughing too hard to get up. That caused another seizure of hysteria in all of us as we helped her up and tried again to hurry to the Metro. We were now hopelessly late and out of breath with laughter."

As you can see, the sisters enjoy each other and Anna was right in the thick of it. Laughter is the cure for almost everything in life and these sisters are abundantly blessed with it. Especially when things happen that you didn't expect and could not control laughter is the remedy, even here in Russia.

We first heard this story from the sisters themselves as they reported in to Sister Cindy after English Club. Thank you sisters for that story and for being such wonderful example of how to handle life's little surprises and bumps. We love you and hope your knees heal up quickly.

What a pair of great missionaries. What a country.
DS

SPRASNIKUM to ME!

SPRASNIKOM to ME! 10/27/2009
Weather

Clear skies with occasional cloud coveringTemp 19F at 9:00 pm Tuesday 10/27/09Low tonight 10F Wind 3-5 mph

Sprasnikom is a greeting of congratulations given on celebratory occasions. In this case, I give it to myself on my birthday because today I am beginning my 68th year of experience on this world and 67 years of absence from God's world where I was given a spirit body and was taught at the knee of those I have forgotten for the moment.

With more of my life behind me than ahead, I often think of those days, as if there were days in eternity before my birth, and wonder how it all came about. How did I progress from being a disembodied intelligence to becoming a spirit child of Heavenly Father to eventually warranting birth into this mortal existence with its wonders and challenges.

What did I love? Whom did I love? Who were my classmates and my friends? Did I love music then? With whom did I make promises much like the "I'll write you every day" promises after a summer together or with whom did I make more solemn oaths to find and bring into God's kingdom during mortality because I was to be born in the Covenant and they were not. Have I done well? Have I found them? Of those we have met here or in Sacramento or in Germany or on cruise ships or in elevators, or . . .? Have I found them?

I feel sure that I found some of them, those whom I recognize immediately as strangers that I know intimately, and I think I have planted seeds with some others who might be them, but where are the others? I know I found Sister Cindy and that's an oath that I fulfilled, not without doubts and not without wanderings before she made the commitment to baptism, but with complete fidelity and eternal continuance once she joined me in the Kingdom. How can I find the others?

Well amidst all of this reminiscence, I enjoyed the day with many renderings of "Happy Birthday"; cookies from Julia; candy from Pyotr & Olga; lemon-chicken, mashed potatoes, and crispy non-chocolate chip cookies from Sister Cindy; a baptism commitment from Lenna at dinner tonight with Sisters Woodhouse and Boggs; and three playings of Neil Diamond's "America" and two playings of John Denver's "Country Roads" all played much too loud. What a day.

Thank you for all who remembered me, my family, my Russian friends, my missionaries, my great companion and even my friends in Sacramento. Diane Keys, my favorite sister, set up SKYPE in her Seminary class and called this evening about 7:30 pm which was about that time AM in Sacramento, where I got a rendering of Happy Birthday and the opportunity to tell the class, made up of many of our Sacramento friends, about our mission, the weather, the people, and our goal to get 62 more baptisms in the mission by December 31. I explained the background and asked for their prayers for our missionaries. Actually, I, we, were an object lesson for the allegory of the olive tree in Jacob 5, being grafted into a tree in the nethermost part of the vineyard.


I am grateful for the day, grateful to be allowed to be here on this mission in Siberia, grateful for Sister Cindy and my family whom we had to struggled to find, grateful for my health, grateful for the means to pay for this mission, and grateful to Jesus Christ as my personal savior and the redeemer of all mankind. I don't remember the meeting, nor the confrontation between Heavenly Father and Satan, but I know that it took place, I know that I was there, I know that I choose to follow Jehovah, and I know that he did do what he promised to do for me and for you as part of Father's plan for us.

Now it is up to me, and each of us, to do what WE promised to do. There is no sacrifice, there is no labor, there is no gift, there is nothing within our grasp that we can do to repay that Jesus of Nazareth for what he did for us. If we labor our whole lives to serve him, still we are in his debt. Surely just two years of service is not enough, but it is there on the altar just the same.

I hope that each of us will realize our debt to Jesus Christ and continue to put our sacrifice on the altar. What is it that we can, or are willing to, sacrifice, to give, in His service. What Sister Cindy and I have done here is no sacrifice. It has been a great blessing. I have tried to find the sacrifice in it and just cannot. In fact, we are planning our next mission right now. Oh, I miss artichokes and ripe tomatoes from the garden and my hot tub, and playing Hand and Foot with my friends, but I guess I will have to find something else to sacrifice because being here isn't it.

Happy birthday Elder Grampa.

What a guy. What a country.
DS

Here Comes the Snow 10/24/09

Here Comes the Snow 10/24/09
Weather
Snow, snow, snow
Temp 26F at 9:30 pm and 21F tonight (at least that will stop the snow from melting on the flashing over the windows of the Cabo Room and leaking all over what's left of my dacha.)
Wind northerly (from the north) 10-15 mph

Well, it has started. The snow began Thursday evening and has not stopped for more than a couple of hours at a time since then. We have about 6 inches on the ground and it looks like it will be there 'til May.

I am always (well, maybe not always) reluctant to attribute what my Russian friends say to all Russians, but, oh heck, I guess I will anyway. Siberian Russians hate the snow. There, now all of you experts on the Russian psyche can comment on the blog and tell me what REALLY is the case. That notwithstanding, Russians hate the snow. That seems rather strange since they have so much of it, but here's the story as reported to me by authoritative sources.

To fully explain this, one must consider a broader element of the Russian mind-set. Russians love freedom; not actually the political kind, but the personal kind; the kind that expresses itself in doing what you want when you want where you want and to whom you want. I have written about this in the past. Russians live with the idea that if you can do it; do it! They hate anything that limits that mind-set and find very creative ways to limit, avoid, get around, or otherwise eliminate limits.

This expresses itself in the piles of trash exposed during the spring thaw. If you are through with something, you simply place it as a token of your prior presence in that spot, maybe in the belief that someday someone will build a monument to your having been there. In the meantime, you leave your own marker.

It also expresses itself in dress, fashion in general, but particularly in women's fashion which makes it perfectly reasonable to wear a black evening dress complete with plunging neckline, rhinestone necklace, long rhinestone dangle earrings and 6-inch spike heels to work during the day, or a sequin, glow-in-the-dark red dress with a plunging back past the waist and cowboy boots on the metro at noon. This is a statement of a freedom-loving people.

Well, that all changes with the first sticking snow. The freedom so much enjoyed and so much a part of the Russian soul is curtailed beyond resistance by the icy grip of winter that sets, and demands compliance to, its limitations. I have seen both young men and young women partially disrobe in the warmth of a Metro car to reveal those flashes of independence, a brawny chest, a well-turned thigh, or ample bosom in defiance of winter; still, they will not be controlled. However, winter does cramp one's style and forces everyone to acknowledge nature's power, and they hate it.

Even the babushkas that ply the streets under our window show a palpable air of resistance to the season. I watched one walking from the direction of Kirova (to the right of our building) probably to her house (to our left) with a heavy shopping bag in one hand and a purse in the other. She was bent forward into the westerly wind, long coat flapping around her calves, her knit cap covered with the falling snow, struggling to keep her balance on the slippery, snow-covered sidewalk, but making her way as best she could, undaunted by the circumstances. It was her shopping day and she would not be denied by the weather, although it made the trip more hazardous as a slip and fall on the street could mean a broken leg or hip and probably no one to help her.


Regardless, this hated snow will cover their world for half the year and cannot be denied. There is certainly a beauty to it and we, as Californians, think it is "fun", or at least a new experience, to live in the snow. The Russians fight against winter by showing it that they are undaunted. They make ice sculptures worthy of an art gallery, ice-block slides to delight young and old, a snowboarding hill for the 20-somethings on the left back near the now-silent amusement park, and a plethora of furs that make quite a fashion statement all their own.

The Spirit also plays a part in winter duties. Yuri Gushchin, our mission driver asked me last Monday for the money to buy new snow tires (with metal studs) for President Trejo's car because he wanted president to have the better set and he would take his old set. The tires were bought on Tuesday, installed on Wednesday, and it snowed on Thursday. You can't beat that for timing.

As fate would have it, we just talked to Elder Kolpakov, one of the Zone Leaders, during his nightly call to check on our condition and he mentioned how much he liked the snow. I thought I was going to have to erase this whole posting until Sister Cindy reminded me that he is from Rostov where they have palm trees and almost never much snow. He said, "Yeh, it is like a lot of ice cream on the ground. I love it." Well, he doesn't count as a Siberian Russian so I am going to keep this posting.

As I watched the "babka" walk along below my window, I also thought about how lonely it must be for the old people who have survived the unhealthy life-style, bad water, winters, and all the changes of the last 20 years to now be left alone in a world they don't yet quite understand. The old ways and the old friends are gone and they are left to try and survive another winter. I so wished that I could have run down the stairs and taken her heavy bag down the street with her and just said that I cared; and that God cares. Not only could I not get dressed and down the stairs fast enough, but I don't have the language skills to deliver that message. Maybe one of the Sister missionaries will contact her, . . . or maybe it will have to wait until she hears the message in Paradise. I don't know.

What a country.
DS

A Note to Nikki 10/24/09

A Note to Nikki (a lady-in-waiting)
10/24/09
Weather
Snow, Lots of it blowing past our window
Temp 1C (32F)
Wind 15-20 mph

Yes Nikki, Elder Bindrup IS dying on November 11 along with the four missionaries from our zone and the four other across Siberia. He has been one of our very favorite missionaries. He went away a couple of transfers ago to Krasnoyarsk and I've only spoken to him on the phone occasionally. I get the sense that November 11 is circled on your calendar; Yes?


Well, thanks for the reminder about all of those 9 who will be leaving. They include Elders Bendixsen, Bindrup, Illarionov, Jessee, Kravchenko, Luddington, and Young. They also include Sisters Kiselyove and Woodhouse. They will each depart this "life" with much different feelings. For some, this will have been a sacrifice and a separation from all they hold dear. For some, they will leave behind almost all they hold dear because they will go home to people who may not value what they have done the last one and a half or two years.

I am sure that you will be part of the welcome home for Elder Bindrup as will other "Nikkis" for these and other American Elders and Sisters coming home every transfer. Knowing Sister Woodhouse and hearing the stories about her family, I can just hear the squeals and laughter as they greet her at the airport. That will be the day parents pray for and siblings anticipate, but I cannot help remembering that the other sister will go "home" to a new city where she will have to find an apartment and a job because she is not welcome back into her own home in her own home town.

I wish, and I hope, that there will be someone who will welcome these eastern European missionaries. I pray that someone will love them and appreciate them, but most of all, I hope, I pray, that they can stay strong in the Gospel the rest of their lives. Their best hope and our best service to them will be to bring more of God's children into the community of saints to love and support each other and help to keep the world away.


Nikki, I do not want to throw cold water on your anticipation after "two whole years". This home-coming will be a triumph and a championship few others in the world will ever experience. The feelings of love and joy are well deserved and part of the result of a job well done. I just am reminding myself that those of us from LDS families and LDS communities around the world that we have little sense of what these eastern European missionaries will face and endure the rest of their lives as they look back on the best two years they will have. We loose too many to the world and I cannot bear to think of my, our, missionaries losing the battle with Satan. I cannot hold back the tears even as I write this, thinking of the struggles and battles they will endure. Life is hard for the saints of Russia and all of the former Soviet countries. I hope you, and the others who read this blog, will remember them in your prayers and not leave them without at least that support.

God's speed Elder Bindrup, and God's speed to all the Elder Bindrups, but I pray for extra angels to be assigned to these native missionaries who will struggle with the world, mostly alone, the rest of their lives. God's speed and special support for you great Sisters and Elders. We love you.

What a great group. What a country
DS