Nearing the Finish Line

 As explained in a previous blog entry, we were called in late June to serve as interim Mission President for the North Carolina Raleigh Mission of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints until the "real" Mission President and his wife could obtain visas to come from Australia.  

That time has arrived.  They were able to get an appointment last week and apparently answered the questions correctly.  They will arrive tomorrow night (September 17th) all jet-lagged and tired.  We plan on letting them sleep in on Friday, and then make the official hand-off that afternoon.  

This has been a rich experience for Paula and I.  We've gotten to know well over two hundred good young men and women who are here of their own accord trying to help others gain faith and improve their lives.  In addition to preaching the Gospel, they have donated untold hours of service to the communities in which they are assigned.  We have grown to love them.

The missionaries have shown us great patience and love as we've tried to steer the Mission in the right direction.  Just this afternoon we realized that we were the recipients of a "heart attack" by some stealthy Sisters.

OK, it wasn't all perfect.  During our illustrious tenure, we've had two of the missionaries test positive for COVID-19 (both had only mild symptoms), another one totaled a mission car, an appendix got yanked, two kidney stones made their presence known (we're deep in the "kidney stone belt" here), and there have been some homesickness and other maladies.

However, through this experience, our faith has grown.  We have felt the hand of the Lord directing His work, urging us and the missionaries to have courage and go forth.  We will not forget His kindness and patience with us while we've been trying to lead the Mission according to His will.  

So, what happens to us when the Maurers have woken up enough on Friday to accept the car keys and the cell phone?  We introduce them at the Mission office, and as they are getting acquainted there, we quietly slip out and take off our nametags, most likely for the final time...

Dave & Paula

A post about posts. Or "pilings" I guess.

Note:  This post has been sitting on the back drawing board, and as the previous post describes, life has gotten busier and I kind of forgot about it for a while, thus it's out of order. 

    As I've noted before, my brother Mark has gotten me in to kiteboarding.  The perfect site for the sport is one with onshore winds and relatively shallow, smooth water.  However, strong winds cause rough water, so having a sand bar or other obstacle to stop waves outside of a body of water creates a "slick" within.   

     A good example of this occurs on a small bay on the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia, and it has become a favored place for kiters.  However, there were several docks built in the bay fifty to seventy-five years ago and now only the old barnacle-encrusted posts or "pilings" remained.  These were just waiting to ensnare kite lines or kiteboards, and were a real hazard.

     My brother is an orthopedic surgeon who was in private practice for 28 years.  Good "orthopods" are mechanical engineers with a medical degree, having to understand force vectors, materials and how to translate ideas in to physical solutions.  Many orthopedic surgeons, including Mark, have extensive workshops and tools, and likewise, an orthopedic operating table is full of beautifully fashioned drills, chisels, hammers and other instruments, some even made by tool companies such as Black and Decker.

     So what does a good orthopedic surgeon do?  He comes up with an underwater chainsaw to get rid of these old posts standing in four to eight feet of water.

     It sounds like the setup for a crummy joke or a math word problem, but here goes:  One day an orthopedic surgeon, an ophthalmologist and an obstetrician-gynecologist get in a "john" boat and motor out in a bay.  They tie up to old pilings and in eight hours they use an underwater chain saw to cut down 25 of them and drag them to shore. 

 

 

     It takes all day, but then they go kiteboarding.

     Problem is, there's no punch line.  We laughed a lot, had a great time working on the old pilings and kited in some big winds until sunset, then hit a Subway in our COVID-19 masks and drove home sleepy but smiling.
     It's funny what turns out to be fun sometimes.  We hope that you can find something equally as unusual and gratifying in your (oodles of) spare time these days.
Dave

So, where have we been?!

     Look, I know that none of you, I hope, hang on every word from this blog.  It's generally fun writing it and documenting funny and weird occurrences in our otherwise boring life.  However, things have a way of changing, and we've been a bit tardy on entries lately.
     We are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, formerly known as "Mormons."  As you're well aware, many of the 18-25-year-old members of the Church serve voluntary eighteen-month (for the young women) or two-year missions (for the young men).  They are assigned to many parts of the world, and there are almost 70,000 of them out at this time.

     A married couple presides over each geographic mission, of which there are almost 400 worldwide, and they serve for three years.  If you've been reading this blog for a while, you'll remember that we presided over the Peru Huancayo Mission from 2013 until 2016.  The President of the North Carolina Raleigh Mission was two years in to his calling when he and his wife were assigned elsewhere and had to leave at the end of June. 

     Their replacements are the Maurers, a delightful couple from Brisbane, Australia.  We have 'met' them on several Zoom meetings, and they seem like great folks.  OK, so far so good.

     However, despite trying for several months prior to the changeover and since, the Maurers have been unable to obtain visas to come to the U.S. because all of the American consulates in Australia are closed.  So...

     Near the end of June, we received a call from Salt Lake and we were called to serve as the mission president for an undefined period of time until the Maurers can get here.  This means that we are in charge of greeting the new ones as they arrive, saying goodbye as they finish, and juggling the assignments and companions of the 200-230 missionaries assigned in the eastern half of North Carolina.  This includes, among many other duties, interviewing each one personally every six weeks and holding various meetings with them, at the present time all on the background of strict precautions due to the pandemic.
     We are honored to do so, but this has certainly caused a revision of our previously calm retired lives.  On the other hand, as my Dad said, it's better to wear it out than let it rust. 
     We are growing to love the young missionaries and we hope vice versa.  We found this on our front door the other day:

     Their assignment is not easy, and it has been made even more difficult by the pandemic.  As we have gotten to know the missionaries, there are some days that we kind of wish that the visas for the Maurers would continue to be on hold; there are a lot more days in which we consider knocking on the consulate doors and seeing if we could work something out. 

     Well, back to work.
Dave & Paula

Practicality? Way overrated!

     So it had been a month since we last stocked up at the grocery store, and the cupboards were looking a little grim.  However, it was a perfect 75-degree day with a deep blue sky.  How can you put those two together?  Simple!
     Take the Miata!

     Let's see; you put the milk by the spare tire, where the avocados and mangoes are stashed, then the macaroni and cheese boxes go over by the gas filler.  The hot dog rolls are squeezed in by the battery on the right by the crunchy peanut butter jar.  The eggs?  Clearly, they go on the little ledge under the taillight housing, and a flat layer of frosted mini-wheats and granola boxes finishes it all off.  

     Then we put Paula in the passenger seat and filled in around her with whatever was left over.  She said the frozen foods were making her ankle go numb, but hey, it's only 3.32 miles home, and like I said, it was a beautiful day, so she was instructed to quit whining.  When I suggested that on a day like today we should take the long way home, she said something threatening.  

     We hope that your trips to the store are 1) as uncommon, 2) as fun on a pretty day, and 3) in a vehicle with enough room that your significant other doesn't get frostbite on her/his ankle.  

Dave & Paula

On Day 21 we ate the squirrels

OK, not really.  We have plenty of things in the cupboards, and WalMart, Costco and Target have kindly instituted an early opening prior to their usual start times for us 'older adults' (see previous post).  And yes, at some risk from the neighbors, we admit that we're OK on toilet paper.  For the moment.

Stating the obvious, the methods of avoiding further spread of the coronavirus have caused big changes in everyone's lives.  Many, many folks have lost their livelihoods; sadly, this is especially true among those who didn't have much to begin with. 

In an instant, an economy that seemed to be heading upward forever has quickly withered.  Untold wealth has been swept away by something you can only visualize with an electron microscope, something that passes unseen between us on a cough or quietly on a shopping cart handle.

For Paula and I, among other things it has meant the loss of sociality with friends and with members of the Young Single Adult church congregation over whom we have a degree of responsibility.  Our own kids all fled from home years ago and most of our communication with them has been via the internet anyway, but we yearn to draw them closer, and prayers in their behalf are ever more earnest.

Call me naive, but I'll give many leaders of the nation credit for honestly trying to help, albeit with resources grabbed from the future.  My heart is swollen as I read of those caring for the afflicted at the front lines of this struggle, upholding their oath of service with deadly seriousness. 

If I were God and wanted to get someone's attention that wasn't listening, and to get them to think about what really matters and who is dear to them, this would probably be among the tools I could find rummaging around in the shed.  I know that He loves us, and wants us all to be concerned for one another.  It is imperative in this troubled moment that we be nice.

We pray that you and your loved ones, and even your not-so-loved ones might come out of this OK, and that perhaps we might learn some humility and perspective from all of this.

With love,
Dave & Paula

Dang! Really?!

I guess it had to happen, and as they say, it's better than the alternative, but when I read the cautions about the coronavirus and "at risk" groups, it hit me - that's ME!

"The CDC says 'older adults' and people with severe chronic illness are more likely to become severely ill from Covid-19.  

OK, so how did they define 'older adults?'

"Infectious disease experts define 'older adults' as anyone age 60 and up, so people in that age group should be cautious."

Well, crud.  While I appreciate all those who congratulated me on my 66th birthday a couple of days ago, I guess I should start making some adjustments and being more cautious.  Like maybe putting the training wheels back on my bicycle.  

Or remembering the water wings when I'm in my boat.  

And maybe putting an airbag or two on my kiteboard.

I will not repeat what Paula said or did when I suggested sponge baths, but it should only take a week or so for the black eye and other bruises to disappear - well, huh, maybe a bit longer now that I'm an older adult.  
Dave

In the end, it was just a house.

It was only the stage upon which the dramas and tragedies and comedies of lives were played out.
At the same time, it was sad this foggy morning to see our neighbors' house torn down by the unknowing sweeps and crunches of the big orange machine, with the truck ready to carry off the debris that was once a cherished home.  Sixty-three years of being a home, and it came down in about two hours.

The same thing happened to the house in McLean, Virginia that my parents had taken care of for so many years, the flowers and curtains and door mats, the thousands and millions of decisions and actions both small and momentous that had taken place there   The laughter and tears and snow shoveled and lawns mowed and shrubs trimmed and leaving for college and bringing the granddaughter by to be admired, until we had all left and the machines came.

It's all gone now, replaced by a McMansion whose owners have no clue as to the lives that took place there, now writing their own.
Yeah, I know that in the end they were just houses, but things took place in them that will echo through eternity.  I hope that when the time comes, ours will go peacefully after being the stage upon which more good than bad took place.
I hope that yours is a place where love can dwell, and where peace may be found while it stands.
Dave