It's tough out here

Post-haircut shot. Mission life
is glamorous.

From time to time, the letters from TMFKATB have brought me to tears. Usually it's happened when he's shared an experience that was very similar to something I encountered when I served thirty-plus years ago. I could easily identify with his emotions and so mine were brought close to the surface. Today's letter brought me to tears smack in the middle of the ShopRite. Trust me when I tell you the only time it is justified to cry in that place is when you recognize just how much more we pay for food stuffs here in the 'Stan. It would drive the hardest of souls to tears.  But it wasn't the ridiculous prices that broke me down today, it truly was one of the best letters we've gotten in his nearly two years of service.

The bulk of his letter related the story of the miraculous events that led to the baptism of a Venezuelan family of five. His joy in their happiness and his recognition that he has been but an instrument in God's hands is what sent me into a spasm of tears. He has grown so much during these past two years. It's been amazing to watch.

It was a joyous letter but also indicative of that growth I mentioned. At the end of an exchange with me, he wrote:

A recent convert here that I was really close to got arrested and is getting deported this week. He called from jail and asked us to pray for him. His wife is a mess. It was weird for us twenty year olds to comfort them. It's tough out here. Even in America, people suffer.

He's right. It is tough out here and people do suffer here. Yet people continue to come here because as bad as it may be for them, it is far better than what they face in their home countries. The family that TMFKATB and his companion found so much joy in fled Venezuela just a few weeks ago because there is opportunity here.

It may be tough here, but there is hope here. There is opportunity here. There are people that care here. Sometimes they are twenty year olds who may not know exactly what to say but they find a way to bring comfort. There are lots of good people in this country of all stripes who are looking to make it a little less tough. And that is a good thing.

'Hello' is what he called this week's letter

Last night a friend of ours asked me if TMFKATB's mission had gone by quickly or slowly. With the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML away on her ten day "I'm sick of Connecticut" tour with her sister, I answered the question solely from my perspective. One word was all it took: quickly. I am amazed at how the time has flown by. Wasn't last Monday's update posted five minutes ago? No, it was seven days ago but it feels like it was just a second ago. I did caveat my answer since we got him home for three weeks for the "Gastrointestinal Tragedy Recovery Tour 2015." I'm the first to admit that made the two years easier to bear. That said,  in all honesty, it really has passed by so much faster than I ever anticipated.

I mean, here we are again, another Monday, and another update from TMFKATB. Not to sound like a broken record, but his letter was another good one. He got to lead another leadership training session in Spanish and loved it. He's challenging himself with some of his personal study. He's stretching himself as he works and serves. That's not a bad thing at all. As he put it, "I just really enjoy the work."

I had to laugh at the title of his weekly email, "Hello." I knew it was not an homage to Adele. He probably has no idea that she even released a new album, as missionaries find themselves in a cultural vacuum during their period of service. That said, there's a missionary-themed spoof of "Hello" floating around on the interwebs. It's pretty clever. Take a look here if you want to check it out. For those of you behind the Zion Curtain, trust me if TMFKATB turns up on your doorstep, he won't bust out into song. I promise.

Shaking my head

Yes, it's a rat in his elbow. Why? I know not.

Since we had just gotten his update late last week, it really has only been a few days since we heard from TMFKATB. So today's update was, in his words, "quick."

He really didn't have much more to report, other then being a bit bummed that his zone (think work group or team) didn't hit the goals they'd set. I think it's frustrating him, so he's getting some good experience in being a young leader. He and his companion will have to work on different ways to motivate a diverse group of missionaries. These are situations that will benefit him as he continues to mature. It's not a bad thing to be tested.

He's testing us too with the rat picture he sent us. I cannot imagine what he's doing letting a rat crawl over him. It's not like he has an affinity for them. I mean, who does? I'm really shaking my head over this one.

Pretty darn close

Dueling Painters

For the last nineteen days, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML has been burrowed up behind the Zion Curtain welcoming our new granddaughter to the world. I joined her this past Friday and we had a wonderful time (more on that in another post). One of the odd things about visiting our family who have settled behind the Zion Curtain is that it puts us minutes, literally minutes, away from TMFKATB. It's just odd to be that pretty darn close and to not see him. The first time we were in Utah after he was reassigned there, I cried like a little girl when I saw the name of the city he was serving in on an offramp sign on the I15. It wasn't much better the next couple of times, until this visit. I saw that same sign as I drove and it brought a smile to my face because I was so aware of the happiness he's feeling as he serves, learns, and grows. For those Den readers who don't know, missionary contact with their families is limited to Christmas and Mother's Day calls and weekly letters, so if you happen to be where your missionary is serving, it's not like you run on over and say, 'Hola!' 

This week's letter reflected that ongoing happiness, growth, and learning. He described a week of ups  and downs, but if I'm being honest, it was pretty hard, even reading between the lines, to find the downs. He talked about some of the challenges with some of the people that they have been teaching but he wrote of seeing the progress that was coming from those challenges. He seems to be learning how to connect with people from all over the Spanish-speaking world too. He was pretty pumped to be working with an Argentine couple. The home-cooked Argentine meal he had and loved with them seemed to only endear him further. It made him happy.

As we drove to the airport and passed that infamous offramp sign early this morning, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I talked about being so close, so pretty darn close, to TMFKATB. Neither of us had felt tempted to try and run into him. Frankly, it wouldn't be fair to him. These two years are his to grow, develop, and focus. These two years are what he has committed to God. They are not our two years, so it makes being pretty darn close more than good enough for now.

July '85: When Tina Turner sang me through the gates of Heaven

Yes, I did think it was a sports car. 

The summer of 1985 found me preparing to embark on my LDS mission. I'd completed a year and half of study at the BYU and I was home for a couple of months, earning some mission cash. I was working again (I'd worked there during high school but I was no longer required to where the 'elf' outfit - let's not speak of it again) in a Scandinavian imports store in what was then Snottsdale Scottsdale's answer to Rodeo Drive (if Rodeo Drive were populated by Gilbert Ortega Indian jewelry outlets). I'd roll in to work on those summer mornings in my super sweet Honda Civic 1300FE, with the sounds of the B52s blaring from the cassette deck. If you're wondering what the "FE' stood for, it was not 'Ferrari Engineered. It was, wait for it, Fuel Economy. My teenage delusions led me to believe I was driving the coolest sports car ever. These were the same delusions that led me to a most unfortunate "Urban Cowboy" phase earlier in the 80's. You would have thought I would have learned a thing about delusions from that hideousness alone, but I did not.

While the B52s were my morning jam, my musical accompaniment on the way home was usually Tina Turner and her career restoring album, "Private Dancer." Even then, I was wickedly susceptible to ear worms and in the summer of '85, there was no escaping Tina. So on a hot July afternoon thirty years ago, I was on my way home from work, listening to Tina, with my open can of Pepsi (I know, I know, Pepsi. I was 18. Chalk it up to teenage foolishness) ensconced between my legs. That was what we called a cup holder in those days. Cars did not come with the pre-requisite 79 cup holders like they do today. We had to improvise.

As I was heading northbound towards an intersection, listening to Tina demand "Let's stay together," I noticed that the car heading westbound was going to blow through the stop sign that only the east and west bound drivers had. At that moment, everything slipped into that slow motion, suspended animation that any of you who have been in a car accident may recognize. Within seconds, this little Fiat convertible T-boned me in the passenger side of my car and sent my Civic spinning into the yard of one of the houses lining the street.

The force of the accident slammed me into my door, knocking me unconscious and causing some other fun, albeit minor injuries. Of course, I didn't know that. The force of the accident also slammed my legs together, causing the open can of Pepsi to explode like a volcano, covering me in its carbonated goo. As I began to come out of the blur, I couldn't, or wouldn't, open my eyes. I felt like I was covered head to toe in something wet (the aforementioned Pepsi) and all I could hear was the raspy voice of Tina Turner imploring that we stay together. It struck me as odd that she just kept saying, 'Let's stay together.' I thought because I couldn't open my eyes and wasn't feeling anything that I was dead and that Tina was the lead 'Welcome' songstress. This was an answer to prayers because I was really hoping that the chorus of heavenly angels would be a little more peppy than the Mo'Tab. I, at that point, was delighted with how things were turning out for a dead guy. I mean Tina Turner leading an angelic choir. I'd had a pretty awesome life up to that point. So if was the way I was going out, it was time to just wait for my name to be called or for someone to say, 'Go towards the light.'

And then, the pain kicked in and my eyes sprung open. I could no longer hear Tina. I heard sirens. I was not dead. Dang it. What followed was a delightful chat with the police and paramedics, including my refusal to be treated on scene because 18 year olds are invincible. I wasn't invincible as my visit to our family physician proved the following day. I was wrecked but I was in far better shape than my totaled car. For the car, it was fatal, but for Tina, not so much. I managed to pry the cassette out of the tape deck because priorities.

As the car was towed away a couple of days later to be parted out, a part of my youth went with it. It was time for me to grow up. I was leaving for a two year mission in what was then a matter of days. I had no idea what was ahead of me. The growth. The challenges. The tests. The joy.

I hear the first few notes of "Let's Stay Together" today and it's July 1985 all over again. It was the summer I straddled the line of adulthood with marginal success. It really did kick off my trip into adulthood. Thirty years later, I'm appreciative of the lessons of that summer.

And I'm still hoping that when it is my time, Tina is there to sing me in.

Hello poppet he says

Apologies for the delay in getting this week's update posted. Travel schedules made it difficult and the last time I was on the road and posted an update from TMFKATB, it was riddled with errors. Not repeating that again.

This week's update from TMFKATB was strangely titled 'Hello Poppet.' Apparently he was channeling his inner Johnny Depp / Jack Sparrow. Because pirates are like missionaries? I have no idea. It was all a bit surreal. It didn't help that I was standing in the Detroit Airport charging my iPhone when I got it. Detroit. Pirates. It was all a little off-putting. What was not off-putting, though, was his update.

Suffice to say, it was a good week. He spent most of it with other missionaries while his companion was in hospital. He is now back and they are working. TMFKATB seems to be hitting his stride, gaining further confidence through the things that he is experiencing. He shared how it felt to seeing someone on the street who looked like they were hurting and being prompted to stop and talk with that person. It was a conversation to see if the person needed help and the person's grateful reaction had a profound impact on TMFKATB. He said he feels like experiences like these are helping him to become a more charitable person.

It's great to see him growing like this. It's also fun to see that he can still pull random film references out of the blue while sharing some really cool experiences. Reason #237 why we love Mondays.

Six months out and not a dull moment yet

Fresh mango with salt and chili - his favorite snack

Tomorrow may be St. Patrick's Day but for us it will make for something a bit more significant. The 17th marks TMFKATB's six month as a missionary. This means that, unbelievably, a quarter of his two year service is now complete, but who's counting? You would think that time would be crawling for us, not having him around. It's been quite the opposite actually. I'm amazed it's already been six months. For us, each of his weekly updates during the past six months has been anything but dull. Today's letter was no different.

He first sent me a quick response to my weekly letter that had this cryptic comment: btw i'm companionless now. Wait...what? In life as a Mormon missionary, you are NEVER without a companion. Clearly, this demanded an explanation. His family letter clarified his cryptic comment. Without divulging a lot of details, the companion he was training has become seriously ill and is now getting appropriate care. This did send them back to the 'green room' clinica for a couple of days before it was clear this young man would need additional medical attention. Based on what TMFKATB shared with us, it's been quite an experience dealing with the situation and it's allowed him to learn some additional lessons about the challenges we are dealt in life. Suffice to say, the last several weeks have given him ample opportunity to learn.

In spite of it all, he was able to drive home just how good he has it food-wise. First, the picture. That's a fresh mango, seasoned with salt and chili. He says it's his favorite snack. And then to burnish the point, he shared the following:

so i didn't take a pic but i ate a delicious torta on the street this week. salchicha, chorizo, jamon and i have no idea what else. it was awesome. they put mayonaise on everything here and i'm starting to love it. the mayo is with lime so it is delicious. i think it's gonna take me lots of time to get used to food in the usa. i also ate caldo de pata. it was gross. its like a soup tradition here. its the hoof of a cow and you eat the soup and then suck all the tendons off the hoof and the skin. it was weird. the soup had good flavor but the hoof was gross.

Not the caldo he ate, but you get the idea

I'm going to take the fact that he has no qualms about eating street food whose ingredients are unknown and that the only thing he's called 'gross' in six months is the hoof of a cow. Truly he is his father's son. May the iron stomach chain never be broken!

"I have no fear"

One of the 'ranchitos' in his area

Another Monday. Still our favorite day.

Another ridiculous Monday snow storm. 3rd week in a row. Still not one of our favorite things.

Another letter from TMFKATB. It was one that showed some significant growth in him. It also showed his sense of humor remains intact.

First the bit of humor. He had to take a seven hour bus ride to Tuxtla Gutierrez to participate in leadership training. Apparently the climate change was a little hard for him to take. Here's what he said: "We arrived in Tuxtla and I thought I was gonna die. It was so dang cold. Probably only 65 degrees but with wind. It was freezing." Bear in mind, this is a kid who claims Chicago as his hometown and spent the last two years living in not balmy Connecticutistan. He knows from cold. As we read his humorous little lamentation, we were looking at 20 degrees and hour eight of non-stop snow. We win, but it's not a game I want to win.

Then for the growth. He talked about how they just jump on cumbis, or mini-buses, and just go where they feel like they should go. Very often they aren't sure where they'll wind up. For those of you who know TMFKATB, you know this is huge, and I mean, HUGE, for him. He said, "I'm sure you all remember how scared I used to be of going to new places and being alone. God has blessed me and I have no fear. It's awesome." He's not kidding about that fear. When he was young, that fear, at times, could be nearly paralyzing for him. The reasons why are probably worth a post some day but are more a reflection of my leaving the TV on when we lived in SoCal during a rash of child kidnappings / killings when he was really young. #awesomeparenting

Taking in his words were a source of tremendous comfort to me. I've had very few concerns about him as he embarked on his missionary service but how he would handle this challenge has not been far from my thoughts and prayers. It's been one of the things I've been most concerned about. It was also something I really didn't know how to ready him for, outside of platitudes and fatherly guidance. I knew he'd have to learn it on his own. He's learning that lesson and I'm more than a little relieved.

It's just one of many that he'll learn during these two years. They are lessons that will serve him well for the rest of his life. This is why I like, no, love these Mondays.

It's National Pizza Day today. Not that these three knew that.