arrived in Amlan

I promised more detail, and we had some great pictures to share, but our internet connection where we came to work on this is painfully slow, we worked on it for a couple of hours, then lost the few pictures we had been able to upload. We are having technology nightmares. Hmmm maybe it's because we are on a remote island in the middle of Philippine nowhere. Anyway, this week we will try to conquer. In the meantime you get only words and a picture of our little friend who lives in our bedroom. I know, sounds romantic and exotic and all to have a cute little gecko in your room, but 1) he makes a clicking sound that will wake you from a deep sleep, and 2) when you watch him on the ceiling above you, could you really sleep wondering how sure footed he is, and will he land on your face?
We drove to the bottom of Cebu island yesterday and the deeper we got, the more jungle surrounded us. Still, at least along the roadways, the people are as dense as the vegetation behind their little towns and villages. It was more and more clear that we were getting ever further from anything remotely familiar.
A wonderful couple from Arizona, who are here on an extended vacation/learning experience with their 3 youngest boys, heard we were coming and rode the ferry over to meet us and get us on the right barge. Oh people are so good.
They are on our angel list for sure.
An important aside: We have decided not to add names of members or missionaries on our blog, for the sake of their privacy. We may add pictures, but you won't know names, unless we forget.
We were met at the ferry-landing on the island of Negros by the zone leaders for the Tanjay Zone, and they drove with us to show us our new home.
It is lovely--it is completely furnished, right down to sheets and utensils. Of course it is extremely different from anything we are used to--all tile floors, air con in bedrooms only. windows that open out, but that when closed have great gaps to to let in mosquitoes and or anything else. a shower that is seperated from the rest of the C.R. (aka comfort room, aka bathroom) only by a curtain. Different, but all perfectly fine and manageable. We just have to be flexible
Here is what I'm grateful for:
a water heater (seems silly in this climate, but warm water is still good for showering, even in the tropics)
bottled water
my companion
Missionaries who are willing to help us
plumeria
ear plugs (that gecko!!)
MANGO AFTER MANGO AFTER MANGO Elder Cropper is in heaven!
SAints in Amlan and everywhere else.
We went to church today.
We drove in to the property about 1/2 hour early. Some families were already there and a few little kids ran to the car to greet us and everyone, young and old were so welcoming. I tried to just enjoy their sweet spirits, but it was super worrisome to know that of all the names they said, I could understand and repeat maybe 1/4, and of those I could remember only a couple. I wrote down as many as I could. They care so much to be recognized by the "senior couple", and I hate the thought of not giving them enough love by forgetting names. Can you pray for that particular for us?
The people are amazing, the lesson and talks were in varying percentages of English and Bisayan, with Bisayan being predominate by far. They mix it up in the most fascinating way.
We have been told that we can "get by" in English, but it is very evident that getting by is not sufficient, and learning Bisayan will be crazy hard
We have no idea what we will be filling our days with--we get to mostly define it as the time goes by.
We are sitting at an outdoor table at the little resort that is next to our home. We can hear the waves lapping on the shore, and the cicadas and crickets are singing. Katie calls this our working vacation, because the surroundings are so lovely. And it's true, our immediate surroundings are, but right next to us, people are cooking on open fires, children have deformities that would make you weep if you thought too long about it, people have no jobs and no food other than what they can scavenge. God is good, but life is hard here, and gold and silver have we none to offer (it's not even allowed for us to help people financially), but we have the gospel and it is already evident, from the faithful saints we've seen in Amlan Branch, that the gospel blesses families in very tangible ways.
Thank you for your emails and comments. I'm off to settle in for the night, with the big guy (Elder Cropper) and the little guy below.

We really ARE in Cebu!!

We left Salt Lake on a Monday night after one final scare, Elder Cropper's Mom had a bad fall that day and gashed her shin in a huge sweeping arch to the bone. Our farewell dinner with her turned out to be take out food in her apartment. It was heart wrenching to leave her, but there was no helping it. Sweet Shane turned out to be our only and extremely appreciated escort to the airport, and we were off.
Elder Cropper thought you'd be able to see the hills of Hong Kong in the background

Yeehah!! we are in Cebu. After a 30 hour trip, we have never been so happy to see anyone as when we came out of customs and there were President and Sister Schmutz smiling and waving. This is the view out the front of their house on the temple complex, the glorious Cebu temple


I'm in a rush, so I can't share more. We haven't been able to get on line till this morning, and now we are off to our assignment. We head out in minutes with the truck we'll be renting from the church filled with supplies. we have a 3 hour drive, then a ferry ride then we will be in Amlan. Yes, it is getting real. We love this place, we have been thoroughly trained and pampered by the Schmutzes and all here, now we leave the shelter of the temple complex and off we go!!

Training (aka pouring water into a sieve)

Happy Birthday Rebecca!!!

We are staying in the Mission Training Center in Provo, Utah, just blocks from where Elder Cropper grew up (yes, I now refer to my husband/companion/side-kick as Elder—he at least looks elder-like, as compared to the young missionaries for whom that title seems a stretch. I am called, even by him, Sister Cropper). We were set apart last Tuesday by President Morris, and we were surrounded by many of our dear ones.

We left Oregon in the wee hours. Tanner and Taylor dropped us off and Nate Williams and Brian Green braved the cold and early hour to wish us well.



We had a bike ride into the glorious fall display in Provo Canyon, drove higher into the alpine loop for another dose of fall color and family, spent time with more dear ones, said our goodbyes, hugged our hugs, shed our tears, and now we are focused on learning all we can that will be useful and helpful on our mission.

This place is so far beyond amazing! There are 2700 missionaries here this week. (This was on the lawn of the Temple across from the MTC during a fire drill.)

Each one has a story, a reason, a miracle that has occurred to allow or cause him or her to be here. Each has left behind things they treasure, each has found his or her own personal motivation, each has at least some trepidation over being here, leaving home, learning a language, at yet, they are here, in droves, all dressed in missionary attire, all willing to conform in ways that are very foreign to them in order to go out and invite people to come to Christ.


Everything here is lovely and/or excellent, from the food to the accommodations, to the instruction, to the facilities, but it is the magnitude of it all that gives me pause and that I marvel at—the amassed power of this mighty army.

Of course we had to take our picture in front of the huge world map.

And then this picture has a story.
Brigham Young and Heber C Kimball were called to serve a mission in England. They and their families were all deathly sick, but the men were heading out anyway. When they got a short distance away, they decided they had to at least try to leave on a note of encouragement, so they dragged themselves to standing in the wagon bed and shouted back to the house, “Hoorah Hoorah for Isarael which brought their wives, also nearly too sick to stand, out onto the porch to wave farewell. The story is depicted in a painting that hangs in the MTC. In our family it is a tradition to shout hoorah for Israel when someone leaves, especially if their leaving is particularly hard or for long. And so, a picture in front of that painting,

And we too stand, wave goodbye and say, “hoorah for Israel!”

Cebuano? Really?

Two years ago, in anticipation of one day serving a mission,I began a deeper study of the Book of Mormon. I wanted to be able to access its contents and use them as a tool in whatever setting, so that I could think of a topic, and without topical guide,turn to a scripture that would address that concern. To do that, I started reading and writing out a synopsis, broken down by doctrinal content and by events. It took a long time, and when I was finished,I realized that it was still too lengthy and cumbersome, and that I had not fulfilled my goal. So I took that abridgement and started abridging it further, hoping to get a succinct enough version that I could then memorize where the groupings of topics were and what stories they were connected to. I was in the process of that exercise when we decide to actually choose a date for our application to be in and an availability date for serving. At that point my study focus changed. We felt an urgent desire to study Preach my Gospel and began on that in earnest while my Book of Mormon study was mostly put aside.

Scroll down a few months. We received our call to Philippines Cebu and I was struggling not just to learn the language but to understand how to deal with the obvious futility of learning this language. Granted there is the gift of tongues, but there is a reason that senior couples often do not learn the language—they don’t get 2 months of intense immersion language training, they do not have a trainer who is master of the language, they are old, with old brains, and in our case we will not truly be immersed in the language. Church will be held in Cebuano, but for the most part, people can speak English, so Cebuano is not mandatory in many circumstances. But,perhaps the most powerful reason I have felt inadequate to the task and resistant to the assurance that it is possible, is the fact that nowhere on our call does it mention Cebuano. The prophet called our assigned language tutor from the MTC to teach in Cebuano, but he did not thus call me. So, though I was giving it much time and my best effort, I had not the vision of, nor even really hope that it would be beneficial or even possible to learn, and so I was feeling frustrated, even damned in my attempts, envisioning a stumbling bumbling conversation that ends in the other person switching to English out of frustration.

Yesterday, as I spoke with our tutor and the dear volunteer who she had arranged to practice with me I fell all to pieces. Marty said something in Cebuano and I had no idea what it was. I couldn’t even tell if it was a question, if I was supposed to answer, or if I was supposed to generate another question of my own. I sat there mute. And they let me, waiting for me to figure it out, but I couldn’t and I just started to cry. I wailed, “I’m going to spend the next 18months mute!” The 2 sisters were most patient and encouraging, citing their own frustrations early on and referring to conference talks. They said all the right things, and I ended up ready to try again and get back on the proverbial (in this case ridiculously impossible-to-ride) horse (remember, I won’t have a trainer or a call). I even was able to send a lighthearted email about it, apologizing for my soppy behavior and assuring them I’d be fine. But I still felt unsatisfied that I’d be able to maintain hope, when none of it was making sense (not the language, but the process/need).

Then this morning I listened to a conference talk that Ian had suggested to me from Priesthood session. I had asked him to suggest something that from his experience as a trainer of senior missionaries would be helpful in my struggle. It was elder Holland’s talk, and it made the whole thing seem so real. He did not address the language problem per se, but he called for an army, and all of a sudden I could picture myself as a soldeer in that army, and I had tools and could craft new ones. It felt VERY empowering.

Then later in the morning, as Dean was tutoring with our tutor,I got on the treadmill and rather than listening to an audible book, I started on the conference talks. Ya, I’d already listened to 1, so a little respite from heavy and deep would have been justified, especially since running is not eased by conference talks so much as by historical fiction. Nonetheless, I had been emboldened by Elder Holland’s call, and I would not be a slouchy soldier, so I chose conference and started at the beginning—Elder Scott on the value of scripture.

My first insight had to do with the story he told of Peter denying Christ thrice, But that is another entry.

As I struggled up the incline on the treadmill, Elder Scott spoke of his precious wife Jeanine and her love of the Book of Mormon, first on her mission in the North West US, then on their mission in Cordova. I wondered if she learned Spanish. I wondered if she felt mute as I do, but he said that she strongly encouraged the use of the Book of Mormon in their proselytizing efforts, encouraging all to base their lives on its doctrine. I wondered how she had done that in a foreign language, certainly she had only rudimentary Spanish if any: her earlier mission had been English speaking, so how could she have been so clear to the people about the power of the Book of Mormon, in a foreign language? And it hit me. That book speaks for itself! No amount of Cebuano-butchering that I do will diminish its power! And I can read it IN CEBUANO!! My study last year has given me better access to the book and that access translates in my own, familiar, English letters into Cebuano!! I can conquer whatever level of Cebuano Amahan sa Langit is willing to bless me with,but it will be the Book of Mormon that will eloquently teach whatever it is I wish to communicate of God’s plans and processes. Oh what a relief that inspiration was. I can now dig into my language study with out the seeming paradox of needing to master what is un-masterable in my circumstances. I can learn for the joy of it, for the love it will allow me to feel and to convey, but not with the added burden of feeling I had to teach in it. The Book of Mormon will do that for me.

Am I still daunted in learning Cebuano? Oh yes. Every phrase I painfully, haltingly put together with the aid of pattern phrases elicits images of ineptitude and frustration. But, there is the hope that I can point to the Book of Mormon and use it to bless lives.

test post

This is high level tricky business. Looks easy, but it's not.




I'm sitting in Anne's living room trying this out. Carter is helping us by smiling on command if anything gets too too complicated for Grammy. He even has a brand new, single tooth to show us with each grin.