Adventures in Paradise volume 2 #38

Kia ora!  Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on vocabulary and how the words we use define our culture. I have found it fascinating to learn how some cultures lack words to describe certain experiences with which most of us are familiar. Many cultures, I am finding, also have words that have no equivalent in English. I have found it touching that some of these words and expressions are descriptive of familial relationships.

When we first arrived in the Cook Islands, five years ago, we were faced with strange and confusing terminology. Although our new friends were speaking in English, many of the terms they were using were unfamiliar and confusing to us. They were using words that we easily recognized but their context was unrecognizable. When we first encountered the term “Feeding Mother”, we had no idea what that meant. We started asking questions and soon found that in a country where there are no visible homeless, the terms, “Feeding Mother and “Feeding Father” were descriptive of those who took in children without legally adopting them. These men and women would feed, clothe and shelter young people, often until they reached adulthood. There was never a formal agreement or any compensation; it was just the way it was. In the Polynesian culture, there is always room for one (or several) more. No one needs to be without a home. In the Maori language, there is no word for legal adoption.  

When we arrived in New Zealand, we were struck that many Maori words were used in conjunction with English. We find it a charming mix of two cultures that have learned to live together on two little islands. Even the Chamber of Commerce booklet we were given explaining government services had Maori words intermingled with English and we again found that we needed an interpreter to ascertain proper meanings. This publication, entitled, “Living in Gisborne City”, introduces the reader to Justin and Aroha Gizzy and their Whanau. Having recently learned that Wh has an “F” sound, we realized that the word whanau, was pronounced  “fahnu.” And by reading the booklet, or at least those parts that we understood, we eventually realized that whanau is the Maori word for family. It has been interesting to us that many Maori words are used by Kiwis, even when they have no Maori family ties.

As we became more acquainted with our new friends we began hearing another term which left us questioning its meaning. Having now learned the meaning of the word whanau, we were able to make an educated guess as to the word “Whangai”. We have often heard friends refer to a particular family relationship by saying, “He was whangaied into the family. As was the case in the Cooks, this phrase referred to the non-binding action of a child being brought in under the protection and tutelage of people not members of the child’s immediate family. This practice makes for confusing family trees to be sure, but it also speaks to the heart of people who value familial relationships and don’t care to think of people being on the outside looking in. Again, this Maori word does not mean adoption in the legal sense and most people that we spoke with about this could not imagine the need for anything to be formalized. The need was there and the child was whangaied. It is an open-arms, open home sensitivity where everyone is loved. It is as simple as that.

So, we have learned more touching lessons about relationships as defined by the words our friends use to describe them. We have again taken note that in Maori there is no word for a formalized, legal adoption. In the Maori culture, there is no need for such a word and to be honest, they cannot imagine why my culture has need for a word like that either!

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard.  We have almost fully recovered and have truly felt that while we were ill, we were whangaied into more than one thoughtful family as people have been concerned for our health. For that, we are deeply grateful. We are also grateful for all of you who have whangaied us into your families at home. It is truly a gift to feel at home when we spend time with you. Time is passing too quickly and should any of you still be thinking of paying us a visit, please korerorero mai. We hope that you will come and talk to us!!

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

This is the cover of the guide to living in Gisborne. Meet Justin and Aroha Gizzy and their whanau.

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #37

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on creature comforts and what we miss most when we are unwell. It is winter here in New Zealand and despite preemptive flu shots and in my case, a booster shot of the pneumovax, we have been ill. While it’s true that we have not suffered any more than most of our dear friends here in Gisborne, it is also true that we have had a slightly different perspective on that discomfort and some of the reasons for it. That perspective has, while we have been ailing, engendered an attitude of wistfulness. We find ourselves wishing to be in other circumstances. We are missing home, our own beds, and snuggling under our own blankets. Isn’t that the way it is when we don’t feel well?

Early in our residency in Gisborne, we began to notice something interesting. There were trailers full of firewood stacked to their brims parked along almost every roadway. These trailers advertized a phone number and promised delivery within twenty-four hours. Often, one could see two or three of these trailers parked in tandem, each with their specific contact information as well as the price and an assurance that the wood was two-years dry. My personal experience with fireplaces relegated them to a “mood enhancer” classification and I did not at first grasp the concept that people here, would be buying wagon loads of wood to feed into their fireplaces as a primary means of keeping warm during the coming winter. I did not fully appreciate that entire families would spent the long winter months, “rugged up” sequestered in one room huddled around a firebox. But I do now.

For some reason, most homes in New Zealand do not have central heating. It is their way here and people seem genuinely puzzled when I mention that all we have to do to stay warm is to flip a switch or press one button and the whole house heats itself. Most have no concept that my home is not equipped with a series of portable oil burner-type heaters or fans and that we do not have to move these devices from one room to another, as needed. It is entirely normal to them to live with a labyrinth of electrical cords running through their homes as these heaters are constantly being rearranged, often requiring the use of extension cords. Power is very expensive here, so many of our friends cannot afford to operate these heaters, hence the need for the constant supply of firewood during the winter months. I did not appreciate how difficult it would be for our friends to stay warm during the long winter months, but I do now.

As first, I was entertained by the endless ads hawking portable heaters and the adult-sized onesies, complete with hoods, which were displayed in a vast variety of animal prints. Advertisements featuring insulation and new windows were seen everywhere. I laughed out loud the first time that I discovered a display of hot water bottles in a local store. These “hotties” as they are known here, are best utilized by encasing them in a designer cover before filling them with hot water. I was mesmerized by the array of cover choices but again did not appreciate how crucial they were in helping residents to keep warm. I did not appreciate that the hoods on those onesies were crucial in keeping heads covered and toasty while sleeping. But I do now.

As I have spent this last week trying to stay warm in someone else’s home and bed, I have become more acutely aware of what I have taken for granted. Never again, will I adjust the thermostat in my Salt Lake City home without appreciating the simplicity of that action. The next time that I build (ok Ward builds) a fire in my fireplace, I will be reminded that the cozy atmosphere created by that fire would not be the fundamental reason for building it in the homes of our Kiwi friends. Although, I consider myself to be financially conservative, I do not spend a great deal of time in worry over whether or not I can afford to pay my utility bill. No part of my home goes unused in the winter because I cannot afford to keep it heated. I will spend my next winter in Utah reminding myself to be grateful.

The truth is that New Zealand is wet and cold in the winter. Kiwis have a struggle to stay warm and dry and it is simply expected that June, July and August will be difficult months. Everyone has their own home remedy for the aches, pains and coughs that accompany the change in the weather. There is very little complaining; rather we have noticed a “let’s just get on with it” attitude and the residents have learned to “rug up”. We have refrained from any sort of sentence that might start with the words, “In our country”, as we would appear to be ungrateful guests and we are not ungrateful. Our friends cope as they look after each other. Last Monday, a sweet family left a pot of soup a loaf of bread and some breakfast scones on our doorstep and we appreciated their thoughtfulness. Another friend mixed up a batch of hot lemon tea for me with lemons from our own tree! The attitude here is more of a “We’re in this together, so let’s get though it together” and we have learned a lot by observation.

The lovely news here is that because there is so much winter rain, everything is turning green and lush. Daffodils are springing up in clumps near the paddock and there are buds on the Hydrangea bushes. We know that spring is coming and soon we will all emerge from our collective hibernation. Soon the woes of winter will be forgotten as we begin to enjoy the sunshine and the beaches. It’s the cycle of life here and we have become caught up in it at well.

So, while this last week or so has left me lusting after my duvet and push button heating, I will also willingly admit that I would not have missed this adventure for the world. I am grateful for all of the lessons that I have learned this winter and will always be beholden to the people who have taught them. There will never be another winter in my life, no matter where I might happen to be, where I won’t be thinking of those here who have to work a little harder to experience the warmth that I have always accepted without much thought.

As always we are happy and trying to work hard. We are eternally grateful for the warmth of the friendships we enjoy with you. We cherish your thoughtfulness over the years and that is one of the reasons that we miss home so much when we are not feeling well. It is where we have always felt most nurtured. We now happily add other names and faces to that list of people who we look to for comfort. We are grateful.

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

This wagon load of wood is selling for about 250.00, but would not last the whole winter.

Notice that for 145.00, you are not buying a full trailer, rather it's only the wood inside the box.

This is our oil burner in the bedroom. We remind each other not to touch it when the red light is on.

Andrea came to our home for dinner all rugged up. He looks pretty cute in his hoodie robe. We could not coax any adult into modeling their onesies!

We have been encouraged to take a "hottie" to bed!

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #36

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on predators and a mother’s protective instinct. It is lambing season here and everywhere we look, we are enchanted by the spectacle playing out around us. Each day, as we notice countless wobbly little bundles of wool perched precariously upon spindly matchstick legs, we marvel at the miracle of birth and we are touched by the tender care that these new mothers exhibit towards their babies.  It is a magical time here in New Zealand and we are grateful to participate, if only as spectators.

Watching the lambs instinctively tending to their offspring, it occurred to me that these particular sheep do not know just how fortunate they are. There are no natural predators in New Zealand. These new mothers have the luxury of watching their children cavort happily in the paddocks without the concern of being too anxious over their safety. In truth the most pressing concern one new mother experienced was the presence of two camera-wielding Americans who were clicking away on the other side of a fence. It was clear that we were making her uncomfortable, so we drove away, leaving her to focus on her twins in private. These new mothers don’t have much to worry about, and I wish that I could say the same for human parents.

What would it be like if we humans did not have to worry about predators where our own children are concerned? What if the world were a safer place? What if we weren’t constantly concerned about the physical safety of our kids? What if we didn’t fret over broken bones and broken hearts? What if we could just sit back and watch?

There have been times in the growing up years of my sons, when I found myself wishing that I did not have to worry so much, but that is what human mothers do best, isn’t it? I remember looking into the bassinette, where my week-old son, Jared was swaddled, sleeping peacefully, and thinking naively that I would never worry more about him than I did at that moment. Thankfully, I could not see far enough into the future to know what it would be like to experience being awakened at 2:00 in the morning nineteen years later by a voice in the dark saying simply “ Mom and Dad, I think you had better wake up”. In those few seconds before turning on the light, fear and dread washed through my brain. What had happened? There was no mistaking that something was wrong! Then, a calmness settled as I struggled to wake fully. My mind was sleepily processing the situation and I reminded myself that whatever had happened, my son was home. He was home and because I knew where he was and that he was talking, I would be able to cope with whatever had taken place. It was the single most reassuring thought that I have ever experienced as a mother. My son was home and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

To make a long story a little shorter, earlier that evening Jared had been in a serious automobile accident. He had lost control of his vehicle on a dark, snow covered mountain road in Park City and he and his little white car had ended up in a river. Fortunately members of his band had been following him and were quick to the rescue. The car did not survive, but my son did and for that I will be forever grateful. I am so thankful for the calm reassuring feeling that settled over me that morning in the dark, as I realized that my son was home. That feeling epitomizes my experience with motherhood.

I should make it perfectly clear here, that my sons have given my very little to worry about, but I have worried just the same. It’s one of the things that I do best. I have not stopped being concerned for them, even though they are grown men. I want them to always be healthy and happy and if I had my choice (and I don’t!) they would still be coming down the stairs for breakfast and sharing with me their plans for the day. I miss the everydayness of our earlier lives together, but they chose to grow up instead of staying little boys and I miss them.

So, as I watch those new mothers being so relaxed around their little lambs, I envy them in a way for their lack of angst. They will never have to worry about so many unsavory elements of today’s society. They will not spend one moment concerned over hurt feelings or broken hearts. They will not lose sleep when their lambs come home later than they should. They will not worry that they are lost. But I do not envy the fact that their babies will grow up so quickly and sooner than later, they will all forget that they are related. I am grateful that I have loved my children enough to be constantly worried about them. I am glad, that for a season, I was their protector.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. Once a mother, always a mother and I suppose I will always be looking for another little lamb to watch over. One of our little lambs here, is young mother Rana, who will be baptized next Saturday and we are so happy for the peace that has come into her life as she has made decisions that will help her to provide a better life for herself as well as for that of her young daughter. We are going to enjoy watching her learn to walk on her new wobbly spiritual legs as she makes her way in her new life. We will be there to help her up if she falls, and soon enough, she will find that she won’t need us quite as much as she did. That’s just what parenting is all about, isn’t it?

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

These babies are less than ten minutes old. The lamb in the foreground has not yet tried to stand. That is his hind leg stretching out behind him.

Newly-born lambs stay very close to their mothers.

 Twins!

These babies instinctively know where to look for their first meal. Mom is licking them clean.  

The twins are bathed and ready to face the world

This whole paddock was full of mothers and their children

Kindergarten is open!

Rana will be baptized on Saturday and her baby girl will be blessed next month!

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #35

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on why I am writing a love letter to another man. As I endeavor to put my tender feelings into words, my husband is quietly reading in another room, totally unaware that I am openly expressing my undying love and devotion to someone else.

Almost three weeks ago, I received a short, very sobering message from my dear friend, Wendy. Her husband, Bob, had suffered a Hemorrhagic stroke and was in the hospital. The situation was dire and the outcome and prognosis were unpredictable. One thing at that moment seemed clear; Bob’s life and the lives of those who loved him would be forever altered. As I ruminated on the situation and my general sense of helplessness, my unease grew as I realized that I might never have another chance to tell Bob how much I love him. I may have lost the opportunity of thanking him for the positive, caring influence he has been in my life. I am especially grateful for the thoughtful concern he showed me a few years ago when my life took an unexpected turn for the difficult.

If I were to describe Bob, I might suggest that he is a tender- hearted teddy bear tucked inside a grizzly bear’s outsides. He is a “say-what-he-thinks” kind of guy who can sound a little harsh at times. I will readily admit that when I first encountered Bob over thirty years ago, his directness frightened me. I was fearful of his temper and the eruptions that seemed to be a byproduct of him losing it. At that point, I did not know his heart, but I do now. It is experiencing his heart that has prompted me to write this week’s blog in the form of a letter to my friend Bob.

 

Dear Bob,

I was so distressed to hear of your stroke and the accompanying challenges that you are facing. When Ward and I departed for New Zealand, we were well aware that things could and would not stay the same while we were away. We understood that some of those close to us would have difficulties and possibly there would be some who had said goodbye to us who would not be waiting to say hello when we returned. We knew all of this, but were unwilling to attach a name or a face to any of those possibilities. Now we see your face as we pray for you and your family and hope for a recovery.

This letter is to thank you for all that you have done for me over the years. I know that you and Wendy often quietly go about the business of helping others without them knowing it, but I wanted you to know that I am very aware of what you have done for me and I am beyond grateful. You have been a dear friend and at some moments a protector, a rescuer, and a financial advisor; not to mention a sounding board. I have appreciated your advice and your offers of assistance. When my car died, you offered to go to the dealership with me and broker a deal. I was actually feeling sorry for the poor salesman who would never see you coming! When I was sorting finances after becoming single, you are the one who suggested ways to help me protect my savings. You let me cry in front of you and kindly offered to lend me your wife on occasion so that I could get away from it all. You listened and I am so grateful for your concern.

And then there was my most unusual, but most needed Christmas gift. After realizing that my old deadbolt locks were too worn to be activated by my sixty-three-year old house keys, and knowing that sometimes it took me almost half an hour to unlock my house, you were concerned. You were even more concerned when one cold rainy day in November you heard that I had been drenched while trying for twenty-five minutes to unlock my antiquated back door while standing in an icy downpour. This concern prompted you and Wendy to come up with the most thoughtful Christmas gift ever. Every time that I insert my shiny new key into my beautiful brushed bronze deadlocks, I think of you and your thoughtfulness. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving and I can never thank you enough for the peace that those new locks brought to me when not much else was feeling peaceful. Those locks are symbolic of the strength of our friendship and I am grateful.

As I think of you and the challenges that lie ahead, I am reminded of the time that I walked into your kitchen and once again saw you pouring over your scriptures while seated at the breakfast table. When I remarked that it seemed like you had been doing that a lot lately, you simply replied that you were studying for your finals. I smiled when you said that, but at the same time, I was touched that you had attached such importance to learning all that you could in preparation for moving on one day. I am grateful for your quiet example.

Thank you for sharing your stories, your condo, your wife and your life with me. Thank you for being patient when I visited possibly a little too often and stayed a little too late as I found myself needing someone to talk to. Thank you for understanding and possibly remembering what is was like to find yourself in a place that you never expected to be. Thank you for telling me that I would survive. At the risk of inflating your ego, I will simply express my gratitude and tell you that you were right (again!).

It breaks my heart to know that you are not as well as you were when we left you and I wish that there was something more that I could do for you. Please consider this letter a long-distance hug from the other side of the world and know that we love you and are keeping you and your family in our prayers. You have been a constant in my life and I have always known that if I needed anything, you and Wendy would be there.

We love you and miss you and I hope that you will not be upset that I have shared some private feelings in a less than private forum. It’s just possible that my letter to you may remind others that there are people in their lives as well for whom they should be expressing gratitude. Perhaps I will be composing more notes like this one, but for now, yours is the one that feels most urgent. It is the one that I most anxiously wish to send. If I were home, I would probably be baking you a treat and you would be reminding me that you love desserts as your grandmother used to include them in every meal she cooked for you. You might then, even include a story or two about your adventures in Cody, Wyoming. You seemed to enjoy those stories that took you back home and I enjoyed listening to them.  Ward sends his love as well and we want you to know that yours is one of the faces that we are missing most at this moment.

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

 

We Love you Bob! xoxoxoxoxoxo

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 # 34

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts concerning what I learned while baking a cake. Two weeks ago, the young sister missionaries called to ask if I knew anything about floral arranging. The sisters were helping a young couple plan a budget-minded wedding and they were looking for flowers and someone to help display them artistically. While I was quick to admit that I knew very little about arranging, I did offer them free access to any flowers that were currently blooming in our garden. As that phone call ended, I turned to Ward and expressed my relief that I was not going to be expected to pull a rabbit out of the hat. While I am always happy to be of service, I was grateful that I was not going to suffer the stress of performing a particular task without proper qualifications and experience. I remember mentioning something to him about having dodged that particular bullet and voicing relief that they hadn’t asked me to supply the wedding cake!

Early the next morning, the phone rang again and this time, that bullet made a direct hit. The sisters were now begging for a wedding cake! While promising the bride that they could not guarantee anything elaborate, as the baker was a novice, they still suggested that a carrot cake would be most welcome and the bride had requested three tiers! My dreams of providing a simple 9x13 cake quickly dissolved as I was also told that there would be eighty guests! Had I been at home in Utah, a request of this nature would have been paralyzing, even though I might have had access to proper equipment. The same request being made in a small farming town in New Zealand, without the proper tools was beyond debilitating! I had no idea where to start or how to go about the task. As concerned as I became for my own sanity in this situation, my concern over disappointing the bride was overwhelming.

Over the years, as I have been hired to fashion many wedding dresses. I have often experienced moments of doubt over my ability to produce a beautiful custom gown. But my concern or self-doubt was always buoyed up by the fact that I knew that I had the experience and training to figure out a workable solution. I would always start from the point of what the finished dress should look like, then working backwards, I was able to visually plot out what the steps would be in creating. I had faith that the answers would come as I needed them and that faith was backed up with many years of success. I am more than willing to admit, that I always prayed over those dresses, as I always felt that I could use all the help that I could get!

So, remembering the first act that I always took with my bridal gowns, I decided that I should begin my task the same way that I had always done before. I prayed for guidance and a clear mind. I prayed that clarity of thought would lead me to workable solutions and that my service would be pleasing to the young couple. I prayed for inspiration. And, having had some experience with prayers being answered. I had faith that direction would come. I was also praying that those answers would come quickly! I prayed for knowledge and the ability to use the gifts that I had been given to serve someone else. I prayed that previous experience and knowledge would come to the forefront of my mind and that I would be able to perform well. At first, I thought that I was asking for a miracle, then I felt reminded that my experiences could be instrumental in the “miracle” that I was praying for. I was reminded to listen and be quiet enough to hear. So I began to listen and I moved forward. I am willing to admit that while my faith in myself was a little shaky, my faith that prayers would be answered was steadfast.

I have found in my life, that seeking knowledge through prayer and from others who are wiser and more experienced is the key to my learning. I have learned to ponder things out through my mind with full faith that answers will come. I have learned to cherish this process while being willing to admit that I need help. Admitting that I need help is not a sign of weakness. Rather, I believe that it is a hallmark of real faith. I have also learned that we are expected to use our talents, whether they are in the developmental stage or not, to serve others. I have learned to be open and to listen. I have learned to act upon what I have been prompted to do. I know that it doesn’t matter whether I am seeking direction on baking a wedding cake or help in making a life-altering decision. If I ask, there will be an answer. It’s that simple.

So, without going into great detail, my prayers were answered and the direction I needed came in amazing and timely ways .Very early in the morning on the day before I was to bake the cake, I was awakened with the thought to go on u-tube and watch a wedding cake tutorial. I have never watched u-tube, so this was not something I would have thought to do on my own. Answers came, including my finding containers in the kitchen that worked well for the size tiers that I needed. Early the day of the wedding, the rain and wind stopped and beautiful flowers appeared ready for the picking. The tiers were supported by dowels that Ward located in a hardware store and I used a plastic bag to do a little decorative piping.  We managed to deliver the cake safely despite bumpy roads and logging trucks bearing down on us. I was relieved, the bride was thrilled and there was enough cake to feed everyone.

While a cake may not play into someone else’s testimony of the power of prayer, it does in mine. Once again, as in many other times in my life, I prayed for direction and that direction appeared. As I sat with that cake perched precariously on my lap in the car on the way to the reception, I had the opportunity to consider how precariously we may find ourselves perched in life from time to time. I have learned to do in my life what I did with the cake that day; hold on for the ride, keep my eyes focused ahead of me and pray that I arrive safely and in one piece. 

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We are grateful for all of you who have been supportive of us in the past. Many of you have been answers to our prayers and we have faith that you will always be there for us. And should you need a wedding cake in the future, I will be happy to direct you to the nearest bakery!

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

 It's a miracle! The cake is finished!

 

 

Perhaps I should be wearing a smile or a little makeup. But I was tired and relieved. 

 All of the flowers came out of our garden. 

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #33

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with a departure from the norm.  Usually, I would create our blog, hoping that my words would possibly strike some sort of responsive cord in the reader. We would add a few photos to aid in your visualization and then I would close by expressing my gratitude that all of you are part of our lives. As I viewed the myriad of images that I wished to include this week, I realized that very little text was needed as the children spoke for themselves. So, by way of a simple tutorial, may I just explain that the body of these photos were taken at an area gathering located in the tiny village of Te Araroa. It was a Sunday morning and the special conference afforded the opportunity for a reunion. Tents were erected, as the tiny chapel could not possibly accommodate so many visitors. It was a beautiful day and the joy was palpable as old friends greeted each other. I have often said, or rather warned, that when we finally leave this island, there will be one less child in residence. That one child will be tucked away in my suitcase as I return home with the sweetest of souvenirs. Perhaps, as you pour over the faces of these charming children, you may want to imagine which one of them you would tuck away in your luggage if you were given the chance to spirit one of them away with you. 

May I just mention, also, that most of these children are considered to be full-blooded Maori, although eye and hair color may surprise you. Many have an European ancestor or two tucked away in the family tree and that relative has added to the gene pool in lovely and exotic ways. 

This is Kahu. We were privileged to teach him before he was baptized.

This is Andres. It was cold and Andres came to our home for FHE "rugged up" to keep warm. He is wearing flannel pajamas, socks, and a hooded bathrobe. It is not at all unusual for sleepwear here to have a hood, so that one's head can be kept warm while sleeping. 

This is the Whanga family. Young John was our first baptism and we have grown to love this little group. Notice that of the three sisters in the front row, one is blond. In attempting to pronounce the family name, you might be interested to know that in Maori, the "wh" sounds like an "F". Also on a touching note, the baby was named "Halo" and she is a little angel! 

This is couple is blind. They know that their boys are beautiful, without ever having seen their little faces. 

Perhaps you may have picked out the child who has most captured your attention. As for me, I can say that while I have threatened to bring one of them home with me, I can assure all parents that their children are safe from kidnapping as Sister Belliston would not be able to choose one over another.

As usual, we are happy and trying to work hard. We have learned to love the people here, especially the little ones, and we hope that you have enjoyed to opportunity of looking into their faces. We can tell you, also, that we have missed the opportunity of looking at your faces and hope that you have realized just how much you are missed.

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

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #32

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with thoughts centered on what was almost lost. Last Saturday an eleven-year old child, after a disagreement with family members, tried to take her own life.  As you might imagine, this has been a distressing and distracting week for many, as those close to the family try to sort out and absorb the events leading up to this tragedy. Even though a life was not lost, it is tragic just the same, to know that suicide seemed a viable option to this young girl.

In a country where it is unlawful to leave children under the age of twelve alone at home, it is mind-boggling to imagine that a child, who is not even old enough to be left, would choose to make a decision that would absent her from her family forever. So, as her family, the church and her community, work together to address the root cause of her choice, I am struck by the enormous loss that that one choice would have represented.

When I was teaching Adult Roles at Bountiful High School, I remember having a discussion about suicide with my students. The focus of that discussion was a short statement that I had written on the board. “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” From the vantage point of adulthood, we learn that tomorrows offer solutions. We have learned that hope is a precious commodity and resiliency is a gift. We have learned just how far-reaching many decisions are and that none of us lives or acts in a vacuum. What we all do affects others in more ways than we can ever imagine.

The hurt that this young girl was intending to inflict on her family simply because she was upset would never go away. The lesson that she was trying to teach them would not be learned and in the place of parents regretting certain treatments as imagined by their daughter, grief would be their permanent instructor. 

This week, I have found that my thoughts have often been focused not so much on what the family would have lost had the attempt been successful, but rather on what precious moments that eleven-year old would have erased from her possibilities. I realize that since a child does not and cannot perceive the world in adult terms, there would be no way of her contemplating all that would be lost. Her focus was a very childlike aim to make her family feel sorry. How terribly and tragically short- sighted that sort of thinking is. How permanent that shortsightedness becomes.

Hamlet pondered whether to be or not and in the end, decided to be. Perhaps he considered all that would be missed, all that he would miss and hopefully, all who would miss him.

It’s windy in Gisborne today and if I were considering not being, I would hope that before making a decision I would remember how it feels to have the wind blow through my hair.  I would hope that I might consider how much I love a colorful fall afternoon and the nippiness in the air. I would hope that I might remember how lovely it is to bite into a crisp apple and how quiet an evening snowfall can be. I would not have missed being a mother for all of the world or to have been a part of my family. I would hope that I would not choose to prematurely sever relationships with people that I love. I would always choose to be, no matter what.

So, as I think about the young girl that everyone is praying for at this moment, I would pray that she chooses to stay on this planet thus enabling her to experience some of what my life has included. I also pray for her that she will stay with us so that she can find what joy there is in just being. I pray that she and her family find the peace that they so desperately need and in the finding, grow closer together. I am praying that she enjoys the fruits of living an ordinary life. I am praying that she will recognize the gift of life for the extraordinary blessing that it is. I am praying that she chooses to be.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We have had reason this week, to reexamine and appreciate more fully the lives that we live and the people who and experiences that fill our days. We are grateful not to have lost them.

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