Dear Grandchildren,
Ten days ago, Grandma and I went with a pair of our YVs to a small mosque where a charitable organization was passing out blankets to Syrian refugees — one blanket per man or one blanket per woman with children. We were to help with crowd control and to chat with these people. Well, it has been a long time since I tried to engage someone in small talk in Arabic. And it showed. I did learn something about where people were from and other things about their lives. But no one asked me about myself. That said, the experience was a stark reminder about how blessed we are. My goodness, yes. When I was told that the earliest in line had been there, sitting in the below-freezing cold, since five o’clock or so, my heart sank. And multiple blankets were not in the works. Just one. From the stack in the little office, I guessed that all the men in line (25?) received a blanket. But the women’s line was four times as long. Fewer than half of them received a blanket. The women with small children in their arms kept trying to creep near the place where the blankets were being handed out. But they were shooed away. Many did not seem to have the required card that would allow them to get a blanket. I suspect that these people are living three and four families to an apartment, sharing the costs with one another. And trying to stay warm.
Last Wednesday, December 21, we celebrated Winter Solstice and passed our original release date. Ummm. We didn’t exactly celebrate the Solstice. But we bobbed our heads and noted that summer will soon be here. In passing our original release date, I was interested in how I did at packing certain items that I expected to use up in eighteen months. I ran out of my original supply of deodorant a couple of months ago. I am now on a local brand licensed under Dove. The special shampoo that I use once each week — I hasten to add that I wash my hair (what is left of it) every day — has lasted me well and I even have some for the next three months. The small bottle of Vaseline has just expired, or almost expired. I have maybe a week’s worth of it left. I hit that one exactly on the spot. I feel all warm inside to think I got one right. The pills? I still have an adequate supply thanks to help from family, especially Heather.
The big deal this past week happened Christmas Eve, last evening. It was the branch open house. As usual, Grandma did basically all of the work — thinking through the menu of foods for a light dinner, shopping and bringing the food items home, preparing and cooking the dishes, figuring out how to accommodate twenty plus people in our apartment, and setting up the whole experience. By good fortune, we had a couple of cancellations during the week before. Why was that fortunate? Because thirty-three showed up, many more than we could accommodate with any reasonable ease. Besides the YVs, the MP and wife, and ourselves, only three church members were among the guests. Twenty-two were either active investigators, semi-active investigators, contacts, friends of these people, or friends of ours and their relatives. Without the help of our MP and his wife, we would have sunk under the weight of our inability to work fast enough while moving through an impenetrable crowd. (See the photo of the shoes, which are three pair short because three persons came after I took the photo.)
Two moments were especially memorable. An eighteen-month girl discovered one of the gingerbread houses made the week before by one of our YSAs. One quick grab and she had a mouthful of hardened frosting. That encouraged her to go for more. By the time her mother caught her, she had cleaned off and consumed the decorated cookies that were stationed along one side of the house. The other was more traditional. Grandma thought that it would be good to sing "Silent Night" while our guests were together. So she assigned me to learn how the song was created and then to tell the story to everyone before we sang. I did so. She had printed out the song in Turkish and handed copies around to those gathered. With the help of one of the YVs translating, I told the story and then, with the help of Grandma’s Bose speaker, we all sang the hymn. That was surely a first for many who have never sung a hymn about the Savior.
As is customary, when we see a successful Saturday activity, the attendance at church meetings suffers the next day. And so it was today. Fourteen showed up in our hotel room and nine joined us by Skype for a total of Twenty-three. I was hoping for better because the MP and his wife had come to town. But I am happy with those who came. One of the investigators (five in all) is really solid and will be baptized next month. I see him as an eventual leader in the branch with a high potential. Now if we can get his wife and teenage son to come with him, I shall think that we have hit the proverbial home run.
This morning in our Sacrament meeting, our MP did something that I have not seen for a long time. He sang as a part of his talk. I spoke first and then his wife. He was our third speaker and, as usual, he did a wonderful job (as did his wife). At the end, he wanted to sing a hymn that is not in our hymnal -- "Did You Hear?" He asked if anyone in the room knew the song. No one did, at least not well enough to sing it with him. I had heard it long ago, but that qualified me for nothing. Besides, my voice would be no help. So he sang sweetly and tenderly. He had a difficult time singing some parts of it. He was obviously touched. And so were we.
I love you and pray for you every day.
Grandpa Brown
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