Dear Grandchildren,
You know the song, "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer?" Well, our Grandma got bumped bad in a fall. Last evening, after eating dinner in a seascape restaurant, we were walking to an interesting neighborhood that we wanted to show to the two YVs who were in town and, in the dark, she stepped off an elevated step into thin air. She fell, mashing her left hip into the sharp, hard edge of a sidewalk tile, scraped her arm, and banged her ankle. If she had hit her head as she plunged forward, who knows what she might be facing. Today she is sore, as you can imagine. But she has soldiered through the day, including carrying a load of items to our church meeting. I am grateful that she was not hurt any worse. Who was it who said, "Getting old isn’t for sissies"? At our age, anything unforseen has the potential to be really serious.
Yesterday was the perfect day for a baptism. It began with rain and ended with rain. But in the meantime, by the time we reached the seashore to perform a baptism, the sun had come out and the Aegean’s waves were moderate. Fifteen of us attended, including the candidate, of course. We stood in a circle on the beach, sang a verse of "I Am A Child Of God," listened to a sister’s opening prayer, heard a talk on the importance of baptism by a YV who had taught the person, and then witnessed a brother baptize her in the Aegean Sea within sight of where the Apostle Paul sailed in these waters, and in the presence of the mother and the rest of us. After the two who got wet dried off and dressed, we finished the service inside an empty restaurant, an event that a friend had arranged, by listening to another YV talk about the Gift of the Holy Ghost and an older sibling talk briefly about covenants. The seven of us who hold the Melchizedek priesthood then placed our hands on her head as I confirmed her a member of the Church and gave the Holy Ghost to her. Our closing prayer and blessing on the food were offered by another sister. The restaurant staff then brought out a delicious meal and spread it on the table before us. One of our branch members announced to the two missionaries that his twelve-year old son should be the next one baptized.
It was unusual that the YVs had come at all. They had been teaching the person for several months and enjoyed a good relationship with her. A unique decision allowed them to come for the baptism from another city, and they added a lot both to the ordinance and to our church service (I asked them to speak at both events). We look forward to the arrival of such young people in the future. (We hope, we hope, we hope.)
The audible sigh of relief you heard came from me at the end of the four-week intensive Turkish class. Wow! That was a big-time pushing of the brain. My brain. And it has still not stopped. I have pages and pages of notes and a bunch of things that I need to memorize. So I am set up for the next two or three months while I decide whether to plunge in again. Maybe, maybe not. I haven’t felt that kind of pressure since I was in graduate school. To her credit, Grandma acted as if I were back in school and gave me the time and space to do homework and the like. I now possess a measure of confidence in entering a conversation with another person. But I am by no means accomplished enough to carry on a conversation for more than a few seconds. Tops. My Turkish is still a big mess.
The peaches have finally disappeared from the store shelves. They were wonderful while they lasted. We now see more apples and pears and plums besides tomatoes and cucumbers and other later fruits and vegetables. Grandma's salads are still wonderful. We have stopped going out so much and eat our evening meals in our apartment. I like that arrangement much better. Besides, the weather has turned cooler. We have to retreat inside restaurants, even though owners keep tables and chairs outside. Inside, the temperature is a little warmer and the smoke is harder to detect. Our diet has been healthy. Generally, Turkish foods are full of good ingredients. But I miss the variety of salads that we used to get at Arab restaurants. Until last Saturday. At our lunch following the baptism, the restaurant, at the encouragement of the friend who made the arrangements, graced our long table with some really nice salads to accompany the meat dish. I liked the arrangement a lot. We may return there for the next baptism. At a pretty good cost, I might add.
I love you all and pray for you.
SKB
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