The Miracle of the Berliners

....not to be confused with The Miracles of the Loaves and Fishes. This was DESSERT!

Last week we decided to ask new-member-George (Hor-hay) to make some of his specialty filled doughnuts for us to share at the Fundo. Why yes,  Chile is a perfect place to find German pastry of this variety, surprisingly.

We debated how many to request since so many workers have been laid off for the winter. When we took cookies a week ago there were about 25 trabajadores. I suggested to be safe we should have him make 40 or 50. In true Jay fashion, "Elder Bagley" (aka: "Bagley" or, at times, "Val," the previous missionary) ordered SIXTY Berliners and arranged to pick them up at noon today from his humble home.

The aroma was tantalizing as we sped to the first of two comedores where the workers eat lunch, but we restrained ourselves from trying one in the interest of getting to both places on time. We were amazed at the number of men and women that were working today. Tables and vans full of people just finishing their break who were so happy to see us bearing dulces! Many thanked us in English and we were on our way to stop number two.

The huge tub of pastries had diminished considerably. I counted only 13 remaining, and fearing it wouldn't be enough, made Jay go count the number of men. He came back to the car in 3 seconds saying, "It 'll be close, but we can figure out what to do if there are more people than that."

Nervously we began passing them out. Seven in the first area. Smiles all around. Six left. A bunch of guys are playing ping-pong and watching the game. I'm afraid it's more than six--I can't tell if anyone is in the corner of the room. Well, here goes. One. Two. Three. Four. The ping-pong players. Now the watchers. One, two......we scan the room, check out the corners, the porch....it's enough. Just barely.

We don't care a bit that our portion was the joy of having "suficiente." Oh, and that heavenly smell.

The Church in Chile: thoughts at the 6 month mark

Those who think that Mormon women don't wear pants to church have lived on the Wasatch Front too long. Here, it's maybe even more common than wearing skirts, or dresses. This winter, I've taken to both--well, really just yummy black long-johns under a skirt with fur-lined boots on my feet; but many or even most women are in pants. Nobody cares.

I love how every person greets every other person at church with a "como esta?" and a kiss on the cheek for women and children, even teenagers, and quite often men. As we have come to know people better, the kiss on the cheek comes with a tight and extended hug around the back, too. I. love. it. I did, however, buy the wrong kind of glasses before we left. These frameless ones invariably end up lopsided and smeared. Again; nobody cares.

Chile has a very low church activity rate--something like 16 percent. We see a good solid base of people at church, but there is also
 a percentage--maybe 30 percent--who seem new to us every week. With four sets of missionaries it's probable that some are investigators, but I just have to conclude that lots of members only come occasionally. This has got to be a focus as we move toward becoming a stake again. (Yes, Chile has a lot of branches and districts that used to be wards and stakes. We are working toward mature discipleship--my words-- and measured growth this time around.) Our great neighbor (in K-town) Jill Mills talked about the wards of the Church relying on STP (a fuel additive for cars), but in this case the Same Ten People; so in a way, it's a problem everywhere. We have a clot of folks who do everything, and others participate if they feel like it. BYU had a slogan, "fully committed," which is a good goal for individuals, families, wards and branches. There would be no having to rely on the STP if everyone were fully committed and carrying their little bit of the load. Wouldn't that be heavenly!? Fully committed, Not STP.

So I'm thinking about conversion. It's not really "carrying the load" that matters. It's enjoying the fruits of the Gospel. What does real conversion do to a person? It makes them different. Two of our students that have been members less than a year have told us at one time or another that they are "better" men. It is noticeable to others. These people radiate love and testimony and goodness. "By their fruits ye shall know them."

The young LDS managers on the farm--returned missionaries, often English-speaking college-graduates--are impressive to their peers. One man, not a member of the Church, tried to explain to us the quality of men he works with, "They are.... (he struggled in Spanish to find just the right word) ....noble." And they are. After a full day's work on the Fundo, they go out with the missionaries, or they lead in Branch Presidency Meetings, or they participate with their families in English classes, or they watch over a Young Men's activity, or fulfill the goal to attend the temple every week--returning home just before midnight. They are anxiously engaged. Unselfish. Impressive. Yes, noble.

The olive trees provide many metaphors, but for this topic, the care and attention to the newly planted trees is apropos. The new directions from the Missionary Committee are critical--watching over our converts for at least a year--preferably years--as they are assimilated into the ward or branch with friends, callings and being nurtured by the Good Word of Christ. Every member needs the care we give to an orchard we love and have hopes for. The hugs and kisses we receive on Sunday are but a start, and if a person isn't attending regularly, they miss even that (not to mention renewing covenants with the Sacrament and the spiritual nourishment available only in that sacred setting). The trees can't tell us when they need water, or fertilizer until it's way past time to apply it. Similarly, our members don't give off obvious signals that they are in need. This is our challenge throughout the Church and in our families. If we have tasted of the fruit, and know that it is good, how can we share it?

Juntos

Juntos means "together" in Spanish and it is our motto for our mission. We have found assorted pieces of wire on our walks through the Fundo, just lying on the ground. We would pick up these scraps when we encountered them and eventually began searching for just the right O or S. Once we learned this word, we were on a hunt to complete it, with its initial heavy-gauge letter "J." We also have the word "love" spelled out with a perfect curly L from barbed wire, which was probably the letter that got us started on this treasure hunt. Both words are the sum of our wall decorations in our little home in Chile.

At one of our favorite family's houses, we were introduced to the word juntos as the couple described for us building their house together, with smiles of pride as they looked into each-others' eyes. It truly is a home--the words el hogar, which breathe hearth, fireside, warmth and welcome-- from the gate entrance posts that support an ancient wooden oxen yoke, to the newly enlarged kitchen with its wood-burning stove and plenty of room at the table for any and all who show up. This family and their home radiate togetherness.

I think we're getting better at this juntos thing, too. After nearly 50 years of marriage, and now being together almost constantly, I think we're getting closer to understanding it. Kahlil Gibran's words on marriage used to trouble me-- I wanted no "spaces in (our) togetherness," I wanted to "drink . . . from one cup." Now I think I understand the lines, "And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

It means that we don't need to be embarrassed by each other's silliness, or mistakes, or foibles. "People get to be who they are." This includes those we married or gave birth to. How freeing! I'm not responsible, I'm not the judge; I get to be a spectator, giving them the space and the benefit of the doubt as I would a stranger--more even, because I know them intimately.

My leftover vegetables for breakfast (beets with salt today) and Jay's need for traditional breakfast fare can coexist happily. Jay's fluent Spanish and my teaching experience aren't competing and complement each other perfectly on this mission divinely inspired just for us. His willingness to be the driver works with my "knitting madly to keep my eyes off the road" coping strategy; and he has learned not to take it personally when I ask him (yes, scream) to slow down! We can read scriptures from both English and Spanish: the same verses at the same time, trading roles; sometimes me in Spanish, sometimes him, and get more out of it than we ever did alone.

My goal in being a principal was to learn what I needed to learn. My goal on my mission is to become what I can become. With God's help, and with Jay's--juntos--I am trying.

Al-righty then!

After trying to post many times and finally resorting to FaceBook, I'm back to see if time and being ignored has worked its magic on this blog site. If yes, I'll be back. If no, not many minutes wasted.

Well, well, well. I think this is going to work. I love Day One as a journal, not so much for a blog. I don't want my business being THAT public, and know only die-hard friends will ever check this blog.

Lots to catch up on if this were that sort of a blog, which it isn't. What it is, I'm not quite sure, but today I want to think about my progress in the Spanish language.

At times I think I'm getting better; and then someone tries to tell me something and I smile and nod (no-nos when you really have no idea) and you hear one say to the other, "She didn't understand a thing." Well, I understood THAT, thank you very much.

I am putting phrases together. Something like, "How many days ....to visit....your father....in Santiago..to finish?" Or, "At what time is the .....World.....toy....today?" Then, it's time for the Chileano to say, "I don't understand." I try again, "At what hour is the....football...." "Oh! Partido! A las quatro---at four o'clock." They say the last part in English.

Well, I am here to teach English. Should I be pleased or discouraged?

 Yep, completo-style hamburgers: a thick layer of mayonnaise, another of mashed avocado and a layer of tomatoes: Whopper Italiano. It was a mistake, can I just say? Next time I spring for American, I'm going American. Maybe next July Fourth.

The Fourth of July was spent yarn shopping with these two beautiful women: Hada and Sarah. I thought it was Ada until I saw her ID card. H is silent in Spanish. It reminds me of the British fellow in our tour group in Peru, who said his name was "Buuuh." Spelled B-e-r-t. I guess if you say your name is Buuh, your name is Buuh, and if you say your name is Ada spelled Hada, that's the way it is. Alrighty then.