In the Limelight

    August 30th was our 43rd anniversary.  We had Jaclyn here for the weekend, which, in and of itself, was cause for celebration.  We have missed our family terribly and only Jaclyn has been able to come to see us while we have been here; due, in part to the fact that Quebec, and especially Victoriaville, is understandably less of a draw than Geneva, Switzerland.  But, I digress.
   Saturday, August 30th was the day of an annual branch activity- a corn-husking of sorts.  Due to the fact that Paul had mentioned the Sunday before in his talk that this was to be our anniversary, everyone in the branch knew.  We were really pressed for time that day because we had the food boxes, donated weekly, from the IGA grocery store to sort through and distribute to the 14 or more families who need food every week.  Wouldn't you know that on this particular day, the store gave us about triple what is normal?  We left the Branch activity to rush to the store, pick up the food and bring it back to our apartment to do the sorting.  The young Elders and Jaclyn helped us. We were grateful for  Jaclyn's help!   In the middle of the work, Paul was told by the counselor in the presidency that we really needed to go back to the church, so we left the young missionaries at our apartment and went back.  There we were honored by being presented with a beautiful three-layer cake, made and decorated by the wife of the other counselor.  Everyone sang to us (the same tune as Happy birthday, but in French it is, apparently, used for both birthdays and anniversaries.)  The following day we were also given a huge home-made card, signed by most families in the Branch.
After quickly eating a piece of the cake, we ran back home to finish the food box work.
    In reflecting on this event, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of both gratitude and love for these people.  They don't really know me because I can't communicate with them very well, but I hope they feel my love for them.  They are diligent, hard-working, and humble people trying to live the gospel and be an example of Latter-Day Saints in an area where most people do not share any religious beliefs.  In fact, the government here actually rewards, financially, those who choose to live together rather than marry.  But, I digress, again.  These are really nice people.
    I am truly going to miss our association with those we have come to know.  This kindness shown to us on our anniversary is but a small indication of their goodness.
    Here a couple of pictures that Jaclyn took.  Please try to focus on the cake,  not on the recipients.

The card:  (and no, I don't know how to crop or take a decent picture- remember who my mother was!)

Work, work, work

For the past month, we have been heavily involved with work, of the physical kind.  Basically we have been day laborers, but without being paid (other than a mountainous pile of blessings to us and our family).   Some of the activities we have been doing include putting up a shed, taking it down, and then putting it up again.  After working one day for a few hours to put up the walls of the said shed, we realized the floor was not level.  In fairness to us, we didn't construct the floor. Paul went a few days later and disassembled it and then some men from the church spent a half day re-constructing the floor.  A few days later, Paul and I returned and put up the walls again, and added the doors. Later, we also put on the roof.  I am, of course the invaluable assistant, fetching tools and steadying things while the mastermind assembles.
    At this same home, we also cut down three dead trees and hauled as many of the branches as would fit to a trailer.  Because we are not permeant residents, we couldn't take the load to the dump and had to wait until the following Saturday when the owner could do it.  We then hauled more branches to the empty trailer.  One more load awaits us later this week.
   In our spare time from these jobs, we searched for a new apartment for a member of the branch who has terrible allergies and had to move out of her current apartment because she can't smell cooking meat.  This was a new allergy, which suddenly appeared, has been added to the countless others she already has.  She wears bracelets up her arm, warning of life-threatening allergies, including one to cat dander which can cause her to break out in a rash and stop breathing in a matter of minutes.  The restrictive situation she required made our search time-consuming, but we were able to find an upstairs apartment with just the owner living below.  The former tenant had had a cat, but the owner assured us he had painted everything.  Just to be sure, Paul and I went over before she moved in, or even came to the apartment and washed all the windows and blinds, all surfaces inside and out of the cabinets, and put contact paper on the shelves. We also washed all the baseboards, some of the walls, etc.  We hung heavy plastic over an unfinished portion of a closet.  She still had and continues to have some problem with the allergy, but we are hopeful it will dissipate over time (apparently the dander will lose its allergens after a year).
    After the cleaning, it was time to do the actual move.  The young elders did much of the heavy lifting,  along with some young men, so we were able to preserve our fragile backs.  Paul had three dressers and two armoires to assemble. Once again I was the ever-attentive assistant. Her old apartment was 25 minutes from Victoriaville so we added some more miles to our vehicle.  I was just grateful for the beautiful weather which made the moving so much more pleasant.  I am already fearing our own move out of here in mid-December.  Maybe we will be lucky and have a mild winter!
   Once she was settled, we spent some time to help paint the apartment of another branch member who was moving to a larger apartment.  We also have helped her do some of the moving.
   Wew!  Not bad for two old people with bad backs and other physical ailments, huh?

"After 50 it is just patch, patch, patch"

   I haven't written much because, honestly, we haven't been doing much missionary work.  Paul came down with what we thought was a normal old virus, if there is such a thing, but it quickly turned into a rather deep cough.  Because he has had pneumonia a couple of times, we thought we should seek some medical advice, which means a drive to Vermont.  I also developed, overnight, a rash on my arms and something weird on my lower legs, so off to the urgent care in Burlington we went.  Paul was diagnosed with bronchitis, and my rash was probably a reaction to sun, although I have never had that before.  The dots on my legs required a blood test to ensure that it wasn't something serious, which it wasn't, although they couldn't really say what had caused it.  Oh, it is so fun to be in one's 60's and have the excitement of new health issues popping up often!  The quote in the title is something Marjorie Hinckley, the prophet's wife, used to say often, and it is extremely apropos.
    Anyway, we were confined to the apartment for about 10 days while Paul recovered.  Wouldn't you know the weather was glorious the whole time, warm and sunny with a nice breeze.  A few times we went on a ride, just so that I wouldn't go stark raving mad.  I pumped him and me up with vitamins and some essential oils (snake oil is what Paul calls it), but the pesky cough hung on and on.  Finally he was pretty much recovered and then it was my turn!  I haven't been nearly as sick as he was, but we have continued to take it easy so I can, hopefully, improve more quickly.  A two-bedroom apartment feels pretty small after a few days of confinement, let me tell you.  After reading Preach My Gospel ad nauseam, and of course, the Book of Mormon,  I worked on my personal history and started a biography of Henry Eyring.   We are very, very hopeful that by tomorrow I will be much improved!
 

Missing the good in my country

    July 4th!   Today I am thinking of all the barbecues, parades, and fireworks that will take place in my native country.  I love all of the fanfare that accompanies most of our American holidays, and especially on the 4th of July I am proud to be an American. It is rather strange that even though we are less than 3 hours from the U.S. border, we truly are very much in a foreign country.  Canadians, at least those in Quebec, don't seem to care much about national holidays.  They have several that resemble ours, i.e., Canadian Thanksgiving, a holiday to remember their dead similar to Memorial Day, and on July 1st it was Canada Day, which commemorates "Canada's 1867 Confederation".  However, I saw very little excitement or celebration with any of these three.  Earlier this week I asked a native from here about Canada Day. "Oh, we don't really care about that." I read that this attitude prevails here in the province of Quebec because many, if they had their druthers, would like to secede from the rest of Canada. Thus, they feel little allegiance to the rest of the nation.  How different from the national pride most U.S. citizens feel for the United States, even when the government isn't necessarily functioning as we would like it to function.  We celebrate with huge parades, flag-waving, fireworks in every community, big or small.  I saw none of that here last Tuesday.  About the only evidence of a holiday was that there was no mail delivery.  We held our normal English class that evening, and while our numbers were fewer, those who came just shrugged and indicated that this holiday was no big deal.
    In fairness, I must mention that on June 24th it was Sainte Jean Baptiste Day in Quebec.  We were gone, but apparently this is a fairly big deal.  No one from here I talked to could tell me why it is called that, but with a little help from google, I found that this was originally a French religious holiday which has now become a provincial one here in Canada. Because of the Catholic and French influence here it has remained one of the biggest of the year, although, as I said, no one I talked to knew why it is called Sainte Jean Baptiste day, and there is nothing religious about it anymore.
    Besides being "Canada's Birthday" (as it is sometimes called), July 1st , at least here in Victoriaville, is apparently the annual "moving day".   I was told by members of my English class that this is the day when people like to change residences, especially apartments.  Landlords prefer annual leases that run from July 1, for some reason, so everyone who wants to move, does it on this day.  The Elders here spent their day in helping three families move.  Piles of unwanted stuff can be seen outside of buildings on the edge of the street. Its been there since Tuesday so I don't know when it will be removed or by whom.

     From these photos one can see that I inherited my mother's skills in photography- tons of pavement with the item of interest far in the distance.  I would ask Paul to edit them but he is really sick- sorry.

Advisor

    One duty that I have been given while here is to help advise young missionaries on medical issues when the mission president's wife is unavailable.  While far from having any medical training, I did raise 6 children, and I had three years in Switzerland doing this very thing.  There I had to assess, among hundreds of other situations, whether an Elder should go home due to a severe shoulder injury (he did and he didn't want to), and if a sister was having an appendicitis attack and needed to go to the hospital (she was and she did).  So, I am happy to help out our dear, over-worked mission president's wife here.  She has eight children of her own, and must attend to all of their needs as well as the 200 plus missionaries, some of whom like to call because they have a slight headache.  I had to laugh one day, however, when I received a call from a sister missionary who said, "Hello, Sister Peterson, I hear you are a nurse." Thus, an example of the infamous missionary grapevine, the source of many missionary myths. I wouldn't be surprised to have someone ask me sometime where I got my medical degree.
     In fulfilling this assignment Paul and I have made three trips to Vermont in the past few months, a voyage of over 3 hours each way for us.  We have taken a sweet little sister to the doctor several times.  I don't think they have really found the source of her ailments, but at least we know it isn't anything urgently serious.  Crossing the border has proved to be an adventure every time, but that is a topic for another post.
    I admit I feel a great deal of pressure when trying to decide if a medical condition is serious or not.  It is a huge responsibility because these are beloved children of parents who have entrusted them to missionary service for 18 months to 2 years.  How would I feel if I told them to go back out and work when in reality they needed to seek immediate medical attention?  I pray for wisdom as I listen to their descriptions:   "Sister Peterson,  I have been coughing really badly for a week."  of "I hit my head on the handle of the freezer and I have sharp pains in my head even though the bump is now gone."   I try to remember that most of the time it really isn't serious; they just need a listening ear. There was one young man who called and said he thought he should go to the hospital 'right now' because he was "really sick".  I tried to pin him down on symptoms but he was vague.  I told him to rest a bit and try to go back out for a couple of hours and see how it went.  I saw him just two  days later at a zone conference and asked him how he was. He looked at me strangely and said, "Huh?' (as in what are you talking about?).  I have to assume he either was never all that sick, or that he now has amnesia.  
    No photos this time, but perhaps I should take a "selfie" of me in a white lab coat, drawing blood from Paul's arm.

Good to feel Good

    A week or so ago Paul had a really bad cold and we stayed in the apartment for several days.  Although it was only three days, it felt like an eternity since this isn't a huge place and we don't have much to do in it.  But, he is back to his old (used literally) self and this week we have been busy- which is just what we love.   Nothing like being sick to make one appreciate feeling good.
   Yesterday we helped prepare and serve dinner to the unemployed in Victoriaville.  Apparently there are no homeless as we have in the U.S., probably because they would literally freeze to death in a few minutes in the winter, so those who would  normally be on the streets are called "the unemployed".  I am assuming the government provides housing for these individuals, which is where some of the sales tax (15% on everything!!!!) goes.  Anyway, our little branch of the church here in Victoriaville volunteers once a year to provide one of these meals.  I cut up peppers, onions, and tomatoes for at least 90 minutes yesterday afternoon; when my back got tired, I enlisted Paul, who I do not believe had ever cut up a pepper before in his life.  He became fairly proficient so from now on I'll know where to turn.
     We went by a sister's home to pick up her food contribution and on to the church to wait for the others to bring theirs.  We loaded the car with the food, large bowls, utensils, and whatever else we thought might be needed.  We then headed to the place where the meal would be served.  We fed meatloaf, rice pilaf, salad and cake to 52, (or more) very appreciative individuals.  We did this without benefit of a kitchen or even a source of water except for the women's bathroom. It was a challenge, but we did it.  We had the help of the girl who spear-headed the activity, plus the young missionaries and a couple of branch members.  I then brought most of the dirty dishes home and washed them while Paul was at his branch presidency meeting last night.   It felt good to be doing good. And, the service was invaluable in helping people know who we are.  We forgot to take pictures of us in acton, but we did get this one. It is the notice which the director wrote to let the unemployed know about the meal:  

Basically it says "You are invited to a dinner respectfully, graciously prepared by members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints".  (translation is loose; please excuse my French, as they say!)  I think this is exactly the kind of activity missionaries should be involved with, and falls well within the "anxiously engaged in a good cause" category.

Doings

    I am not really sure if "doings" makes sense but oh well. Mom will be clicking her tongue up there in heaven and saying I should use the thesaurus ( she loved using the obscure words she found there).
    I was going to post this as "comings and goings", but realized that right now we aren't doing much of these.  Paul is quite sick with what I hope is just a head cold, but he is on day 3 and doesn't seem to be improving.  I tried every natural remedy I know including large doses of vitamin C, ginger root tea, and the netty pot.  Because of his heart medication he can't take any decongestant or antihistamine, so he is really miserable.  I have been spending my time trying to watch what he touches and disinfecting it because I do not want to get sick.
   Having so much time on my hands while Paul rests is stretching my creativity.  To my children who are consumed with work, child-rearing, sports and games, scouts, "Trek", homework, social activities, and relay races, this will seem as foreign as it gets. I remember as a young mother wishing for just a little time to do something I wanted to do.  Now that I am here it is less appealing and more of a burden.  It is true I am somewhat curtailed in what I can do for two reasons:   1) I am on a mission, and have a few rules to follow, and 2) I can't speak the language here well enough to go out much on my own. I have studied French for hours, listened to General Conference talks, written in my journal, crocheted, and even watched a few wholesome Hallmark movies online.  I will look back on these past 3 days with longing someday, I am certain.
    We are mentoring a young man who has, up to this point in his nearly 24 years, never set goals nor planned for the future other than the coming weekend.  We have been meeting with him twice a week and helping him set some goals he can achieve, and having him listen to some positive thinking CD's.  He says he wants to go on a mission, but at 24, he needs to hustle it up a bit.  We hope we are making some progress. He says he is keeping on track with our weekly reading assignment for the Book of Mormon.  We can't really know for sure if he is doing this, because when Paul asked him to list things "he is good at", one was, "I am a good lier."  He clarified that he meant only to his parents, but if he is that good at it, who knows?  He is a nice boy and I would like to see him make something of himself (as Helen Ann was known to say).
    In the past month or so we drove to Burlington, Vermont three times. It is out of our mission boundaries but there are certified U.S. doctors there who will take U.S. insurance, and yes, who speak English, and you can get an appointment in less than six months and don't have to wait four hours to be seen (all of which is not possible in Quebec).  We took a young sister missionary twice and I saw a doctor myself once.  It was funny how excited I was to be back in the U.S.  Seeing a Five Guys hamburger place thrilled me.  Despite all the problems in our government right now, I am proud to be an American. When we leave the Canada, Paul uses his American passport.  When we re-enter, he goes in on his Canadian one. This is necessary because he was not given a visa when we came because, they reminded him, he is a Canadian citizen.  The last time we re-entered, the official questioned our U.S. vehicle and even threatened to charge a tax on it.  He wanted proof that we lived permanently in the U.S. He was dumbfounded when we produced the American passport; he had to go ask someone about it.
   We are teaching a missionary preparation class every Sunday afternoon to about 8 members of our branch.  Mostly these are 17-24 year-olds-, but we even have a couple who anticipates a senior mission in a couple of years. We have had one class so far, due to the Easter holiday, but it is fun to be with them. I love being with young adults.  Of course, if Paul isn't better, and I have to teach, it will be a very short class tomorrow!
    Remember the picture I put in the blog of a snowman in a yard, installed in his spot in October?  His head eventually came out of the snow (yes, it was that deep!), and he was removed from the yard this week.
   Here are a couple of pictures of our Soirée de film (movie night).  This is what senior missionaries do, i.e., pop and bag 60 bags of popcorn:

All these candy bars were free from the IGA where we collect food every Saturday.  The trick was having the discipline not to eat them before we had the move in night.