Dear Grandchildren,
The week began with a trip to Kiev, Ukraine. How could that be bad? It wasn’t. Except for the start. We popped out of bed at 3:30 Monday morning to catch a 5:55 flight. Ouch! We felt like rag dolls for the rest of the day. There was little opportunity to relax on our two flights, one to Istanbul and the other to Kiev. We had to get up early because we wanted to allow plenty of time to make the flight connection in Istanbul. A person has to walk a long distance to reach the international terminal from the domestic arrival hall. Next, there is the matter of finding the airline desk to get our flight coupons (it was at the end of a huge hall), waiting to go through passport control, and then going the long distance to the gate.
We reached our Kiev hotel without difficulty. But it was of the spare sort. As soon as I opened the door, I saw a wooden floor. In a flash I understood that we were not in a very luxurious place. I was right. A small TV, no chest of drawers to put clothes into, only a few hangers for hanging other clothes, and tubes of soap that hung from the bathroom walls. The two trainers from Salt Lake City came to the hotel at 1:30 and off we went to lunch. We first walked up a long hill, then pushed through stiff doors that led into the metro, finally descended into the deepest metro line on earth. The escalators descended and rose with real speed. The motors that drive them must be huge. Grandma’s main trainer is a returned missionary from the Ukraine. He was gracious enough to introduce us to the city where he served. Among other places, he took us to the square where all the action took place a couple of years ago that ousted the old government. He also showed to us the place where Elder Packer dedicated the Ukraine for missionary work, promising that people would come into the Church by the hundreds of thousands.
The next day we went to the Kiev temple. There, in a meetinghouse on the same piece of ground, Grandma received her training. The building also houses the mission offices for one of the Ukraine missions. We saw a member of our branch who has been working in Ukraine for the past two months. We also met an elder who knows Scottie from their high school days. That evening we returned to the square and the former missionary-trainer rehearsed the events that undid the prior government, including the sniper deaths of about a hundred protesters.
Fast forward to Saturday. We went with my first counselor to Bodrum to meet the two sisters and their families who live in that city. After a very nice lunch, I told a Bible story to the children, with the mothers translating into German. Bro. G. Y. and I then had the privilege of giving four blessings for health. One sister’s husband has not been well all through the winter, nor have her two daughters. And a daughter of the other sister had taken a bad fall which probably broke her nose. After the third blessing, Bro. G. Y.’s oil ran out, so he got some from a bottle of pure olive oil and we consecrated it in that home. It was a wonderful afternoon filled with spiritual moments.
You can imagine that this morning, when the YVs were setting up the Skype, both Brother G. Y. and I took turns standing at the laptop camera waving to the mother and two children whom we blessed yesterday, just as if we weren’t 250 kilometers apart. The children are much better, their mother reports. I sense there is a growing feeling of family among us, even though we are far flung from one another.
Today, Brother G. Y. was our main speaker. We always have a translator for Turkish. But the last two weeks have seen a Farsi-speaking family join us by Skype. So what to do? The fellow and his wife from Iran who helped to translate last week during our testimony meeting did not come. So I could not appeal to either of them. It turned out that a Farsi-speaking investigator had made a four-hour train trip to join us this morning. He also speaks Turkish, his second language. So before Bro. G. Y. began his talk, I asked through one of the YVs whether the investigator, who is looking at a baptism date soon, would translate what the Turkish translator was saying. He agreed, but reluctantly, not showing much confidence or enthusiasm. To be sure, my invitation did not give him time to think about it all. But the idea came to me only after the Sacrament portion of our service.
The scene went like this. Bro. G. Y. would say a few sentences, then our regular translator would render the sentences into Turkish, and the investigator, who understands Turkish, would translate into Farsi for the sake of the couple linked to us by Skype. The longer Bro. G. Y. spoke, the more confident and relaxed the investigator-translator became. By the end, the three were working in a smooth harmony, even laughing together a couple of times. Before asking the investigator to translate into Farsi, the thought had occurred to me that this would be a good way to get this man meaningfully involved in helping us during a Sacrament Meeting. And it worked. Today I have a sweet, lingering feeling of gratitude to the Lord for bringing all the right people together for our meeting.
For our Sacrament Meeting we were twenty, eight in the hotel room and twelve joining by skype. I must say again that, without the help of the YVs, we would still be merely thinking about how to make proper technological arrangements rather than doing the deed.
I am coming to feel that one of the reasons for us coming to this part of the world is to push, with the help of very savvy YVs, the matter of connecting with church members who reside far from us. Those who join us by Skype are never the same people, or from the usual places. During the past two weeks, we have welcomed a small family from a city three hours to the east of us and two single fellows from a city six hours to south of us. None of this would be possible, of course, without the marvels of modern electronic connections. For myself, I learned that this kind of link was possible from people who worked out such a connection for priesthood meetings between a small group of Young Men in Jerusalem and a Young Man in Tiberias. The success of that venture, though not always consistent, taught me that it is possible to make the one a part of a larger whole. To see the faces of the people who join us each Sunday really stirs my soul.
I love you and pray for each of you, including especially my companion.
Grandpa Brown
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