Pagentry

Crystal and her auntie

Every municipal (small city) and barangay (town within a small city) holds its own fiesta during the year.  Usually connected with a patron saint, it has roots in Catholic tradition and even deeper roots in pagan forms of worship.  Some commemorate an even older tribal history, like the ati-atihan, when the aboriginal leaders welcomed the first strangers from abroad—visitors from Borneo. Most celebrations include drumming in parades and worshipping of an icon of a saint at church, and ALL involve feeding everyone as much as possible in every home.  Filipinos often spend much of the year planning for, preparing for and paying off from last year’s fiesta.  Because they are usually connected to a saint, and those saints all have different days, there are celebrations going on in different neighbor hoods much of the time.  As we drive from one end of our area to another, we often pass by at least one such event on any given day.

We have been invited to participate in a few of these, the main event of which, like I said is eating—so we are well suited and trained for participation.  You go with your host to say their auntie’s house and eat a ton—only the best, which always means lechon baboy and diniguan (spit roasted pig and blood pudding). Then you go to a different relative’s house and do the same.  The menu varies but little—the items mentioned above, plus some buko halo halo salad (mixed canned fruit, coconut meat scraped from young coconuts, canned condensed milk and boxed cream) pancit (like ramen noodles with tiny bits of cabbage and meat) of course rice, and various rice toppings, the most common of which is pork or chicken adobo—the Filipino stew cooked with vinegar.

 

Crystal, her mom, Joy, and brother Joshua

So last night we attended one of these events that we knew of but had not yet seen.  Each fiesta usually has a pageant held with it—sometimes for men, sometimes for teens, sometimes for children.  It is usually sponsored by the barangay government or a wealthy patron from the town. A member of our branch invited us to come to the pageant for Crossing Silab fiesta because her younger sister was competing for miss teen Crossing Silab. A “crossing” is smaller than a barangay.  It is what it sounds like a small road that crosses the highway—but some of them become a hub for congregating and of course another reason for a fiesta each year.

Well she told us to arrive at 6:30 for the beginning of the show at 7:00.  We decided to go with Filipino time, so we aimed at 7, but she was frantically texting us to come by 6:30.  We arrived at the venue—an open field next to the sea.  It was strewn with lights of the caliber of a rock concert!!  There were huge scaffolds holding spots and disco lighting and monstrously huge speakers.  The stage too was immense, though rather makeshift. We met the patron of this event who in Indonesian and lives in Manila but comes to Visayas for weekends—rather rich I gather.

another candidate

and another

and another

Joy, her mom, her sister, her daughter and the make up guy

Well these pageants are something else—no matter whether the contestants are 6 years old kids or grown women or men, the hoopla is astonishing—though this was our first, we have heard of and seen pictures of others. In fact, two returned missionaries in our branch, brothers, just took the titles of Mr. San Jose and 1^st runner up.  American events have nothing on this crowd.  Trainers and makeup artists are hired, elaborate costumes are rented, dance routines are practiced, talents displayed, etc. Some of the pageant candidates have to raise money for charity, a la Mr. Grizzly in Ashland, some are rewarded money for scholarship; it just depends on the town. ALL, without exception, of the people back stage at the events are gay men. Some are flamboyant in makeup and dresses, others understated, with just a simple t-shirt over their bra.  All mince. They are referred to as a group.  “We have to ask the gays . . .” or, “tell the gays about the lighting problem.” They are the movers and shakers of the pageant—a vital part of any self-respecting event. This part I know because several of these men have shown up to do make-up and hair and training at any church event that requires any pageantry. A couple of them are church members, so they volunteer and spice up say New Beginnings, or the Christmas Activity with a flair for drama and style.

As we sat and waited for the show to begin, the music got louder, the beat more visceral, the lyrics more vile and then came the music videos shown on a screen the size of Luzon. We averted our eyes while all around us, including the children, laughed. We were plotting how to leave, when our friend, Sister Joy, who had brought us, saw our discomfort, voiced that she too though it was ugly, then without a word of encouragement from us, this young mother marched to the DJ, told him she had kids there and what he was showing was not funny but ugly, and he turned it off!! This was Crystal’s mom.  We were so proud of her.

yet another

We did still leave, but we were so glad that Sister Joy had the courage to take a stand against base, demeaning yuckiness.  We heard later that her sister received a barangay council award. Yeah! Our presence there was positive, because we got to meet the mom who has forbidden her young daughter from being taught, though she wants to be baptized. Maybe our support at the event will soften the mom's heart toward these crazy Mormons. (I hope you see the irony intended in that ).

Oh update.  We just spoke to the Elders. They said that at church today (we were in another branch) they were told the ban on teaching her daughter is lifted cause the mom liked us!! Yeah! And we are invited to her birthday. This beautiful award winner is turning14 only!  How quickly things can change.

Melvina goes home, District Conference Miracles

Let's back up a step.

Though we mentioned it in our last post, we want to back up to the days before Mom’s death and before we headed to her funeral and before our temple trip in Cebu.

Melvina Cropper passed away late on the afternoon of Sat. May 26 in her home at 1212 Elm in Provo.  Sherri, David, Linda, Candi, Holly, Sara and Shane were with her.  She died peacefully in her sleep.

We were still in the Philippines, but worked on getting there as soon as we could—there is only so much one can do to rush exit visas and ticketing and such seeing as how we have to travel by truck, ferry boat,  overnight stay in Cebu, taxi, 3 or 4 planes and a car to get there. Our hope was to arrive in Provo sometime Tuesday, May 29, and we were able to make that happen.

We were so sad to think of the empty space that our dear Mom will leave behind her, but we felt joyous for so many the other reasons—no more pain; an eternity with Blaine, Randy, her sisters and parents; the promise of a resurrection into a whole, restored body.  We are so happy for her, and look forward to being with her again.

We experienced so many tender mercies throughout the day, the process, but I will write of just a few right now. We had been feeling, well I don’t know, not really guilty, but I guess just sad at not being there at the last.  Dean especially would really have loved to be there to comfort his Mom as she left this life, and support his siblings in whatever ways possible.  But as we sat in the Tanjay District Conference on the 27th, we each had a confirmation that we were NOT in the wrong place—that we were very much in the right place.

It began when Ian called us in the middle of our night and said that he felt strongly that he should give his Grandma a blessing.  He wanted some counsel from his Dad on how it should be done.  We felt so blessed and so grateful that our son was willing, able, and inspired to stand in for his Dad and perform this sacred service for his grandmother. We were especially grateful that it was not just one of our sons, but was particularly Ian, who had been through a lot recently and who had faced some things and was perfectly situated to be the one. Had we been there, the miracle of her release would have had less meaning to those there.

We learned later that morning that Melvin had gone home.

We went to District Conference.

A few months ago we went to visit a man who had been the 1^st District President in the Tanjay District.  He was truly one of the handcart company captains of the Philippines.  He organized branches, he procured property, he over saw building, and he led and strengthened the early saints on this island and got them off to a solid start.  Then for a number of compounded reasons he stopped fellow-shipping with the saints, he started into a different life style and forgot the covenants and promises he had made with God.  He and his wife haven’t been to church in 12 years.  We first just listened to the hurts he’d allowed to fester, then we apologized for the slights and offenses he and his wife had experienced.  Then we started teaching them, reading from the scriptures together, leaving assignments.  He kept his promises to us to pray with his wife, to read between our visits.  We then suggested he return to church and start the repentance process.  We all agreed the maybe it would be easiest for him to slide in to District Conference for his first visit, rather than attend the branch right off, so we set a date for him to show up: May 27^th.  

He started lining up possible excuses—he had to travel a lot that week, his wife was out of town that weekend—and though we were hopeful and prayerful, we wondered if it would really happen.  But it did.  He walked in just as the meeting was about to start, walked up to me from behind and said, “I’m here.”  Then he waved happily to Dean on the stand and went to take a seat.  Dean quickly wrote a note to Pres. Schmutz that all 7 of the former and current District Presidents were present. President asked for their names, then got up and announced that it had come to his attention that all 7 of the District Presidents were in attendance, and he asked them to stand.  The name of the Brother we’d been visiting was called first and he proudly stood in the aisle while all the names were called. A miracle, and a beginning.

Our Little Friend Crystal

We have a picture on our wall of me squatting next to a little girl, about 4, who is very wary of me.  The look speaks volumes.  Her Mom has since returned to church, and her Dad is now baptized, attends with her, and holds the Aaronic Priesthood.  She and I had almost become friends, but still, by District Conference she was not sure about me.  She doesn’t really get that I don’t understand her language, she thinks I’m kind of dumb, because when she talks to me I don’t respond to what she is saying, I just change the subject and tell her that her shoes are pretty or something simple. She speaks no English, but can pronounce our names—Elder and Elder Propper. (all the missionaries she has met are Elder something, so she just lumps me in with them—another Elder. And, Filipino kids don’t lisp early on—they flip their little r’s like champion Latinos) Anyway, in the conference, I gave a talk about unity and how we are all part of the family of Christ, his spiritual sons and daughters, brothers and sisters.  I told them of Tilly’s death, and how grateful I was that our family in America was gathering to support each other at this time, and that we could be right there in Tanjay feeling supported by the people who we have learned to love as brothers and sisters. I sat down, feeling rather alone in spite of the bravado of my talk, and from way in the back of the room, here comes Crystal.  She skipped up in her pink mock crocs and stood waiting, arms outstretched for me to lift her on to my lap.  I hugged her and buried my face in her hair, and thanked God for her loving gesture that made me feel not farther from my loved ones at home, but nearer. Another miracle

Then twelve men in our district—some from every branch including 4 from ours—received the Melchizedek Priesthood that day.  That’s twelve men who can give their families Priesthood blessings—twelve men who can minister to the sick—twelve men who can serve in Elder’s quorums or in Branch Presidencies—twelve men who can take their families to the temple to be sealed. After the conference, where they had all stood to be sustained, they were all ordained, then many of them interviewed for temple recommends. Oh a mighty miracle.

Melvina's living kids

All these incidents worked to comfort us and prove God’s love.  Ian and Ash, Sara and Shane were in Provo holding our place. Family and friends were making arrangements to gather from all over, our arrangements were falling in to place, thanks to our beyond-the-call of duty Cebu mission secretary, Sister E. and her compadres and cohorts in Manilla--brother S. and Brother C., and we were sitting in conference where we were filled and lifted and confirmed in our purpose here.

Being in Provo was so surreal! We gathered at Mom’s house, more loved ones arriving each day.  We all prepared for the funeral, made arrangements for those still coming, started hauling out boxes from all the corners they’d been stored in for decades and, as we sorted through layers of Mom’s history, recorded in the form of letters to her, jewelry, trinkets, pamphlets, ornaments, linens, newspaper articles, gadgets, treasures, we reconnected in yet further miraculous ways. Tilly’s posterity pulled together—sisters remembered that they needn’t be estranged, brothers softened and remembered to allow others their own process, cousins remembered what it felt like to be connected through blood—a very powerful force.

Only Dean, Johnny, Roger and Carter are missing from the photo: stayed home with sitter

It was marvelous to be able to see, at one fell swoop, all of our children and their spouses and our grandchildren, except Dan who apparently works for Scrooge, because he couldn’t get off work. Again, the feeling was surreal.  It was all so sudden and unexpected to be plunked so abruptly from one reality into another, both so real and both so intense.  We hiked with our family, played with them in their hotel pool, went to church in the ward so many of us have lived in, cooked, ate out, sat up late, and reveled in being together. Our family mingled with their Dad's side of the family, and we all remembered Tilly's legacy of inclusion. They reconnected with cousins and aunts and uncles and were enriched by it.

The funeral and the whole day surrounding it could not have been more lovely.  Bishop C. was perfect in his attention and compassion and proceeding. He brought with him a letter from his parents.  His Dad was the Bishop years ago and was pivotal in bringing Blaine and Tilly back to the gospel—he and his wife now serve as mission president. Alison, Clint, Rebecca and Dean each contributed, and their love of Mom overflowed and enlightened and inspired us. Brian and Candy added their music and brought Heaven into our midst, and Ian, accompanied by Sister G reminded us of God given talents and that they are meant to be used in just such service as this—to invite the Spirit to attend and comfort. Tanner, Taylor, Marcus and Leon each also invoked the Spirit to comfort, dedicate and celebrate in prayer. Friends came to hold our memories with us--even Rachel and Bella and Melissa's parents from far.  Everyone loved each other up.

We journeyed out to Salem for the dedication, and then returned for the lovely lunch served by Relief Society sisters who never fail to nurture and nourish.

By the time family started to head back home—to Oregon, Alaska, Seattle, North Carolina, etc. and us to our island, it all felt like a dream we’d had in the middle of our mission.

Did we really haul a dozen loads to D.I., recycle bins or trash?  Did we really each go home with treasures that will remind us forever of our dear Mom/Grandma/Sister?  Did she even really leave us?  Oh there is so much to be said for the knowledge we have that all this was good and healing and necessary, but it was just a few more steps toward being together in eternity.  Melvina Leetham Cropper will be resurrected with her husband and we will see her again.  Of this I am certain, because I have seen His countless miracles and I choose to accept the whole package He has offered. To reject is would be to deny His grace and mercy which enliven all we do and all we are and all we know.

Thanks to each person who attended her as we all wished Melvina God speed.

Happy Birthday Anne & Cebu Temple Trip

Happy birthday dear Anne,

The stylin' traffic cop!

First off, get a load of this snazzy dame! There are traffic cops during certain times of day on the busy corners in Dumaguete.  Early on we would get a glimpse of this gal in her fashion statement boots, but our sightings were few and we could never get a picture of her. Her cohorts are mostly men and wear tennies or normal boots.  Just today we saw her and went around the block twice to get the photo. If Anne were reincarnated as a traffic cop in the Philippines, she would opt for the almost stiletto footwear and the skinny breeches.  Oh ya.

God is omniscient, and his plan for us is minutely detailed and arranged.  I will share some gentle reminders of that as this post unfolds today, but let me start with this one:  As we were thinking of what might interest you on your birthday blog, we of course thought of Kirtland, your beloved area in your mission, the cradle of your love of church history and of your understanding of the restoration of the gospel, especially the necessity of the Kirtland temple in the restoration of the sealing power of Elijah. So, I thought it a sweet tender mercy that while thinking of you and your birthday and Kirtland I began to prepare the follow-up lesson for our temple prep class—the lesson taught après our actual temple visit—and  it focused on Elijah—his life and keys, his translation rather than death so he could return before the resurrection, prophecies of him by Malachi 500 years after he lived telling of his coming to usher in the great day of the Lord, his visitation to Peter James and John, the Savior teaching of him to the Nephites, and finally his dramatic return to the lovely little temple in Kirtland which served for only a short time and yet had been planned for and awaited and prayed for by prophets and saints for almost 2000 years as the place where the sealing keys could be restored for the sealing of families allowing for linking of generations necessary for our exaltation. Because of my thoughts of you, the power of this story became so clear—God truly does take small things and make them into that which is great: a few impoverished saints in a tiny church in Ohio built from their scarcity a structure where in the Son of Man and three of his mighty prophets of old restored keys without which the earth would be utterly wasted.

I taught that timeline, picturing you in Kirtland teaching of the majesty of that event and the sacrifices of the saints to prepare a place for it. I was struck by God’s grace and the truth of His prophecy in D & C 110: 9 and 10 that “the fame of this house shall spread to foreign lands.”

So there’s the link—teaching of Elijah and his keys, the Kirtland temple, and you.

Here’s the rest of the story:

As you know Anne, last week we said good bye to Elder Cropper’s dear mother, Melvina Leetham Cropper.  We returned to the US to do so, and were met there by all of our children save Dan who was unable to attend, their spouses, all our grandchildren, the dear Brian Green family, Dean’s siblings, their children and grandchildren, Dean’s Aunt Glenda and Uncle Jay, Dean’s cousins and their families, and numerous dear Oak Hills 2^nd Ward members who have loved, reactivated, taught and served the Cropper family through 4 generations.  We celebrated her life and rejoiced in our knowledge of sealing powers and eternal families.

On our return to Philippines, we stopped enroute in Cebu to meet members of our branch who were gathering to attend the temple, many of them for the first time. These first timers had all been estranged from the church and the gospel, but had returned due to circumstances revolving around being rescued from flood waters and their damage and also being rescued from spiritual numbness and its insipid destruction.  They had been reawakened to the glory of God’s plan, to the joy of participating fully in it, to the miracle of living commandments designed for safety, freedom, and as a source of greater blessings.

We watched as one family—a father, mother and three little girls— 

then another—a father, mother and two teenaged boys— 

then another—a mother to her deceased husband and to her three grown children— 

                                                                                                                                                                   and another—

 

a father and mother and their five children, were sealed together for eternity.

 

And if that was not enough, Heavenly Father gave us the added bonus of watching Brother Nunez, man Elder Cropper taught 40 years ago, who back then was a pool-playing punk, be the one who performed all the sealings.  Here this jazz-playing, song-crooning, laughter-loving man, called upon the very powers of Heaven, the sealing powers restored in that otherwise insignificant place called Kirtland, and performed an ordinance that will last through eternity for people who just a few months ago were not even aware of what they had laid aside.

Within a month’s time we have welcomed Isabelle into the world, eased Grandma out of it—thank you Ian for your part in that— taught of the grand plan of Elijah and the restoration of the sealing keys in Kirtland, and celebrated your birthday dear Annie—you who so love and understand that place.  We have watched the outcome of work done 40 years ago and how it can bless the lives of people for whom that work was much more recent.

The grandness of it all is over whelming Anne.  Is it not?  Aren’t we just so grateful that God gives us glimpses into the patterns and the plans? His timing is impeccable; His love is perfect.

Happy Birthday dear one,

Love MA & D

Perfect

Elder and Sister Cropper at Fiesta in the "bukid" or mountains with members and non-members.  All eating and having fun.

We had a flurry of birthday posts, then Tanner and Taylor came to visit—oh how great was that—then I left for Utah, then  Grandma Tilly failing, with lots of Skyping home, so we have not taken time to blog.  We promise pictures and details about our boys’ visit here, and such, but for now I want to address a concern I’ve had.

Many times people say to us, as a comment on our blog, by email, or in person when I was in Utah recently to help Shane and Sara welcome Isabelle into their family, something like the following: “you guys are so awesome,” “what you’re doing is so amazing,” “I could never do that,” or even, “I will certainly never serve a mission after reading your blog—it is way too intense.”

I thought we had been including—in amongst our reporting on the astonishing and often harsh differences between our lives at home and the reality here—enough of the stunning, breathtaking awe we feel in the work that we do, the overwhelming gratitude we feel for the privilege of working with the saints here, and the magnitude of honor we consider it is to be here, in this place, at this time.  But perhaps we have failed in that regard, and so, let me explain.

I heard a talk in Oakhills 2^nd ward when I was there about sacrifice. The speaker reminded me of a truth that had been lurking about in the periphery of my thoughts, trying to find light. The notion is that not only does sacrifice require giving up something good for something better, but that exquisite joy is almost always accompanied by severe trial or difficulty.  Think of childbirth, or raising a teenager, or, in our case, serving a mission. It wasn’t enough that we leave our loved ones behind and mourn the loss of a year and a half in the progression of our eternal family, we have also had to face fear and danger and disease and dis-ease.  We’ve had to face fears we didn’t know we had, and some we did.  So what is fun about that?

But the beauty we’ve received is all that’s been promised to us all--- the “how great shall be your joy part,” the “God qualifies whom he calls” part—it’s all true. God didn’t qualify us for this work by a life time of experience, He threw us in over our heads and then taught us how to remember to hold on to Him while we gasped and sputtered and swam, and then He showed us depths and sensations that we had yet to discover, and the fear and the panic gave way to a greater level of trust, and, yes, joy. It’s almost embarrassing that at 54, I still had so much to learn.

The other truth I know from all this is that this is OUR mission, not anyone else’s. The lessons we learn are perfectly custom tailored to us, the skill set we adapt to our circumstances is ours, the challenges are of God’s choosing just for us.  So, for example, we are living in this stifling heat that would enervate most, and would actually thwart some, but it’s become okay for us. We sweat buckets (Dean) and wear little sweaters in the air conditioning at District Conference (me), and we have become fine with it.  We are grateful every, day that we are not faced with the challenge of Siberia, like a couple we met in the MTC who travel all over 7 or something time zones in Russia wearing 7 or something layers of wool and gortex—horrors!!!

Or, example two: We live in a progressive, fairly rural small city named Amlan, a place where some would be bored, or get stir crazy driving up and down the same highway for months, but we are so grateful that this place is the Filipino version of Ashland, with its rural setting and its eccentric ways, where people pick fresh fruit off their trees and hand it to us, where pavement is minimal, and open spaces are abundant.  We are grateful every day that we are not in New York City, like another couple met in the MTC, facing miles of rush hour travel and social nuances I’d be completely clueless of, and the only trees are corralled in Central Park and where makeup is mandatory and where my thinning hair would be a constant source of concern, unlike here where no one cares.

In both cases, we feel about their mission, like many of you feel about ours—no way, too intense, not for me.  But, whether it is a tender mercy—God rescued us with a dose of oblivion then settled us in after the initial shock, or a pre-arranged plan—He knew all along we’d adjust and find this to be exactly right for us, I don’t know.  What I do know is that we have had some rough times, and yet this is just right for us and we are no big thang to be finding the joy in it. 

We are no different than any of you who get up every day and face hard things and don’t give up, no different from my Mom who lives with pain every day, and heart ache and history, but who finds joy in moments of laughter and service and reunion; no different from Dean’s Mom who is on the brink of returning home, fighting to the end to leave behind the organized photos she knows will help her family make sense of things and remember what counts; no different from Joan and Sherri and our kids and their spouses who love and serve our mothers when we are not there to step in; no different from each of you who anguishes over a class or career or calling.  We are each on a mission, are we not?  We are called of God and are responding by caring for each other, nurturing our children, serving in our callings, struggling in our attempts to provide or prepare to provide, doing the hard things.

Our mission includes spiders and mud and ants by the trillions and wrenching poverty, and that would be enough to put some over the edge, but it does NOT include the things that would put US over the edge, at least not so far. Yes, I have come very close to that edge, but no closer than in my “real” life, just different.

Our mission is perfect—in every messy detail, in every peak of joy.  We have been placed in the perfect circumstances by a loving Father who knows all. We are grateful to be here and not so many other places.  We trust that if you serve a mission, whoever and whenever, you will feel the same—after the initial shock.

P.S. On the bad days, I just try not to buckle, like you do. On many days I ache to come home, but the ache is familiar. I ache at home too—for different reasons, like you do.  All this is only completely true on the good days, just like for you.  Tomorrow we attend a baptism—a person has found the courage to make a promise to God that will start her on a path to return to her Father in Heaven. Mmmm, now that is worth a lot.

P.P.S. Please do not stop telling us how cool this is that we get to be doing—it feels good to have others acknowledge the magnitude of our work here—just as long as we all know it is not our work, but God’s, and it’s not just a romantic, epic journey, but is truly glorious.