Contrast

Clear sky after a storm.
Late night drive home from Warsaw

It's June now, and that gives us long days of light to enjoy. The rules say missionaries are to be in their apartments by 21:00. A few nights lately we've been out well beyond that curfew.






We were fortunate to attend another baptism, this one in Warsaw. Warsaw has the only church meetinghouse in Poland and the chapel was full of people (about 60). It felt comforting to have such a large group of saints together. I found myself wishing we could bring our branch members to experience a sacrament meeting there.



We had planned with our district, the Elders, the Sisters and us, to spend a p-day in a town on the Baltic called Hel. We got to do that this week and it was a lot of fun to be with them and a couple of young adult investigators. There are too many jokes that Jean won't allow here, so we'll focus on the name's meaning from the Greek, which is "light," like the sun. Sigh, we'll have to leave it at that...

(you can private message me for more pics of that)

No swimming for missionaries.
Wading? OK.

I know what you're thinking, but no,
that's not Elder Bridge

After a beautiful, SUNNY (hot) day in "that place" we got back to the chapel for our branch FHE. One of our missionaries was not feeling well at FHE, and eventually got very sick from the heat.

We ended up following an ambulance to the hospital ER. After a priesthood blessing and the IV fluids, it was like night and day and the missionary was up and about and ready to go. We learned a little about "free healthcare for all" that night.

There are no staff to tell you where to go or what to do, only other patients who are waiting and will make sure you don't get in the queue ahead of any of them. You don't need to speak the language to understand that look. Wait outside one closed door in the hopes that it will eventually open, and when it does push your way to find out what's next. Then wait outside another door and go through the same ritual. Then another. And another. Then wait until somebody says you can leave. I thought of a more appropriate descriptor: health-nowedont-care. We exited the hospital at 2:30 AM, to see the sun rising on another beautiful day. Thankfully, all was well and still is.

(As I write this I realize our ER experiences at home have not been much different)

A bridge.
The "infinity pool" effect from 300 years ago

Tunnel of lindens

Another similar experience was when we took our dear sister to the dentist for a toothache. During our 4 hours of waiting, again in what looked like an abandoned building with only other patients, we heard many stories from her life, some we had not heard before. She is 92, so if you do the math you can see that she was born before the war, the same age our mothers would be. She told of when children were selected to work in the factories during the war. Her older sister was required to go, but because she was sickly, Halina went as her sister. She packed her suitcase with her carefully ironed clothes and personal belongings for the trip. When they arrived they took from them their clothes and everything, even every stitch they were wearing---boys, girls, men, women. They were all together in a large room. They were then herded to another building where there was a pile of old clothes and shoes from which they had to scramble to get something they could wear.

Storyteller Halina

From time to time we hear people refer to life during the communist era. They tell us that stores had two things: vinegar and mustard. For one man, his memory is the empty meat hooks. Some people we able to barter services for eggs or produce from farmers. I'm struck that this was not anciently or during the great depression, but at the same time Jean and I were "struggling" in school to make it with our young family.

This month there are several activities happening in Gdańsk celebrating 1989, the year of the first free elections. This marks the end of communism (and our James's birthday).

We're always happy when we see a 127 to take us home

The shipyards in Gdańsk are a symbol of Solidarity as that is where the strikes and worker negotiations started in the early 80's. In 1989, with a free market, immediately the only customer that every business had had, the Soviet government, was gone. When they no longer took the ships, the coal, the buses, these companies had to compete on the global market and they were years behind in technology. The idle shipyards are now only a monument to that time. Farmers had no means to get their products to market and infrastructure was very dilapidated. We still see highways that are old and deeply rutted, but that is changing rapidly. The new government at the time decided to implement two-years of no business tax and thus everybody started a business. This got them through the initial struggles of capitalism and today there's no product we can't get.



Some missionaries have had trouble getting their residency (visa) to stay legally in Poland. You have 90 days to secure your residency. One group of missionaries, about 5, didn't meet the deadline and were deported from Poland and reassigned to Chicago. That was obviously very emotional for them and this has caused a lot of worry. Thus, we were sure to file our paperwork on our first day in Gdańsk. The elusive goal is to get a certain stamp in your passport which means you're legally in the country. We were a little stressed because the first available appointment was 93 days after our entry. Of course, you can get no information on the status of your application because they are flooded with applicants. We have spent full days at the immigration office ourselves and with other missionaries. Friday we went to the office again, this time for our scheduled appointment. The lady brought out our files, which was a relief that they had them, a stack of about 40 pages. She had us correct a few pages and stamped EVERYthing. She had 5 stamps that she pounded on several pages at a time---bam, bam, bam, bam, bam---usually three stamps per page, then signed each stamp. I was watching the stamps she reached for, noticing there was a large red one she never used. I thought, that must be "the stamp" we want in our passport. Every time she touched our passports, I held my breath, waiting for her to reach for that stamp, then was disappointed when she only looked at some bit of information in them. We created 30 more pages during the interview for her to pound with different stamps and sign. After just 2 hours, she took Jean's passport, reached under her desk and pulled out this HUGE stamp and BAM! We're legal!

The moment of legality