Just in from Hungary...

Today was mission email day, and Brandon sent us a great one! So I'm going to share it with you here. I'm proud of my missionary son.

Now, I already wrote this so I am going to copy and paste then fill out the parts that could use some more detail.

During companion exchanges Elder Bridges and I went tracting. We didn't have a whole lot of time before the Exchange ended so but we wanted to get as much done as we could. Only planning on really having enough time to give out pass along cards and recieve return appointments we left with only pass along cards. On our way out though I recieved an impression that I needed to go back and grab a Book of Mormon. Reluctantly I went and did so. So, on our second time leaving the appartment to go tracting I went a different way so that we could catch the same bus. We got on the bus and proceeded to take a record breaking thirty minutes to travel what should have been 10 or 15 minutes. I had previously planned on going to Cseppel to tract but with the 30 minute bus ride I decided against it so that we could still have time to tract. As we got going I spotted a building that looked good. Thinking that the door would be on the side facing the street I walked around to that side only to find that I went to the wrong side. As we got to the other side of the building and began to csengő(ring the doorbell) the building a woman came out and asked who we were. So we told her. Upon hearing who we were she asked if we could give her a blessing of healing. Taken aback I had to ask her again what she said. No one ever just asks for a blessing of healing, at least I didn't think so. After she confirmed that she did indeed want a blessing I asked if there was a place for her to sit. So she invited us in and we explained how the blessing would work, luckily I have a hungarian mission handbook and it did all the explaining. After the blessing her mom came out and asked if we were the police, I told her no, we are the missionaries. She was instantly interested and asked us to talk to her. We got talking for a bit first and we were asked what the Latter days are, since it is on our name tags. That is a long story that we call the message of the Restoration and so we got to teach about the Restoration. They asked many questions and seemed quite interested, we left a pass along card, Restoration pamphlet, and Book of Mormon with them. As we were leaving I wondered how She (Manika, who recieved the blessing) had known that we were there right at that moment. I looked around and saw that there was a window to their appartment outlooking the street, right on the side of the building I first tried searching for the csengő.(doorbell)

I know that this is God's church and he is guiding us. Jézus Krisztus nevében, ámen.
We did get a return appointment and will be going there this Wednesday.

Thank goodness for copy and paste.

That was the biggest part of my week, Oh, I forgot. When we started our lesson I realized that we had not said a prayer. So I asked if we could turn off the T.V. before praying. The answer was yes. I then began to pray with them, I prayed simply for their health and happiness, but the spirit that filled that small dirty room (they had a small dirty appartment) brought everyone to tears before I could even utter the words. And though I already bore my testimony I will bear it again, I know that God is our loving heavenly Father and that he knows all of us. He has not forgotten even the least significant of us, and he never will. Because he loves us all that much. These two women whom I taught had been praying for weeks for help, and Finally Elder Bridges and I were priviledged to be the ones to show up on their doorstep. God Does Not Forget. And he always loves us. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I love you all and will have to write a separate email so say anything more, if I say anything at all.

Sincerely,

Brandon.

A Winter's Tale

This morning as we looked out our bedroom window, Bruce and I saw that there was snow on Little Mountain, a bit off in the distance. And we saw, via the amazing internet, that Colorado had had its first snow overnight. So, in honor of the cold weather, I will tell you a the tale of a Wintry Adventure. And it's a true story, too:

On a cold winter day, several years ago (when I was thirteen or fourteen years old) I was in my very snug bedroom playing with my dollhouse, or maybe reading a book. I was content to be there by myself, with the door closed, quiet and very, very warm—because my bedroom was the warmest room in the house—it was hot in there! And so I was dressed appropriately for the weather...the weather in my bedroom, that is: I wore a pair of jeans cut off at the knee and fringed, and a red-and-blue plaid, cotton-gauze, sleeveless peasant blouse.

something like this

My older sister, Melanie, was in her bathroom (her room was across the hall from mine, and had an adjoining bathroom). She was getting ready for her first date with Rick. We were a picture of homey contentment.

But just as Melanie was about to step into the shower someone banged on her door! It was Peter, our oldest brother. He worked a swing-shift at a medical supply company in Murray and he needed a ride to work. NOW!!

Melanie had thought that our brother Paul was going to drive Peter to work, but apparently she had been grossly misinformed, and Peter was fuming at her door, needing a ride before he was made late for work. Now, Peter is a really, really nice guy, but his temper is not something you want to encounter. Ever. So Melanie scurried into the first piece of clothing she could find to cover herself up with—her beige wool dress-coat—slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops and headed out to the car.

her coat was something like this, only it was just past knee-length
—so cut eight to twelve inches from the hem of this coat and you've got it about right

I don't remember if Melanie asked me to go with her, or if I was just in it for the adventure, but I slipped into a pair of shoes (no socks), grabbed my coat, and joined them. Now it was cold outside. Cold, and wet, and gray. But we figured we'd be in the heated car the entire time; we'd drive Peter to work, come straight back, and get right back to what we'd been doing in our toasty warm home. No need to bundle up much.

The drive to Murray looked kind of like this:

And it was a little tense, because Peter was in a bad mood.

But Melanie and I relaxed as we chatted on the way back home. We came to an intersection where we could choose to continue straight and get home by making a turn later onto 6200 South—a well-used, well-plowed street, or we could turn off where we were and go home via the Airport Road—a street that was rarely used back then. Well, we decided it would be more fun and more interesting to drive down Airport Road.

So here we are, in my mom's little cream-colored Plymouth Horizon—which weighed about as much as a cardboard box—and we are confronted by a very slippery, very icy road, banked by fluffy snow, and it didn't take us long at all to realize we'd chosen the wrong way to drive home. The car started zigging and zagging all over the road; even though we weren't going fast, Melanie couldn't get control of it. The tension level was way back up, and maybe even past where it had been before.

This is what the car looked like. I took my driving test in this car; it really felt like it had no weight to it whatsoever.

Now, back then there was nothing on Airport Road except for ...I think it's the Utah National Guard's base and airport, which is fenced off,  and locked, and for which you undoubtedly need permission to enter. So there's the airport, all fenced off and empty for miles, to our right, and to the left the road dropped off and met with snowy fields. And in slow-motion, the car starts spinning and sliding to the left side of the road. And we two teenage girls are yelling and Melanie's trying to get some control of the car, and it's all to no avail. Off the edge we dropped, still spinning, out into the field. And then we stopped spinning, and started sliding back toward the road. And I saw the telephone poles behind us, and I just knew we were going to run into one. (We didn't; didn't even get close.)

And then there we were. Two scantily-clad girls, in a tiny car, up to the fenders in snow. And what could we do? This was in the dark-ages before cell-phones, right? We prayed. We turned on the emergency lights and hoped that someone would see them flashing down there. But this was not a well-traveled road back then, we were several feet from the road, and twilight was well upon us. Finally we decided that we'd better hike over to the airport and hope beyond hope that some kind soul would let us in to use a phone.

So we gingerly step into the snow, freezing in our flip-flops and bare ankles, and start walking back toward the airport. Just as we got back to the road a minivan pulled over; it was filled with a Dad, a Mom, and a bunch of little kids. The dad asked us if we needed help. Now, we were not totally stupid, and we realized that we were in a pretty compromising position, but the mom and the little kids (and probably some guidance from above) told us that these were nice people. They were. They let us get in their van and drove us to their house so we could use their phone.

Mrs. Minivan had dinner cooking at home, so she ushered the kids into the kitchen while Mr. Minivan showed us to the family room where there was a phone for our use, and where a nice fire was burning in the fireplace. Oh, that was a lovely, lovely room! Then he went up to have dinner with his family.

Melanie tried calling Dad, but he had already left work to pick up Mom from her workplace. She tried calling Mom, but just missed her. She called home, but Mom and Dad weren't home yet; they'd gone shopping. So she called the only other person she knew would be home, and whose number she knew: her date, Rick.

In the meantime, I was getting mighty warm in that fire-heated family room, with my coat on. Mr. Minivan came to see how we were faring at getting help. By then Rick was on his way, but, Melanie told Mr. Minivan, it would probably be half an hour before he showed up. He said that was all right. "Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable." So I took off my coat. He had been surprised at my cut-offs, and jokingly commented on my summery attire. Then he turned to Melanie and told her she could take her coat off too, if she was too warm. She said she was all right. Then, glancing at my clothes and then back to her, he teased, "What's the matter? Are you naked under that coat?"

Well, Melanie was mortified, and slightly offended, that he would say such a thing, but she kept those thoughts to herself; we both tee-heed politely at his joke. Rick showed up pretty soon in a little truck to drive us home. (I'm thinking I probably sat in the middle seat, although I don't really remember. Being young and naive I probably would have preferred Melanie to sit next to Rick.) We got home in time for dinner, and had a story to tell that freaked my mom out. Melanie got ready and went on her date with Rick. The next day my dad and my brothers were able to tow the Horizon out of the snow and get it home with—if I remember right—no damage. It all ended well—even Melanie's date; this was the first date of several, and they eventually got married.

And that is the end of my Winter Tale. Hopefully this winter will wait another couple of months before it really shows itself around here. When it does, you can think of this story to keep yourself warm.

Summer Summary 2017

This has been a big summer. A summer to remember—or maybe a summer to forget. No. It's all good. (In retrospect.) But it was for sure busy. It was A Summer of Eight... or Nine...  or...  Many Adventures.

Some time, back in April, we realized that with my Terrible Triad we had met all of our insurance deductibles. We knew (had known for a year) that Bruce had a little hernia that needed fixing, so we planned to do that after he was out of school for the summer. I told people, "Now that our deductibles are met, we are going to get surgeries for the whole family!" (Tee-hee. Haha.) This will be important later.

I guess our summer adventures began on April 29, when Lindsey graduated from Snow College. Bruce and I made the three-and-a-half-hour trip down to Ephraim so we could see our awesome daughter graduate, and bring her home. Jason also went to Snow last year, but he'd gotten a summer job at Fish Lake Lodge that was going to start the Monday after graduation. So we spent the night in Ephraim, helped the kids pack their apartments into the van, and drove two hours south to drop Jason off for work. Then Bruce, Lindsey and I made the six-hour drive back to Vernal. That was Adventure Number One.

Adventure Number Two was Ryan's graduation from Uintah High School. Yay! (It was maybe not as adventurous as driving for hours and hours, but it was a good adventure anyway.)

Once everyone was out of school we decided to take a little family vacation. So on Thursday, June 8, we made the three-hour drive to Salt Lake (everything is three hours from Vernal). We would be staying at Dad's Place which has a full kitchen, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, laundry machines, a 65-inch TV and blue-ray player, a large dining and game area, and a charcoal grill, all for the low, low price of FREE. While we were there we saw the sights in Salt Lake City, shopped, picnicked, went to our niece's baptism and our nephew's mission-farewell, visited with family, played games and relaxed together. Bruce and I also met with our realtor (my nephew, Ben) to sign papers for the sale of our West Valley house (thus beginning Adventure Four even while we were in the midst of Adventure Three).

picnicking in Salt Lake City with my sister, Melanie

Oooh! And here we all are in Hungary!

We had planned to come back home on Tuesday morning (the 13th), but we were late getting started, which turned out to be a good thing because Jason called us that afternoon. He'd been unhappy with the way things were going at Fish Lake, and decided to give them his two-weeks notice. He told them that his family was moving and needed his help (we should make him come home from Snow to help when we really do move ;-) ), so they magnanimously said that they'd just let him go right then if he was needed at home. So we spent one more night at Dad's, prepared a picnic dinner, and drove the four hours to Fish Lake to get Jason. We arrived there around 5:00 p.m., had dinner with Jason, packed up his stuff, and headed on the six-hour drive back to Vernal. We got in around midnight and that was the end of Adventure Number Three.

the traditional "car selfie," just before we left Fish Lake

Remember when I said we were going to get surgery for the whole family? Well, on Friday, June 16, Bruce went in to get his hernia repaired. Bruce is always friendly, and he was very chatty with the prep team at the hospital, and we were all having a great time. Then they put something in his I.V. to make him relax, and he started to get just a little silly. As they wheeled him toward surgery he saw the hospital staff standing off on either side of the hall (out of the way) and said, "It's like I'm in a parade! Should I wave?"

It really was a little hernia and only took half an hour to fix, then they brought him back to me. I have to say that Bruce is pretty hilarious when he's coming out of anesthesia. He was just soooooo happy. He loved his hospital gown; he liked his blue popsicle (which he offered to let the nurses try); he wanted to just hang out and be pals with everyone there. It was a little different at home when the drugs wore off and he discovered how hard it was to do anything after he'd had a hole cut in his belly. But after a few days of rest, and six weeks of not lifting anything over twenty pounds he is all recovered, his belly-button looks normal again (except for a little scar), and he is as good as new.  End of Adventure Number Five.

For Adventure Number Six Bruce went camping with the Young Women of our ward (to be one of the priesthood holders at camp). This was four days after his surgery! He'd volunteered to go before his surgery was scheduled, and he went! I told him this was OK as long as he didn't lift anything, and he didn't try to save any drowning young women—so, basically, he was not to be helpful at all. But they were glad to have him, and he was glad he went; he said he had a good time.

On June 26 Lindsey had to be taken off to her summer job. So Bruce made the three-and-a-half hour drive to Camp Steiner to drop her off. (I told you everything was at least three hours from Vernal!) And then he drove back home again. Adventure Number Seven.

Back to Adventure Number Four: Ben listed our house on June 16 and the offers started coming in fast. But every offer fell through for one reason or another. When someone offered us $67k less than our asking price—but generously said he could go as high as $45k less than we asked, we decided we'd better go out to the house and see why it was scaring people away. So on the afternoon of Sunday, July 9, we packed a bunch of cleaning supplies, some tools, and all our kids into the van and drove back to Salt Lake again. The house was pretty dirty, the yard was a mess, I thought one room would be better for a new paint job, and the whole thing needed some TLC.

In all fairness, our renters were pretty great overall.
And they did have permission to paint that basement room;
I just had no idea they'd pick such a weird color.
(And the new tub and tile cleaned up beautifully.)

So Bruce and the kids cleaned, mowed, and weed-whacked the yard; the kids and I scrubbed down the kitchen, bathroom, and some walls; we all cleaned year-old paint spills (from our renters who painted a basement room dark blue) off of the floor; Ryan and Kaylie patched holes that had been drilled into the walls to hang up—I don't know what took so many screws to hang up; Ryan counted over 100 holes in just one room; Bruce got a carpet-cleaner and cleaned all the carpets; the kids replaced a few missing outlet plates. We worked fast and hard for three days, and then drove back home to Vernal Wednesday evening. On the drive home Ben called us with three more offers on the house, each one substantially higher than what we'd been getting before the cleanup trip. Adventure Number Eight really was to our advantage.

a man and his carpet-cleaner

a much-needed break

fresh paint—the same color as the rest of the house
non-painty floor, too

So, do you still remember my surgery comment? Well soon after we got Jason home from Fish Lake he told me he was having tonsil stones. (Actually he just described it to me, and I thought it sounded like kidney stones, so I googled "tonsil stones," not even knowing if that really was a thing. It is.) So we took him to see Dr. Catten, an otolaryncologist (big word for the day), and he said the tonsils would have to come out. Jason also said that he can hardly ever smell anything at all—even skunk!—unless he gets his face right in it (although he's never put his face on a skunk). So Dr. Catten said he'd do some surgery on Jason's nose, too. Then when Rachel heard what we were all talking about, she said that she had tonsil stones too; she'd googled it a couple years ago and knew all about it—but she hadn't told us about it. So we took her to see Dr. Catten, and she was scheduled for a tonsillectomy too. We took them both to the hospital on the morning of July 27.

two kids prepped for surgery

Rachel's surgery was first; it took about thirty minutes. Jason's took a little longer, since it was technically two surgeries. Rachel came out of her anesthesia calm and quiet as ever, just really, really sleepy; she said it felt like they gave her strep throat. Jason woke up chatty, and he said funny things. He kept saying that he was stupid. "I'm stupid now. Drugs make you stupid. That's why I don't do drugs." (There's the lesson for the day.) He was also determined to remember Keith, the post-op nurse, because Keith told Jason that he probably wouldn't remember him. "You're a nice guy. You deserve to be remembered." And he did remember him.

An hour or so after surgery; I don't know how he breathed at all.

Rachel got to go home the same day as her surgery, but since Jason had surgery on both of his airways he had to spend the night at the hospital for observation. They were both pretty miserable—and very hungry—for a couple of weeks, but they recovered well. Pretty much back to normal now. There goes Adventure Number Nine.

Lindsey, as you remember, was working at Camp Steiner, but she'd been contacting us every weekend. She had some kind of problem with her hip, and it was getting worse with the hiking, so she had to come home. So on July 28 Bruce drove out to get her, (while I stayed home with two sad tonsillectomy victims) and then drove back home again. Another seven hours of driving, and Adventure Number Ten down.

While we were having all of these other fun adventures, Adventure Four (the selling of the house) was still working in the background. We got a good offer on the house, we accepted, the buyer did their due-diligence,  the house was under contract, and things were looking good. Except the appraiser didn't like the addition to the garage. Well, I guess he was OK with the addition, but he wasn't OK with there being no building permit (long story). So he refused to inspect and appraise the house unless we tore the new rooms out of the garage. The buyer said they wanted the new rooms but the appraiser wouldn't budge. The buyer asked if we would tear out the rooms, and then give them an allowance to build them back in. Ummm...No. In fact, we'd had the house approved for an FHA loan just a year ago, so we knew it would pass an inspection. Ben suggested they find a different lender (and so a different appraiser); he even told them he had a lender who would approve the loan and could close within a week's time. But they wouldn't budge on that point. In the end, Ben went and tore the rooms out of the garage. Then the appraiser said he wouldn't inspect the house unless the debris was removed from the garage. So on August 9 (just nine days before our contract would expire) Bruce and the boys drove back to Salt Lake to clean out the garage.

OK. I might not have appraised it myself with
all of that stuff in there.

 They left Vernal at 7 a.m. and got right to work on the garage. They filled the van top to bottom and front to back with what had once been three-year-old bedrooms (drywall, framing, and carpet)—twice—and carried all they could off to the dump.

top to bottom and front to back

There was still a little debris left to get rid of, but the dump closed before they could do it. So they put the remaining stuff (mostly 2x4's) into the shed. Then they drove back home, getting in around midnight. End of Adventure Number Eleven.

Then a couple of weeks ago, having reached the ripe, old age of fifty, I had to go get a colonoscopy. I won't give you any details on that (you're welcome), except that it wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. Adventure Number Twelve.

The appraiser did go out and look at the house on August 15 (three days before the end of the contract), and he did approve it, although he also griped about the stuff in the shed. While my guys were working on the garage they found out (from a friendly neighbor) that West Valley City had scheduled a neighborhood cleanup and was going to drop off a large trash bin right in front of our house on Monday, August 21—three days after the contract date. So we said we'd find someone to haul the rest of that stuff out on that day, and they were all OK with that. Whew!

As promised, I contacted members of our old ward and they said they'd take care of the shed for us (because they are awesome!) Then we heard, from the buyer's agent, that there was dust on the floors of the house, and the buyers expected to move into a clean house. Seriously?! The house had been empty for over a month! There was going to be dust on the floors! I will not tell you the kindly thoughts I had about them at that point. But Ben and his wife generously went over and swept and vacuumed the house.

Bruce and I signed the final papers for the sale of our house on Thursday, August 17; the buyers signed the final papers on their end the same evening. Adventure Number Four finished! Almost...

We had a little in-between adventure on August 19 when we took Jason back down to Snow College. He was happy to go back. Bruce and I drove him down there, bought him a bunch of groceries, helped him move his stuff back into his apartment, and then had a pleasant drive back to Vernal. That was Adventure Number Thirteen.

So on the morning of Monday, the 21st, we got a message from the buyer's agent: the stuff is still in the shed. Well, excuse us, but our friends do have jobs during the day and we still live 180 miles away. We called to make sure someone was really going to take care of it; they were, and they did. (They really are awesome.) It took them about 30 minutes.

Now you'd think that Summer Adventure Number Four was finally at an end, but you'd be wrong. It turns out that the title company miscalculated the amount of our realtor's commission, and sent us too much money. Well, after all his hard work Ben had to get paid. So we got a cashier's check and got it sent off. And now Adventure Number Four has really, truly reached it's conclusion!

We had some minor adventures of school shopping and helping Bruce get his classroom ready for school. (I guess you could call them Fourteen and Fifteen if you wanted to.)

And then school started on the 23rd. We are temporarily down to just one car, so I've spent a lot—a lot of time doing errands and running people around just since school started.

And now our summer adventures are over.

And I am exhausted.

And a new adventure is beginning...

Sold!

In March of 2000 Bruce and I signed papers to buy our first house.

And today, after two years of...hassle, that house is sold! Getting it sold is a long story, and one which I'm saving for my summer summary. For now, I'll leave you with a tribute that Jason wrote (for his public-speaking class) about our little house:

Five thousand, seven hundred, forty-three city units west and four thousand, three hundred, sixty units south of Temple Square, Salt Lake City, Utah is the place that I call home, the place where I was raised. In the summer there you can hear a mariachi band every Saturday night from someone's nearby party, or in the fall each week the cheers of a crowd and the celebration of a band playing as the high school has their weekly football games.

The house sits peacefully on a slight slope overlooking the valley, like a hiker admiring a view amidst a suburb all beside it; it is content to stand and do its job as a home resolutely, forever in its way, despite the environment within. It sheltered a man and his wife with not one or two or three, but eight children for fifteen years, many of whom had never seen another house before. Throughout the years it heard screams of laughter as they played, and screams of pain as they fought; it was the keeper of singing and classical piano, and love within, and a place to rest from play without. Most years a tomato jungle grew out back, like a lion's mane behind his head, and at the bidding of my mother dear, we children learned to work hard here.

There were many nights that I would rest beneath the peach tree, looking at the stars and enjoying fresh-picked fruit, and wherever else I ever go, I'll still remember the warm summer air and sweet Latin music from that place that, as a child, I called home.

This house was a good home for us.

News From Hungary

Today we got a great email from Elder Brandon North! Yay!! Brandon is in Érd right now (say, "aired"). He often writes, "I don't know what to tell you about..."  (Boo). But today's email was awesome, so I will share it with you.

Here's what he has to say:

"So, the first thing I would like to tell about is Elöd. He is our most progressing (formost progressing?) investigator. Elöd has lived a really rough life, but he is happy anyway. He came to Church this last Sunday and he loved it. I really hope that Elöd will decide to be baptised. 

Aside from that, life in Érd is great. My companion and I get along really well. Elder Jones is a really funny guy. He does a lot of interesting things, however the first thing that comes to mind is that he often calls me a whore. I realize that this doesn't really sound all that good, or all that Christlike but he does it in a way that makes it kind of funny. We have received a media referral. Which means that someone found the Church online and decided to request missionaries. We also met a young man named Valantine. Valantine is really excited to be meeting with the missionaries because he doesn't know anyone else his age (20) who actually believes what they profess to believe.

Well, I don't know what else to say.

Did you know that brown sugar doesn't really exist out here? Beef is also really hard to find.

Oh yeah, Elöd had his birthday sometime in January and his whole family forgot. So, Elder Jones and I are going to bake him a cake or something. Also, I think that Elöd wants to write to you so I am going to try to help him find you online. Or give him your emails (my parents emails anyway). Elöd does know English but he reads better than he speaks. However he writes pretty well too.

The Érd Force. That is a title that I thought of and people think that it is hilarious. I mean missionaries when I say people. Most Hungarians don't get it.

"Well, I think that I am really done now.

I love you all,

"Sincerely,
Brandon"

It's really fun to get a letter from Brandon and see how things are going for him. I am a happy mom today!

If you want to email Elder Brandon North, his email address is: brandon.north@myldsmail.net

If you want to write to him (or send him some brown sugar) the address is:

Elder Brandon North
UNSJKE
Budapest
Hajnóczy u. 14
1122
HUNGARY