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".

It's like we are cursed!

We heard that there is a rumor going around that we are a curse to these people and ought to just come home. Ya, yuck it up!! I’m starting to wonder myself if we have not been the bringers of calamity, but if that is true, it seems only fair to stick around and help clean up. Right? Well of course right, ‘cause everyone knows curses can’t really be true anyway. Well, there is new evidence that might indicate we are, indeed, bad luck. Read on.

So, to catch you up: with your generosity, we had more funds than what we had promised to Bio-os School, and a friend of ours told us a couple of weeks ago of another school in the municipality that was also badly hit by flood waters from the typhoon. The name of the school is Tambuangan Elementary. It is right across the road from the Amlan River, upriver from town a couple of Kilometers, and right in the path when the water rages. The neighborhoods near by were not as badly hit here as in Bio-os, but the school lost much of their supplies, and it too filled up, but with sand, not mud, which I’m very glad of (I’ve had my fill of mud-trudging for a lifetime). Much of the work of cleanup had already been done when we were there to visit last week, but students still don’t have supplies, and teachers don’t have devices, so we will use the rest of the funds at this school. We attended their PTA mtg., attended their Barungay (neighborhood government) meeting, assessed needs, and of course Elder Cropper wowed everyone with his Visayan phrases. (He says really clever things like, ”Return will we yesterday for happiness” when he really means, “we will be happy to return tomorrow.”) They don’t give a rip that he is butchering their language, and they can understand his English better than his crazy efforts, but they absolutely die for his Visayan attempts any way. He sometimes actually gets a whole sentence right.

So we organized another Community Service project which we had okayed with the Mission President—he gave permission to pull all the missionaries in the province from their work to help with clean up. The Barangay captain was hoping we could build a rock and cement drainage ditch for future run off, but he needs lots of man power to haul stones from the river bed across the road. Count us in— we’ll bring the missionaries and the members—including a lunch for all workers who arrive (they said about 200!!) like last time. Once again, the funds for materials go much farther because of the work everyone pitches in

But then came the earth quake. School was out for a week to assess damage to structures, families went to relatives’ houses in the mountains to escape the pending tsunami, which they knew was really not coming, but which still seemed real to them. Our meetings were postponed, but we did go up and see that the preschool building. It is a separate structure, which was already questionably safe, and was now sporting a buckled-in roof with a broken beam. We quickly added up what we still had left, and decided your funds could help buy building supplies for the preschool to be rebuilt. The wall at the Bio-os school that had been talked about is probably not necessary now, since the municipality is dredging the Bio-os river and changing its course to address the problem, so those funds can now go to helping with the preschool at Tambuangan.

So after the earthquake, the plan was to meet today to distribute the funds to teachers, give out the school supplies, meet with the carpenter about the building supplies, and go ahead with the project. BUT the barangay captain texted us today and apologized. He said that since the super heavy rains last night washed away another block long chunk of the road to the school, we couldn’t get up there to deliver and meet, and the Service Project could not go on this Friday. Let me digress and tell about the rain. It rains hard here. The first few times it rained when we first arrived, we thought it might pulverize the house. Our roof is metal, and it makes a ton of noise, but the sound is pretty indescribable. You really feel like you should take cover when you hear it, but then you realize, oh wait, you ARE under cover. Well , with the exception of the typhoon, last night was the heaviest we’d heard, and, unlike usual, when there is a short, hard burst, this crazy hard rain went on all night, waking us each time when it rose in pitch and intensity.

So we were not surprised that the road, already compromised by typhoon, and earth quake, gave way to the gushing river, swollen with torrential rain, and the school is re-flooded, including mud.

Here is a random picture of a gorgeous flower Elder Cropper wanted to add. He said we needed to break things up.

The road was not the only casualty. Last week, before the heavy rain last night, after the earthquake and high water from mudslides up river, the little bamboo boat got washed from its moorings and swooshed away. Joy’s little family with the dad that just got baptized could not get to church on Sunday for his confirmation without the little boat. They just stood across the river in their Sunday clothes, watching the flood.

Are you getting convinced yet that we are NOT the best of lucky charms to the folks in these here parts?

We also planned, in the this same week as the community service project is planned for the school, another project with just the missionaries from our zone to help members in the community up north where people were hardest hit by the earth quake. The Branch President’s house there leaned, but did not topple—bamboo houses are, evidently, rather earth quake resistant, and much safer than cement block, like we live in J. We will head there tomorrow to help on some projects the Branch president is arranging.

When Elder Cropper went up to check out the washed out road today, he passed by the place where the boat had been, and there is a new one built already!! Bigger and better. But it was hung up on the rocks and a knot in the line, so he was in the river up to his knees trying to help the kids get it unstuck. Ironically, that’s right when a guy from the church humanitarian department in Manila called him to see if he has any information about earthquake relief needs to the north. He waded out of the river and told him we would check it out tomorrow when we are up there. We had heard rumors that either the Catholic or the Seventh Day Adventist churches got knocked down. The Manila guy wants us to see if help is needed for them or any other community projects. Maybe we’d best stay away :)

In spite of all this, we are continuing to rescue spiritually as well—we are teaching a family who has NOT been fellowshipping with the saints for years—since right after their baptism. Someone told him the Mormon church was a hoax, since where did it mention Joseph Smith in the Bible? And he decided that was reason enough to forget about his conversion. We went back to teach him and solve that problem (pretty simple: where does it mention Jesus Christ by name in the Old Testament? Where is Isaiah’s name mentioned before he came along? Or any of the prophets?—they are spoken of, but not named—even the Savior) Any way, when we got there to teach them, with the new Branch mission leader and his wife (the man who helped us find Joy and help her after the flood, the man who himself was not attending just 2 months ago). We found another young family there, who we invited to stay and listen to our message. They were intrigued and agreed to meet with us in their home next. Well they just happen to live on the property of the Branch Mission leader, so he spoke with them today about the lesson and they said her brother and his wife, their parents, and her younger brother, all want to listen too. So Wednesday, tomorrow, we will teach all of them.

This place is intense. When we go to sleep at night we think, “What next Heavenly Father?” What roller coaster ride of faith and submission and orchestrated , miraculous events, building on other events? We get to see lives changing, people growing, serving, learning about love through their own service, the way the Savior modeled and taught, coming to Him by loving and serving and teaching God’s children as He did. Oh it is magnificent to watch and to be a part of. We just wish the earth would settle a little. Sleeping in our clothes in case we need to dash, like we did the night after the quake, is a little harrowing.

I like how Michele joked about my re-considering following Dean to the ends of the earth. Not only should I consider more carefully next time, but maybe others should beware: there should be a question on an entry visa form or a missionary application—do natural disasters tend to occur when you arrive in an area?

Tonight, as I was writing this, about 8 in the evening. We heard a knock at our back door. There in the dark, were two little girls from the branch bringing us Valentines. They are from the family whose mom had a baby recently, who have nothing, not even electricity or running water. Their Dad is abusive and does drugs, and only shows up to bully. One is about 11 the other maybe 9, but they look years younger. They had made us Valentines. They, who have nothing, including any hope of a life much better than the poverty they are now in, had found smidgens of red paper to glue on white paper, and they wrote us lovely messages in English, then they walked from their home down a rough dark road at night, across the national highway with a tiny flash light to our house where they’d never been. Their names are Merry Joy and Mary Grace. Enough said.