Sometimes words can’t describe how you feel about someone else. Two years ago my parents put retirement aside and applied to serve a mission for the LDS Church. You can do that when you are an older, retired couple. (Missions aren’t just for the young men and women.) They were initially asked to go to California for 18 months. I was excited to know they would be living closer to me and I would have a place to stay when I visited California. But two months before they were to leave on their mission, they were asked to accept a different assignment: Turkey for 21 months.
My parents have lived in the Middle East before as part of my dad’s work, so the request didn’t come as a complete surprise to them. And we even spent a 2 week vacation in Turkey as a family when I was fourteen years old. It was by far the worst family vacation ever in terms of everyone getting sick and being irritable.
Turkey is very different from other places where they lived in the Middle East – the culture was more western, the language completely different than what they’d tried to learn before, and they were sent to a city with no familiar faces. In fact, there was basically no presence for our church in that city. At first, it was basically my parents and, well, no one.
No one to translate for them. No one to help them figure out how to get around the city and read the metro routes (they didn’t have a car). No one to tell them where to shop or what to buy. No one to tell them how to get the church up and running in the city. No one to talk to or ask questions. And the heat and humidity didn’t suit them well. It was summer in Turkey and their apartment wasn’t furnished with the nice a/c units we are accustomed to here in the U.S.
It was basically a black hole for the first few months. They started venturing out a little. Trying out a few shops and restaurants. Trying out a few words in Turkish. Contacting a person or two on their church records. Getting on a bus and taking it to the end of the line – just to see where it went. Finding an IKEA. Finding a place to hold church. Meeting one person and then another.
This from my dad about their first Sunday in Izmir: Our Sacrament Meeting this morning consisted of three persons: your mother, an investigator, and myself.
This from my mother about her first two weeks in Izmir:
We left Utah 2 weeks ago. It sounds like a lifetime ago. I'll never complain about life again. We have 510 more days [this is before they decided to extend from 18 months to 21 months]. Who's counting?
Our major activities seem to center on setting up our living quarters, foraging for food, walking hundreds of miles each day, brushing off sweat rivlets from our skin, figuring out public transportation, and changing money.
I have prepared 2 home-cooked meals so far. 1. Mac and cheese. 2. Zucchini and rice. We usually eat out at sidewalk cafes for dinner. That is where most of humanity seems to settle in the evenings.
We study Turkish but Dad is more adept and disciplined than I. He keeps in contact with the "Association" here and is on a first-name basis with the plumber and a few merchants.
Today we set out to explore our city. We are just a couple of blocks from the Sea. We've walked along it most days. We took a taxi to a City Tour On-Off location. We were told that the bus might not be running today because no cruise ships were in port. But we sat down on a bench and waited anyway. And eventually a big bus came along. We were the only passengers. We had English headsets. We got the royal tour and now know more than previously.
After that we figured out how to take a ferry and went across the bay. It was a nice ferry and cheap. We had lunch at a sidewalk cafe and returned to a different port and walked miles to our home.
By the time we returned home I was very wilted. Dad stayed out to buy more zucchini. Yum yum. Eat your heart out!
We don't know exactly what our usefulness will be here, but we are available. Stay tuned.
Fast forward 21 months later and they arrived home this week. What impresses me the most is how much they gave up to go to a completely foreign place without family or friends (or even church members) and live there for nearly two years because of their strong conviction in God and their desire to share His love with everyone in the world. Despite the language and cultural barriers, they left behind them a strong branch and many friends and memories.
This is from a letter my dad wrote a month or so before they came home about their church attendance: We did not touch our record for attendance today (33 on December 11, 2016). But we were close. 30 people were with us, 20 in the hotel room and 10 joining by Skype for our Fast and Testimony meeting. From those who bore testimony and participated in our services, we heard five languages — Turkish, Farsi, German, Russian, and English. (The closing prayer was in Russian.) The whole of our Fast Meeting was conducted in Turkish, with English translation for the few who don’t speak the language of the country. That is as it should be.
The success didn’t come as a result of being able to speak Turkish or “convert” others. It came by being there. Staying there. Riding it out. Being consistent. Being a rock.
An amazing mission for two retirees from faraway Orem, Utah.
I’m grateful to call them my parents.
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| Inspecting the fruit trees 21 months later .... |
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