#94 Patriarchs (By Grandpa)

Dear Grandchildren,

The first marker of our week was a visit to Bodrum, the modern city that sits on the ancient site called Halicarnassus where the important Greek historian Herodutus was born. We did not go to look for Herodotus, though that might have been interesting enough. We went to see two biological sisters — members — who live with their families in that city. The two women are originally from Germany and have married Turkish men. Of the six children between these sisters, the only child whom we did not see was the seven-year-old who was working on his dad’s boat as it sailed with vacationers on the Aegean Sea. To reach Bodrum, on Tuesday we went to the main bus station and bought tickets. That was not very adventuresome, except that our taxi driver drew some wrath when he parked in the path of incoming and outgoing vehicles from a big parking lot. I thought that was normal. The ride itself to Bodrum was long, almost four hours. The only adventure came when a soldier got on the bus at a stop and took everyone’s ID cards, including our new passports. When he returned and gave the items to a bus representative, our passports were not among the cards. That became apparent only after the fellow began passing the cards back to their owners. I could not see our passports in his hand. When he reached us, we asked about them. He strode to the front of the bus, announced the omission to the driver, and the driver turned around. By this point, we were ten minutes down the road. Back we went. The soldiers at the stop said that they had sent our passports with the next bus and we could find them at the end of the line, in the bus station in Bodrum. By that point, of course, we were in recovery mode, as in recovering the passports. Which we eventually did, I am happy to report.

Even though it was a Tuesday, we held a sacrament meeting after a very delicious meal at one of the two sisters’ apartments. Three weeks before (this will make me sound organized), I asked the two older children and the two mothers to give talks on reading scripture and praying. They did. All in German. But I was thrilled that they did, no matter the language. My roles were to conduct the meeting, and bless and pass the sacrament. Grandma’s roles were to choose and lead the hymns, and offer one of the prayers. Things became more interesting and rewarding for me when one of the three-year-old girls warmed up to me and wanted to sit on my lap. Then the other one did. I felt like a grandpa all over again.

I took some little plastic sacrament cups to replenish their supply that they take from each week. I did so even though I had learned a few days before that customs agents had stopped a shipment of plastic sacrament cups into the country because they would be bad for the environment. Fair enough. They do add to the plastic waste in the earth, and they don’t readily degrade. But what of the billions of plastic water bottles sold in the country? It seems that what is good for the goose should be good for the gander. Ah well. Now the people in Istanbul have ordered paper sacrament cups. That will show them.

I went to see my throat–ear doctor again. Same stuff. I arrived. I was led to the audiology department. I was led to the B-level testing lab where the equipment is really old. I was taken to the A-level testing lab where a bevy of students ran my ears through the paces. I was told that my ears are "normal" in terms of the beep-beep tests. The doctor has no clue what might have happened to create the dissonance in my left ear during the cleaning ten weeks ago. Maybe something in the middle ear. Maybe not. He advised that we wait to see whether the steroid shot of two weeks ago begins to work. So far, nada. Maybe I shall take up the invitation of the MP and MP’s wife to go to Istanbul to a high-powered clinic to see whether I can get a better diagnosis. I am thinking that the condition will be permanent. Grandma is tired of repeating things twice when she is talking to my left ear.

The big news has been the coming of a patriarch who is assigned to the Europe East Area. He has been coming at least twice per year for twelve years and this is his first trip to Turkey. People are really happy. He does not give blessings back home in Orem. He voices blessings in Russian and English, and only in this part of the world. He ends his trip next week in Kazakhstan. To herald his arrival, I lined up four persons in our branch to receive blessings. One in Russian, three in English. Unfortunately, one of the English-speaking members was unable to swing a free day to travel the four hours to our hotel where the patriarch was giving his blessings. But never fear. Something else should pop up. It did. A member of the Istanbul branch has been vacationing here with his family. So he was our fourth person. But he speaks no English and no Russian. Strictly Turkish. As it happened, one of our former YVs from Turkey has been in town with his parents and younger brother. He spent the afternoon with the Turkish-speaking brother whom he had known from his mission days in Istanbul and then went into the blessing to write notes so that the brother would at least have an idea what the patriarch had said. Here is the kicker. The former YV was scheduled to go to Ephesus with his family this afternoon following our services. That was the reason they came to our fair city. But he delayed their departure until about four o’clock in the afternoon to be with and support this Turkish-speaking brother. What a gift, I say!

I must say that I am still feeling a bit tingly about the generosity of our former YV who held his family from departing for their big visit to Ephesus by remaining with the Istanbul brother who was full of questions and wonder at what would happen to him during a blessing that he could not understand. By the YV’s patience, he was able to convey the majesty and treasure of an experience that his friend will understand only when his English blessing is translated into Turkish several months hence. The fact that the YV was willing to spend the extra hour taking notes for this brother, even though it meant a much delayed departure to a highlight of his family’s trip to Turkey, touches the essence of service and love. It cannot be visualized in clearer detail.

We were twenty-one in our sacrament meeting today, thirteen in the hotel room and eight via Skype. I am not counting the nine in the sacrament meeting earlier in the week. I am amazed that the Farsi speakers who join us from Denizli each week are willingly steady, even though they understand almost nothing of what they hear. I had asked the former YV and his father to talk about reaching out to others. They each did good work. I asked the patriarch to greet everyone and bear his testimony, which he did. I thought that the quality of the meeting was superb, all as a prelude to the blessings that he gave later in the afternoon. In the midst of the blessings, I interviewed nine persons for their patriarchal blessing recommends, four in Ankara and five in Gaziantep, some by phone and some by Skype. It was a very good day.

I love you and pray for you all every day.

Grandpa Brown