Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #10

 

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on how Christmas celebrations can vary from one community to another.  For the third time, as a couple, Ward and I have had the unique opportunity of experiencing Christmas from a different perspective. As we all look back on favorite holiday memories, we find that those  memories are inexorably tied to traditions and the feelings that still linger years later. Given the opportunity, most of us, I believe, would keep Christmas just the way it always was. It is what we know. It is what makes us feel good. It is what we remember and the way that we remember it.

This week, we would just like to share with you a Christmas picture card of the way things are here.  So, now that the gifts have all been presented and unwrapped and all the huge feasts are now relegated to leftovers, please enjoy our sampling of Christmas in a place more than half way around the world from your celebrations and traditions. 

We live in a little village where the Christmas celebration began with a street fair. We were excited to be sprinkled with fairy dust by our Christmas Fairy crossing guards.

 

The village featured a larger than life Nativity.

 





 

 

Little angels welcomed lambs to the manger

 

A multitude of musicians entertained the villagers

 

The good fairy crossing guards made sure that we all were escorted home safely 

Celebrating summer is an annual event, even when snow can still be seen on the distant mountains. Burrrrrrr!

 

 

I wonder if the "Parking at rear" sign was suggesting that Mary and Joseph should go around to the back of the building!

 

 

Our friend, Tom, who went fishing in the morning, presents us with a very unique Christmas gift. One of us was thrilled.

The other was not thrilled that Ward's dinner was riding home under the front seat. Did I mention that they were still alive and literally kicking?

 

 

Time for dinner, so stop squirming!

 

Ross Honey invited himself to dinner and promised to cook a Hangi. A hangi is a meal cooked when the fire on the bottom heats up the rocks on the top. Then Ross took all of the hot rocks and put them into the hole you see below. The food is then put on top of the hot rocks, then everything is covered and allowed to cook for about three hours. Our Christmas "Feed" included a leg of lamb, a whole chicken, and a pork roast. Ross also cooked potatoes, Kumura (sweet potatoes) and pumpkin. 

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile, Ward was coaxing his dinner contribution into the pot

This is Ross and the hangi that he cooked for three. I did not say three hundred, I said three people!

 

 

Sparing no expense, I made a Christmas tree out of construction paper and taped it to the wall. What you see underneath are the gifts that friends from our ward sent in a Christmas stocking. You will also notice a calendar that Wards' daughter, Teresa, made for us.

 

 

 

We were so thrilled to receive another beautiful handmade Christmas stocking from our ward. Many of the cards displayed came from that stocking. Please notice also, the freshly cut Hydrangeas on our mantle. These beautiful flowers are the gift in our yard that just keep on giving. 

 The Manatuke branch, held a Christmas party on the beach. How many of us can say that five days before Christmas, we were taking part in a sandcastle building contest? Now we can!

 

The winner of the contest wasn't even a castle, it was a giant sea turtle.

Meke is carrying little Tommy, while you can see Ward and part of the peninsula in the background.

This is the beach where the Brown family came to collect the driftwood for their Christmas tree.

 

Upon hearing that Ward needed to be careful of sun exposure, one of our friends presented us both with matching New Zealand bush  gear. Merry Christmas and we take our hats off to everyone who has helped us celebrate this season.

 

 

 

 

As usual, we are happy and trying to work hard. It has been a lovely Christmas and we are so grateful for all of the thoughts and messages that have come our way. As 2015 will arrive before we post our next blog, let us be among the first to wish you all a Happy New Year. And just think, we are a day ahead of you, so we will be able to tell you all about it!

 

 

 

Love, Ward and Susan    Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #9

Kia ora, everyone! Our excellent adventure continues with thoughts on a song that has been constantly playing in my mind for the last two days. As I understand it, “Joy to the World”, was based on Psalms 98 in the Bible, and even though it has become a Christmas favorite, it was originally written celebrating Christ’s final return, rather than His birth. Be that as it may, this song celebrating Christ has been on instant rewind in my head ever since Ward and I spent two days this week in Hamilton, New Zealand with many of our Cook Island friends.

 

There was a mission conference scheduled for last Tuesday and it was to be held in Hamilton near the temple. It was an exciting time for over 250 missionaries as they anticipated spending the day with friends and former companions. It would be a wonderful opportunity to be taught, spiritually fed and to enjoy the company of the entire mission. Everyone was looking forward to that day and Ward and I were no exception. Our excitement was also focused on the fact that many of our Cook Island friends had scheduled their annual temple trip that same week and we had been given permission to extend our stay so that we could spend time with them.

 

In several of our blogs, written while we were serving in the Cook Islands, I mentioned the humble and often spartan living conditions of our friends. I shared stories of how they live off the land and how they raise pigs and goats to put meat on their tables. I joked that you don’t want to become too attached to those creatures, because they most often end up as the main course of one kai kai or another. I once took my blog readers on a Cook Island home tour, where the readers were introduced to the reality of island housing. It was, I hope a respectful tour, but it was meant to help the reader appreciate just how little these people have, compared to what most of us experience, but at the same time how grateful and truly joyful they are for what they have.

 

Our friends save all year for the blessing of being able to spend one week in December serving in the New Zealand temple. The plane fare alone is at least six hundred dollars per person. This is a huge sum for these people. This year, over thirty made that annual temple trip. They stayed together in temple housing, where each small room contained beds for six and a bathroom; nothing else. There is a community kitchen, where they would all come together at the end of the day for a shared meal. There is a lot of laughter and everyone shares what they have with the rest of the group. In my former life, I would be thinking about what tablecloth to use and what sort of a centerpiece would be appropriate. I would be concerned about whether my china (I use this term loosely) matched my glasses and how the food should be garnished to make it as enticing as possible. Watching my friends, as they ladle dinner out of massive pots, I am reminded that some of us may go a tad overboard when it comes to entertaining. After all, isn’t the whole object of our being together is to enjoy and be joyful?

 

At the end of the first evening, after the last fingers were licked and the last plate cleaned, everyone congregated in the lounge area and held a devotional. There were prayers, some short items of business were discussed and then the singing started. During the prayer, blessings were requested for all those less fortunate. Ward and I both remember wondering during that prayer, who would be less fortunate than some of our friends, but I had forgotten that material possessions mean very little to them.  Ward and I also must have very short memories, because somehow, we had forgotten just a little, how beautiful that singing was. How can that singing be so forceful, yet so tender? How can such a small group sound like so many? How could I have forgotten just how touching their singing is? It was magical and at times, I just closed my eyes and let the music wash over me. One of the favorite hymns sung both evenings was “Joy to the World”, and it was spectacular. The evening of the devotional, that song was sung reverently. The next evening was an entirely different story.

 

The second evening that we spent together was a party. Many of the other temple workers arrived to participate in the caroling. There was no strolling from one home to another as you might expect. Instead ukes were tuned, head eis (flower wreaths) were donned, sarongs were tied around waists and Angora Williams took two spoons out of the kitchen drawer to make yet another musical instrument. There was singing, dancing, a lot of laughter and the songs that had sounded so reverent the evening before, now were treated with an entirely different approach. They were loud, they were joyful. They were accompanied by clapping hands and the wooden kitchen tables became makeshift drums! I closed my eyes as my friend, Tereomona Cummings gently rocked me back and forth with her to the beat of the music. I was back home in the Cooks and it was perfect.

 

Eventually, the dancing started and the rule of the evening was that if the dancer took off the head ei and handed it to you, it was your turn to get up and dance. It was considered an insult to say no, so no one did. When my turn came, as I feared it would, my “dancing” consisted of a few steps of the hula ( or whatever) a little bit of the twist and as much of the Charleston as I could manage. Being a good sport is almost as important as being a good dancer, so let’s just say that I was a very good sport! I had fun and there was no worry about being embarrassed. These people were my friends and that’s all that mattered. Yes, Ward did perform “Little Grass Shack”, but that is to be expected. What was also expected as I searched for him across the room, was that that he was tearfully observing while remembering all of the sweet times that are now Cook Island memories.

 

If you have never head Christmas carols accompanied by the ukekele, then you haven’t really heard. At the evening wound down, there were at least six, “Last Songs” “Ok, this is really the last song”, and” Ok, Ok, this truly is really the last song!” It was getting late, but no one wanted to be the first to leave. Finally, after the final song, a prayer and many hugs, the crowd went their separate ways and Ward and I drove away with some Cook Island gifts and kisses on the cheek. We shared our “See you laters” and left knowing that we will have the opportunity to experience this all over again next year.

 

The photos that we are sharing this week are chosen to help you appreciate the joy that was part of those two evenings. I have tried my best to describe that which is almost indescribable, so I hope that you will be able to sense at least a portion of what we experienced this week.

 

As usual we are happy and trying to work hard. This week has been joyful and we are so grateful to have been a part of that gathering. We will share our New Zealand Christmas with you next week, should you be curious, but we felt that this message just could not wait. We hope that each of you find joy in your world this Christmas and know that you have been a joy to have in our lives.

 

Love, Ward and Susan     Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

 

 

 

 

 

Joy to our world!

Advernures in Paradise Volumn 2 #8

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with a Christmas story that I would like to call “The Driftwood Christmas Tree”.  I have always believed that the best, most heart-touching stories are the ones that are true. Knowing that something really happened, for me at least, leaves me a little more thoughtful. It leaves me thinking a little more deeply about life and what happens while we are living it. So, I hope that you enjoy this week’s installment of our Adventures in Paradise.

                                   “The Driftwood Christmas Tree”

 Jenine Brown has always been a caretaker of the environment. She is a recycler and a composter. She never buys new when she can reuse old. She is thoughtful and careful about her surroundings. She grows as much of the family grocery list as she can and has taught her children to leave as small a footprint as is humanly possible. She has much the same approach when it comes to celebrating special occasions, including and especially Christmas.

Years ago Jenine began teaching her children the real meaning of Christmas. They were instructed in the true reason for the season and it changed the way that they celebrated the holiday. Although there were still presents under the tree, there were fewer of them and they were more thoughtful. Stockings were still hung, waiting to be filled, but they were filled differently and with more advanced planning. Eventually, as the children turned into teenagers, the task of thoughtfully filling the stockings fell to them. Each of the siblings, in secret, drew the name of another, and spent the whole year leading up to each Christmas collecting small items to be placed in that persons stocking. As you can imagine, the result of the Christmas stocking idea was that each brother and sister took more time to get to know members of their family. They listened more intently and paid more attention. It became a year-long game to find ways of personalizing the items that would go into that sock. Even though there were still a few gifts under the tree, Parekura Brown, their father, told us that those larger boxes are ignored as the now, nearly adult children race each other to the bulging Christmas stockings that have become their favorite part of the day.

True to form, Jenine decided that it made no sense to cut down a perfectly healthy tree. It would be beautifully decorated for a few weeks, then, discarded at entry of the new year. She felt that this was a waste of a living thing and it didn’t need to be. She was, I will add, also not fond of artificial anything and an artificial Christmas tree just didn’t feel right to her either. Jenine thought and thought and one day while walking on the beach near her village (Manutuke), she had a brilliant idea! Why not fashion a tree out of driftwood!!!  It was perfect!

Perfection may often be found in the eye of the beholder and it must be said, here, that although Jenine thought that the driftwood tree idea was brilliant, her family, especially the teenagers, had a less than favorable reaction to the idea. But the Brown teenagers knew their mother. They knew that even though they had registered their protests, it was clear from the onset, that there was going to be a new sort of Christmas tree in the house that year and that they may as well accept that change and get on with it. Hoping to delay the inevitable, the Brown children kept finding reasons for not going to the beach: it was a rainy day, it was a windy day (does all the driftwood blow away?) it was a school day, it was the weekend. There was always a reason why it was not a good day for gathering. Finally, after church one sunny Sunday, the Browns, having everyone is the family van, drove directly to the beach instead of home. Protests were registered from the backseat, but in vain.It was d-day. The “D” standing for driftwood!

No sooner had the Browns stepped out of their vehicle, than they heard calls for help. There was someone in the water who was floundering. They could see in the distance that the person was waving their arms in a panic. Someone was drowning! Tauri ,the oldest of the brothers took off running in full Sunday dress and entered the water seconds later.  Parekura,  the father, frantically searched the shore for something that might aid in the rescue and finally located an old boggie board. Running at full-speed holding that boogie board under one arm, Parekura also ran into the water fully-dressed. Between the two, father and son were able to reach the man, who had grown tired while swimming, load him onto the boggie board and bring him back to shore.  A life had been saved! And much later, after Christmas, there was a ceremony where Tauri Brown was awarded a bronze medal by Gisborne City in thanks for his heroism that day. He said that he did not feel much like a hero, but the city disagreed.

It should be said that after saving a life that day, the entire Brown family was struck with the feeling that they had been in the right place as exactly the right time and they were grateful. They also spent the rest of that Sunday afternoon collecting driftwood for the tree that only one of them had wanted to build.  Isn’t it funny how life happens? That driftwood tree is now four years old and there are no plans to replace it.  Parekura  Brown says that although it stands as a reminder of Christmas, not one of the family every walks by that tree without also thinking of the life that was saved the day their mother forced them to the beach to collect driftwood.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We wish you a joyous holiday season and hope that you all take time to enjoy the spirit that embodies the celebration. We are grateful for having you in our lives and should you happen upon a piece of driftwood, think of us and the Brown family.

You might be interested in knowing that Parekura Brown has just been called as the branch president in the Matukute branch. This little branch has been open for only about six weeks. Our mission president requested that we help the members of this branch in any way that we can. We are very happy there.

Ka kite, Ward and Susan,   Elder and Sister Belliston serving in Gisborne NZ

 

Adventures in Paradise Vol. 2 #7

Adventures in Paradise  Volume 2    #7

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure in New Zealand has been more of an adventure that we could ever have imagined.  During the last four weeks since arriving, we have been taught lessons that we will never forget. There have been instances of great frustration and disappointment and we have learned from them. We have been tutored with great kindness and we are grateful.  We have been reminded what it must have been like for our ancestors to leave everything and say good bye to everyone they loved, knowing that for most it would likely be the last time. We now appreciate their great courage in moving towards the unknown. We have gained new empathy for those who relocate not understanding the language or culture of a new land, and we are also mindful of those who cannot, for whatever reason, find a home and know that we have gained a new perspective.

Four weeks ago, we arrived in Auckland and were greeted by our mission president and his wife. Our first few days in New Zealand were crowded with appointments, dinners and tours of the area. It felt like Christmas (actually a very good one) as we were given a cell phone, lodging and even a new car! We were told that a lovely furnished cottage awaited us in Gisborne and we were sent on our way. We were excited…………………..

Gisborne, New Zealand is advertized as a lovely beach town, which resembles Napa Valley in the fact that there are vineyards and wineries. It is a quaint city full of old Victorian homes. It is a vacation destination city and by Christmas, tourists will flock to its beaches to spend the summer in the sun. There are palm trees lining its main street and quaint shops for the avid shopper to explore. It’s lush and green and once out of the city, you will find that the countryside is breathtaking. Sheep and cows dot the hillsides and the sunsets are to die for. We had been assigned to heaven and we were thrilled………………………………………………………………..

Pulling up to our “cottage” that first Saturday evening, left us feeling a tad uneasy. That little house did not look much like its photo and something did not seem quite right. It seemed so not right that Ward suggested that I stay in the car while he found the key. He went in and took the first look. Uh oh. It was less than two minutes later, when Ward rounded the side of our new home wearing a very grim look on his usually very sunny face. The dreaded words, “You do not want to go inside”, were not too encouraging. How bad can it be, I wondered and soon enough I found out just how bad it could be as I stood in what served at the living room and was afraid to touch anything. To make a long story much shorter, the home that we were to spend 18 months in found us not lasting 18 minutes. To say that the booking agent had misrepresented the property was an understatement, and being anxious to find us a home, the Hamilton office had accepted the word of the agency without ever having seen inside. We knew that it would not be possible to stay. We were now homeless and tired.

Ten minutes later while we were still sitting in the car in front of the cottage, and as Ward was attempting to stop my sobbing, young Elders Jones and Christy came to our rescue. We will always be grateful for their thoughtfulness. They took us to the same motel that our mission president uses and luckily, there was one room left. We spent the next ten days there as the hunt for a new flat began in earnest the following Monday. Those two young men, knowing full well the condition of that cottage, talked it over and offered to move out of their flat and into the home that we had rejected! We were touched by their kindness, but in talking with the Hamilton office about the situation, Ward said that if the house was not habitable for us, it was not habitable for the young elders.

Now one could argue that living in a nice motel on the beach is not a curse. The fact that housing was so difficult to find, made that beachfront view less enjoyable. Every day we were trying to find a housing solution in a place where we were strangers. Each property management firm had its’ own set of rules and some neglected to even call us back. The clock was ticking and the cost of the motel was adding up. To further complicate matters, we have been unable to access the internet and we were feeling cut off from the world as we knew it. Finally, the Hamilton mission office decided that the Elders would move in with other young Elders and that they should vacate their flat in preparation for our moving in and we were heartsick over taking their home.

Just before they were to move and after a thorough cleaning of their flat (which was not a bad thing) there was a stay of execution for the Elders as Ward and I found an apartment. The housing Elder from Hamilton, who, with his wife, had come up to help us, brokered a deal with yet another management agent. All was saved and we were excited. The next day, as we were preparing for our move, we were stunned to receive a call informing us that the owner of the apartment had decided to “take it off the market”. While we can’t be certain of why this happened, we were quite certain that we now, once again, had no home. Meanwhile, the Elders had moved back into their now very tidy flat and were blissfully unaware that once again, a move might be in their future.

Elder and Sister Saunders, who had driven five hours from Hamilton pulling a trailer full of household goods for us, were stunned at the news. It was now Friday afternoon and they were returning to Hamilton on Sunday. I am not ashamed to admit that my tears started flowing again. We were tired and beyond frustrated.  We were still unable to communicate with those at home, whom we assumed were wondering what in the world had happened to us. Sister Saunders suggested that we have a prayer asking for direction. Immediately after the “Amen” Sister Saunders opened the phonebook and placed her finger on the ad of a management company that we had not visited, nor even noticed before. It was 4:30 and the office closed at 5:00. We quickly drove to the office and asked if by any chance, there was anything in our price range, and the agent said that a new booking has just opened up and she took us to see it. Might I mention here, that many agencies only have open house hours once or twice a week , but we managed to find one who was willing to show us the house immediately. The house was rented on the spot, with the promise to have it ready for occupancy the following Wednesday.  Our new home is not new at all, having been built in 1910. It is not fancy, and we had to wait four days after moving in for the shower to be installed , but it is clean and it is ours. There are Hydrangeas blooming next to the house and wild Geraniums and Lillies growing in abundance in our backyard. We moved in last Wednesday and again it was Christmas!

I watched in gratitude and a fair amount of relief as a washer and dryer, refrigerator, microwave, beds, dishes and boxes of brand new household equipment were brought through our front door. We also did a little thrift shop (they call them op-shops) cruising and scored a couch, two arm chairs and a dining room set.  We now have a home that we are thrilled with, although I must say that my level of expectation has been lowered and I have learned once again, a lesson that I learned in the Cook Islands. I can live with a lot less than I thought I could and I now count my blessings very differently.

Houses here in New Zealand do not have central heating, so we will just wear sweaters. The bathrooms are not as updated as we are used to, but we now have a shower and we will be fine. Christmas will be celebrated with picnics and beach parties, but we will manage. Once again, we have met generous new friends who are keeping us well stocked with fresh oranges and grapefruit while our old friends at home just celebrated Thanksgiving. We had our own version of Thanksgiving with young missionaries who are missing their own homes and families and we will make a new little family with them while we are here. Life is good and we are truly thankful. Our internet was connected yesterday and we are so relieved to be able to communicate one again. We are feeling so much more settled and that is a very good feeling.

 As usual, we are happy and trying to work hard and find our way in a very beautiful new setting. When I mentioned that we are trying, Sister Saunders said that yes, we certainly were “trying”! We have been touched by the help and kindness of others and have been reminded of the goodness that exists everywhere. We have also learned to rely a little more on each other and I for one am grateful that I have a husband who remains calm when things are not going well. I have learned a lot from him this week and I am grateful for his concern for me. We are excited to share our continuing adventures with you all and promise much shorter installments in the next few weeks.

Love, Ward and Susan     Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

 

 

  Sadly, this little cottage was not habitable. Good bye house number one.

The young elders offered to give us their house in trade for ours. We were grateful, but wanted them to stay in their own home. Good bye house number 2.

This mixed-use building contained businesses on the bottom floor and four modern apartments on the top level. We were all set to move in until the owner changed his mind. Good bye house number 3. 

 





Welcome to house number four. 159 Clifford Street. This home, built in 1910 is being restored by the owner. Homes in New Zealand do not have central heating so we are grateful for two fireplaces as well as two portable room heaters. The little window high up on the right side of the house is original stained glass and the light that comes through it in the morning is lovely.

 



We are now settled in our new/old home and photos of the inside will be included in another blog. We are thrilled to have so many fresh flowers growing in our yard. Should you like to drop us a note, we would be so pleased as we now even have our own mail box!

 

Elder and Sister Belliston

159 Clifford Street

Whataupoko

Gisborne, New Zealand  4010

Adventures in Paradise    Volume 2      #6

Kia ora, our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on time and how we perceive it. For the last week or so, a little green travel clock has been perched on the top of Ward’s roll top desk. This clock is omni present as its face is always visible whenever we sit at the computer. Its constant ticking is a glaring reminder to me that time is passing and it is moving at what seems to be warp speed. That menacing clock face, with its glow-in-the-dark hands, seems even more frightening as Ward has set it to a New Zealand time zone! Every time that I sit down at the computer, that evil little clock reminds me that it is later than I think. With this weeks’ observation of Halloween, I can’t think of a costume more likely to strike dread into the hearts of beleaguered time-challenged adults than to have someone dressed as a clock ring your doorbell. Yikes!

In the early 1970s, Jim Croce wrote a touching song entitled “Time in a Bottle”. As I recall, Jim penned the words after his wife, Ingrid informed him that he was going to be a father. It was the first conversation that Jim would have with his yet unborn son.

If I could save time in a bottle

The first thing that I’d like to do

Is to save every day till eternity passes away

Just to spend time with you

If I could make days last forever

If words could make wishes come true

I’d save every day like a treasure and then

Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time

To do all the things you want to do once you find them

I’ve looked around enough to know

That you’re the one I want to go through time with

If I had a box just for wishes

And dreams that had never come true

The box would be empty, except for the memory of how

They were answered by you

I have always loved that song and it has never meant more to me that it does at the present. Having written about my father in last weeks’ blog, I find that he and my mother and all those who are no longer with me have been upper most in my mind. For some reason, I have been quietly singing Jim Croces’ song to myself and just in the last day or two, I have actually contemplated the meaning of his words.

However much we would like on some occasions, we are never able to save time in a bottle. When I was very young, I used to wish that Christmas day could go on forever. I loved the way that day made me feel. It wasn’t just the gifts, it was the palpable spirit that permeated the season. It seemed perfect. I fantasized that if I could create a world of my own, I would have time stop, or at least slow down on special occasions. I did not appreciate God’s wisdom in actually having time pass. I did not understand that time and the learning that came from days and years of time passing would prove to be invaluable in making progress and growing from the mistakes that would surely be made. What a blessing it is to have time to grow and change.

Jim also talks about eternity passing away, which we know won’t happen and I am grateful for that knowledge as well. I did not have enough earthly time with my father and I am profoundly blessed to know that I have will have an eternity to participate in all of those father-daughter conversations that were left uncompleted in our mortal lives. I can’t wait! Imagine never have to worry about time running out too quickly or not having enough time to complete whatever it was that needed completing. What a beautiful concept is eternity. Those endless days that we will have to spend with each other will be priceless.

So, my box of wishes would be filled to overflowing. It would contain, for starters, a list of all of the people that I have missed spending time with and wish to see. It might contain questions that I forgot to ask or didn’t have time to address. I would want to know that my parents are peaceful, happy and in a good place. My wish list would include meeting for the first time, a grandfather that I never had the opportunity to meet in this life. And as that little green clock keeps ticking and reminding me that I am running out of time to be sitting at this computer, I will be grateful that there will be no time constrains on relationships. Time will not pass away and neither will I.

In 1973, Jim Croce lost his life in a plane crash. His son, Adrain, would have only been about three years old at the time. His song lyrics became strangely prophetic and I can only imagine that Ingrid Croce and her young son would have been wishing that there was a way to uncork a bottle that would release more time for them as a family. As I have thought about this, I hope that they know that Jim still exists and that they will see him again. I know what a comfort this knowledge has been to me. I do not have his permission to quote him, so I won’t reveal the name of the husband who once told his wife that eternity was not a long enough time to spend with her. What a lucky wife!

As always, and now more than ever, we are happy and trying to work hard as we look forward to Monday afternoon when we will board a plane for a very long flight into our new life. Although that flight may seem like an eternity, we are grateful that the twelve-hour flight from San Francisco to Auckland does actually have a beginning and an ending. We are also grateful that our association with each of you has no time limit!

Love, Ward and Susan    Elder and Sister Belliston, about to be serving in the New Zealand, Hamilton mission

Adventures in Paradise     Volume 2    #5


Kia ora, our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts concerning things we may choose to do for the last time. As our departure grows closer and our days here in Salt Lake are numbered, we have become more and more focused not only on what needs to be accomplished, but also on what we wish to experience for the last time. While it's true that we assume that there will be opportunities for continued relationships in our future, our reality is that for now, we are facing a week or so of  "One last times".

There was a sweetness to one last Texas visit with my son, Jared and his wife, Nicole. There will be one last long conversation over lunch with my Salt Lake son, Travis and one last huge Belliston family gathering this weekend. This is where cherished memories are made. Having just mentioned Jared, I am reminded of something he told me long ago when I asked if he owned a camera. He replied that you don't need a camera as that is what memories are for. Often I have watched, fascinated, while someone experiences an entire event while peering through a camera lens, rather than actually seeing. But that, perhaps, is another subject for another blog another time.

Our "One lasts" at this moment are focused on what we would like to experience before leaving our local life for eighteen months. We assume that we will return and be able to pick up just where we left off, but what if that were not the case? What if we really did have a limited time? What if we knew last would really mean last? What direction would we face and how would we choose those things that matter most? Pondering this weighty question has left me thinking a lot about my father and what I learned from him when he truly did have to face his year of  "One lasts".

My father, for his entire adult life, had worked two jobs to support his family . At fifty-eight, he decided to take an early retirement so that he could spend more time with us. In a wonderful coincidence, three of his four children were about to become parents for the first time and we were all over the moon! Working shift-work had sometimes made attending family events difficult, if not impossible while we were growing up and Dad , having missed so much concerning his own children, chose not to have the same experience with the grandchildren that were soon to arrive. So, he turned in his retirement papers, said goodbye to his coworkers and submitted to one last medical exam. He was on his way to a new, slower paced life filled with grandkids and all the possibilities that that particular future held in store for him.

Sadly, that future was not to be. The results of the retirement physical indicated that my father had contracted Leukemia. The test results were grim and my father's new outlook involved coming to terms with news that he never expected to hear. I remember that when I heard those results, I just wanted to take the pain of that knowledge away from him. I wished to shoulder the hurt of his knowing, rather than have him carry that burden himself. His children were devastated and our mother was in shock. The reality was that there was no way that any of us could protect our father from knowing. There was no way that we could make it better. There was no way that we could decide for him how best to experience the time that was left to him. It was ultimately his choice of how to make his last times the most meaningful.

The lesson that I learned from my father is both simple and profound. My dad did not choose one last around-the-world cruise, He did not opt for many of the niceties that some of us long for in our lives. There were no fancy restaurant meals ( we ate together around Mom's kitchen table), no new cars, designer clothes or a bigger, newer home. He did not try to read all of the best-sellers that he hadn't had time to read before. He did do a little duck hunting and I expect, a lot of thinking in those quiet times. My dad chose to live surrounded by his family. He chose to enjoy three beautiful grandchildren. He chose to continue. I would have to check with my siblings. but I don't recall my father ever referring to the last time this would happen or the last time  that would happen. In the end, there was no mad rush to accomplish, there was just a quiet enjoyment and I think, appreciation of the moment. My dad's legacy to me was, in part, to remind me that it's more important to focus on the now than to view that now as the last.

As we were leaving Rarotonga, our dear friends from that mission taught us this lesson in yet another meaningful way. They never say goodbye. They never say that this is the last time that we will be together. They simply say, "See you later". It is the most reassuring thing in the world for me to know that I will see my dad later. I am equally peaceful knowing that I can say the same thing about all of you. There are no "Lasts". There are only "See you laters".

As always, we are happy and working hard towards our departure. We look forward to our new adventure, knowing that this is not our last time or our last communication with you.

Ka kite ano (Maori for see you later)

Love, Ward and Susan   Elder and Sister Belliston, about to be serving in the New Zealand, Hamilton mission

My father was a member of this country's "Greatest Generation"
I love you Dad, and I will see you later.  

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #4

Adventures in Paradise      Volume 2    #4

Kia ora, our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on trust and the responsibility of being trusted. Last week, Ward sold his car in preparation for our leaving the country. After the first listing on KSL.com, the results were less than encouraging. The only calls we received were from salesmen who offered to buy the Impala at very “Low-Book” prices.  Although Ward was not focused on making a huge profit from the sale, it was important that we received a fair price as that money was to be used to either rent or purchase a car once we reached New Zealand. At one point, we decided that we might at well just leave home without making a sale and worry about it later.

Last Monday, we answered one last phone call and that call became the inspiration for this week’s blog. A young man, who had read Ward’s ad inquired about the possibility of the car still being available. He did not identify himself, but said that he had seen the listing and understood that the reason for the sale was that we were sending someone on a mission. I made certain that he was not another salesman before I responded that that someone was us and that we were leaving for New Zealand in three weeks. The young man identified himself as Markham and asked about the need for snow tires. That was his only question to me before stating that he would call back and speak with Ward later in the afternoon.

As promised, Markham did call back and he spoke with Ward.  They agreed on a price (have you noticed that here there is no mention of any further car questions?) and then this young man handed the phone to his mother. For those of you who know Ward well, it will come as no surprise that Ward was able to make some sort of almost-instant connection. Markham’s great grandfather had served a mission in New Zealand many years ago and the half hour conversation that took place between Ward and Markham’s mother centered around talk of that beautiful country, mission experiences and people who lived there. Again, there were no questions about the car. How strange is that?

This young man said that he wanted to buy the car and was anxious to close the deal and pick up his new vehicle. He would have come that same evening but Ward had planned to leave town the following morning. It was agreed that the car would be available Thursday and Markham promised to phone. Could I add here, that although it sounded to us as though the car had been sold, it also seemed a little odd since Markham had not seen the car, let alone drive it. Was there something that we were missing? Were Markham’s motives honest and above board? Were we foolish in being so trusting as to indicate to a stranger that we would be leaving our home for eighteen months? Was there something else going on here?

The something else that I could see going on here is that because we were leaving on a mission, Markham trusted us and trusted that all would be well with the car. That kind of trust is a little daunting and we felt the heavy responsibility of that trust. It was important to us that our car be in perfect working order. Although nothing had been promised as to its condition, there was in our opinion, an implicit guarantee on our part. We were prospective missionaries, about to be serving our Heavenly Father, and we could not imagine doing anything that would tarnish that impression. So, Ward had the transmission serviced to make certain that all was well. The oil was changed and the car was lubed. He also washed it and made sure that the interior was clean and tidy. I began to worry that we would be missing something, or that there might be a problem with the car that we were not aware of. I was almost wishing that Markham, who was so trusting, would choose not to buy that car! I lost sleep over this and I worried.

Thursday morning, we met Markham at his credit union. The first time that Markham saw his new car was when Ward drove it into the parking lot. After receiving a check, we followed Markham to his home where license plates on the Impala were removed and the new owner peeked into his car for the first time. I was stunned when he asked me if the car were an automatic! That was only the second inquiry he had made in all of our conversations!

Now, one could argue that Markham was a very inexperienced car buyer. That in fact, could be a very correct statement. One could argue that since he asked no questions, had never driven the car nor had a mechanic look at it, that what ever problems the car might have would be Markham’s own concern. That also could be correct. But we believe that while this young man may have been somewhat inexperienced in car purchasing, we also truly believe that he was very experienced in trusting servants of our Heavenly Father. He trusted us, we believe, because he trusted our calling. Feeling that to be the case how could we be anything by trustworthy in return? Would it be possible on the one hand to be representatives of our Savior, and behave in anything less than a Christ-like manner on the other? We did not want to disappoint!

The weight of being trusted can be very heavy. It is a responsibility that we have been reminded of these last few days. It is one, we are certain, that we will be experiencing in extra measures in the next few months. We are so grateful for the influence and examples that we have in our lives of people who are trying to live in ways that allow us to trust without question. Thank you all for that example. We appreciate that example more than you will ever know. 

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard as we continue to prepare for our new adventure. As a reminder, should you be interested, we are speaking in our Sacrament meeting Sunday, October 26 at 11:00 am. Please plan to join us for lunch at 2:00 pm at our home.

Love, Ward and Susan      Elder and Sister Belliston, about to be serving in the New Zealand Hamilton Mission.

Goodbye, Impala. We know you have found a good home with Markham.

Adventures in Paradise    Volume 2         #3


Kia ora, our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on language and how it both connects and disconnects us.  Last weekend, during the Saturday morning session of LDS general conference, President Uchtdorf made a comment that made the audience laugh and also left me thinking. Earlier in the session, history was made when a speaker addressed the audience in Cantonese, which is that speaker's  native language. When President Uchtdorf rose to speak, he said that he had been asked if he also would be delivering his remarks in his native tongue, which is German. President Uchtdorf assured everyone that he would not be speaking in German, but then warned that it just might sound like he was! As I mentioned, the audience laughed and I started thinking.

Technically, Ward and I are not going to be learning a foreign language in preparation for our departure to New Zealand. Technically, we will still be speaking and hearing English in Hamilton. But although the words may be in English, the intent of the speaker may seem very alien to us. Our new excellent adventure will require that we learn and embrace "Kiwi English". For a few months, we may feel the need for a translator as we navigate grocery stores, shops, restaurants, freeways, country roads and most importantly, personal conversations with our new acquaintances and our old friends.

I have often said that I have always dreamed of living in a place long enough not to be considered a tourist. My goal was to feel that I was part of the culture. I also wanted to be able to speak in the native language.  That dream came true, as I learned to love the people of the Cook Islands. I learned to embrace umu cooking( underground oven), banana poke and taro. Just two weeks ago, I had an extreme craving for breadfruit! While in the Cooks I was able to respond in Maori to simple questions such as "How are you", and I even learned how to tell Ward to be quiet in Maori by saying "mania nia". For the most part, it was easy to separate the Maori from the English. Living in New Zealand will pose more of a challenge when it comes to understanding the locals and their intent.

The challenge we will face involves hearing ordinary, everyday English words, while reinventing their meanings in our minds. Reinvention will hopefully take place before the embarrassment of misunderstanding sets in. While shopping in a "Dairy", which is a corner or neighborhood shop , we will have to remember that our cracker is their wafer, our cookie is their biscuit and  they call our bar cookies slices . Bangers and mash are sausages and potatoes and our soda pop is their fizzy drink.

Once, while dining in a small cafe in Auckland, I made the mistake of asking for a napkin, only to have the waitress look at me inquisitively. In Kiwi a napkin or nappy is a diaper and I only realized later that I should have requested a serviette. We all know that the chips that accompany fish are really French fries, but would you know that if someone offered to "shout you dinner", you should immediately accept as they are offering to pay? If invited to brekie, arrive in the morning, and tea is the afternoon meal, rather than a hot drink. You must also be aware that in New Zealand restaurants an entree in not a main dish, it is an appetizer or something served at the beginning of the meal, with the the "Main" being served afterwards. At this point, are you experiencing a case of the "Colly wobbles" just trying to remember all of this or is your brain already choc-a-bloc with all of the new information you are storing in it?

Please consider this issue of Adventures in Paradise as your primer for "Kiwi English", and feel free to refer back to it in the coming months as our grasp of the new language sets in. File away the following terms: A New Zealand car park is their version of a parking lot and in it you will find cars with windscreens instead of windshields, bonnets instead of hoods and boots instead of trunks. If your car happens to experience an accident, it has been in a smash and will need the expertise of a fender beater to repair the damage. While you are waiting for the repairs to be completed, instead of hiring a car, you may try traveling on a push bike, but do not wear jandals (flip flops)while you are peddling. If you become hot and tired, you may want to stop for an ice block (popsicle). If that ice block cools you down too much, you might consider donning a jumper to warm up. Don't talk to strangers who appear dodgy and by all means, pay attention to where you are going because you don't want to end up in the wop wops (middle of nowhere) and realize that you are lost. Please, please remember to drive or ride on the right side of the road, which in New Zealand is the left side. Just remember that the left side is the right side.

We are keen to start our new adventure and hope that we have heaps of visitors. Time is short, as we only have eighteen sleeps before we enter the MTC, so we are moving as quickly as we can. Did I mention that New Zealand is also the home of Hobbits and glow worms? Please make your reservations early for the Belliston Hotel, er I mean Belliston flat or perhaps you could call it our crib, if you prefer. Crib is the term used to describe a holiday home, but we are not promising anything too fancy. By the way, if Ward starts teasing or joking with you, simply tell him to "get off the grass", which is a polite way of saying "stop pulling my leg". Please consider all of this to be true, not just a load of "cods wallop" and know that we will be looking forward to making  reservations for you at your earliest convenience. Remember that the early bird gets the glow worm! Once reservations are made, we will reply by saying "Good on ya mate", and we will eagerly await your arrival in the land of the "Long White Cloud".

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard as we begin packing for our further adventures in paradise. We hope that you will continue to join us and  please know that if you decide to visit, we will be happy to serve you a hearty brekie of bangers and mash and possibly even shout you dinner!

Love Ward and Susan,  Elder and Sister Belliston about to be serving in the New Zealand, Hamilton mission




Our last trip to New Zealand in April left us wishing for more. Subtitles and explanations are provided.

Ward is standing at the very most northern tip of the north island, Cape Reinga.  It's where the Pacific ocean and the Tasman sea meet. It is beautiful and peaceful.

On one side of the rocks is the Tasman Sea and on the other is the Pacific Ocean. It is breathtaking.

I am in love with lighthouses and this one on the north island at Cape Reinga is my new favorite.

 The north island is very green and reminds me of Ireland. Although sheep are still in abundance (see the little white dots in the photo) raising beef is now the larger business. New Zealand Corned Beef is delicious and very popular with the Polynesians. Looking at one of the New Zealand heads of beef, I tried to imagine just how many cans of corned beef one cow could provide! 

There were many lovely sunsets on the north island. New Zealand is called the "Land of the Long White Clouds". The clouds always seemed to hug the mountain tops.

 The Polynesians craft leis out of this flower, as it comes in many colors. I never did learn to pronounce the name correctly:   FRANGIPANI

When I first heard the term "All Blacks", I was taken aback. Now I know that it is the name of  New Zealand's national rugby team and the name refers to the color of their uniforms. We have become fans, just like the rest of the country.

Well, here is another name that is difficult to pronounce. But it's the sign in the background that I wanted to point out. It doesn't say entrance, it says, "Way In".  And if you were getting off the train, another sign would tell you to "Mind the Gap".

 While looking over this beautiful spot, I had hopes of sharing it with others. Please consider paying us a visit and seeing all of this for yourselves!