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.

Happy

Yeah, I don't know what's happening here. I just know that
TMFKATB is all kinds of happy

On the subject of TMFKATB's weekly letters, I know that I've beaten our sense of joy on Mondays to death. I get it. The horse isn't even worthy of the glue factory, I know, but somehow I keep sharing this sense of excitement with you. All I can say is thank you for putting up with it and for still being interested in reading about his service.

Having served a mission myself, I know that when you are composing those weekly missives, you sometimes wonder if you share everything or if you edit. For instance, thirty years ago as I served, I chose to edit some of the 'gunplay' I witnessed, or had jammed into my forehead, while I was in Miami. Somehow I don't think my mother would have reacted well. In addition to the day-to-day things you experience that you edit out, you sometimes wonder if you include some of the downs that happen. A mission is not all sunshine and roses, but I know I didn't necessarily share all the challenging times in my letters home. Not so with TMFKATB. He's been pretty darn excellent about sharing everything. When he was in Mexico and in the process of blowing out his GI system, we knew in graphic detail just what it was doing. He's been great about sharing the highs and the lows and we're grateful for that.

Today's letter was all about the highs. It was about the most joyful letter we've gotten. He and his companion are hitting on all cylinders and they are seeing the rewards of their hard work. They are seeing the impact of their service and it's brought them enormous joy. For TMFKATB, he's had some experiences over the past few days that have helped him to be a bit more bold without being obnoxious (most twenty year olds are not exactly known for their conversational finesse, so this is a great growing experience). He's seeing miracles, large and small, in people's lives. He summed it all up in this one sentence to me:

Dad, I am so happy right now!

And you wonder why I look forward to Mondays so much. I'll take a line like that and cherish it. You can't wish for more than that for anyone.

Say what you will about life behind the Zion Curtain, but
they sure do know how to make a mean sunset!

What's cracking? he asked

Monday, as it now does once again, brought us news from behind the Zion Curtain in the form of a fairly brief update from TMFKATB. His letter opened with the following statement:

"What's cracking?" Suddenly he's a Brit.

The trio is no mas.

He was quick to update us on the status of his trio companionship, which is now no more. Normally, missionaries run in companionships of two but because TMFKATB basically helicoptered in mid-transfer, he was dropped into an existing companionship. No more though. One of the three was assigned to a new town, leaving TMFKATB as the designated driver (not what you think!) of their mission car, which he described as a "sweet Corolla." Given that he drove a 2003 Ford Taurus with a faux spoiler in high school, the bar for 'sweet' cars isn't exactly high. He expressed his displeasure that the car has a little machine, or telematics, on it that makes speeding or taking sharp turns a bit of a problem. I weep for him.

Can I just say had telematics been around in the last century when I was a missionary, it would have made for a world of hurt for most of the missionaries who drove in our mission. I cannot even begin to describe the atrocities that were inflected on our motley collection of Ford Tempos and first generation Chevrolet Cavaliers. I wouldn't know since I wasn't allowed to drive. My alleged driving record pre-mission put me in a risk category normally reserved for Lindsay Lohan coming off a four day bender, so I didn't drive. Suffice to say, I don't have much sympathy for his telematic restrictions.

One of the bigger highlights was this statement: "I'm feeling healthy." This was confirmed by a phone call from his specialist here in Connecticutistan this past Friday who had just gotten the results of TMFKATB's tests. He told us that there was no evidence of illness / disease any more and that no further testing would be required. This, my friends, is something of a miracle and a true answer to prayer. So many of you when you heard about him coming home and the medical issues he was potentially facing offered to raise your voice in prayer on his behalf. I am so pleased that we can report those prayers were answered! Prayer works, my friends, prayer works. Our heartfelt thanks to each of you.

So suffice to say, it's been a good Monday and a fine belated Fathers Day 'gift.'

Oh, and he's getting this goodness for free from the good people at Waffle Love. Yeah, he's healthy again.

Getting clinical

From inside the Linda Blair Memorial Ward

So TMFKATB has never been one to understate a situation but he may have done so with the first line of this week's letter. He had titled his email 'weird week' which was a bit of a hint. "So this week was rather strange" was the first sentence. He then began to explain why it was strange and weird. Thanks to a resurgent bout of chikungunya, he spiked a nasty fever and was racked with pain. He wound up at a 'clinic' for two days, being pumped full of, well, who knows what. It apparently worked because he went on to detail how he was feeling better and looking forward to a full week of work and as he put it, 'miracles' this week.

So, suffice to say, this week's letter was a little unsettling for us. As you can see from the picture he sent, some one really needs to talk to the folks that painted the interior of the clinic. Apparently they took their inspiration from Linda Blair's pea soup cavalcade of vomit from "The Exorcist." There's nothing soothing about those walls. I'm still trying to figure out what the big tank is next to his bed. Helium? Oxygen? Salsa? I don't even know and maybe it's best to not know. I'm just grateful that whatever the doctors did, it seemed to do the trick. He's better.

I will never lament medical care in the US again. Ever. Last year when my gall bladder decided that it no longer wanted to reside within me in the angriest ways possible, I spent two days at a teaching hospital. Some of our friends acted as if I'd gone to JoJo's Casa Of Chicken, Oil Changes and General Surgery when they learned that's where I'd opted to have my surgery. It may not have been the fanciest of hospitals but I had outstanding care from the 600 residents that paraded through my room every 42 seconds. I look at that picture my boy sent and I'm just grateful for the doctors and nurses who did their best caring for him with what the limited resources that they had. To say that we have it so well medically in this country is a massive understatement, in spite of what Fox News says.

The good news is that he was positive throughout his letter and his sense of humor is fervently in place. That made us feel a lot better. He assured us that he's feeling a whole lot better. He had to be if he was able to wax poetic about this meal:

tacos bistec y guacamole

He's gained a wicked appreciation for the hand-made foods of southern Mexico. Seems to me that a meal like that could cure of you pretty much anything. Seriously, is there nothing a taco can't solve?