Dear Grandchildren,
After holding onto the books in the Islamic Translation Series that BYU Press publishes and BYU’s Maxwell Institute sponsors for about eight months, I finally donated one set of the 14–volume collection to one of the local universities. Another set still sits in our apartment, looking for a new owner. All in good time, say I. I have sent an email to a professor of archaeology at another university whom I met about four months ago. I expect him to put me in contact with the librarian. I hope. These books form a very distinguished set of publications. On-line I have checked the library holdings of these two universities, and they own none of the volumes. From what little I have seen of the library where I visited with our YVs last week (yes, I dragged them along), I judge it to be a few steps below the standards of most universities in the USA. Perhaps the gift of the books will lift the quality of the holdings ever so little.
I have a heavy heart when I think of our few members in a city to the east of us. They are all Iranians. As refugees, they are hoping for a future in the West. But their nationality is now on a list that is part of a directive signed by the new US president. One of our acquaintances here, with her husband, had been accepted for relocation to the US during the coming summer with UN help. But now they are in limbo for another several months. Perhaps they will be lucky and will still be able to immigrate. Perhaps not. All of that sort of movement is now halted. I think it odd that a piece of paper — a passport, in my case — can aid or deter a person’s ability to move from country to country.
A new SV couple has arrived in Istanbul and the prior one is about to leave. The positions — secretary and financial manager — are very important to the overall functioning of what we do around here. The former couple, who arrived a few weeks after we did, has mastered the ways of doing business in this part of the world and have become enormous helps to us and to everyone else in the mission. The incoming couple have enjoyed a couple of extended experiences as SVs, including one in southern Italy, actually in Malta, with our current MP. So they are a known quantity, so to speak. The couple just celebrated their 53rd wedding anniversary and he came to Helaman Halls the same year that I did as a new BYU student, 1958. We are about the same age. He is an engineer. I don’t know what his wife’s background is, but she raised a family of seven children. That is worth a lot in my mind.
We went to our next-to-last zone conference last week, from Wednesday to Friday. The conference lasted most of Thursday. Grandma and I were featured speakers for about an hour. We were given a slot in the morning. Usually, any slot allotted to us comes in the afternoon when the conference is winding down and time has shrunk, largely letting us off the hook. On this occasion, we were prime time, so to speak. Grandma was to talk about what the Book of Mormon has come to mean to her over the course of her lifetime. I was to treat Joseph Smith similarly. Grandma did a bang-up job, as I knew she would. I was a different story. I said that my real acquaintance with the Prophet began only during my young mission days when I recited the story of his First Vision to investigators. On those occasions, the Spirit would come to me and sweetly let me know that the story I was retelling was true. After that, I quickly retreated into the Book of Mormon where I feel much more at home.
Today we were twenty-six in our sacrament meeting, eighteen in the hotel room and eight by skype. Our numbers at the hotel were buttressed by two visitors from the States, a couple of fellows who are in the sunflower seed business. Four in the hotel room were investigators, one coming for the first time. Two of our brethren helped with the sacrament for the first time, one youth passing the sacrament and the older fellow blessing the bread. I crafted our two meetings to answer questions of one of our investigators. She has been over a barrel on the issue of a modern prophet. Actually, any prophets besides Jesus. The YVs who are teaching her have spent two lessons on the matter of prophets, trying to help her to understand what a prophet is and that God has not left us to our own devices in the modern world without divine help.
For our sacrament meeting, I had asked two of our YVs to talk about how Heavenly Father answers our sincere prayers. In our combined meeting, I led a discussion on the First Vision and events that followed that event, drawing on the first lesson in the new manual based on the teachings of President Gordon B. Hinckley. In a followup lesson in our apartment, she said that she now believes that the presence of a modern prophet makes sense and she believes President Monson to be that person. We have been praying hard for her to see the light. Now she is on track to be baptized in a couple of weeks. Whew! Thanks be to the Lord for His help. We ended our meetings by giving a blessing to an investigator who is going through a rough patch in his life. He came for the first time in a couple of months. It was a sweet conclusion to our meetings.
I am finally beginning to feel the tug of home. I almost feel guilty making such an admission. I have pushed this sort of sense as far from me as I can. But, if any justification exists, I can sense that more and more pieces are falling into place here, pieces that are needed to make the branch a fully functioning unit which the Lord will recognize as His own. Ever since Elder Holland showed up in Istanbul about fifteen months ago and talked to the YVs and SVs about shaping church units that the Lord would welcome as His, I have been working to make our branch into such a place where He could come, or His servants could come, and recognize what is happening in meetings, as well as before meetings and after meetings. Among other things, I saw the wife of my new first counselor holding his hand during our combined meeting today. Why is that important or noteworthy? Because for about a year she has been less active, attending perhaps twice in that span of time. Now she is our Sunday School teacher and comes all the time. It is hard for me to describe what I feel like when she walks through the door each Sunday morning. And there are other little stories that I could tell. I don't know what the branch will look like after our departure, but it will work fine, I am convinced. At least I hope so.
Grandpa Brown
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