July 1997       Boiling Water. When our son Chris returned from his mission to Taiwan, weeks passed before he could bring himself to drink water from the faucet. After just three weeks we’re getting a sense of the discipline that you get into with respect to water. When we arise in the morning we put on a kettle to boil some water. After it cools, which takes a while, we then boil more water to do the dishes (see Wash Dishes below). Then we boil more water to have on hand to replenish the water we use in cooking. Then we boil more water—just because we know we’re going to need it. Each cycle takes half an hour for the water to come to a boil and then boil briskly for 20 minutes. Frequently we lose track of the time the boil started and when it is safe to turn off the heat. We really should have brought our little kitchen timer with a bell that could tell us when the 20 minutes were up. Sometimes the kettle clicks itself off before we return to check on the water and we don’t know whether it clicked off early during the 20 minutes or in the 19th minute, so you are left each time with the conundrum of just how long to boil it again (or some more). Then it takes a couple of hours to cool, so sometimes we pour the boiling water into a pan to cool while we boil yet more water. There are times when we seem to have bottles, cooling pans, and boiling water everywhere we look in the kitchen.  (page 60)    Pioneer Day in Mongolia --John     The arm wrestling was interesting because one of the Mongolian sister missionaries was the champion. (She had previously served an 18-month mission in the States and is now serving a six-month mission in her home country. This is not unusual in Mongolia.) She took on all contenders, male and female alike, and reigned supreme as long as she chose to play. Then she moved to the middle and presided over the rest of the matches; no one chose to contest her decisions since she was clearly the champ.  (page 84)                                     Nancy   Similar to what John mentioned, the thing that touched me most was the innocence of these people as they participated in the activities. I watched as a beautiful mother, dressed  in the  traditional satin deel, made a covered wagon out of a round Fritos can but I was particularly touched by an older woman who let herself be blindfolded and spun around to “pin” the tail on a sheep. (We are so sophisticated in the States that we would never let ourselves become so vulnerable.) I was the photographer for the day and as I followed her and saw her happily drawing pictures at the craft booth—pictures of pioneers in covered wagons entering the Salt Lake Valley I realized that she, too, is a pioneer standing in the shadow of different mountains—in the country of Mongolia. Perhaps someday they will be writing stories and singing songs about her. I was struck by the symmetry of it all.   As I conclude my thoughts of today, I am sitting here writing this journal entry by the light of a candle, on a battery-powered computer, a perfect ending to a celebration of Pioneer Day in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. (page 86)   <<< back    next >>>