Dear Grandchildren,
(The following may sound a little preachy. But that's ok.)
When I was in a stake presidency, one of my counselors would regularly say that the most effective way to strengthen the church in local wards and branches was to "visit, visit, visit." He made me a believer then. My experience over the last few days has made me a believer all over again. In those earlier days, this counselor was essentially the first out the door to go visiting with elders quorum presidencies in the apartments of quorum members. Later, for three years he was an outstanding mission president largely because he made a focused effort to visit members whenever he had the chance.
This past weekend has brought me reassurance that one of the most important parts of my current assignment is to visit. One of our branch members received an important award for creative work last week. Grandma and I had a conflict, but kept wondering whether we could make some adjustments so that we could attend the awards ceremony and news conference. Keep in mind that this man and I can hardly communicate because I don't speak any of the languages that he knows (Turkish and Russian among them) and he doesn't speak English. The appointments that Grandma and I had that morning ran much shorter than planned. As soon as we were able, we caught a ferry to this man's city and, with the help of a young sister who is an investigator, made it to the ceremony. It was clear on this man's face that he deeply appreciated our effort to support him. We were able to meet his pretty wife who has not been to a church service in a very long time even though she was baptized several years ago. It was clear that she also appreciated our effort to come. As a (partial) result, this man's wife came to our church services this past Sunday. I was quietly thrilled. And because of the way that one talk was aimed at this man's children, his wife was able to participate. And it had meaning for her as well as for their children. One visit. Good result. So far.
After our church service, we climbed in a rental car with one of our SVs and headed to a famous town south of here. (It happens to be the birthplace of the famous Greek historian Herodotus, if you have heard of him.) We drove for more than three hours and spent a lot of time trying to find our hotel. We went to see two sisters who grew up in Germany and now live in Turkey with their children and Turkish husbands. Those husbands have been supportive of their faith. And we met one of the husbands at the hotel because he is the manager. Our visit with him when we arrived was worth a boatload of goodwill. Then we went to his home (he was still working) and met with his wife and children and her sister and her children (the six children of these two women range from ten to two). We held a sacrament meeting with them, with very positive results. The visit with them was worth a ton. These sisters have been essentially holding Primary with their children without a sacrament meeting for a couple of years. For Grandma and me to go to visit them was priceless. We now know who they are and they know who we are. Our communication will no longer be to a faceless recipient of an email or phone call. We missed seeing another member who lives and works in that town. But we shall return every few weeks as opportunity allows. Those future visits will surely be important, especially for these women who carry on so wonderfully.
Yesterday we went to another city and visited a member who is from another country and, for a variety of reasons, has lost contact with his wife and daughter. He joined the church in a third country when he met some missionaries and has been carrying on faithfully in his small government-supplied room. He joins a distant branch via Skype for Sunday School and then, with permission, performs the sacrament prayers and partakes of the sacrament. He has applied to go to a western country but has not succeeded in getting permission. Even so, he is the quintessential man who has almost nothing but remains grateful for his blessings from his Heavenly Father, something that he expresses quickly and steadfastly.
Nelise's accident really caught us short. She wrecked close to where I wrecked years ago. The road rash and the bruises really make a rider think about the question, Do I want to ride again? In my case, a woman pulled out in front of me as I was coming down a short hill toward a parking lot. She didn't see me until I glanced off her front bumper. Since then, I have taken extra precautions in that area. Experience really is a good teacher. And so it is here. Our experiences have come to be our guides for the next steps as we feel our way along. One of our next experiences will be to enroll in a beginning Turkish class at a nearby school and try to learn something that will help us in coming months. But I am not going to take the exams. I finished with those way back in 1972 when I finished my last degree. No way. I don't need any more school credits.
I love you and pray for you.
Grandpa Brown
No comments:
Post a Comment