Illumine

I can always fall back to pictures when I can't come up with a thousand words. Doing that probably makes it easier on you, too. But, I can add a couple of stories from the last few days, maybe.

We had occasion to visit the old town with some visitors one evening. The rainy day mixed with the early darkness revealed a pleasing ambiance on the old streets.

But the real interest is in the people, mostly the people we interact with. The problem with writing about our experiences with people is that they might not want their story shared. Or the story might be completely different from their angle.

...

Our mission president and his wife are adept, as mission leaders must be, at motivating missionaries. I'm fascinated every zone conference that they come up with new ways to share the gospel while eliminating the repetitiveness that can lead to drudgery. As invariably occurs, we finished our conference this week with revitalized confidence and hope.

We left our elders in Warsaw and we made our 4-hour drive home alone. Being late, we stopped at a roadside hotel/restaurant with an "authentic Polish kitchen." The place was empty, but a bell on the desk got a gal to come from the back room. Sister Bridge used her well-practiced phrase to say "Hello ma'am, do you speak Polish?"

This got a quizzical response, so I quickly corrected it to "speak English" She replied in Polish, "No."

I'm proud (note foreshadowing here) that we made her understand that we did not want a room, only food, we got a table and our dinner ordered, ate and paid for it with not one word of English between her and us. (pride)

We went next door to the gas station to fill up and the guy couldn't understand the pump number I told him. (fall)

The sturdiness of the stairs leading to the apartment we visited made me think of a wet paper plate and I mused how I would explain it when I broke through them. They held out, miraculously. Being the last of us to squeeze through the door of his unlit space, I walked right into our frail host as he held out his hand to greet me. Oh! Hi!

The elders were sharing a spiritual message and after half an hour of earnest attention, grasping an occasional word for some kind of context, I found myself searching in vain for two identical bricks in his kitchen wall. Then marveling that it still stood and also supported those stairs.

He's seen this same wall lighten and darken every day since he left the army, these 39 years.

There are people who stand independent, whose countenance somehow brightens the dark spaces. They reflect light for the rest of us to receive. They don't seem to mind being that kind of different.

There's another story there, but maybe later.

365

It's still uncertain why it was that when we entered the MTC the Monday after October conference last year, full of excitement to be returning to our previous mission land of Finland, things out of our control were going to change our course. After the passage of that much time, there are a few things we do know better, however.

We know we don't know everything. We trust there is One who does. We know that if we do our best to do good, there are multitudinous ways for us to do so. We know that our mutual Father loves His children everywhere. We know that what gives the most meaning to our lives is less about the location, the culture, the climate, and more about the individual people we get to interact with.

It's strange that because our recent reconnecting in-person with our children, family, and friends was known to be short, the connection was more strong. Certainly more intentional.

Correspondingly, for several years I was intensely involved in the logistics of the spoken words at general conference. Days before the conference began I had read and re-read all the talks, some several times. And I often had profound personal impressions from that privilege. Being now removed from that daily connection to the words that are intended to inspire, the 35 messages coming all at once felt like a flood. They also became very cherished.

To you it might have become a worn-out, over-trode theme, Jean and I constantly sharing bridges in pictures. They're intended to remind us that bridges don't exist except to connect and to overcome some obstacle.

We feel your love.

An impressive public works project

Unimpressive bridges also serve their purpose

Serene country setting we happened upon

Jiggety-jog

Three weeks ago we joined the other 4 old missionary couples serving in Poland for our semi-annual conference, yes, we'll call it "conference" because we did indeed confer with each other. I think it's the Church's ploy to keep us from revolt. It would be more proper to call it a retreat. We retreated into the mountains of southern Poland to Zakopane and spent the weekend together enjoying the beauty of that resort town and regaling each other with stories of our various little branches in the vineyard. 

It was revitalizing. Somehow it's helpful to learn that others are doing good in the circumstances they're in plus it relieves some of the isolation we feel being separated by hours. Besides the ten of us seasoned folk, we enjoyed hiking and eating and receiving instruction and inspiration from our mission president and wife, along with the three of their six children who are in Poland with them.

Impressive that such old people could climb to the top of this mountain ridge that forms the border of Poland and Slovakia.

Until you see how we got to the top.

Getting 10 strong-willed people of experience going in the same direction, whilst each is overtly trying to show consideration for the others at the same time, made for some lighthearted tug-o-wars over which ice cream stand to try or which restaurant to stuff ourselves at.

See some of the hardships of senior missionary life?

I feel something like guilt for what I share after that. There's no easy segue to the heinous scenes memorialized at Auschwitz-Birkenau. It's not possible to relay the impressions one gets from a visit there. 

The infamous sign (Arbeit Macht Frei) mocking those who were imprisoned there before their certain death decries the irony of the efficient systematization of the camp's gruesome function. The exhibits did not need pictures of the awful sights you've seen in documentaries, rather the artifacts belonging to real individuals tell the story of thousands upon thousands.

I've said before that the Polish people are great at rebuilding, given the many wars they've been the battleground for. They have a saying that a Pole works with his sword in one hand and a brick in the other. One city that is a beautiful example of that civic rebuilding is Kraków. 

 It's central market square is stunning in daylight or moonlight.

 I chuckle at how, despite our denial of it, we inevitably fall into stereotypes. Evidence that I'm not the only husband who would rather sit outside the shops and wait, all day if necessary, rather than ooh and aah over every possible purchase, then oh and ouch over every złoty spent. 

This is what our five wives saw when they had finally visited every single shop in this town.

(We're sitting on a bridge, that's a bonus)

Back to our timeline, as I said, this started three weeks ago. After our senior conference we stopped in Kraków to check a couple of missionary apartments (sisters-neat but quick to say they could do better; elders-gross but proud of how much better it is now). 

The next week we caught a plane out of Warsaw to SLC. It was a sweet, though short reunion with our family. Tip and Katelyn were married in Salt Lake and all we can say in this limited space is that it was wonderful. The ceremony was beautiful, full of promise, and eternal in content.

After packing all we could into our short time, we boarded our plane last week from SLC to Warsaw and into the middle of our Fall YSA conference there. We spent time with these young people who really try to be strong because they are doing it, pretty much, on their own. The group was small, about ten from all of Poland, but they are truly exceptional.

Last night, Sunday, we arrived home again, home again, back to Gdańsk. I'm reflecting that we call this being home. As in the saying, "Home is where the heart is," this is where our hearts are right now. Of course we love and miss our family and friends and our hearts are also "back home," but we really feel this is where our hearts are for another year.

A small note from the temple experience: One of the shushers in the temple cautioned us that when the couple exits the temple we should not do the customary cheer as that can be heard by others inside the building. 

I thought: Should we not cheer the formation of a new, eternal kingdom, joining our cheers with the cheers of all those who have gone before?

The newest Mr. and Mrs. Bridge

September begins

Gdańsk is a popular vacation spot, with its beaches and history and rebuilt old town. August is the month they have a street market in the old town, this year being the 759th. The event adds a lot of vendor booths on the cobblestone streets, it also adds about twice as many people to the city. We noticed a vast difference in traffic and foot traffic getting to our chapel location during August, it being close to the old town and the main train station. Once the street market ended we noticed a sharp decline in visitors to the city, but with the hot weather there were still loads of people about.

School here starts at the first of September, marking the end of summer and two things have happened overnight: 1) The streets have become nearly void of recreators and 2) The weather has changed from 30°C to 20°. I don't know how the weather knew to coordinate that with the end of summer vacation, but it really was overnight. Now the kids in the neighborhood are outdoors only until the sun sets, and that noticeably earlier, the clothes have instantly changed from short and cottony to full jackets with hats and scarves, and the leaves of some trees have started to gain color. We suspect that by the time we return at the end of the month, the forests we drive through daily will be spectacular.

Return, you wonder? We will travel to Utah for our son Tip's wedding to Katelyn. That's another one of the great perks of senior missionaries vs young ones. (If you are a young missionary who has a son, I commend you). We've received permission to travel home for this event and of course we're excited. Jonathan and Maddie were married in September two years ago, James and Milly were married last September, Tip and Katelyn will be married this September. All of them within a week of each other. It wasn't planned that way, but I've been telling people September is special since I was 5. 

And next September we are scheduled to be home from Poland and not just for a week. Lots to do here before then, though. 

Sorry this post just gives you the facts. Over and out.

Can't leave you bridgeless

Grasping

This week a young woman, very kind, who sincerely enjoys serving other people, who reads the Bible, and who feels a connection to all the creations of this earth did not know how God could literally be her Heavenly Father. The concept that we are actually His children is not something she really believed. For Him to have a body of flesh and bone, even if it is glorified and perfected, was new to her. She probably understood that in some way He loves us, but she did not have a concept that He understands and feels our sorrows and rejoices in our progress. I don't know exactly what her concept of God was, but I sense it is something "unknowable" and ominous, a being who has all power but does not use it to relieve suffering. Not understanding those attributes made it hard to understand that He wants to communicate with us, His children.¹

This week a toddler walked unsteadily on a slippery parquet and at the encounter of the smallest obstacle, a red balloon, she fell and got up, and fell and got up. I smiled at her unflappability and the delightful joy she got from the very object that was compelling her to learn better how to navigate on her tiny, bowed legs. I smiled at the joy He must feel at my trying.

This week a young father, a manly man, who was forsaken by his mortal father when a young boy, realized that we did not leave our Father just so we could return to Him. That's a pleasant enough idea, but there must be a better reason than that to justify our leaving. He figured that if returning is the only purpose, why would we ever leave? The man calculated that there must be much more to justify the unfathomable suffering Father's special Son had to go through to get us back to Him.

This week two young women witnessed the grim remains of a huge and harsh camp set in a lovely, secluded forest. They were confronted with the reality that abuse and torture and killing can be done with no remorse as a consequence of who the sufferers are, not for what they did.²

This week an intelligent man, about 50, beaten down, admitted that alcohol helped him avoid the problems he faced. He felt free of fear, loneliness, discouragement, regret—for a while. He came to the reality that because life is full of the conditions that prompt these kinds of feelings, he resorted to that temporary freedom more and more often. He confided that he literally had become disconnected from his own will.³

This week a senior missionary couple were shown that there are men and women undergoing trials and tests of faith that might lead you to say, “Their faith will break.” But it doesn’t break, and they do take it. And if you will look carefully, you will soon realize that peace has been spoken to their souls and faith in deliverance increased. Noticing that has made themselves feel again and again and again and again that peace.⁴

You would miss it if there were no bridge picture, so here is one

Stutthof

Something that caught Jean's eye 

¹God is Our Loving Heavenly Father, Preach My Gospel.

²Sztutowo (Stutthof), concentration camp.

³Honesty, Addiction Recovery Program.

⁴A Law of Increasing Returns, Henry Eyring, March 28, 1982.

What's inside

If there are things out of the ordinary, I try to share those rather than our daily routine of being blessed to serve in Poland. I could tell you the schedule of our days and how we fill them, but I know I don't find that amusing or even interesting, so you wouldn't either. I'll remark (again, probably) with happiness that we don't follow the white handbook like we did (should have) 37 years ago. Our church leaders must've figured out that there wouldn't be a senior couple serving their second mission if that were required. They must also realize that if we ain't got the wake-up-stay-busy-go-to-bed figured out by our age, we won't.

All that to justify the pictures I've chosen to share this week.

While driving between cities we had noticed, more than once, a picturesque city on a hill next to a bend in the river and so decided on p-day to find it. It turned out to be much prettier from a distance. The city itself was run down when we got to see it up-close on the inside. 

I guess that's often how some things and people make an impression on us.

This view made me think of Symbiotes (like Venom) taking over this very old, very beautifully restored, very brick castle. It turns out you can rent rooms here which might make you feel regal, if you could sleep knowing how many people have lived and died there.

I hope this picture serves for your weekly bridge. Again, no shortage of bricks here. The arches make nice picture-frame setups. This is a church, which I think is remarkable.

Jean went in to check out the inside and walked in on a funeral. No pics.

The places and structures are indeed interesting, but really it's the people that have the most lasting impact. 

This is what our Sunday evenings look like, usually with a couple more from the branch, but we love being with all the exceptional young missionaries (Elders Stewart, Long, Sisters Memmott, Emett). Sister Memmott kept her birthday secret until after meetings on Sunday, but she got found out. In this picture Jean is saying "Hurry and take the picture Elder, the wax is melting on the cake!"

I adjusted the camera for several more seconds to heighten that emotion.

We traveled to another city, Szczecin (the missionaries call it "Sketch-in"), a 5-hour drive to the west of us, right on the German border. Elder and Sister Williams (Bountiful) serve there with one pair of Elders. Elder and Sister Womack joined us also. The six of us took time to visit a Slavic and Viking village that has been recreated on an original site dating from circa 1000. 

Elder Williams serves as the branch president in Szczecin but his main assignment is as an area auditor. We traveled so I could audit his branch, which was interesting to audit the auditor. Sorry they got cut out of this selfie a bit. In appropriate auditor fashion, he acted as if he didn't hear any of my sharp witticisms about financial processes. 

One of the devices they used in medieval audits was this chair. At that time it wasn't so much about identifying financial malfeasance as it was about identifying witches. 

Sister Williams, a nurse, reminded me about my tetanus booster status as I was sitting down to try the comfort of the thing, so I chose not to. At the village they also had a guillotine and an iron maiden (Excellent!)  

Winding up, I'm sorry I don't have any profundity to finish with. Please be assured that we did feel the Spirit many times in our service and study this week.

I just have one missed opportunity to share. About halfway home from our drive to Szczecin we stopped for dinner in a pretty city, surprisingly large for being out in that part of the country. We found a great restaurant and checked the trusty Google maps also for points of interest. As luck would have it, this attraction had a stellar 4.5 star rating.

Regrettably, it was already closed so we didn't get to see what kind of crap they have in there, which they must value from the tightness of their security. But, you can see the grass around it was exceptionally lush.

The sign is an abbreviation, but it says "Museum of Municipal Water Supply and Sewage" 

By the numbers

Not that you could guess our PIN or screen unlock codes or anything, but 8-8-60 is nonetheless important in our family. It's so easy it leaves me no excuse to remember to celebrate Eva Jean's arrival on this planet. If you didn't notice, it happened this week.

A strong young couple in our branch, Czarek & Lizzie, and our Gdańsk Sisters surprised her as we arrived at the chapel before English class with a beautiful cake and decorated cookies and singing. The birthday song says something like 

"100 years, 100 years, may she live for us 100 years"

For our zone conference this week we drove to the city of Poznań which has one of the most picturesque market squares. We got to spend the evening prior with the Womacks (Vancouver, WA) who serve there and also have the assignment, like us, to help with YSA in Poland. They're a lot of fun and it's always cheering to commiserate share uplifting stories together.
Painfully, Elder W had to get his knee fixed recently. Thus he can't wear a tie. 

I think we did a 1000 piece puzzle of this once.
It's so pleasant to eat outside in a place like this.

(I have to add that our steaks and ribs and desserts and tip came to $48! For two!!

[Did I say before I LOVE Poland?]) 

Because we took our car to Poznań we drove our 3 Gdańsk Elders home instead of their riding the train. Though the company during the ride was superb, those three were pretty miserable for 3.5 of the 4 hours. I pushed our little car as much as I could to spare them unnecessary misery. After eyeballing the "kilometers to empty" for the final hour and dropping them off at their apartment, we coasted into the gas station Saturday night, feeling relieved and blessed that I didn't have to make Jean push.

Note the number at top center. 1 km to spare.

A kind man attends almost every sacrament service on Sundays. He's always pleasant and has been coming for years. His WofW challenges make him very frail, but he says it's too late for him to quit. He struggles to get by but every week he brings us a little bag of Polish apples. Yesterday before the meeting he pulled out a 20 (equal to $5). He said "I want this to give for poor." I said, "I know what to do with that." He said again, "For the poor." I told him I understood and put it in my pocket.

As mentioned before, on Sundays we help serve soup to the homeless with a lady (Ola) and her friend (Jurek) who have organized and done this beautiful service for over three years. They also have medical volunteers there to help with the folks' ailments. After things got going yesterday, I felt the 20 in my pocket and had a feeling to give it to Jurek, telling him how I had obtained it from an unexpected donor. 

He said, "The medical staff just now asked me to buy some supplies. It cost exactly 20."