Katie is in double digits!! Holy cake saga

Dear Katie,

We had such fun thinking about where to take a picture for you. We thought, “Hmmm what matters to Katie?” Well, we know for one thing that you will really miss having a cake made by Grammy. It’s funny how that tradition has grown, when I’m not even that good of a cake maker really. Anyway, you suggested we just bake a cake or make a cake out of paper or something and then take a picture of it. That’s when we knew you really, seriously expected some kind of cake representation. SO, we decide on a plan and started it into motion. But, as always is the case, things don’t quite go as planned, so we now present to you some pictures of a cake, but also, the long story of the cake.

Just last week in a very foreign land, a Grammy and Grampy wanted to make a cake for their granddaughter to help her remember how much they love her. She would not be able to eat the cake, but she would at least see a picture and understand the love behind it. So they set out to try. Their oven is very little and the ingredients here are not quite the same as at home, plus this oven likes to burn things, so they decided, well if it is not a cake to be eaten, just one to see, then let’s have it made by a bakery. So they went to a little place that they knew of that makes cakes, and they ordered it. This place is tiny. They only knew that it could make cakes because a person told them. It looks like a not so nice place, like you might go there to by bicycle tires, but they are a bakery.

Now this Grammy and Grampy don’t speak the same language as the people in this foreign land, so Grampy wrote down very carefully that he wanted a banana cake and what he wanted the cake to say. The people said ok and he paid for the cake. The next day, he went to pick up the cake, and he got it home and there was no frosting, no writing! Hmm he thought, that’s no good, but they took a picture of the cake which was unfrosted and a little burned, not at all lovely, thinking maybe it will do, since it is not really for eating anyway. But they were not happy, so they took the cake back to the bakery and said, “It has no frosting.” And they said, “oh but we don’t frost banana cakes.” And the

G & G said, “but we ordered a banana cake and then wrote down what we wanted it to say in the frosting” and the bakery person said, “yes, but we don’t frost banana cakes.” So finally the Grampy said, do you have any frosting, and they did. He asked if they could just frost this cake as if it is not a banana cake. They were not happy to do it because they don’t frost banana cakes you know, but they agreed and frosted the cake, and it looked beautiful. The Grammy and Grampy wondered why the baker accepted the paper telling the words to write in frosting if they were not planning to frost the cake since it was a banana cake and they don’t frost banana cakes. But oh well, the G & G are getting used to setting aside these un-answerable questions and move along, and now they had a frosted cake.

They took the cake to V J’s house to take a picture of her and to share some of the cake. The Grammy and Grampy tasted the cake. The banana cake was delicious, but the frosting was pure shortening!! It was colored pink, and so it tasted like shortening with the bitter flavor of food coloring added. The white part underneath was actually pure shortening. Oh the G & G were now so happy that their granddaughter would only be able to see the cake, not taste it with that thick, pink, greasy shortening on it. And there was more good news: the G & G gave cake to everyone they saw that day and the next, and everyone loved it!! They gave cake to V J's family, the Elders, to the people at the church playing basketball, to the people they had meetings with, to the family they visited. Everyone they gave cake to asked why there was a cake, so they would say it is for our granddaughter. People then looked very puzzled and the G & G would tell them the story of how their granddaughter was very far away, but she loved cake made by her Grammy, so this was the simulation of cake, and she would only see the picture. The people were very happy that the girl had a birthday, because they got to share the cake that she could only see. And the girl was happy, knowing her Grammy and Grampy were sharing cake all over the island of Negros and telling people of their love for their granddaughter.

So that’s the long cake story.

We also took a picture of the little local library, inside and out, so you could see what it is like, since we know that libraries are also very important to you. The little sign below the "hello" sign says "children's corner"

Katie, you are such a blessed girl. God has given you all the necessary things—love, home, the gospel, parents who love you. And then he gave you so many extra, lovely, comfortable things—a brilliant mind, wonderful siblings and extended family, the comforts and safety of an affluent community, a powerful desire to do good and to see the needs of others. We are so proud of you. We see in you such promise. We miss you like crazy, and hope you know that though we are learning to love the people here, including some children, no one can ever replace you. Our hearts are growing bigger so we can love more, but your place in our heart will always be truly and safely yours.

A bit if refreshment after a hard days work! They don't let you take the bottles so the drink gets poured into a plastic bag with a straw. This drink comes in a green bottle so we didn't know it was this bright nuclear yellow. It tastes like mountain dew and is called Lift.




Happy Birthday dear, darling Kate. We love you immensely.

Sally's birthday: With God all things are possible

As we’ve been thinking this week of Sara’s birthday coming up, we have realized what huge changes can occur in one year’s time. A year ago, Sara, you had just met Shane. You were twitterpated, and we were happily going along with the notion that he might be Mr. Right, but it was all still very new. A year later, you are married to the man of your dreams, you are pregnant with a little girl of your own, you are living the life you have been praying and yearning for—a life that just a year ago seemed nearly impossible.

Last year Anne and Melissa were pregnant. This year, Sara, it’s you.

Look at Dad and me. A year ago Dad was having a tooth pulled and facing knee surgery. Both had to be done so we could serve a mission, but if either went even slightly awry, we would not be able to serve. And then were other matters to resolve before we could go—business and personal. Knees have always been Dad’s nemesis, but God gave him the 10-7 that allowed him much relief and kept him active, then the surgery went well, though with some complications. Then rehab was hellish, but he was zealous in his rehab work, and with God’s help, he can now walk all over kingdom come, traipsing over uneven ground on dark evenings. The business, under Tanner’s good leadership and with Taylor vitally contributing, is healthy and growing. What would have been impossible a year ago, is now a reality.

The other night Sara, Dad went to visit with a man who had been returning to church. His wife, who has been faithfully attending and bringing their teen-aged boys, was so grateful to have her husband attend with her for a few Sundays in a row. He even accepted our invitation to attend the temple preparation class and to prepare to take his family to the temple. Then, last week, we asked why he had not come, and his mother told us he was too ashamed because a couple nights earlier he had gone straight from work to the cock pits with some buddies and had gambled away his whole paycheck. In this culture, where there is no, literally, no buffer, no food in the house for tomorrow, this is a huge tragedy. His mother had to bail them out. Anyway, Dad went to visit him-man to man-to let him know we all make mistakes, and that God still loves him. Dad was trying early in the visit to figure out what to teach him, and he thought of a video he had on his I-phone about the angel appearing to Mary. Hmm, not too applicable one might think, but he knew there was something on that video that this man needed to hear, so he played it for him. When it was over, Dad started to talk about what stood out to him, planning to make the link, which was that the angel had said to Mary,"with God all things are possible” but instead, he felt restrained and asked the man what he had been taught by the video. He answered, “with God all things are possible.” Dad went on to assure him that this is true, and that his gambling addiction is not too tall an order for God to handle.

I have every confidence that this man is in God’s care, that Dad was inspired to go visit him, to teach him and to give him hope. He will eventually be sealed with his family in the temple. In a year’s time he might very well be faithfully serving in a leadership position, leading his family back to Heavenly Father. A year ago, I’m sure his wife had only the glimmer of hope that any of that would be possible.

And so we look back over the year since your last birthday, and marvel at all that has happened , all that God is capable of blessing us with, all that he is pleased to bless us with. Some of them involved years of pleading. Some we had almost given up hope on, but with God, all things are possible, including your temple marriage to a marvelous man, a baby coming, your parents serving a mission against some pretty high odds, and a Filipino man learning that God really does love him in his weakness.

Today, in celebration of your birthday, we went on a hike up the hill across from our house and took some pictures to share the beauty of this place. Yesterday we took others that show our little town plaza and gardens. We have enjoyed thinking of you, of all the possibilities, of the grace of God that is so much bigger than we can ever know. With God, all things are possible.

We love you so much and revel in your happiness.

She wishes you Happy b-day. (yes, she is a girl) And see how much closer I am to her than Dad was in the last caribou photo. Note the really big horns. Ole!













At the top of the hill--magnificent view



















Not a great photo, but look at the houses tucked into the banana and coconut trees on our walk










Love you!!
















One of a billion flowers on our walk today














This is a chair in our town plaza made of old tires--a very common outdoor furniture material here










Dad in the town plaza's garden















Mom in the town garden sitting on the tire chair










Happy Birthday Dear, Dear Sally-Belle!!

Note Worthy

I remember a musician in our ward years ago. She played the organ professionally in a couple of churches, but of course in ours, she played without fee. Well, she could not stand the tempo at which the congregation insisted on singing. It seems odd to me that the organist could not pick up the pace and the folks would follow along, but that was apparently not the case, and regardless of her efforts with chorister and all, she was not able to change our dragging, lagging hymn singing. It was so painful to her that she finally had to abandon us to our pedantic pace—she started worshiping with the folks who actually paid her to be their accompaniest AND their metronome.

Well, that woman would go stark raving mad here. There are no organs. There are pianos in all chapels, but not in any other rooms in the buildings--so only voices in most meetings. There are few piano players. Those who play almost all play from the simplified book which uses chords and arpeggios not 4-part chords. These are then usually embellished by the pianist. The said embellishment adds seconds to every measure. The people love to squeeze every emotional drop from every line. Hence we sing slowly. Slow like molasses. Slow like proverbial turtles. Slow like snails and every other most famously slow thing.

At first it drove me crazy. Can the hymns at least not be butchered! I have a big voice, and so I tried just speeding up a bit, hoping someone would get into it and join me. No go—I just ended up singing a beat or two off everyone else, which honestly didn’t really bother anyone. They either politely ignored that the big white lady was really off tempo, or they liked the syncopation—I don’t know. But either way, nothing was about to change through my pitiful efforts.

The other thing I tried to fix at first was that some dotted notes were observed as written, some ignored, and others added randomly. At first I just thought it was a mistake of the pianist but no, it would repeat in every verse, and would happen even when there was no pianist. People have just learned certain songs certain ways, and they will only sing them that way. I can go ahead and sing what turns out to be harmonic rhythms, coming in a half beat “early, " though I'm singing what's written, or I can just learn the prevailing patterns and sing out with everyone else.

As to the tempo, I began to get used to it after a while. I had to give myself some little pep talks, but soon I just thought, Why not enjoy this song for as long as possible? When you think of it, Why hurry a perfectly lovely hymn, when you can make it last twice as long? And especially, why rush through a song sung in English with familiar lyrics and melodies, if not tempo and rhythms, when the alternative is an hour of an incomprehensible foreign tongue? SO I settled right in, and began milking every note.

That’s what I was doing this Sunday. Sister C. was arpeggio-ing up a raucous storm, using her whole body to accentuate the clanging chords. The chorister, a beautiful young Filipina, taller and more rounded than typical, was leading with her whole body too, sketching glorious huge circles with every beat and tapping her foot (slowly mind you). The congregation was robust, the acoustics reverberatory. Harmony was next to impossible because the arpeggios didn’t always allow for the alto and tenor notes, but who cares, we were singing "All is well" and it was! I woke from my musically induced revery to find we had taken long enough to actually sing the saints across the plains in real time. It was great! Like a simulation of plodding plain-crossing with musical accompaniment.

The Sacrament hymn was more of the same, but then those are usually supposed to be reverently slow. What was really almost comical was the congregational hymn. We sang, Now Let Us Rejoice, which is marked as 100-120 beats per minute. It’s supposed to clip along probably faster than anything in the hymn book. It took what felt like a full 15 minutes to sing that song. Each note, and I am not exaggerating, lasted a second or more (a great exercise in breath control). This was not andante, nor adagio: it was more like lento. (Yes, I had to look those up) We rejoiced and rejoiced and rejoiced, then rejoiced some more.

The line, “no longer as strangers on earth need we roam,” usually one I would speed by and never really notice, held much power as I sang it with all these good saints—formerly, but no longer strangers, at a pace that allowed for real reflection in the moment. Good Tidings ARE sounding to us and EACH nation. And in Amlan Branch this Sunday, the hour of redemption was approaching, not any too fast, but without doubt.

I almost forgot to describe the pace of the "lovely morning" we sang of in Relief Society. It was as if we were recording a sound track of the first vision and we had to last as long as the real event--like the director was saying, "slow down ladies, bees are still humming and the sweet the birds are still, singing. Don't rush it now" Mmmmm

Revel in it, I say.

Below are some pictures of some of the little people we get to teach or visit or worship with--some of the folks that are "no longer strangers".