Help Wanted

At a special Sacrament meeting held on a pier near a member's home

  

Have we got a proposal for you, or, more likely, for someone you know.

our lovely home in Amlan

view from our main room window

We live in the most incredible missionary set up, with ocean views and coconut, mango and banana trees.Even our landlords are great!

same view with our porch added

Elder Cropper baptized sister B whom we and the Elders taught

We serve in a  little branch where the members truly strive to take care of each other.  We serve farther afield in the district we live in and in the neighboring district, and we have made dozens of friends and been allowed to witness life-altering miracles.  

Our little Friend. Her Dad baptized her after we taught her

We serve in a zone of missionaries with whom we work and teach, and they lift us.

Happy missionaries just after a P-Day hamburger day at the Cropper's

 

We serve under a mission President and his wife who we have grown to 

love so much that I can truly say if we had fabricated our own idea of the perfect Mission President couple, the result would have fallen short of who they are. 

A member teaching us to build a roof of neepa grass

the house needed moving, so . . .

Our work includes humanitarian aide through community service, teaching returning members in their homes, and most of our time is spent training leaders and supporting members and missionaries in various ways.

we are learning the skill of roofing, Filipino style

the RS help add walls to the traveling house

doesn't get more powerful than these mini-mighty Filipinas and one Polynesian

So here is the thing.  We know God is in control and will orchestrate what He will, but we also know he uses His children to make his purposes come about, so we have decided to ask you to help us to replace ourselves.  Here is what we would like you to do.  Pray about who you might invite to consider if they would like to serve a mission in 6 months or less in Cebu Mission Philippines.  Pass this on to anyone you can think of as a result of that prayer, and ask them to pass it on.  We really hope that whoever replaces us can live in this home which is seriously enviable and which we would be sad to have to give up with all the extras we have supplied it with.

One of the local beauties

Remember our process when we were considering a mission, before we turned in our papers?  Dean wanted to request a Philippines mission and I felt that was presumptuous.  Shouldn’t we have faith to go wherever God sent us?  Did we really want to direct the Lord in this?  Did I really want to receive a call, and then, when facing hardships in the mission look at my husband and shoot poison darts out my eyes at him for getting me into this?  No.  I was convinced I wanted this to come from the Lord and not some intervention of my dearly beloved hubby.

a miracle companionship --one Pakistani, one Indian

But then one day during a prayer, he felt prompted to look up who the mission president was in the Cebu mission.  He got on the church website and found that Evan Schmutz had been newly called and would leave for Cebu in a few months.  Dean told me he wanted to call him.  I wavered from my resolve to leave this in God’s hands, admitted this might actually BE direction from him, and I shrugged, meaning, “go ahead oh ye of little faith, but I’m not going to be implicated in your scheming.”  Before you could say “humana” (Cebuano for ‘done’) he had tracked down President Schmutz’s law firm, called him up out of the blue (random call from unknown, un-referred, overzealous potential missionary) and set up an appointment for us to meet the Schmutzes (yes, that is far too many consonants, and does it rhyme with pooch or ruts or what? but I was willing to put that aside—they still might be nice people) when we were out in Utah, just before they headed off for the isles of the sea to gather some remnants of Israel and save a bundle of souls.

And then came the confirmation of God’s hand in this.  We met them at Mimi’s in Orem and they were perfect—it was love at first sight.  We fell into easy conversation, we had kids who knew their kids, they were the perfect combination of spiritual giant and down to earth homey.  We knew these were the people we wanted to serve with, and we knew God approved.  President had already looked into the process of how we could serve together, and he assured us that, though he would request us, and we would request his mission, the general authorities and missionary committee would still pray about and receive inspiration on the assignment, and we could rest assured this was part of a faithful process.  His assurances were all I needed, in addition to the initial feeling of belonging with them, to proceed.  We submitted the papers and when we opened the call, trying to steel ourselves against the possibility we still might go to (fill in the blank of wherever seems your least favorite place), we both cried, grateful for God’s mercy in not just allowing this, but in orchestrating it for us in such a way that I knew it was His will.

Our mission has been one miracle after another—week after week of being led and allowed to minister or even just be the catalyst for someone else to minister.  We have been stretched, we are being refined, we are better for being here. We have touched a lot of souls.  And, God willing, someone you know might too.
Of course we can not say, even if one were to request this mission, that this is where one would be sent, or even that, once here, President would be inspired to assign you to this area, but if you feel impressed to act on this, or to share it, please take that opportunity.

You must know someone who is considering, or already in process of applying.  Have them contact us by email--  decropper@gmail.com.  --and we will give them details.

Happy Birthday Dear Becca!! temple miracles

Dear Rebecca,

As we think about your birthday and reflect on your life and your influence in our lives, we feel the very gratitude that is your hallmark characteristic.  You have voiced many times, and you live it to the full, the notion that gratitude shapes our lives and allows us to navigate the rough waters. And we agree.  And we are so grateful to our Maker for you. For so many reasons and in so many ways, we are grateful for you.

We have been talking and thinking about what to link your birthday blog to—what would you enjoy or relate to—and we have been led, both through experiences placed in our way and through thoughts that have presented themselves to us, to share with you the following (and yes, we are aware of the irony and also the timeliness of this topic for you):

Brother M last June with his immediate family

This week we found out that Brother M was struggling.  His brother, told us of some of the circumstances.  Both the brothers and their sister had been sealed to their mother and her deceased husband in June in the Cebu temple and we were privileged to be there.  Each brother was then sealed to his wife and their children.  It was a three-generation eternal fiesta.

But, as is always the case, trials come along with the blessings, and Brother M has been afflicted with some kind of disease that is turning his lower leg black, then he developed an ulcer on top of that.  Pretty ugly.  But then he lost his job of 15 years.  He is a security guard at a bank, another guard got mad about something and punched him a couple of times in the face so he hit the guy back and they were both suspended.  So, needless to say he was feeling rather dejected. When we visited him he kept shaking his head vigorously, like a big bull, so mad at himself, so mad at the other guy, so sure there was no way out of the hole he’d put them in, trying to shake off the pain and memory of it, trying not to cry.

Elder Cropper felt strongly that a return trip to the temple would give this couple the perspective they needed to help them face their battles, but their next goal for returning wasn't until in 2014.  We were heading to Cebu to stay with the Schmutzes and attend the temple for our monthly visit, so I suggested they come with us.  It was a stretch for them—conceptually to do something that spontaneously, and financially even though the expenses would be from our perspective, minimal— but they agreed and we got him in to a doctor the next day (they put him on antibiotic and took a culture—results pending) and picked them up for the trip the day after that.

Small talk was minimal, and any other talk was virtually non-existent on the 4 and a half hour trip.  When we had to communicate something vital, like scheduling for them at the patron house, or sessions, we just hoped we were being understood.  Sister M’s English is a little more fluid than his, and we are SOOOO grateful she and others we speak to have developed the skill to the extent they have, but still there is always a language barrier that adds an element of risk to every conversation.

At the temple we did some initiatory work with them, then basically left them on their own while we went off to accomplish other necessary tasks.  We didn’t even see them again at the temple when we went the next day, though they were there.

As we travelled home that evening, there was still plenty of silence. It wasn’t until we boarded the barge, got out of the truck, and Elder Cropper and Brother M were standing on the boat under the stars that he expressed how peaceful he felt.  He said all his feelings of fear and anger were gone, and that in the temple he felt peace and he knew that everything would be ok—he knew none of his problems were even important, like they weren’t real anymore, though he still knew they were ahead of him.

His wife, always faithful, even back during his less active, gambling addiction days, had never lost sight of that certainty, but to have her husband feel it was a miracle, and she couldn’t express enough how grateful she was for that experience. They had done initiatories, attended two endowment sessions, and participated in sealings, all in the less than 24 hours we were  in Cebu.  In telling Pres Schmutz of it, Brother M said, “It was good to remember our covenants.” Isn’t that the truth.

Becca, since we can’t mention the most salient detail of your life right now, but since it looms so large over every aspect of your life, let us just say that we are so very grateful that you and Marcus have made those same covenants.  What a comfort it is to picture you two together for eternity, come what may.  How grateful we are that the two of you honor and cherish your temple covenants, and are raising your children to do the same.  A multi-generation eternal fiesta.

See the dome of light over the temple. 

While they were in the temple, we were getting our other Cebu stuff done, including getting our dose of Schmutz lovin’ that is mandatory to our enduring to the end with a glad heart. President Schmutz told us the most amazing story. A woman who was visiting in Cebu, stood in her high rise hotel window shooting pictures of the city view.  She saw the temple not far off and took several photos.  After looking at the pictures in the camera it puzzled her greatly. The camera was seeing something that she couldn’t see.  She went back to the balcony that evening and took some more, and they reflected the same phenomenon.

  She thought she saw angels over the temple

She was so intrigued she set out to find the building.  She showed up at the mission office on the temple grounds and asked about what the building is and what it is used for. She then produced her camera and showed Sister E, the office manager, the photos she had taken.

There were a couple dozen photos of the temple, some close ups, some at night, some day, and in every photo there was a visible bubble over the temple, like a rainbow without the colors. In some, the bubble was large, others just barely covering Moroni.  In a few there was a double layer.  It was certainly astonishing, and though it may be explicable through some sort of law of physics or light refraction process, it was nonetheless provocative.  Sister E copied the pictures onto her computer and Elder Cropper of course got a copy of the pictures. 

Even during the day time it is visible.

What looks like a double dome

When one considers that every prophet in the history of the world has prophesied of the restoration, and looked forward to the time when Elijah would restore the sealing powers;  when you think that the lives of those prophets and all their people is in vain if the work of temples does not go on; when you think of the prayers that have been said for countless generations that Elijah would return and usher in this work; and when you think that here, on the isles of the sea, that work is going forward; it is no wonder that a temple of the Lord would have a visible protection.

And you dear daughter, valiant mother in Zion, are part of this great work too.  We picture that same protection, hovering over your entire family, holding it together, protecting you as a unit because you faithfully chose to lay claim to the great blessings and promises of the temple. We could not be more proud of you.  We are astonished at your courage, your cheerfulness (I know, gratitude is the secret!!) your pioneer spirit—forging ahead in school and life, with its current added struggle, as if it wasn’t extremely hard.

May God continue to keep your family within his protecting care.

Love always,

Mom and Dad 

Different times of the day it's still there

Perhaps protection, perhaps celestial power. Maybe through God's lense  he sees our personal temple this way.

Sister M: No Pictures

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, but didn't post it yet.  Maybe it's too sad for this venue, but then, maybe not posting it is not real honest.  There are no photos, but maybe my words will paint picture enough.

Today sister M came to church for the first time in a while.  She is a tiny, elderly, emaciated, hunched-over woman with the look of death.  Her teeth are all but gone, her mouth black inside, her bones too sharp, too prominent, her flesh non-existent under her draping skin, under her drooping clothing. Her mouth stays open, of necessity: her breath comes shallow, with a tiny cough on every exhale, until eventually she gives in to a wracking, gurgling fit of coughing.  Her eyes, hollow and deep, reflect bull-dogged tenacity and echo desperation.  She shuffles, too weak to really lift up her feet. The Branch President helped her get treatment (arranged for rides to the clinic, church funds for appointments, medicine)  which she has been on for 6 months, for her tuberculosis, but her chest is not clear.  I have no idea how she stays alive. 

Today, as usual, she has a child (anywhere from 2-7--you can't tell by normal size or developmental cues due to malnutriton) with her—this one a granddaughter, you can guess by the pink shift she has on—sometimes it’s two or even three kids.  Last time I saw her, maybe a month ago, she had the same girl with her and the girl’s head and shoulders were covered with angry red and black scabs.  Back then, sister M had to take the child out of Relief Society because she was crying--sort of a moaning, high-pitched whimper--but she was too weak to pick her up, so she just pushed her along with her foot, till the lady next to her picked up the child and carried her out. Think of the risk involved in that act of unselfish kindness—the child almost certainly a TB carrier, and the disease that caused the scabs?  This week the girls scabs have healed, the shaved head covered with an ultra-short layer of hair, but the scars from them on her back are still visible.  She didn’t cry today.  Her big empty eyes and blank expression tell the story: she has learned that crying is futile. A sister translated for me, as we listened to Sister M tell of her most recent plight.  Her granddaughter had a baby recently, and after 5 days, left the child with Sister M and fled the island.  Sister M is left to care for yet another child she cannot carry or feed—an infant she will most certainly infect with TB.

Back in the flooding last year, Sister M and her husband ended up at the emergency shelter several times, each time rescuing from the flood waters the multiple kids whom I don’t even think are all related to them. We delivered rice and canned goods and water to them there at the shelter.  When we first met them, they lived in a hut near the mouth of the Amlan River, a hut that we later saw filled with sand and debris after the worst flooding, but which has since been rebuilt. Elder Cropper and I thought she had recently relocated to Dumuguete, but then here she was at church in Amlan today.

You needn’t ask the questions—Why? How? Who?  There are no answers big enough for a life this broken.

Some people are so close to this edge that precarious-ness is their way of life.  They teeter, grab a limb to steady themselves, wobble, regain their balance, catch a gulping breath, then slide a ways and grab hold again—maybe they are grabbing hold to a relative with a job who can give them a day’s rice. Maybe they grab hold to a lender who is willing to lend them more money (this time though they have to put up their ancestral home as collateral, even though the loan is for 1/1000th of the house’s worth). Maybe they grab hold by marrying their daughter off to a wealthy foreigner. Maybe they grasp a government program for the indigenous, or a free visit to the health clinic. Maybe they grab hold of a Branch President who gives them assistance not just of the material kind but an actual plan to get off the tight rope. Maybe.

We spend our time giving the most stability we can to the most receptive people we can, in the broadest path that we can.  People who are willing to grab hold of the Gospel, who experiment on Christ’s promises, who have the patience to hold on to the Savior even when their trials worsen during the process; those are the people who make it, who get strong enough to be the one doing the rescuing.  Somehow Sister M holds tight to her hope for a better life to come, and with the power that only that hope can illicit, she finds strength to rescue the little ones for yet another day. But when we go to bed, we are haunted by her face, her little ones, her tenacity. I wonder where the newborn is tonight.  I let out a sob, and pray that Sister M. will let go. Just can't she please let go?