5-11 April 2020 Masks for All and a Dryer for Three

On Sunday, April 5^th Sister Hatfield and I needed to take more face masks to missionaries in the South St Louis Zone.  So, we decided we would attend the morning session of General Conference with them in the St Louis Hills building.  Six elders had set up a TV for watching in the young women’s room.  We took our supply of white handkerchiefs and helped the missionaries participate in the hosanna shout.  It certainly was a memorable conference both for the messages, and for the social distancing practices that made remote attendance mandatory for everyone.

While we typically have office staff meetings on Fridays, this week we held staff meeting on Monday, April 6^th.  I presented President Bell with a report of our vacant apartments, now numbering about 23.  I had a tentative plan for giving notice to terminate a number of the leases.  At the end of the meeting, President Bell was not feeling particularly sure about the situation, having very little information about what expectation we should have for missionaries returning to the mission.  He decided that we should call Elder Sam Wong, First Counselor in the North America Central Area Presidency.  Elder Wong counseled that we should continue to make contingency plans and suggested that we start closing apartments judiciously.  But he acknowledged that he didn’t have any more firm information than we did about missionary returns.  I prepared notices to terminate and decided to send them out on April 7^th.  On the evening of April 6^th, the day before I was to send notices, I received an email from the Missionary Department.  It instructed me that we should not close apartments.  If that message had come a week, or even a day later, I would have put in motion legal notices to terminate leases that might have been impossible to reverse, and at the very least embarrassing to the Mission’s reputation.  I felt relief for the direction from the Church, just at the moment I needed it.  The process of caring for many empty apartments and getting them ready again for missionaries that will be sent to the Missouri St Louis Mission will be a big job.  I am grateful for the office staff and missionaries who share the burden with me.  In the end, I feel confident that we are being led by leaders that operate with inspiration.  The Lord’s Work with go forward even better suited for our world than before.  It is a blessing to be a part of it.

April 8^th was a special day, not because the work was unusual for me, but because Sister Hatfield joined me and the housing assistants in it.  It was a long day setting up beds for new companionships in far corners of the Champaign zone, together with other chores that we could do along the way.  With a few more missionaries leaving for COVID-19 concerns the day before, some further adjustments had to be made in the mission companionship organization.  I take the responsibility of having everyone in a bed just as quickly as possible.  The task this day was to gather up furniture we already had in empty apartments and get it moved to where the missionaries needed it.  It started with a visit to the apartment left by a senior couple in the Hazelwood zone, the zone just north of St Louis.  We packed up an enormous wood table and chairs, and some desks and chairs.  I took advantage of RaDene being with us to do some planning as to how to button up this apartment and turn it back over to the landlord, a decision made and notice given some months ago.  Then we headed across the Mississippi to Illinois, and in the Shilo East area of the O’Fallon zone, picked up beds and brought in garbage cans in another empty apartment.  Then we turned north to Mattoon.  This small town is presently the teaching area of two sisters for whom we had some mail and masks.  It seems we are taking masks to everyone we see lately.  After a short visit and a prayer, we went past Champaign to the town of Mahomet, where the sister training leaders for the zone live and have a new threesome.  They had asked for a kitchen table, which they admittedly needed.  They had been making due with a folding table, and with three sisters locked into their apartment, they needed some table space to be their creative selves. 

Somehow, our timing was not right, and we got their before the sisters got back from grocery shopping.  And sadly, I had forgotten my key.  That is always a mistake.  We thought we would get a jump on things and start unloading the bed and table and chairs and lights, and so forth, while we waited for the sisters to return.  Just about the time we got the furniture all unloaded, the heavens opened, rain descended, and the wind and lightning chased us back into the truck and the entry stairwell.  Midwest storms have a power to them that we don’t often get in the Mountain West.  We looked kind of funny balancing furniture on the stairs in precarious positions.  But the sisters came and we set them up.  Except the table would not fit around the corner and in the door at the top of the stairs.  While two of us held it, one of us started unbolting legs and supports.  That landing and stairs was the wrong place to be disassembling, but we did it.

The dryer in Mahomet has been on the “fix it” list since before I came to the mission in December of last year.  Generations of sisters have complained that it did not dry.  At first I didn’t feel ownership of the problem because it didn’t start on my watch.  So, I had a local member look at it, I called the apartment maintenance staff, and I even paid an appliance technician to fix it.  No luck with any of those, except that the technician confirmed that there was nothing wrong with the dryer, it simply wasn’t getting any exhaust airflow.  So, now, I decided it was time.  Armed with the mission shop vac, we went to work to see if we could find a clog in the dryer exhaust line.  In apartments, it isn’t so easy to find the exhaust ports, especially on for the second story.  I stood on chairs in the back planters, hung over balcony rails, and got plenty of funny looks from other residents.  But we simply could not find the exhaust port.  Finally, we stood back and saw something on the roof of the apartment that looked like it could be it.  I have never seen a dryer vent to the roof, but we were out of options.  We didn’t have a ladder, much less a second story ladder, much less permission to go on the roof.  There had to be another way. 

How about an attic access?  We searched the apartment, with no luck.  But, back out on that small stair landing, there it was.  The tell-tale square frame in the sheet rocked ceiling.  I got a chair, but was still well shy of the access.  So, Elder Schumann, our wiry new housing assistant, stood on my shoulders and I boosted him through the hole.  We handed up a flash light, and he thought he saw a pipe snaking through the ceiling about where our dryer was.  He acrobatically swung through the rafters, avoiding stepping through the ceiling, and we banged and listened from above and below.  We were convinced we had found the exhaust pipe.  But how would we clear it?  I decided that was someone else’s problem.  I instructed Elder Schumann to disconnect the pipe at an elbow he had taken a picture of for me.  It was a bit tedious, but he was successful, and we left the pipe dangling from the roof top.  Sure enough, the clog was past the elbow, and the dryer exhausted very nicely.  The next day I told the story, complete with sketch, and sent it to the apartment manager.  I bet they don’t get many tenants doing HVAC work in their attic, but I was not going to leave with the dryer not working.

Well, that put us behind schedule.  Lucky for the housing assistants, RaDene insisted we get a burger at McDonalds before pressing on.  That was a good call.  The take out food options were all closing and we hadn’t eaten all day.  I haven’t had a Big Mac in years.  You know, they taste pretty good on a day like this one.  We headed away from Mahomet, which is north of Champaign, and west to Springfield to set up our last three some arrangement.  We didn’t stay long, because we still had a two and a half hour drive back to St Louis.  Again, luck for the young elders, they had Sister Hatfield along on this trip, so we had lively conversation.  We only broke curfew by an hour and a half this day—9 am to 11:30 pm.

Later that week, on April 10^th we participated in the worldwide COVID fast initiated by President Nelson.  That was an amazing experience to join with people of all stripes in a common spiritual cause.  He really is the Lord’s Annointed for the world.  The next day, I had a COVID experience of a different kind.  I had to queue up at the drug store, the grocery store, and last, with RaDene and two missionaries at WalMart.  I have never stood in line in the United States like this once, much less three times.  It is strange.  We were at WalMart to by the elders a laptop that the Church had authorized for online proselyting.  These smart young missionaries are displaying their skills, talents, and obedience by continuing to press ahead with the work against all odds.  We feel like the skills we are gaining in this isolating time is teaching online skills that will be a powerful tool for the missionary work long after the social distancing is over and done.  Strangely, the virus is hastening the Work by forcing us to gain needed skills for the time we live in.  People don’t respond to knocking on their doors.  They do respond to Facebook.

April 11^th started with some rolling up of the sleeves and taking of my own Housing Coordinator medicine:  we straightened and cleaned our apartment like good missionaries.  I did a little shopping and went to a former senior missionary apartment in the area and started the process of cleaning out, cleaning up, and packing.  Knowing how scarce a commodity storage is, and how distracting and burdensome extra, non-essential “stuff” is to transitory missionaries, I have gotten really good at donating and throwing away.  I also like to be the first one in so as not to scare others when the fridge or toilet have rainbow colors growing in them.  RaDene worked hard in the office all afternoon, catching up on baptism reports and many other projects that start to press as we get close to another transfer.  I use that term advisedly, because all we have done for some time is send people home, not receive.  But, we hope that will change after missionaries make their elections by April 30^th to be reassigned as soon as health circumstances permit travel.

30 Mar-4 Apr 2020 Empty Apartments and Face Masks

Sunday, March 29^th was our third week without gathering for church meetings.  We miss the fellowship of the saints.  We enjoy our small sacrament service together.  We use some pita bread, and have extra large pieces in order to give us more to chew on, which is a physical way to extend our meditation.  RaDene made a great effort to put together some packages of scriptures and small gifts, beautifully wrapped, for the adults and kids in each our children’s families.  They represented each day of the last week of Christ’s life on earth.  Her creativity and enthusiasm are the ribbons that tie our family together.  We were able to conclude our day with a video conference with our adult kids.  We crave keeping up a little, with what is going on in their lives.  We have found that trying to have a video conference with grandkids--babies and pre-schoolers is fun, if in short, spontaneous bursts, but too chaotic to accomplish much more than blowing kisses. 

On Tuesday, March 31^st I made a pretty epic tour around the Cape Girardeau Zone.  That is the southern leg of the mission, taking in a good deal of southern Missouri.  It was a reminder of how remote some teaching areas are, and why you just can’t often run out to some places.  You really need to bundle the reasons to go, which of course, makes them even longer adventures when you do.  I first went to the heart of the zone, the city of Cape Girardeau.  Some senior missionaries had left from there several weeks ago.  I had some young missionaries look after things while things were so crazy with the COVID-19 departures.  But it really was time to get down there and see what needed to be done to close the apartment.  Some sisters living nearby had their eyes on a few items in the apartment, and I was more than happy to let them have whatever they could use.  The mission really doesn’t have the capacity to store full apartment’s worth of furnishings, and in the current environment, the charities aren’t open to receive donations.  And anyway, beds are not acceptable anyway for sanitation concerns.  What to do with senior apartment large beds is a problem, but not one the young missionaries can solve.  They can swap out couches, broken dressers and tables, and other things that are typically nicer in the senior apartments.  And while there, I made the usual rounds of fixing lights and blinds, checking alarms, and generally addressing whatever is on the missionaries’ minds.  And I feel good about praying with them before I depart. 

The next stop was Sikeston, home of the Lambert Café and “throw’d rolls.”  It’s closed though, so no stopping for comfort food.  I took a new elder a bag that he had left at the mission office when his trainer came to pick him up the week before, helped them with some shower and linoleum repairs, and generally tried to encourage them that they were not forgotten down there.  Then I was off to Poplar Bluff, on the edge of the Ozarks.  Sikeston is pretty flat farm land.  By the time you get to Poplar Bluff, the rolling hills have become quite a bit higher, and beautifully forested.  The elders here needed desk chairs, and since they only had one broken one, I agreed.  The apartment itself was surprisingly nice, with a townhouse feel to it.  One of the elders here is famous for bringing brownies to any meeting he goes to.  I’m a fan of his.  Perhaps the prettiest drive in Missouri is through the Ozarks between Poplar Bluff, northward to Farmington.  The beautiful pine forests, rolling hills, rocky outcroppings, rivers, and lakes are postcard pretty.  And the highway was a wide, divided, four-lane road, easy to drive.  Particularly because I am sure I didn’t see more than a dozen car in two hours of driving.

In Farmington, I fixed a bathroom fan, noted a missing kitchen chair for next time, and collected keys for the Farmington North apartment that we was going to be closed.  I like the Farmington North Apartment, but it just doesn’t seem to make sense to have two sets of missionaries in such a small unit, borne out by the fact that we have had no one using it for a couple of months.  It’s a good thing I have a few weeks to get this ready to turn back in.  The sisters that lived here last have accumulated a lot of stuff to deal with.  By now its getting late, but I need to make one more stop in south St Louis, an area called Webster Grove.  Even though the apartment was recently vacated by the missionaries living there as we go through the COVID-19 downsizing, I wouldn’t have stopped but for a call Sis Hatfield got over the weekend.  One of the young sisters that had been staying there phoned RaDene somewhat sheepishly, saying that she realized on her plane flight home that she was hungry, and that she couldn’t find her sandwich.  Maybe she had left it in the apartment?  Sure enough, the apartment was in better than average shape, but on the kitchen counter was a made peanut butter and Nutella sandwich, together with open jars and bread bag.  Nothing was green, but there was plenty of fresh food in the fridge that needed to go—along with the sandwich.  So I made an emergency clean out, noting that I needed to get back here before long.  These young ladies had been stocked with food.  RaDene had worked this whole day in the office, and when I finally picked her up about 9 pm she left for the first time that day.  She has tremendous stamina and determination.

Wednesday, April 1^st was almost as big an adventure as the day before.  The Housing Assistants and I piled into the truck and headed for “Mexico.”  It is fun to say that, here in Missouri.  The sisters there had been patiently waiting for the lease to begin in their new area of Bear Creek North, in Columbia, and that day had finally come.  Mexico is a smallish town north and east of Columbia.  It got its name back in 1836 or so, when the New Mexico territory, on the way to Texas, was established.  We loaded everything out of the two story plus a basement townhouse in Mexico, leaving the washer and dryer because we didn’t really have room to pack them in.  We headed the 45 minutes or so to the north east part of Columbia and got the keys to the new apartment.  It was a real change, being a new, but small one bedroom apartment.  It did have the benefit of being in a nice, stable complex.  It is too close to I-70 though, and the trucks make more noise than I would like.  It’s tolerable if the doors and windows are closed.  But the sisters seem content.

On Friday, April 3^rd RaDene joined me on a tour of vacant apartments in Webster Grove North, Oakville, Fenton, and Rockwood 1^st.  We’ve learned that as missionaries left, they didn’t necessarily leave things in condition ready for new missionaries to move in when they start coming back to the field.  RaDene is helping me develop a checklist of what needs to be done to be move in ready.  Sometimes, it isn’t much.  Maybe just a light cleaning, or replacement of a missing comforter.  But sometimes we have moved out dressers, beds, or other things to occupied apartments with specific needs, and sometimes the apartments are cluttered and in dire need of a deep cleaning.  Developing the schedule of how to get move in ready preparations done is challenging. 

Saturday, April 4^th was the beginning of General Conference.  After the Saturday afternoon session, we loaded the car with mail and face masks to take to Cape Girardeau Zone.  We mostly just passed things to the zone leaders there, but took more mail and masks to Farmington to make our ride home a bit longer, because it would be difficult for the zone leaders to get to the Farmington and Poplar Bluff teaching areas.  Farmington and Poplar Bluff would be meeting together on Sunday to spend one session of conference together.  The Evertons and the Bells helped take masks to other zones in the mission.  Our supply of paper masks is thin, and if we don’t get a resupply, the 1 or 2 masks that we have been able to distribute won’t be any good for long.

22-29 Mar 2020 Broken Curfews

Sunday, March 22^nd had a delightful beginning.  We had invited our grandchildren to join us in a video primary experience.  They were not quiet, but they were interested and attentive.  Grandma (Nanna) had arranged for Abby to say the opening prayer with her Dad’s help.  We sang songs, and had some age appropriate storytelling, which at different times included Nanna falling over on the floor to make the point.  We loved it, and I think the grandkids loved it too. 

Then we had a video temple preparation class with Sherri Cullen.  RaDene and I taught like traditional missionaries, taking turns teaching concepts, back and forth.  I think we commented to each other on reflection that it was one of the best teaching experiences together we have ever had.  We were two for two this day.  I can’t help but feel like this sort of remote experience will someday be a very common tool in the missionary toolbox, even when this “social distancing” is a memory but not a current reality.  It certainly is raising the awareness of the possibilities—and for now, the necessity—from the Missionary Department on down to missionaries in each teaching area. 

Later that day we did a few other things that were important, if not pinnacles of spirituality.  We delivered packages to our St Louis Zone missionaries in Lindell and Pagedale.  Sometimes these ad hoc deliveries are crucial.  But just as often they are opportunities to see some of these latter-day stripling warriors and deliver emotional care packages.  RaDene is particularly good at this, and had helped me develop better practices of interacting with the young missionaries when I visit their apartments from time to time.  That night, RaDene did some research to track down the actual texts of the Illinois Governor’s “stay home” order and the corresponding St Louis County order.  Importantly, RaDene identified the St Louis characterization of religious work as “necessary services,” giving us a bit more flexibility to allow missionaries use the church building WIFI, while practicing safe social distancing practices.  Unfortunately, 40 percent of our missionary force, being assigned to Illinois, did not have the benefit of this necessary services definition.  One of the very difficult consequences of this is that the cellular plan was all the Illinois missionaries had access to for teaching, district councils, interviews, and other purposes.  Which was not to say that the Missouri missionaries had adequate resources, even though they were periodically able to use church building WIFI. 

Monday, March 23^rd.  This work week was easily the most stressful of our mission.  Last week began the realization of the enormity of the work to begin sending missionaries home.  This week was execution week.  Missionary Travel, who ordinarily takes care of booking airline tickets, was so overwhelmed that we were asked to arrange our own travel for missionaries.  This felt equally overwhelming to us.  There is so much that goes into sending a missionary home, and a good deal of it ordinarily happens weeks, if not months, before planned departure.  Now, we had days, at most, to communicate with parents, stake presidents, and missionaries, coordinate travel and accommodations to St Louis from the distant four corners of the mission, create release letters, certificates, and other documentation, print missionary letters, create travel packets, and so many other tasks I can’t even remember them all.  And now, we needed to book flights in a chaotic airline travel environment.  In exasperation, RaDene joked on a family thread, “would anyone like to help?”  It was not altogether a joke when she asked Kamie, her sister, if she were available to help.  Kamie, not knowing what she was getting into, said yes. 

And so began and extraordinary team effort of the mission office staff, including Kamie Hubbard.  To execute, RaDene and I were not home before 2 a.m. two nights this week, and not before midnight any night but one.  Kamie was working right along with us 24-7.  RaDene had some ingenious Google sheets going so she and Kamie could in real time identify and create flight plans.  And with airlines losing cash by the suitcase full, flights cancelled about as fast as tickets were bought.  Many, if not most flights were rebooked more than once.  Smaller regional flights became nearly impossible.  Families would need to go to drive larger airports in their states.  In one case, after rebooking time and time again, a worried mother told Sister Hatfield they were getting in their motorhome in Colorado and would be here in 17 hours.  Such were the levels of concern and uncertainty. 

On Tuesday, March 24^th, I had another task to wedge in.  If it weren’t enough that we were sending home scores of missionaries this week, eight new missionaries were coming from the MTC.  The MTCs were bursting with trained missionaries that needed to get out of the MTCs and into the field.  As luck would have it, this inflow was happening on the busiest week of the year, as I saw it.  And if that weren’t interesting enough, vulnerable medical conditions would not allow use of the mission home for incoming our outgoing missionaries as is the usual practice.  On Tuesday we set up a makeshift dormitory for missionaries in a departed seniors apartment.  We crammed the king size bed in the closet, and put down twin mattresses  all over the apartment, together with pillows, covers, sheets and other bedding.

Thursday March 25^th was new missionary arrival day.  They would arrive about 4 pm that afternoon.  It being the week it was, we learned while the President was traveling to the airport that the Salt Lake flight had been cancelled.  No one seemed to know where the missionaries were.  And it took a couple of hours to figure out that the airline had arranged for transfer to dinner and an airport hotel.  Perplexed, we met together as a staff and ate the lovely lasagna dinner Sister Bell had prepared for them while we developed a new plan, while laughing and scratching our heads about the craziness of it all.

On Friday, March 26^th the new missionaries finally made it.  Not being able to congregate, we brought them to the mission office where the President and nurse interviewed them, using the supply room as an interview room.  The APs provided training at the large table while feeding them Subway sandwiches, the substitute for the lasagna dinner.  And then at the appointed time, trainers and others who had lost their companions this week meet in the mission office parking lot, observing social distancing but not coming in the office, staying in their cars, and parking with a spot between each car.  It was an extraordinary feat, organized largely on the fly.  It is a good thing that our mission secretary is a very organized, alert person.  Meanwhile, I was taking yet another missionary to the airport.  Strangely, this particular trip was to bid goodbye to a missionary that was at the end of his regularly scheduled mission.  A rare condition this month. 

Saturday, March 27^th was new missionary orientation.  Except instead of actually meeting with the new missionaries and their trainers, we had a Zoom conference.  All the new missionaries and their trainers were at their apartments.  Again, I was very impressed with the nimble adjusting everyone did.  It went off very well.  Perhaps another lesson of how things might be done routinely in the future with technology.

That afternoon, RaDene put on her work clothes and we trekked out to Warrenton to clean an apartment to turn it over to the landlord.  I had simply run out of time to get it done, so Saturday afternoon, our P-day, was the day.  In some ways, the physical labor was a welcome relief from the high stress office work of the week.  As has become the custom, we stopped by the local dollar store, mostly to see if there was any toilet paper.  There wasn’t.  But, there was a great selection of Easter items.  RaDene had all but given up on her hopes to provide Easter Week gifts to the family.  The dollar store reinvigorated the idea.  We loaded up with cute presents, goodies, cards, and colorful wrapping.  We finally headed home, capping an absolutely remarkable week of effort to send and receive missionaries in the COVID-19 environment.

15-21 Mar 2020 Who Will Go?

Sunday, March 15^th turned out to be only a prelude of things to come.  We had received word that we were not to meet together in church, but could minister and have small group meetings at our homes.  We had a delightful Come Follow Me lesson using internet video conferencing with Malory and her family, Ancsi and Gareth, and our parents.  Poor Malory had to have her laptop on mute most of the time so we could hear each other over Kennedy’s delightful, disruptive chatter.  We were not completely tech savvy, as we held up one computer in front of the camera of another to share some videos, but everyone felt good about “being together” if only via microphone and camera.  Afterwards, we picked up the missionaries and took the sacrament to two elderly sisters in the Pagedale Branch that we have grown quite close to considering the short amount of time we have been here.  Then, we came back to our little apartment and taught a temple preparation class to Sherri Cullen and shared dinner with Sherri, her husband, and the missionaries.  It all seemed pleasant and somewhat sociable.  Little did we know it would be our last sacrament in a social setting for a while.

On Monday, March 16^th, it started to feel like the coronavirus was causing the Church to take steps that would affect us in important ways, but that would not radically change the work of the mission.  That morning, we were told to give Elders that had been out for 21 months the option to end their mission early if they had some physical or emotional vulnerability.  The president called those who might qualify for early release, but he had few takers.  Before the day was over, the option had turned into a mandate.  Now, many of our most senior missionaries would be going home early.  We assumed that this might be to make room for foreign serving missionaries who were apparently coming home for their protection.  But it was all a little blurry. 

On Tuesday, a new communication came out that mandated the departure of all missionaries, regardless of tenure, that might be physically or emotionally vulnerable.  We met together with the Mission President and Sis Bell and the mission nurse to evaluate our missionaries and make a working list of who might need to return home in response to the communication from the area presidency.  It is hard to express how difficult that discussion was, realizing that these decisions would affect lives in real ways. 

On Wednesday, we left work early to go to Sherri Cullen’s delightful, old, small house to share a meal with her and Dan, her husband, and the Pagedale missionaries.  After a yummy pasta dinner, we had another temple preparation lesson.  We went back to the office afterwards, trying to keep up with our work.  Somewhat humorously, we mimicked what the missionaries do—we made a short video and posted it on the mission Facebook feed, exclaiming energetically that we had we had “someone on date!” which means for the missionaries that someone had committed to a baptismal date.  In our case, we had a member who had an appointment for receiving her endowment in the St Louis temple on April 18^th.  We were excited to be a part of her preparations. 

Thursday, March 19^th was strange.  We held zone conference by video link.  Ordinarily we hold 3 zone conferences on 3 consecutive days in 3 different stakes, rotating around the mission.  This time, we had 1 zone conference on 1 day by video.  So it was effectively a mission conference, with missionaries meeting in their local churches to participate.  That way, there wouldn’t be more than 3 companionships in a building at one time.  On our end it was difficult, because we set it up from Pres Bell’s office in the mission office.  But it is too small for all the staff to get into all at once, at least comfortably, especially with screens, cameras, etc.  It was the least participation I’ve had in a conference since we’ve been here.  And of course, there was no feeding or eating with the missionaries.  They simply ate their sack lunches they brought at a break.  We missed the fraternization with the young missionaries.  Instead, we conferenced during the lunch break further discussing which missionaries were candidates to return home.

Maybe it was just as well that I couldn’t easily participate in zone conference.  That morning, Pres Bell came in and asked me to call the senior missionaries and let them know that they needed to return home on instructions of the Church.  That was challenging in some cases where the seniors had been out only a fraction of the mission they had planned to serve.  Many of them really had no place to go, having sold, rented, or put family in their homes.  Moreover, they were asked to self-isolate themselves once they got home for two weeks.  Pres Bell also asked me to contact stake presidents so that they would be prepared to greet missionaries coming home.  He couldn’t preside at the zone conference and quickly contact everyone that needed to know of the decisions to send missionaries home.  That same day, we received word from the church that the missionaries should no longer go into anyone’s home.  This was really going to change what the missionaries could do to contact and teach.

Saturday the 21^st, I spent a good part of the day greeting senior missionaries that were departing that day and collecting apartment keys.  I did my best to express my gratitude for their service in the MSLM and encourage them to be safe and find alternative ways to continue to share their valuable talents.  I also cleaned and readied an apartment for turning over to management.  Sending so many home, I wonder if there will be a lot of this in coming weeks and months.

8-14 Mar 2020 The Virus Is Coming

8-14 Mar 2020 The Virus Is Coming

Sunday, March 8^th was the end of the St Louis Stake Conference.  Elder Henry J. Erying was the visiting authority.  He is President of BYU-I and looks like a young version of his father, Henry B.  In trying to get some background on Pres Eyring, Sis Hatfield came across a BYU-I devotional promotion featuring Henry J. trying to waterski in suit pants, white shirt, and tie.  I can’t really remember what the attendance “hook” was, but it certainly was amusing, and out of character for a spiritually powerful, albeit soft spoken man of few words.  He did have some amusing stories.  His likeness to his father was illustrated by this story:  He related that he unexpectedly met Pres Nelson in a parking garage one Saturday in December.  And although it was understandable that Pres Nelson knew who he was, he didn’t have any real reason to think his life details would be known to the prophet.  Surprisingly, Pres Nelson said, I understand you are a season pass holder at Park City!  A bit shocked and embarrassed, Henry J. admitted he was, but asked how Pres Nelson knew this.  With a twinkle in his eye, Pres Nelson said, well, a few weeks ago, I was at Park City getting my season pass.  As I got to the ticket window, the young man exclaimed, oh my, one day and I’m giving passes to two apostles!  Pres Nelson asked him, Oh, who was the other one?  The clerk said, Elder Eyring.  Then Pres Nelson told Henry J., I know your dad is not a skier.  Trying to be equally quick, Henry J. retorted, well, I’m sure you are not getting up to the mountain as often as you once did.  Pres Nelson dryly replied, You are right, I haven’t been up since Thursday!

Less humorous, Pres and Sis Bell spoke in the Saturday evening session and then were excused for a family matter.  The family matter was to try to get to their son’s solo dance performance being held at a competition an hour away across the Mississippi in Illinois.  Their son is an excellent dancer and trains and competes at a high level.  Happily, their son took second place.  Sadly, Pres Bell missed the performance again.  He hasn’t seen his son dance at a competition since they got here.  The sacrifices they have made to leave home and lead this mission are very real, and costly by anyone’s reckoning.  Only the Lord could compensate.

This is another transfers week.  It is still amazing to me how the Church has so carefully orchestrated arrivals and departures into the mission field and how missionary movements within the mission revolve around that.  There must be some former Swiss watch makers in the Missionary Department.  On Monday, we said goodbye to some beloved sister missionaries, gathering them up at the Frontenac sister’s apartment and helping drive them to the airport.  Which meant, of course, that on Tuesday, March 10^th, a new group arrived, and on Wednesday, we had new missionary orientation, where Pres and Sis Bell imbue the missionaries with their spirit, the APs train the trainers, and the office staff introduces themselves and how they are here to support the work.  You won’t be surprised to know that Sis Hatfield decorated with a fun and cheerful St Patrick’s Day theme.  We served a lunch of fresh green salad and grilled chicken.  RaDene is doing an admirable job of finding healthy things to serve the missionaries.  By 12:30 pm the missionaries from around the mission have descended on the church parking lot, and we do our best to pass out mail, collect and redistribute car and apartment keys, deliver teaching materials, and send them off.  For me and Elders Hamblin and Shurmann, we had to hustle away.  We had to get to Effingham and Pittsfield, both in Illinois, to set up what we call tri’s—a three person companionship, with an extra desk, and importantly, a bed, before it was time for bed.  That might not sound like a feat, but when Effingham is two hours north east of St Louis, and Pittsfield is 2 ½ hours north west of Effingham, and you don’t start until 2 in the afternoon, it is a bit of a trick.  Effingham is a small farming community in the plains of southern Illinois.  It is home to the largest cross in the US, known as the “Cross at the Crossroads,” standing near the intersection of some important roads and railroads.  It stands 200 feet tall and is made of gleaming steel.  It is unmistakable.  Unhappily, it was made famous by a Life Magazine cover story of the terrible fire that burned St Anthony’s Hospital to the ground, killing 74 people.  Donations to rebuild came from all 48 states and several foreign countries.  It also was the impetus for implementing improved fire codes around the nation. 

I allowed the Elders to stop outside Pittsfield long enough to get gas and for me to buy them a snack, having no time for dinner.  The Pittsfield apartment is notable for being a renovated mortuary.  The sisters there have a long narrow apartment on the top floor.  It doesn’t seem ideal, but a little looking the next day confirmed what I suspected:  there hasn’t been any apartments built in Pittsfield for many years, so the prospects for improvement are slim.  Pittsfield is even smaller than Effingham, having less than 5,000 people, but it has some characteristics that belie its few people.  It was settled in the early 19^th Century by yankees from Pittsfield, Massachusetts.  Perhaps that heritage is why it has some beautiful buildings, including a county courthouse that rivals the best architecture of the 19^th Century.  It had large pork raising farms for many years, feeding into the huge meat packing that helped make Chicago famous.  It still has Pig Days every July.  It is well documented that Abraham Lincoln practiced law in Pittsfield as he rode the Illinois Circuit and the local paper was among the first to suggest him for President. 

But the town had rolled up by the time we left the sisters’ apartment, having done what we could to set up beds, desks, fix lights, and miscellaneous other maintenance items.  So we started the 2 ½ hour drive south to St Louis, having had no dinner.  I mention that only because when we finally got near civilization again we found a Hardy’s that hadn’t closed.  We went in and the elders ordered quite possibly the biggest hamburgers I ever saw, with huge double patties, cheese, and bacon.  It became an endurance contest to see if they could actually finish the food.  I think they both regretted eating the whole thing.  Missionaries!  And more specifically, Elders.  I was more modest and skipped the second patty and bacon.  What a healthy eater I am. 

On March 12^th we came into the mission office and found ourselves locked out.  Our office has a mechanical key lock, but we rarely use it.  Instead, our office, like all the others in our building, relies on a magnetic lock that is opened by a card like you might use at a hotel.  The lightning storm the night before had fried the building’s electronic lock circuitry.  Somewhat counterintuitively, the fried circuity held the doors locked, rather than releasing them.  We alerted the rest of the staff to not come in until we gave the all’s well signal.  An hour turned into two, and then into the morning, and the day, and finally two before the electrician could get the doors opened.  Now we were using our mechanical keys!  Technology is great, until it isn’t. 

On Friday the 13^th, RaDene and I joined the Bells after work to do some initiatories and sealings before the St Louis Temple closed for health protection reasons.  It was a sweet experience, but also a bit melancholy to think that the doors would be closing, for who knew how long.  Perhaps it was a very small taste of what the saints must have felt leaving the Nauvoo Temple, knowing they would not ever return.  Afterwards, Sister Hatfield and I found Andy’s Frozen Yogurt, a walk up storefront serving the most delicious frozen treats.  Ugh, I’m writing this on a fast Sunday, and it is the wrong time to reflect on this experience.  It was so good.  St Louis has its share of good eats!  If anyone ever comes to visit, remind us to take you there.

Saturday, March 14^th was emergency supply assembly day.  We have counseled our missionaries for weeks to put together some emergency medicine and food supplies, just in case.  Sis Bell is an energetic doer (quite like RaDene in this regard), who decided that we needed some back up supplies.  So, she went to Costco, the Dollar Store, and who knows where else, carting in cases of food.  We spent most of the day sorting it out and boxing it into banker boxes.  We now have 12 boxes of emergency food supplies we can drop off when and where needed.  If not, we will have a great spaghetti feed with the missionaries someday.

1-7 Mar 2020 Golfing, Anyone?

Sunday, March 1^st was our first day in a new Pagedale Branch assignment.  Pres Fingal has asked us to help sister Sherri Cullen prepare to go to the temple to receive her endowments and to be sealed to her husband Dan Thomas.  She wants to be ready for April 18^th.  It is an exciting assignment and goal.  RaDene and I have been blessed by our temple service and attendance and happy to be helping Sis Cullen prepare.  The Church resources on the temple are so rich now.  The Brethren have provided a great deal of information about temple ordinances that enhance our ability to discuss the important covenants and promises available in the House of the Lord.  Because of intervening conferences, stake, general, and zone, we have developed a schedule that doesn’t have a lot of float, but that should cover the territory in the time available.  Here we go.

Tuesday was Mission Leadership Council for the Mission President, Sister Bell, and the young missionary leadership.  The office staff doesn’t participate in the council directly, be we do get to spend some time with these wonderful people because we prepare and serve them lunch.  We wanted to break our menu mold, so we ordered teriyaki sauce, aluminum bowls, and sesame seeds, and bought broccoli, chicken strips and rice.  We gathered up all the crockpots of the office staff and went to work.  RaDene, as usual, added a real visual touch, with green table clothes, shamrock plates and napkins, and shimmering green center pieces.  A feast for the spirit, eyes, and belly.

Wednesday, March 3^rd was what we call Temple Tuesday.  The missionaries are invited to attend the temple soon after their arrival, and then again on their 6, 12, 18 and 24 month marks.  One of my jobs is to keep track of whose turn it is to come into St Louis on Temple Tuesday and post the information for the missionaries to see.  We don’t typically attend, although we surely could, but it just is so hard to leave our office posts during the day in the middle of the week. 

While Temple Tuesday was going on, I went out to St Peters to check on the elders’ apartment where the water heater had burst and flooded the place.  I was glad to see that the dehumidifier, fans, and carpet cleaning had all done its work so that the apartment was ready for the elders to move back in. 

On my way back to the office I got a call from RaDene that a sister had left some of her temple clothing at the temple.  She was enroute to Effingham, Illinois, so returning would be very difficult.  So, I went by the temple to see if I could retrieve them and get them into the mission mail delivery system (of which I am an integral part, if I do say so myself).  I went to the laundry counter and found the clothing.  Moreover, the temple worker behind the counter, having seen my name badge, introduced herself as related to the Hatfields in Utah County.  We had a grand time getting acquainted.  It is fun to know our family is all around us, even in the mission field.

This is the week before transfers so President Bell is spending time in the office seeking inspiration about what missionaries should and shouldn’t be transferred.  There are so many thoughts that go into those decisions to take to the Lord.  One factor is how the missionaries are embraced by the members.  This cycle, the President has become very concerned that some sisters are not being used by a ward in the Columbia Stake anywhere near potential.  He is inclined to move them to a ward in the zone where the elders are leading the mission in baptisms, with no small amount of the effort coming from the members.  He is thinking that a second set of missionaries, some sisters, would flourish there.  Of course that means they need a place to live.  And fortunately, their current lease only has a couple of months left.  I did all the computer searching I could, narrowed my vision to three apartments, then it was time to go look.

On Thursday, March 4^th Sister Hatfield got a call from one of the Elders we work with in the Pagedale Branch.  He is from Brazil originally, although his family has immigrated through Utah and now lives in the Atlanta area.  Early on in our relationship with Elder Windmiller, Sister Hatfield insisted he talk to Gareth Vidal, our Chilean son-in-law, confirming that they both speak Spanish and Portuguese.  Elder Windmiller had lost his cell phone.  The Church has the missionaries’ phones heavily loaded with filters, encryption, and other daunting software to help keep missionaries safe.  One feature provides for phone location.  Sister Hatfield figured out how to turn it on for the lost cell phone from her computer.  Rather remarkably, it showed the phone at a commuter train station called the Delmar Loop.  It looked like it was on the tracks themselves, based on the mapping.  Well, having found a locating signal, we had to go look.  So we jumped in the car and headed towards downtown. 

It turns out the Delmar Loop station is in an area that is a bit sketchy.  All sorts of yelling and commotion was going on at the station, including a police presence.  It felt a bit risky to park the Audi and go searching.  Indeed, Sister Hatfield demurred, and stayed locked in the car.  The locating signal was now not pointing to the train station, but to an old building across the street.  Several old men that could have passed for homeless were walking up and down the sidewalk.  It wasn’t clear what the building was, but being intrepid missionaries, Sister Hatfield left the car and joined me to knock on the door.  We were greeted at the door by an old man who seemed genuinely confused by our introduction:  “Hello, we are missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  One of our colleagues has lost his phone and we think it might be inside your building.  Have you seen it, and can we come in and look?”  It turns out the building was home to a County funded senior men’s residential facility.  No wonder the poor old fellow was confused.  Helpfully though, he invited us in and found the on duty caretaker.  She was a middle aged woman who was accommodating.  We explained the situation and that the locating signal had brought us to her facility.  She asked around for us, made a general announcement, and invited us to make a search. 

After having sized up the elderly residents of the care center, we realized that if one of the men had picked up the phone in or around the train station, which seemed distinctly possible, there was a strong likelihood he would not remember he had, or where he had set it down if he brought it in.  These men were really not accountable for their actions at this stage in their lives.  So rather than intrusively search in vain, we just left our card and asked for a call if something showed up and that some young missionaries would be by the next day to check.  We parted on friendly terms with the caregiver, feeling a bit of kinship with her in our respective roles to help God’s children.  We had tried, but alas, the phone never did show up.  Fortunately for him, Elder Windmiller had a connection with the mission secretary who promptly arranged for a spare mission phone for him. 

On Friday the 6^th, my duty was to try to find an apartment for sisters in what we call Bear Creek, a ward in Columbia, Missouri.  Bear Creek already had a set of Elders, but they were the highest baptizers in the mission, and it seemed directly connected to the efforts of the ward.  President Bell wanted to fan the flame.  My practice is to do an internet search, narrow the candidates to a manageable number, then go look.  An internet description is no substitute for eyeing the neighborhood and looking at the apartments inside and out. 

I quickly ruled out one of my candidates.  This was going to be the home of sisters, after all, and the complex looked somewhat unsafe in context.  A second choice was a townhouse on the outskirts of town in an older neighborhood with small homes surrounding it, and a pleasant park nearby.  It seemed like a possibility, but I wasn’t feeling sure.  The third choice was a very new complex that had a somewhat pretentious name, “The Links at Columbia.”  It wasn’t a PGA tour stop, but it did have some units that overlooked a small golf course.  I was a little worried about the message I might be inadvertently sending to the ward, even though the price was really quite reasonable. 

I stewed about it for the next couple of days and then it hit me.  I needed to call the Bear Creek Bishop.  That was a flash of inspiration.  He quickly steered me away from my second choice, knowing that although the park looked pleasant in the daytime when I had seen it, it had long been a magnet for untoward activities after dark and just too near to the townhouses for comfort.  And he heartily endorsed my third choice, quickly assuring me that “The Links” had a family friendly reputation with a good blend of all sorts of people, young, old, students, singles, and families.  Calling the local priesthood is an excellent tool for the toolbox.  I quickly wrote my check and made a deposit.  While somewhat of an administrative hassle, it is on the other hand somewhat comforting that we needed to have a background check on the proposed resident sisters.  Presumably all residents have passed.  I joked with President Bell that our lease comes with discounted green fees.  Shall we go golfing after missionary interviews in Columbia when the weather warms up?

Elders Are Movers 23-29 Feb 2020

23-29 Feb 2020

On Sunday, February 23^rd Sister Hatfield and I joined the Pagedale Branch leadership in blanketing the branch territory looking for lost members on the rolls.  We got the list labeled southwest, with about 12 names on it.  The long-time branch president gave it a quick look and confirmed that he didn’t know any of the folks on the list.  We scooped up the full time missionaries, Elder Stamper and Elder Windmiller, and off we went.  We went address by address.  I’m sorry to say we didn’t make a lot of progress.  Most doors we knocked on didn’t answer.  We left notes on each one of them.  We did have a “Fourth Floor, Last Door” experience.  The very last house on the list wasn’t answered by the member, but by a very friendly roommate.  A Presbyterian, we learned.  But she was helpful and quite sure the owner would be happy to see us sometime when she wasn’t at work.  We chatted long enough that the member’s young adult son drove in the driveway, so we chatted with him.  He explained that the family was actually long time members.  His grandfather had been a bishop in Puerto Rico when he was a boy and before the family moved to St Louis.  The young man was also friendly and invited the Elders to make a return visit.  We learned that his mom’s day off is on Wednesdays and that she works in the local grocery floral department.  We have more to go on here. 

On Monday, I had a housing breakthrough.  Some sisters in a town called Warrenton have been plagued by mold and a somewhat scary neighborhood environment for some time now.  I have been looking in vain for an alternative.  Everything seemed to be equally or more scary, be really rundown, or just too far from the heart of the teaching area.  But today, I got a tip for a townhouse very near the church building in a much quieter part of town.  That is, quieter excepted for during the county fair, because the fairgrounds are in the new neighborhood.  I spoke to the owner and his brother the manager, and things look very promising.  The property is not brand new, but there isn’t mold, and the environment seems safe.  Honestly, I believe the mold is mostly a problem of missionaries not keeping their place clean and dry.  And sometimes I’m a bit skeptical about how dangerous a neighborhood really is.  But as (Luke Skywalker?) says, perception is reality.  Sometimes the best solution is just to change the perception to help the missionaries get refocused. 

We also had a meeting with Rock Eriksen, the Area JustServe coordinator, and Mission President Bell.  We are all hoping that the mission and the missionaries can expand their good works by participating in JustServe.  RaDene and I have been asked by Pres Bell to be the mission just serve coordinators.  RaDene will be good at involving the missionaries if we can get our feet under us sufficiently to give it some attention.

On Tuesday the 25^th, the housing assistants and I finished a wild goose chase.  The washer we had replaced in St Charles the week before was still in our trailer because we had tried a couple of metal recyclers on the county recycling website without success.  Why the county would list closed facilities is a mystery.  But this day we took one more stab at it, with success.  We punched in the address of the facility in central St Louis and were off.  The closer we got, the more burned out the place became, until we finally got to a facility that looked like the epicenter of a WWII bombing raid.  We somewhat sheepishly turned into the walled and razor wired city block and drove up onto the scale.  The piles of scrap and the clientele looked like they really were WWII refugees.  We quickly unloaded our washer into the mud, and drove back onto the scale.  I was given a scrap of paper by the weighmaster and he pointed to a block building in the corner of the lot that looked like a WWII bunker.  There was not a single window, and frankly, from where I was I never saw a door either.  But there was a large arrow painted on the exterior pointing to a spot where one concrete block was missing and the hole covered by a canvas flap.  There were a line of men, so I went and stood in it.  When it was finally my turn, someone took my paper and my driver’s license.  I had the feeling that giving up my license was a bad idea.  I waited long enough that I did start to worry whether I would ever see it back again.  Even the men in the line behind me thought something was taking too long.  I never learned why.  Finally, I was handed $6 and my driver’s license back through the opening.  The Elders and I had been trying to have some conversations with the men at the yard, but we really were not on the same wavelength, and so we hustled out.  The $6 didn’t even pay for the gas of the trip, but at least we were free of the burden of a broken down washing machine.

That night while back in the office, RaDene received a call from a father and referred the call to me.  It was an unsophisticated man who had heard that his son, an elder in our mission, had gotten himself into trouble.  I didn’t know a lot about it myself.  I had heard that the elder and his companion had been tracked by the vehicle satellite system to have been out driving around a remote and forbidden part of the mission in the middle of the night.  Pres Bell was still gathering the facts and deciding what action to take.  Meanwhile, this heartbroken father was asking for more information that I didn’t really have.  I told him I would ask the President to get in touch with him and assured him that his son was safe and would be dealt with fairly and with love.  I felt very bad for the whole situation, the Elders, the President, and the sorrowful and worried families back home.  There wasn’t much I could do but to try to reassure this poor man that everything would work out.

Wednesday, February 26^th, took us to Saint Vincent de Paul.  We had collected a small menagerie of things from the Erickson apartment, storage unit, office, and the real impetus, a desk that sisters in Oakville had been using as a seat until they got themselves some bar stools.  Then the desk was just in the way so we picked it up.  So that it would not be perpetually in our way, we went to my favorite local charitable thrift store, St Vincent de Paul, run by Catholic Charities.  We have been there several times since I arrived here, and they have come to recognize me.  They really appreciate our donations.  By now, they don’t bother to ask if I need a receipt, understanding that from one charitable organization to another, a tax deduction won’t help.  Somehow it always feels good to help the poor.  I think I appreciate that more after having worked with inmates and former inmates at the Utah County jail last year.

Thursday was a big day.  The housing assistants and I made a big push to move out everthing that was left in the Erickson apartment.  We stored what seemed sensible to store for future missionary use, and threw a lot away.  Honestly, there isn’t a lot a missionary has that is worth saving, or even donating, for that matter.  We live a vow of poverty, in a manner of speaking. 

That was the morning.  In the afternoon, we responded to some sisters laboring in St Peters that had felt like they were being stalked at their apartment.  Apparently this has gone on for some time, with greater and lesser concerns.  Police were even called once, but were of no assistance.  Without an objective threat of some sort, they wouldn’t do anything.  I spoke to management, but they said they were not the police and couldn’t judge what was legal and what was illegal, so they were of no help either.  Some brave zone leaders had even confronted the guy once, but after a while he surfaced again.  The problem was becoming too big a distraction not only to these sisters, but to others.  President Bell wasn’t intimidated.  We counseled together and finally he asked me to trade the sisters’ apartment with a pair of elders in nearby St Charles.  Elder Fanika stands about 6 foot 5 inches, pushing 300 pounds, a football player at the University of Nevada Reno.  Elder Jensen is nearly as big, a Scandinavian stock cowboy from Ephraim, Utah. He packs a lassoing rope around the mission, and wears boots on P-day. Yes, really.  They were thrilled that the sisters’ apartment was one of the newer places in the mission.  The sisters felt safe, cared for, and content.  And somehow, the creepy guy has not bothered the missionaries since.

Just as I was heading back to the office, quite exhausted, RaDene called and said that some elders had called and their apartment was flooded.  I went out there, and sure enough, their water heater had burst, sending several inches of water through their living room and down the hall.  I gave them air mattresses to move to another companionship’s apartment for a few days.  The elders and I then paid a visit to the management to make sure that they had a plan to dry the carpet and clean it.  Mold is just too big a deal around here not to manage the problem aggressively.  Happily, they were accommodating, hiring a firm to bring in large fans and a dehumidifier, pulling back carpets, and wet vacuuming. 

Saturday, February 29^th.  This day, I joined the Pagedale elder’s quorum move a poor African American family from Pagedale to Hazelwood in search of improving the education possibilities for their young children.  I arrived and was taken short and left rather breathless at the living conditions.  As it turned out, there was little to move.  A dresser or two, a kitchen table, a couple of flat screen TVs, and some boxes of miscellaneous possessions.  It all fit in one pickup and a minivan.  And honestly, what we moved hardly seemed worth the effort.  Mostly we helped clean the very dirty, broken down rooms they had used in a house shared with two other families.  It has been a long time since I have seen such poverty.  I take it back.  The missionaries do not live in poverty.  I wish this family the very best in their quest to better the future of their children.  At any rate, so ended the fourth move of the week.