Interludes and Inter-“missions”

 The story isn’t over for those who have followed the events and thoughts in “Along the Hong River” just as it isn’t for us in our renewed life along the Oklahoma River. It is now a full two years since we emptied the storage unit which held our earthly belongings, thinning again our possessions,  before reassembling the puzzle into the space of our home on Northwest 17th Street. A lot of the content of our daily activity is not terribly different than it was while we lived in Hanoi, while some things are decidedly different.

We still rise early (the 5:30 am alarm is mostly redundant since the biologic clock is quite firmly set it would seem) and engage in morning exercise and gospel study. We use that study period to seek guidance and revelatory ideas that will help us lift and serve those whom we may meet or connect with during that day and days ahead. My friend and missionary department proselyting guru David Weidman counseled me to inquire of the Lord each day as to which of our elders or sisters may need an emotional touch of some sort that day. More often than not, when I have done that, the resulting experience has been rich and tender. The lesson for me is that the endowment of love for our fellow missionaries, and for the saints and friends that came into our lives there, carries with it the responsibility and opportunity to continue to minister and grow with them.

It wasn’t very long after we had been home that I realized how treacherous the period of  life following a mission was for most returning missionaries. So many critical decisions were to be made, that would lock them into patterns and positions that would work powerfully for their good, or for ill. Selecting the right spouse seemed to me the most potent of these decisions. So for many months now, I have prayed and fasted for them in that regard, sometimes as a whole, and sometimes for particular ones. The readily obtained answers to these pleadings are beginning to accrue. This month, four new families were founded in the Holy Temples, and lives full of hope and anticipation have been launched together with able and worthy spouses. If the ultimate measure of our efforts is to be measured in the character and devotion of the grandchildren of those missionaries, then we have reason to hope for good inasmuch as so many have begun well, taking to heart the admonition to “do it right from the beginning.” We rejoice in their joy, and hope in their hope.

 

Similarly, as the number of offspring from these marriages begins to grow and these young fresh spirits make their entrance onto the stage of life, we feel great anticipation and excitement. Mission grandchildren, as we have come to refer to these offspring, are a big part of our joy as well. We only regret that limitations on time, resources, and the current travel restrictions have cut off direct contact with these joys, as well as our own biologic grandchildren. 

In another aspect of the heritage of these genealogies, we have the on-going opportunity to see many of the new converts and even former investigators of our time in Vietnam stepping forward to serve full-time missions. For many of these Pioneers, this is not a trivial decision, nor even entirely their own. Our dear friend L was baptized in 2017, the only member of her family, of course. As a young woman who had entered the workforce following school, her family’s next expectation was for her to marry and begin a family. But to make matters more complicated, a sibling was pursuing a career in the Public Security arm of the government. As is well known to all in that division, a primary responsibility is to oversee potentially seditious religious organizations, and therefore any officer with personal OR family connections to religious organizations is black-marked to not advance into increased duties. Hence that same sibling looked upon L as blocking their ability to move up in the security apparatus, and as the oldest child, he easily recruited both parents into opposing L’s participation, attendance, and support for the Church. 

But Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles, after much counsel, prayer, fasting, and gentle persuasion, God did make a wall fall down. What tremendous joy we felt when the text came from L detailing with ebullient joy that both parents had granted permission for L to serve a mission. To make matters even sweeter, we know a certain returned missionary who will be waiting for the completion of that service. So our fasting for L and L’s parents, also meant fasting for a future spouse of infinite worth and high commitment and faith. It was two for one!

And so the rivers flow and we shall both watch from the banks, and at times follow the currents.

While we are sleeping...

                                 

Things happen when we aren't looking. When our eyes close at night, the world of life, the work of growth, the works of God (and in fact, half or more of God's creatures) go on living. I recall some time ago seeing a planting guide for a "night garden" made up of plants that flowered at night, and thus were particularly prone to fragrances and other means to attract night-active insects or other means of pollenation in the dark. I didn't undertake the create such a garden, but one plant which might well fit is this succulent that is now quite prevalent here in Vietnam as it produces a marketable fruit. Hylocereus undatus has many common names in a host of languages, from skogskactus in Swedish to Thang Long in Vietnamese. It is thought to have originated in the Americas, and I don't think was widely cultivated in Vietnam before 1975, as I certainly didn't ever see any of it's fruits in the markets then, but it is now widely available in the markets, almost year round, and has even reached the  point where it is a staple on the airline food offerings regionally.

The blossoms begin with yellow streamers that open at night into a white petaled flower that then produces the pear-shaped fruit with a watermelon like texture and myriad small black seeds scattered throughout the fruit. The flesh is usually white, but recently a crimson-fleshed cultivar has appeared which is slightly sweeter and hence commands a higher price. But the most notable feature, and the reason that one would have noticed and remembered them from 1975, is that when ripe the fruits are a hot-pink color that stands out strikingly for the fruit-seller. Cannot be ignored or missed! The efforts of the local growers in Vietnam would lead me to believe that they are seeking access to the US markets, so this odd-looking fruit may find a place among other other imports like mangos and papaya. Then what began with flies and other night insects on a white flower will be evident to all. 

                                     

                                      

In getting to and from Asia, there is often some night travel involved. Or at least it seems, given the lengths of time involved, that a night should have been in there somewhere! Even within Asia, overnight travel is often preferred due to the lower fares. Our group of 40+ who recently attended the Manila temple mostly took the overnight option, and Elder D, pictured below, bid his doting and supportive, though sorrowful parents, good bye near midnight, on his way to the Manila mission training center. So we go too sleep with our mind and body in one country, and wake up in a totally different environment. Perhaps that is the miracle we will experience with death one day.

                              

The miracle of conversion also seems to happen when we are not looking at times. We do not "cause" it in any sense, we only marvel when peace is spoken in the quiet moments of reflection, sometimes between wakefulness and drowsiness. Then like Oliver Cowdery, we are bid to cast our mind upon that night when we must answer "yes" to the query "Did not I speak peace to thy heart?" The transition from one resistant to the entreaties to believe, obey or follow is often a "miracle of the night" when we are not looking. 

At times, we stumble upon those whom the weathering and softening of age and experience are preparing for the truths that will change the course of their eternities. Sometimes these are the days and nights spend soldiering, serving on a battle's front that is anything but figurative. And sometimes the scars left in the ground are minimal in comparison to the scars left upon the souls of those who fought, or just witnessed. They stand in silence aside, sometimes without hope of repair, ever. But the Master is so often silently working when we are not looking, when we are sleeping. With time, with gentle tugs upon the heart strings that seemingly were knotted beyond hope of unraveling, he gradually pulls a bit here, snips another bit there, and hearts are softened, the seeds planted, and the soul once tattered and gnarled is made new again. In a country that has known so much  of war for so many centuries, it is endlessly comforting to know of a Savior whose balm heals endlessly and without adverse side-effect. To receive beauty for ashes, as Isaiah said, is the promise of His plan, and it is working in the lives of many souls here, so often, when we are not looking. 

But when we find them, where the miracle is ready to happen, where the seed of the Word is ready to spring forth, we know true joy.

Other comparisons could also be made. Physical growth primarily occurs at night. We put to bed a toddler, and they wake up an adolescent. A sapling retires for the night and they awaken a full grown tree, a teen turned into a young man or a young woman, exceeding so often their parent's in height, and to some points of view (often their own) in knowledge and wisdom. Some of the latter no doubt stems from the love of learning (or the external pressure for learning at times) that keeps their eyes glued to the page (or the screen) longer than older eyes can endure. Knowledge too then, is also captured so often in the late night and wee morning hours, while others slumber.

                              

So it has been for us. We turned our hearts to the work here long ago, but so much happened when we were not looking, when as it were, we stood at the gate whilst inside the garden the agony of so much work was being done in the night, the times of trial, of suffering, of deprivation. Our efforts then were weak to do much, and perhaps now are not much more. But yet, working with priesthood keys, we do see the miracles coming, as the dawn of light and truth spreads over Southeast Asia. It is such a different place than it was 40 or 50 years ago, or even 20 years ago when the gospel was still just getting a foothold in Thailand, and barely starting to be preached in Cambodia. But much has been happening here while we were sleeping. The work of the Master has not slackened at all, but has been silently going forward in every preparatory phase, in the softening of the ground, the placement of the arbors, the supports that will sustain growth and hold up the fruits as they, now long since pollenated in that night before, mature and are laid up in store for a bounteous future. 

This fellow has likewise come into our lives while we were aslumber, another miraculous blessing that is poured out to bless our lives and others, while we were not looking. His days are the obverse of ours, half a world away, so when we awake, we will rejoice again to know that the Master never slumbers nor sleeps in his efforts to pour out blessings upon his children on earth.