Monday, December 7, 2009

General Conference – The Sequel






At the end of November, almost two months after General Conference, we met on Sunday to hear the Marshallese translation of the Saturday sessions of conference. Both Ebeye 1st Branch and Ebeye 2nd Branch met together, with the children in the Primary room, partly to make space so that everyone could fit in the packed chapel. (By the way, the branches here are as large as any ward I’ve been in. I’m not sure why they’re branches and the larger unit is not a stake but a district. Something to do with priesthood leadership, I think.)

The DVD offered several Pacific language choices: Marshallese, Ponpeian, Chukese, Kosraean, Palauan, Yapese, and Tagalog. (Interestingly, the countries in which these languages are spoken are the stops along the way for the Continental “Island Hopper” flight path.)

As each speaker came to the podium, the English language track faded to the background while a Marshallese translator delivered the talk. Each speaker had a different translator, with men translating for the male speakers and women translating for the female speakers. Even with my limited Marshallese, I could discern the native speakers from the ribelle returned missionaries, who had excellent Marshallese pronunciation but an unmistakable American twang. In the few seconds while the translator took a breath, I could catch an English word or two from the background track, but it was seldom enough to follow the talks.

No attempt was made to translate the music, so the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sang out their gorgeous soaring hymns in English. We joined them during the intermediate hymn, with all of us also singing in English. I suppose the Marshallese saints found it easier to follow the English words on the screen than to find the corresponding hymn in the limited Marshallese hymnbook (if there was one). It was the first hymn I’d sung in English in four months.

Although I could understand little of the Marshallese translation, I could read President Monson’s lips as he opened the session with his hearty, warm greeting, “My beloved brothers and sisters,” meant for everyone around the world.

Just like every Sunday, although I understood little of what’s going on, I enjoyed simply being with the Saints, gathering together to worship our common Father in Heaven.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

General Conference, Kwajalein Style



The school office


Time zone: “International Date Line West,” which means I’m sitting in the first time zone in the world. That means that General Conference, for which I hunger and thirst, will be broadcast on the internet at 4 a.m. and 8 a.m. on Sunday and Monday here (10 a.m. and 2 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday, Salt Lake City time).


I’m the only Mormon on Guegeegue (population 100). The other members of my branch are two islands away on Ebeye, an hour walk or ½ hour ride by rough, bumpy causeway (when I can get a ride). So I’ll be watching conference by myself.


Let’s see – the second session at 8 a.m. on Sunday is comfortably do-able. The Monday times won’t work, since I have to be in top shape to teach, starting at 8:30 a.m. that day. I’ll try to wake up for the 4 a.m. session on Sunday; it would sure be delicious if I could hear that session too. I spend the week before conference going to bed just a little earlier and waking a little earlier.


I also begin to include the conference speakers in my prayers. Perhaps General Authorities’ talks are revealed intact, but I suspect at least some of them come together like my sacrament meeting talks do, with a lot of prayerful hard work and study and several drafts and revisions. I pray for the choirs, who are rehearsing and preparing as well. I also pray for those behind-the-scenes men and women whose jobs are so essential to making this conference available to so many people in so many languages. I’m sure it takes a lot of hard work to make the impressive technology invisible, so as not to detract from the power of the messages.


Sunday, 3:15 a.m. – the eyes open. Let’s go!


I say a quick prayer of thanksgiving, get dressed in my Sunday best, and step outside into the salty night air to walk over to the school office where I can access the internet. The local stray dog joins me with a puzzled look; it’s a little dark for our morning walk along the ocean shore. I hope this is one of the days the internet is working (so far it’s been about 50/50).


3:45 a.m. I insert my office key into the lock and try to turn it. I’ve never before been successful with my office key, but one of the other teachers made it work after she spent a solid five minutes jiggling it. I’m sure I just need enough time to get the key to connect. I’ve got 15 minutes before conference begins.


4:10 a.m. – If time were all it took, I’d be hearing the soaring sounds of the choir by now instead of the gentle, constant roll of the ocean surf. Must not have been meant to be. Back to sleep for a couple of hours.


7:45 a.m. – Luckily, two teacher friends here are awake anyway. I ask them to let me into the office. The internet is working!!!!


8:00 a.m. – I relax into the comforting voices of the church leaders whose wise counsel I’ve listened to over the years, the familiar hymns sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, the feeling of connection with latter-day saints around the world listening to the counsel of a living prophet. I have the honor of joining saints around the world, solemnly raising our right hands to sustain the prophet and other general authorities of the church, with me sitting alone (except for the stray dog at my feet) in a silent school office on a remote island in the Pacific.


I’m positive that all the general authorities have not suddenly developed speech impediments that require 15 second pauses every minute and a half. It’s the internet cutting in and out. But I’m able to piece together most of the talks. Dallin H. Oaks’s soothing, even-toned voice delivers exactly the message I need to hear as I consider how to work with that young man who won’t do a thing I ask in my 11th grade English class Section C. Elder Oaks reminds me: “Every parent [and teacher] knows that you can love a child totally and completely while still being creatively angry and disappointed at that child’s self-defeating behavior.” Elder Boyd K. Packer teaches me in his matter-of-fact, gentle voice that “The Lord has many ways of pouring knowledge into our minds to prompt us, to guide us, to teach us, to correct us, to warn us. Keep that channel—your mind—clean and free from the clutter of the world.” He said uncluttered – not untainted. I work at keeping the taint out most of the time, but life clutter – that’s another matter. I’ll try, President Packer.


Thomas S. Monson, a prophet to the world.
Jisos Kraist (his Marshallese name), a Savior for the nations, from eternity to eternity.
Heavenly Father (will He ever be Jememuij Ilan to me?), lovingly holding it all together, mindful of each and every one of His children – including me, and you.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

A Worldwide Bond






My Spanish LIAHONA magazine is still coming here – the Spanish version of the church magazine for adults. I subscribed years ago, trying to keep my high school Spanish alive. I usually can only decipher the headlines of the articles, but I enjoy it.

I pick up the September issue in the post office in Ebeye and bring it home to read. I open to the article “Para que los cielos se abran” – “So that the heavens will open.” A photograph shows a woman kneeling in prayer holding a copy of Das Buch Mormon – a Book of Mormon in German. The article is written by Elder Kikuchi, a General Authority from Japan. I’m reading it sitting on my couch in the Marshall Islands.

I think of Nephi’s words: “He inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness . . . black and white, bond and free, male and female, Jew and Gentile; and all are alike unto God.” (2 Nephi 26:33) I think of people throughout the earth, all seeking God’s peace, being welcomed by Him as they call on Him, and marvel again at the individual love God has for his billions of children all over the world.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

THE RIGHT TIME - NOW






I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had come to the Marshall Islands the first time I had the opportunity. Thirty years ago, my then-husband had the opportunity to apply for a job that would have taken him to work on the satellite projects on the military base at Kwajalein. Although it wasn’t the right move for our family at that time, it’s been in the back of my mind for these thirty years. Two families in my congregation, Helen Claire and LeRoy Sievers and Norma and Jim Rollins, spent time in the Marshalls and have often told remarkable stories about their experiences. Sometimes I wonder about what would have happened if we had taken the chance to live in the RMI back then.

The answer came from the principals during orientation at a reception hosted by the Ministry of Education. Most of the principals from islands all over the country were in attendance because the reception coincided with a two-week long institute for principals. At the reception, the Ministry of Education officials made welcoming speeches and one of the principals added his light-hearted advice about bringing cases toilet paper to the outer islands. (Yes, he was serious.) Then all the principals stood to sing us a song in Marshallese. The title? “This is the Right Time to See Your Face.”

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Ebeye 2nd Branch - my home branch for the year

The familiar font of the church’s logo is pasted on a plain white wooden building. The taxi driver, who picked me up the last mile of the 5 mile hike to church, has taken me to the right place. The driver refuses payment. Maybe one of the other 12 riders piled into the cab and back of his pickup truck has already paid him enough, or maybe this is his contribution to churchgoers on the Sabbath.


I walk to a shady spot by the front door to change my hiking sneakers for zoris, remove my sun-protect hat, and try to freshen up a bit before I enter the Lord’s house. I find my way to the Relief Society room, where the meeting is already underway. Naturally, my lone new white face in a sea of beautiful brown Marshallese faces causes a stir. The teacher asks a Marshallese woman to sit next to me to translate. They ask me to introduce myself. I say “Iokwe aolep” (hello, everyone). The translator gets up to move back to her original seat, saying “Oh, she speaks Marshallese.” I plead, “No, don’t go! I’m almost out of words!”


The translator gives me a sentence or two sporadically throughout the lesson, but I’m fine meditating on the topic of the lesson: Christ’s atonement, making resurrection possible. At the end of the lesson, someone chooses one of the 44 hymns in the Marshallese hymnbook for the closing hymn. With no chorister or piano, a woman in the back row sings the first line of the hymn, setting the pitch and cadence. Although only the melody is printed in the hymnbook, the other women join her in beautiful spontaneous two-part harmony. I joyfully add my tenor for a third part, and instantly feel at home in this roomful of my sisters. God hears every language.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Conference Talks: Tapped on the shoulder, Virtual home tour

My friends at Ajeltake Branch, Majuro, which I attended during the
month-long orientation before traveling to my assignment
I have always enjoyed the conference issue of the ENSIGN, which I study cover-to-cover. But it is a particular treasure now, when I’m surrounded by unfamiliar places, sights, food, smells, and people. Reading a conference talk each morning for my scripture study is like inviting some of my favorite, most trusted friends to share a morning chat with me, reminding me of what’s most important and inspiring me to walk with God each day. I hear their voices in my mind, from years of listening to them speak in conference: L. Tom Perry’s twang, Richard G. Scott’s gently entreating voice, Henry B. Eyring usually struggling not to get choked up, Dieter Uchdorf’s clipped German accent, and Pres. Monson’s grandfatherly inspiring storytelling voice. Imagine how these words sound as I read them from my sleeping mat on the floor of a classroom at Ajeltake Elementary. This is from Elaine S. Dalton, General Young Women President:

“Just as Winston Churchill said in a critical hour during WWII, ‘to every man there comes . . . that special moment when [they are] figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a special thing unique to [them]. . . What a tragedy if that moment finds [them] unprepared or unqualified for [that] which [could have been their] finest hour.’” ENSIGN, May 2009, 123.

Sister Dalton continues, “This is a critical time. You are preparing for eternity.” Most often in my life, God’s tapping me on the shoulder hasn’t been quite so dramatic as this call to Kwajalein Atoll. But whether the tapping on the shoulder is to go across the street to visit an elderly neighbor or to go across the world to teach high schoolers, God’s voice is still and small, but unmistakable to me now that I’ve learned over the years to recognize His voice. I know I am here to fulfill God’s will – and He will gradually reveal it to me as I begin my work here.

Or imagine how these words sound as I read them in this foreign land, from Gary E. Stevenson of the Seventy:
“Take a virtual tour of [your] home using your spiritual eyes. Wherever your home may be and whatever its configuration, the application of eternal gospel principles within its walls is universal. Let’s begin.

“Imagine that you are opening your front door and walking inside your home. What do you see, how do you feel? Is it a place of love, peace & refuge from the world, as is the temple? Is it clean and orderly? As you walk through the rooms of your home, do you see uplifting images which include appropriate pictures of the temple and the Savior? Is your bedroom or sleeping area a place for personal prayer? Is your gathering area or kitchen a place where food is prepared and enjoyed together, allowing uplifting conversation and family time? Are scriptures found in a room where the family can study, pray, and learn together? Can you find your personal gospel study space? Does the music you hear or the entertainment you see, online or otherwise, offend the Spirit? Is the conversation uplifting and without contention?

“That concludes our tour. Perhaps you, as I, found a few spots that need some ‘home improvement,’ hopefully not an ‘extreme home makeover.’” ENSIGN, May 2009, 101-2.

As I read this from my sleeping mat at Ajeltake Elementary School, I look around at my space: one spot near the oceanside window in a classroom with 11 other women. My two checked bags and carryon are now my three “bureaus” for a month. A small classroom table is my bedside table, keeping my scriptures and teaching resource handouts off the floor for the occasional wind-swept rain through the wooden window we sometimes forget to close. (Yes, the window is made of wood, not glass.) My pillow is a stack of clean clothes, carefully folded and placed in a pillowcase. (Luggage space had to be carefully conserved, and medicines and teaching supplies felt more important than a pillow.)

I survey my space. Opening the front door to Jikin Wiki (Sleeping Space) #3, I kick off my zories, adding to the multicolored jumble of other flipflops from the 12 occupants. I notice the borrowed mumu on one woman’s mat: handwashed, line dried, and returned to its owner. I marvel at the way these good women care for each other, helping each other adjust to a new way of dress until they have time to find everything they need during our infrequent trips to town. This room IS a place of love, peace and refuge from the worldly. In fact, it was our cozy, inviting room, not Jikin Wiki #2, that took in extra women over the last few nights, refugees from the Richter-scale snoring in room #1 before he was banished to a room of his own.
My sleeping space is indeed a space for personal prayer: private, invisible – far more comfortable for me than a public kneeling, even silently, in front of the other 11 women. But I feel the connection to heaven in the privacy of my first-awakened mind and last thoughts before sleep.

The kitchen is indeed a place where food is prepared by jippan (chore) teams and enjoyed by the entire World Teach family together. I say a private blessing on whatever we eat without asking too many questions about the contents.

My scriptures are found right next to the head of my mat, where I can reach for them as soon as my eyes open after prayer. My only entertainment is my Ipod, which plays Marshallese language lessons, followed by one soft rock song for a treat after a long study session. The only other music is the rhythmic surging and retreating of ocean waves.

I seek to make my little spot of floor a holy place, where the Spirit can dwell with me and where God and Christ in their mercy can draw near.

And finally, from Pres. Monson, quoting M. Louise Haskins:
“And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown!’ And he replied: ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than [a] light and safe than a known way.’ Fear not. Be of good cheer. The future is as bright as your faith. Heaven’s blessings await.” ENSIGN 5/09, 91-2.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Small plates?

Remember when Nephi kept two sets of plates? He wrote the secular history on the large plates, but the small plates were only for the most sacred records. (See 1 Nephi 19.) Like Nephi, I feel the need for a parallel story. You can read the general account of this year of adventure and challenges at marciinthemarshalls.blogspot.com. But I invite you into my sacred record, to let you know of the goodness of God in bringing me to this place and in sustaining me through this journey.