Testimony, 1993

As I've been listening to General Conference on the Internet, I also was poking around on the computer, looking at old -- really old -- files. I came across a "journal" entry from 1993, when I was newly single again. It seems appropriate to post it now.

July 2, 1993

On the weekend of June 25–27, 1993, I attended a Single Adult Conference at Asilomar on the Monterey Peninsula. I had originally planned on staying inside my shell, but everyone was very friendly to me. And then… there were the dances. I was a dancing fool! So I had a lot of fun, and made quite a few friends.

On Sunday, I bore my testimony. I want to write down some of the things I said before I completely forget them. Actually, this will be the general ideas, rather than a verbatim record.

There is so much I’d like to say to you, my newest friends. But I’ll try to keep it to three minutes. First of all, for Alberta’s sake, (who gave a workshop on friendshipping, and told us to stop asking the same five questions all the time), my name is Curt, I’m from Fremont, I’m in my early 30s, I’ve been divorced for 5 months, I have two kids…

I never thought I would be at a Singles Conference at this stage of my life. And I’ve been thinking a lot about labels lately. “Divorced.” What connotations! Whether we’re unmarried, widowed, or divorced, couldn’t we come up with something more generic? Like… “Maritally Challenged.” And I was kind of hoping we would have those name tags here that say: “Hello, I’m…” so I could put “gainfully employed,” or “emotionally stable.” I almost feel like a carton of eggs, with an expiration date, like: “Best if married by…” Actually, the first time I went to the Danville dance, I wanted to wear one of those labels that say: “USDA Choice,” as if to say "look girls! Fresh meat!" [Note: later I did actually stop at the grocery store and picked up a "USDA Choice" sticker and wore it to the next single adult dance. Only a few people saw the humor.]

You know, one of the things I’ve learned from all of this is that expectations—the unspoken things we want from the other person—can be one of the hardest things on a relationship, especially if those expectations are unfulfilled. But I realized I was putting unfair expectations on my Heavenly Father—without even asking Him what He wants or intends. I realized that I’m supposed to be created in His image, not the other way around. How many times do we try to mold God to our own idea of what He should be? We would be better off trying to get to know Him as He really is. Or sometimes, we treat our Heavenly Father like a waiter in a restaurant. We think about Him most when we're looking at the menu and then tell Him what we want. But then, if He brings something else, we look up to Heaven and say "Hey! I didn't order this!" If I could paraphrase one of our great presidents: “Ask not what God can do for you; rather, ask God what you can do for His children.”

I have two darling daughters. My youngest, who’s 5, is really quite little. She’s about the same size as many 3-year olds I know. Anyway, her most common three-word phrases are: “I love you,” and “Carry me, Daddy.” Many times I do carry her. But sometimes I say: “No, you need to walk yourself. The exercise will do you good.” Or sometimes: “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t; I’m worn out.” And sometimes, when my own burdens seem like just too much to carry, I fall to my knees, and cry to my Heavenly Father in prayer: “Carry me, Daddy.” And then come those soft, assuring words: “No, son. You need to do this yourself. I’ll walk with you, but I can’t carry you.”

Oh, how I wish… how I hope you can feel the breadth and depth of the love the Lord has for you. I’ve known many people who beat themselves up over things they’ve done wrong, and wonder if the Lord could ever forgive them. Do you see that we don’t need to wonder? It’s a done-deal. Jesus Christ took his sins upon Himself and forgave us ahead of time. And He didn’t do it blindly; He did it knowing full well what scum some of us would turn out to be.

I know that God lives, that this is His work. And I know that God loves each of you. And as His servant—in the humblest sense of the word—I can say that I love you, too.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Holed up in Honduras

It’s Saturday evening, and it’s quiet outside. Well, at least in my neighborhood here in Tegucigalpa. Most Saturday evenings it’s noisy, with different neighbors having parties. Tonight, there’s another curfew, another evening at home. Same for the neighbors. It reminds me of when Mel Zelaya was deposed on June 28. This time, it’s because he returned. Not as president, really. He is hunkered down in the Brazilian embassy. There are plenty of news reports on the web; I’m just giving my perspective. Check out the photo gallery at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=113186255.

When Mel came back last Monday morning, September 21, there was the usual demonstration of his followers going on. When they heard a rumor that he had returned and was at the U.N., they marched over there. I guess they realized they heard wrong and was wondering if he really went to the U.N. General Assembly in New York. But then they got word that he was at the Brazilian embassy, a few blocks from the U.S. embassy in Tegucigalpa. So they marched over there. Thousands of supporters showed up, desperate to hear that the rumor was true. The de facto government denied it. then, in his trademark white hat, Mel came out on a balcony and proved his presence. With the crowds of supporters gathering, the de facto government reacted by instituting a curfew at 4:00 p.m., which they announced around 3:30. Quick! Scramble! Get home! The announcement came over the embassy P.A. system that all non-essential personnel were to go home immediately. I didn’t stick around to see if I was considered “essential.” I hitched a ride with a co-worker and headed out around a quarter to four. We quickly ran into gridlock as the rest of the city was trying to rush home, also. On an average day, it takes about 15 minutes to get home. This time it took us 1 ½ hours, so we ended up getting home at almost 5:30, only a little earlier than normal.

Thousands of pro-Mel demonstrators defied the curfew. When the police decided to break it up in the wee hours of the morning, it got ugly: tear gas, rocks, water canons, an overturned police truck lit on fire. So the government extended the curfew through Tuesday. We were notified on our walkie-talkie that the embassy would be closed all day. Sit around home day! I didn’t watch as many movies as I thought I would, under the circumstances. But I did enjoy some hammock and iPod time. More violence during the night, in spite of the curfew. This time, a group of hoodlums broke off from one of the demonstrations and overpowered a guard to break into a shopping center. The neighbors quickly joined in. By the time the looting was over later in the morning, 2 grocery stores, a bank, an appliance store, and several ATM’s wear cleaned out, including office equipment and cash registers.

So the next day the curfew was still on, but I got up and shaved and showered anyway. Good thing. I got a phone call to report to work. Suddenly, I was “essential.” A driver would pick me up in a little while. I worked on reports for Washington. Meanwhile, the government decided to suspend the curfew from 10 to 4 so people could buy groceries and gas (they don’t tend to stock up here). What a mad house! People waited in lines 2 hours to buy basic foodstuffs. Thousands packed the supermarkets and gas stations, but it was generally peaceful. Then back home before the curfew started again.

Thursday and Friday the embassy re-opened for normal hours. But each day, as has happened various times since this all began, we had to go into lockdown mode at the embassy as one group or another marched past or protested outside the embassy. They always seem to come just before lunch, and then are gone by the end of lunch. Even protesters have lives, I guess.

But each evening there’s been a curfew, each day with a different schedule. Today (Saturday), we were at least able to get out and do some grocery shopping, although we did change our itinerary when we approached a street full of demonstrators. We were able to take the missionary couple from our ward, Tom and Jane Adams, with us, and went with them to Ruby Tuesday’s for lunch. While there, word came over the television that there would be another curfew, from 6:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Of course, it’s all for everyone’s safety and benefit, right?

We had already invited my office co-workers over for dinner, for 5:30 Sunday. But with a curfew tonight, we wonder if there will be a similar one tomorrow. So we moved dinner up to 4:30. That will be a challenge with our (especially my) church schedule. But we’ll manage. I’ve got bread dough rising now to make rolls. I hope I’m not up too late.

As I prepared my “bid list” to help determine my next assignment (where in the world I’ll be going next), I expressed that I really want to go somewhere with a much lower crime rate, and where we can get out and walk around. It’s been especially irritating lately, with all the curfews. I have to be careful to correctly interpret when Mary is annoyed with me or with the stifling situation we live in.

The bid list was a whole other challenge. Timing (leaving the current post at the right time, then finishing training at the right time – not too early, and not too late – to start at the next job when they need you. I got very frustrated because I did not have complete information on required training, and I also misunderstood timing for some hard language training. In the end, I had to take off 6 of my favorite 10 positions, including my favorite: a management position in Hamburg. The timing on most of my positions is not quite correct, either. But when I learned all this, Monday, we were in the middle of a political crisis, and I couldn’t give it much thought; I had to remove the invalid bids and add others, and still get it turned in by the 3:00 deadline that day. (Remember the sudden curfew that day?) So I hope I don’t get punished for not doing the bid list absolutely correctly. Now we just have to wait a couple of weeks to see how they end up assigning me.

The good news is that we’re safe, and well-supplied. Just bored at times. Hopefully this political standoff will all be resolved soon. Naturally thinking of myself, I have a conference in a couple of weeks in Costa Rica, and Mary plans to come with me. As of today, no one is traveling anywhere. So I hope we see some short-term let-up and long-term solutions. Until then, we obey the curfews, watch TV, and bake homemade rolls.

That girl can write!

I ate lunch at my desk the other day, having returned to the office too late to join my coworkers for lunch... wherever they went. I'd been at the Discovery School career day. "Yes, you too can be a diplomat!" When I got back and saw that everyone was gone, I thought of taking my lunch outside, as usual, but decided to eat at my desk where I could get caught up on my email. One link led to another and I found myself reading my daughter's blog. I laughed, I cheered, I cried. How proud I felt, how moved.

Go read them. It will make your day.

Shhh...don't tell them I'm blogging at work...
Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix.