Dear Hermana Hughes and Hughes Elder,
I totally forgot that Hughes Elder's p-day got switched to
Saturday for the next three weeks, so this email is mainly to you, since he
won't see it for another week.
This is the most difficult calling I have ever had! I've been more tired before (new babies),
more stressed (Dad being lost), and more challenged (speaking at Grandma
Cutler's funeral), but those were relatively short events. This just keeps going on and on, day after
day. But I am learning more about myself
and about God's help than I ever have. I
have to rely on Him every day to bridge the gap between who I am and who I need
to be.
This week has been particularly challenging. I woke up Monday morning to find that Dad had
been up most of the night with a missionary whose companion had acute abdominal
pain and he instructed him to go to the closest hospital. When they said it was acute appendicitis Dad
instructed him to get a taxi to The Good Hospital in Manila (we don't let our
missionaries be admitted to local hospitals because of the substandard
care). He had surgery later that day,
but by then his appendix had burst and that complicated his recovery.
I left that morning to go with some other senior
missionaries to get my Filipino drivers license since mine only lasts here for
three months. After waiting in line for
an hour, I realized I left my Utah DL on the copy machine at home. At that point, I knew it would be a test of
patience to wait for the other missionaries since they would never issue mine
without my DL. I waited in the big
hall--there are offices all around the perimeter but the middle is a church,
and I found myself on the bench in the middle of mass. At first I ignored it, but it was actually
beautiful to be surrounded by people who believe in Jesus Christ and are
worshipping him. The next few hours
passed and I was thankful that I know the true nature of God and felt more
motivated to share this knowledge with others.
Dad had to meet with some less-than-obedient missionaries in
the morning, which he handled with amazing love and patience on two hours of
sleep, and he made the long, stressful drive to the hospital to take a phone
cord and some clothes to the missionaries there and gave their ward mission
leader who had helped them the night before, a ride home.
The next four days were zone interviews and I was assigned
to review the missionaries' area books and planner with them as a
companionship. It was fun for me, but Dad gets the not-so-fun part. One great sister with health problems really
wants to stay, but cannot function well and Dad transferred her to the far-away
district where there is the only fresh air in this mission, hoping it would
help.
That afternoon another missionary, Sister Noa from Tonga,
had severe abdominal pain and was taken to a local ER. They did an ultrasound and determined she
needed her appendix removed. She is in
another far-away place, but Dennis happened to be dropping off the missionary
in the district so he picked her up and rushed her and a companion to the same
Manila hospital. Ambulances are stuck in
traffic as much as any other vehicle, so it was the fastest way to get her
there. When she arrived about 11pm Dad felt
it was safe to go to sleep and took a couple of Advil PMs to make sure he could
sleep well. They did a CT scan and
reported it was the fatty tissue beside the appendix and NOT the appendix and
at 1am they called to tell him they were supposed to go home. Since they didn't have enough money for a
taxi back to their area, they came to the mission home so Dad could pay the
fare. By this time it's about 3am, so I
woke up at 5:30 and fortunately saw Dad's note that two people were sleeping
here! Sister Noa was much better by
morning and ate scrambled eggs and toast, got her prescriptions, and headed
back to her area.
By Friday Dad was ragged from lack of sleep, but he was so
kind to the missionaries and the office staff and handled every challenge so
well, I was amazed. He got up the next
morning early again -- 3am-- to work and plan and then headed to the district
to interview someone. I took my life in my hands and drove to the office to
meet him later for a baptism at the adjoining church. The sisters had taught an 80-year-old and a 35-year-old
and an 8-year-old was being baptized, too.
Dad must have been super tired, because in his closing remarks he
compared the baptism to Goldilocks -- "one old, one in the middle, and one
young!" Fortunately, he didn't
specifically say "bears" but I was laughing so hard inside! The rest of his remarks were totally
appropriate, but it was a memorable meeting.
He was fast asleep by 8pm that night and when missionaries called with
questions about 9pm they must have thought he was drunk!
My challenges are not so interesting, but every day I've
been given added strength and capacity to meet them. The Lord has truly given me each day my daily
bread in a miraculous way. I am often
disappointed at how quickly I revert to my old fearful and selfishness
tendencies, but I'm so grateful for the almost constant flow of grace that I
receive. Dad is always telling the
missionaries to be thankful for opposition because it helps them become
stronger, and I guess that applies to me, too.
Today has been our first restful Sabbath in the mission,
since we didn't have to speak, feed anyone or have any extra meetings. In the ward we attended all three sets of
missionaries had investigators to sacrament meeting, and five were in the
gospel principles class we attended.
Tomorrow morning earlyI head back to try to get my DL -- hope I make it
this time!
I love you and look forward to talking with you in one more
week. Please let me know when you're
most likely to call.
Love,
Mom
Photos:
--DMV for Manila - church view
--A missionary Dad released in District who taught and
baptized one of our sister missionaries!
--The missionary with ruptured appendix at mission home--he
taught his grab taxi driver the first discussion and gave him a Book of Mormon
on the way home from the hospital
--Megan Knowles and her fiance and his daughter
--Baptism of the Three Bears
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