Elder Lasswell (left) and Elder Bullough

We got our new missionaries from the MTC, and I'm already eating humble pie. I had expected to have deer-in-headlights missionaries who spoke Khmae worse than me. That is NOT the case. Our two missionaries, Elder Taylor from South Carolina (now Draper, UT) and Elder Lasswell from Houston, TX are competent and well trained. And they DEFINITELY speak better than we do. I'm super happy for them, because they have already hit the ground running. But I am a little discouraged realizing we're in last place in the language race. I know it isn't a race, and how well we speak Khmae doesn't really matter that much. But it's still a little painful. To the parents of Elder Taylor and Elder Lasswell - you have amazing sons. They have strong testimonies, a "whatever it takes" attitude regarding adjusting to the culture, and humble hearts. AND, they have been paired with terrific trainers. Elder Bullough (with Elder Lasswell) and Elder Shiefer (with Elder Taylor) are the best.

Taylor (front left), Galahad (front right), Lines (Peace Sign) Schiefer

Missionaries have a funny way to keep track of their mission growth. They are "born" the day they arrive in Cambodia. Their first trainer is "Dad" if it's an Elder. "Mom" if it's a Sister.  They refer to themselves as koon's (pronounced goans), which means "child" in Khmae. The day they leave is called their "death day." Missionaries print death day photo cards of themselves with their "death date" in prominent letters - along with contact info in their home country/state. It's a fun tradition - even if it is a little morbid.

We planted rice today as a service project (it was one of my "bucket list" experiences for this mission). Awesome. We came prepared for leeches (which didn't happen), mud (which DID happen) and sun (which was relentless).

I have even greater respect for the Cambodian farm families who spend hours every day working their fields. Sometimes they are planting in the mud, sometimes they're










on hard ground pulling weeds and grass. We all struggled (except for Sister Ham - who has rice planting in her blood) to differentiate grass and weeds from rice plants. It's sounds simple, but it isn't (I think the poor family who brought us in to help were really glad to see us go - before they lost an entire crop). My favorite part was hearing the missionaries sing hymns (in Khmae - including the newbies) as they planted (it was the Cambodian version of, "pioneer children sang as they walked and walked"). I hope as you look at the pictures, you can hear the young voices singing. These are remarkable young men and women.

Sister Lines and Sister Ham

Sisters Ham and Nit inspecting the men's work

Sister Galahad

Finally, we learned about international banking laws the hard way. Apparently the ATM card we got from our bank was a temp card - with a two month expiration. A permanent card would be sent later. We didn't realize it until yesterday when our attempts were canceled again and again (we went to 7 different ATM locations). At the last one, the machine "ate" our card and said we had to see the bank folks inside. HOWEVER, it was now 4:05 on Friday and the bank was closed until Monday. We banged on the glass door, until someone came over and flipped the "open" sign to "closed." We pointed at the ATM machine - making monster eating gestures, and annoyed them enough to get the bank manager to come over and  let us in (accompanied by an automatic weapons-carrying guard). She opened the machine, pulled out our card, and said she couldn't give it to us until she confirmed with Phnom Penh. We were invited to take a seat - along with the guard. Bottom line, she wouldn't give the card back because it didn't have our name on it (the card just said, "bank customer"). She said the card was the property of the bank (it says so on the back of the card) and she had to mail it back to the US. Ugh!!! We convinced her to just cut up the card (it wasn't any good to us) and sizzled our way out. Sooooo, we've learned that it is important to get a permanent card before leaving the country. The solution (get a new permanent card) sounds simple enough, except that it takes 2-3 weeks for any kind of postal delivery to arrive. And because addresses don't really exist in our town, all mail goes to the mission home in Phnom Penh - 120 kilometers away.

We'll figure it out. We can McGuiver something until the new card arrives (thanks to our amazing daughter). But to any future overseas-going missionaries going to cash-only countries: get it done EARLY.

3 point planting stance

Elder Schiefer and Elder Mather

KC missionaries taken from my crappy Samsung Phone

We welcomed six new missionaries to Kampong Cham to replace the five that left. Three of the new ones are full-time missionaries (Sister Line from Pleasant Grove, UT; Elder Bullough from Orem, UT; and Elder Taun from Siem Riep, Cambodia). The other three are "mini-missionaries" (nothing to do with their height) that are filling a two week gap until 22 new full-time missionaries arrive from the MTC in Provo next week. These "mini missionaries" are 18-22 year-old Elders and Sisters from Cambodia who volunteered to do a 2 week mission to help out. Most are planning to serve a mission within the next year, so this is good training for them. They are assigned to areas within the country, have full-time missionary companions and follow the same routine as regular missionaries. Most of them speak passable English (some better than their American counter parts). I worried that they would sit back and just watch - but that hasn't happened. Our three have jumped right in, shared their testimonies in lessons, helped out with English class and have been EXCELLENT translators. I will miss them when they return home next week.

Mini Missionaries

We will get two newbies next Wednesday- fresh from the eating capitol of the world (Provo MTC). They will be in shock for a couple of weeks - adjusting to new sounds, smells, food and bathrooms (think graduate-level potty training). And their Khmae will be worse than ours - which is almost unthinkable. But they will pass us quickly enough. President Christensen has the HUGE job of trying to figure out the who and the where. Glad it's him and not us.

I had a unique experience last Saturday - I got to baptize a new female convert. I didn't expect to do this - I assumed the Elders or members would do these ordinances. But with missionaries coming and going, this sweet Sister asked me to do it. It was awesome. There is nothing more gratifying than observing the atonement of Jesus Christ at work in real time. He loves this good sister, who lives under a tin awning on the street. She has nothing in the way of worldly possessions, but everything when it comes to humility and a desire to do good. I am grateful I got to experience this piece of missionary work again.

Baptizing Sister Jah Ree Yaa

But a word of warning to those buying white pants from the Distribution Center: the waist bands run smaller than is indicated on the tag. You MUST try them on first. I almost passed out sucking in my 64 year-old gut while speaking and raising my arm (I'm pretty sure I still have a red welt that reads "36 regular" on my lower back).

Erin is doing well. The follow-up x-rays were positive and the bone is healing nicely. She can ditch the sling in a couple of weeks if she wants. Until then she needs to do what I tell her. ROTFLUOLNWMP (which means "rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably out loud nearly wetting my pants"). It'll NEVER happen.

With Elder Child - the day he went home from his mission

The final story of this blog involves a tall, blonde Sister missionary (Sister Line), and her 4'10" Khame companion (Sister Nit) trying to teach a lesson to a very sincere Cambodian Mom. I say "trying" because there was a super drunk guy slurring and drooling throughout this outdoor lesson. He shook my hand about 10 times - with the final one drawing blood as he scratched my arm with his dirty fingernails. He reached for Erin's hand and I had to physically stop him. I told the Sister missionaries we had to leave before I caused an international incident. Once safely inside our car, I apologized to the Sisters for cutting things short and getting angry with the guy. Sister Nit said, "it reminds me of my parents. I HATE it" - then broke down into tears. I make no judgment regarding people's life choices. But there WILL be a day of accountability when parents (including us) stand before God to give an accounting of their stewardship regarding those precious spirits He has entrusted to them. We are not perfect parents - far from it (just ask our children). And I am grateful every day that Jesus Christ made it possible for me to repent, make changes and have my muddy slate wiped clean.

We had our first medical experience in Cambodia. All in all, it was better than expected. But worrisome nonetheless.

Erin and I walk (she walks, I run long circles around her) the river walk most mornings. But last Friday, Erin twisted her foot on a walkway paver and went down. At first, she knew she was going down on her knees, and was mostly embarrassed because a group of guys was coming her direction in front of her. But she kept going. Then she hit her arm, and thought she was done, but she kept going. Finally her head conked the ground - and she was done. She tried calling out to me, but I was about 30 yards past her and didn't hear the yell. The group of guys coming her direction (we see them every morning and they doff their caps to Erin as they pass by) called out to me, "Eldaaa, Eldaaa" and I came running back. Her head was bleeding slightly, the knee was scraped and bruised, ankle twisted and her arm/shoulder - which took the brunt of the fall - was really banged up. We were about 1/2 mile from the car, so I asked one of the guys to stay with Erin until I could return with the car (she tried to tell the guy he didn't have to stay with her, but he said, "I told Eldaaa I stay, so I stay"). I ran back to the car like I was Matt Damon running on the beach in Bourne 2 (except I don't look ANYTHING like Matt Damon), while Erin rested on a bench. We drove home and video chatted my foster sister, Lidia, who has been a nurse forever and was a mission nurse in Nicaragua, for advice (I still shake my head at this marvelous technology). She recommended x-rays, so the Elders and I gave Erin a blessing, loaded up the 4 Runner and took off for Phnom Penh.

2 hours later we're in the lobby of the Royal Phnom Penh hospital - a hospital that looks like any modern hospital in the US, except you don't have to wait forever to get admitted (and they give you FREE room temperature bottled water).  The hospital staff was pleasant and most spoke passable English (the nurses wore those throw-back white cardboard hair thingies from the 1950's - it was fantastic). We received an appointment time for the x-rays, and headed off to the cafeteria for lunch (this modeled Western hospitals - expensive bland food).



Small fracture at the top of the humerus

X-rays were the worst - because it required Erin to bend her hurt arm to positions that almost caused her to black out with pain. They made her wear a lead-shielded loin cloth (it's what I picture a Russian bikini would look like), and had available a leopard print chest vest just in case. Awesome. We met with the Emergency Room doctor, who explained the x-rays (also passable English). We were very fortunate. There was a slight break in the top of the humerus bone, but the Dr. said that it should heal on its own and wouldn't need surgery. We were to keep her arm immobilized as best we could to allow the bone to knit together. We go back for follow-up x-rays next week, and hope to see the results everyone expects. Total bill??? $190.

leopard print vest

MEANWHILE, there was a side-story going on we weren't aware of. Char Christensen, the mission president's wife, had been on the phone with the Asia area Mission Doctor in Hong Kong, who said that if it were a shoulder injury, they'd probably just send us home. YIKES!! Char and Jim (the mission president) were worried sick that we would be sent home, after we had really just arrived. I called the Hong Kong Dr and gave him the diagnosis from the hospital. He said it sounded reasonable, but wanted us to forward him the x-rays. He would look at them, and also have the Church orthopedists in Utah review them just to make sure. He called us back about an hour later and said things looked good and he agreed with the diagnosis - keep the arm safe and let the body do its magic. So...Erin's in a mesh sling (perfect for Cambodia) and healing.

We're a week into this routine and I'm exhausted. This "being a Mom" stuff is unglamorous and tiring. Washing her hair isn't NEARLY as simple as washing mine. I just put a small blob on my hand, rub it on my mostly hairless head and VOILA, I'm done in 30 seconds. I put the blob in her hair and it gets really soapy - in one spot only. It doesn't transfer to the rest of her hair. I have to use multiple blobs and put them on strategic places - one at a time - to get full coverage. And never in my life have I used conditioner - what a pain. But the hardest is cleaning an armpit when the arm doesn't swing out (my hand does an army crawl trying to worm in with the soap). I am praying so hard for a quick recovery. The most frustrating, however, is buttoning a shirt when the buttons don't work like a guy's shirt. When I cross over the river Jordan (hopefully not the river Styx) I am going to have a SERIOUS conversation with whoever cottoned up the plan to have shirts button one way for guys and another way for girls. LAME!

Sister Curtis slung up with Sisters Nit and Ham

But truthfully, the hardest part is keeping Ms. Independence from doing too much. She HATES having someone do things for her that she is certain she could do herself. And occasionally I have to tell her to "stand down" and let me do it. She's pretty good about it most of the time (not always), but it's still hard. Neither of us want the injury to get worse, and have to go back home.

Speaking of home, 3 of our dear missionaries have concluded their 2 year service and are headed back to the US. We had them to dinner last night - our own version of a "last supper," and talked about re-entering the world of Babylon (thank you Bishop Johnson). We love these Elders as our own children, and pray for them every day. Re-entry is hard, and full of land-mines. Their families will be glad to see them, but the missionaries' hearts will still be in srok Khmae (land of Cambodia). They bring home strong testimonies of Jesus Christ, powerful legs from riding bikes for hours every day and shirts that wouldn't qualify as rags in most homes. We know they will do well.

Meanwhile, we prepare for their replacements. Some will be seasoned in missionary life, others will be fresh off the boat and in shock. All are here for one purpose, share the good news of Jesus Christ. I testify that He has risen and will soon return to his footstool - to reign as Lord and Savior of the earth. He is the creator of Heaven and Earth and gave his life for all - that all might live again. It's a great time to be alive.

Pioneer Day (July 24) is a BIG deal with the Cambodian LDS church members. They relate to the struggles of the early Mormon pioneers as they left their homes in Illinois and walked 1,300 miles to the deserts of Utah. The Cambodia saints are "pioneers" in their own way as they prepare and plow the road for future generations. Two of the three small congregations joined together for their own Pioneer Day festivity on 7/23.

A little girl came with this balloon

One of my assignments was to configure the A/V  set up (which was a "pioneering" adventure all by itself) to show the DVD, "Legacy." It's a film based on actual stories of early pioneers who made the long trek 169 years ago (the full film is also available on youtube). But this version was translated into Khmae - which was borderline hilarious (the voices were similar to those you would hear on a soap opera). Even though I've seen the video at least 10 times, I found myself waiting for a Southeast Asian leading man to spurn the girl because he had found another lover. Then the girl would attempt suicide and end up in a hospital where the lead man would rush back and tearfully tell her he was sorry - as she died in his arms.... But it didn't happen.

Heel Toe Polka

What DID happen, however, was a power outage in the middle of the video. There were about 140 people in a large room - which no longer had AC (remember this is Cambodia, where "dry heat" is just a myth). I pulled out the guitar and Sister Haddock (sister missionary from Heber City, UT) rosined up her violin, and the dancers (and a few others) came up front and began to sing hymns to the audience. Over the next 15 - 20 minutes, others joined the "choir" until it was about 20 voices strong. Unbeknownst to us, the local church leaders (8 of them) went upstairs to pray for the power to come back on. Just as soon as they arose from their knees, the power sputtered back on. I've mentioned before that there are some things you just can't make up. This is one of them.



After the movie we went to the next piece of the program.  We had been asked to teach the local members some pioneer dances. This would have been IMPOSSIBLE without the miracle of youtube (thank you Geoff Grobeg). The two videos we taught from were filmed at a barn in Mapleton, Utah. AND, Sister Haddock used to fiddle at that venue for that instructor. Calculate THAT coincidence! We practiced the heel-toe polka and Oh Susanna, and they had a blast. On event day, the dancers came in pioneer costumers (a surprise to us) and put on a great show. They even pulled in a few audience members to dance with them (the branch president was a really good sport). The "old" dances were followed by the locals doing traditional Khmae dances around a chair with a flower pot on it (it should have been a tree - but it wouldn't fit in the room). It was beautiful to watch (Erin danced while I hid behind my guitar).

The most awesome part was the outdoor lunch. The leadership hired a catering group, which brought wedding tents (pink and yellow), round tables, matching table clothes and covered chairs. A 3 liter bottle of coke was centered on each table and adorned by a pot of rice, a plate of fruit and a pitcher of utensils. The main course (soup) was prepared in a cauldron over a wood/charcoal fire under a tree next to the baptismal font. The caterers ladled the soup into dutch-oven-sized pans and set one on each table next to the coke and rice. Delicious.

Later in the day it was back to reality - teaching a lady in a jungle shack whose husband is in jail. You buy your way out of jail (prisoners aren't released at the end of a time period) and she is trying to save money to get him out. He gets one meal/day and lives in a dingy cell. Visitors have to pay to see an inmate or bring in food, so she can't afford to visit. Criminal justice (???) systems are the underbellies of 3rd world countries.

I often wish I could "magic wand" away their difficulties - but wounds don't heal overnight for a reason. Magic wands don't build character - they build crutches. However, we can all pitch in and help make the world a better place in our own ways. The Savior taught us to do good - every day. It's a great place to start.

My grandmother Patton used to make "patchwork" quilts. These were made of random pieces of fabric (usually, but not always cut in same-size rectangles) sewn together, then bound with whatever batting she could find (She was a Mom during the great depression and found uses for everything). My "Grandma Patton" quilts were cool because you never knew what you would get. So, think of this blog as a Grandma Patton quilt - random stuff strung together with pieces that may not match.


First and most important to our homesick psyche, we found a REAL grocery store in Phnom Penh. It has a parking lot for cars (about 20 out front, same in the back), grocery carts (all four wheels turn) and room for two people in a single aisle - HEAVEN!! It's products included Kraft Mayonnaise (I thought Erin was going to cry on the spot), Molasses, Clorox wipes, flyswatter and Calcium pills (it was a large Kirkland brand bottle :-)). The imported goods were expensive as you would expect. But our tuna fish sandwich with REAL mayo was worth almost any price.

Patchwork piece #2. There are ants in my laptop. They crawl out of the hinges and USB inputs, and squeeze in through the tiny crack surrounding the keyboard keys (they like the numbers for some reason). There's probably an entire PUDFA (Planned Unit Development For Ants) inside, complete with a luxury suite for a queen. #%&%!!! I've tried wiping everything down with vinegar and even put the laptop in the fridge overnight - hoping Cambodian ants have no cold tolerance. But the ants keep marching one-by-one. I've found some weird online ideas which I'll try, but I'm open to anyone who has found a workable solution.

Patchwork piece #3. Brownout. We're used to occasional power outages - they're annoying, but the power usually comes back on in a couple of hours. But a brownout was new to us. We noticed our bedroom getting warm about 12:30 a.m., then saw that the AC had shut off (but it would still beep if you clicked the remote). A light worked (most of the lights in our house are LED) so we knew the power wasn't off, but NONE of the AC units in the house worked. Yet, the microwave clock and the Wifi seemed fine (couldn't check the laptop because it was in the fridge). We turned on a fan and could hear the motor, but the blades didn't move. I hand-flipped the blades and they stayed on at a constant, albeit slow, speed. Got it!! Brownout! We laid down and listened to a wedding party (they go non-stop for 48 hours straight) while a speaker blared wedding music over and over and over. It's like listening to "It's a small world after all" on repeat mode for hours. We fell asleep about 4 a.m., but were wakened by the dogs and roosters at 5:30. Grrrrrr.., I pulled the laptop out of the fridge and started doing this blog (the brownout hasn't bothered the ants - I've killed 4, 6, 7, 10, 12) already this morning). The power came on full strength about 7.



Patchwork piece #4. Yesterday was my birthday. We had lunch with the missionaries then had them all over for cake. Erin made my favorite (whole wheat carrot cake with creamed cheese frosting) - which was made possible by a box of REAL cream cheese ($5 each). We watched a cheesy video (haha) called "The Phone Call" because one of the senior missionaries had a bit part (when he was MUCH younger). It's a 1970's version of Napoleon Dynamite, sprinkled with Johnny Lingo. It's cheesy beyond belief, so be warned if you look it up on YouTube.

I'm now past 20 ants, so it's time for something drastic.... I've heard Windex solves all the world's problems :-)

We got a new vehicle - Yay! It's a Diesel Toyota 4 Runner (they call it a "Fortuner") with plenty of clearance. It's actually nicer and bigger than we need, but the smaller ones (Rav4 and Highlander) were more money. Go figure. Anyway, we no longer worry about getting stranded in the back woods. Getting lost is a different story. We go out visiting with the locals who don't deal with maps, East, West, miles, kilometers or distance. It's "turn left here, go straight and stop. We should label our car the "maze runner."

We held our July 4th party on July 11th (several of the missionaries had to go to the capitol on the 4th, so we postponed the celebration until the 11th) here at our house. It was fun. We had a pot luck lunch which consisted of Pringles, Starbursts, Oreos, watermelon, spaghetti, baguettes and Erin's apple crisp (with spray-on whipped cream at $8 a can). The missionaries talked, laughed and reminisced about their relatively short lives (most have no memory of 9/11 or before). We talked about what we appreciated most in the US - it was interesting. Even

18 year-olds recognize the value of clean water, basic sanitation and machines that work. Hopefully when these young missionaries return, they will appreciate the sacrifices of so many who have made our country what it is. We hear occasional snippets about Trump and Clinton and what will happen to our country if either is elected. It's small potatoes compared to rudimentary sanitation. I hold firm that the USA is bigger than any one president - including those on the ballots today. We survived Nixon, Carter, Bush and Obama. We'll make it through whoever is elected.

Yesterday we walked jungle trails to several small huts and experienced 1st and 3rd world contrasts in a very personal way. At one hut we visited a lady who had what we believe was an autistic son. The Mom just said he had "brain problems." The son (an adult) was wearing ragged jeans about 10 sizes too big. A rope was strung through the front two belt loops, then slung over his shoulder and tied to a belt loop in the back. No shirt, no shoes. And he was chained to a post just inside the hut to keep him from wandering off. It was wrenching. Health care is evolving in Cambodia, and it will get better. But it's hard to watch. I'll take either Clinton or Trump any day.

Jews and Christians alike believe in the return of the Messiah. Prophets of old as well as current day have testified that He will come with "healing in his wings." I hope He makes Cambodia His first stop.

What a difference 3 hours can make. At 11 a.m. we can be shopping for a violin in a modern music store in Phnom Penh (except no AC). By 2 p.m. we're in the hillbilly backyard of Kampong Cham - sharing our message with rice farmers and water buffaloes. The old, the middle and the new live side-by-side-by-side. The one constant among all the groups is long working hours. 8 to 5 doesn't exist for most people in Cambodia - unless you work for the government or an NGO (Non-Government Organization). It's dawn (about 5:30 a.m.) to dusk (about 6:30 p.m.) for most people, 7 days/week. EXCEPT the afternoon siesta period (about Noon to about 2 p.m.) when EVERYONE watches this cheesy soap opera from India. We walk into a store and nobody moves. All are fixated on a small CRT TV screen - watching "As the World Turns in Mumbai" (I'm sure that's not what it's called, but it might as well be). It's a perfect time for a robbery - except all the thieves are also watching the same dumb show.

SQUIRREL! Back to the farm.

Today we helped a family shell lotus pods. As we understood it (which could be totally wrong) they wade into the backyard swamp and harvest pods that are extensions of lotus plants. They are flat on one side, rounded up on the other, and about 4 inches in diameter across the flat side. Each rubbery pod contains about 25 acorn-sized "seeds." When the outer green covering of the seed is removed (easy to do), a tasty white-fleshed "kernel" remains. It tastes like a cross between sweet peas and water chestnuts. However, you must do a personal memory wipe of where the seeds came from before eating them. The swamps are disgusting. We brought two pods home and will disinfect them in our chlorine water (which seems like it should have its own side effects) before throwing them in a stir fry.

As always, the people are genuine in spite of the swamps. Their testimonies of, and faith in the Savior are pristine. Those that can read, do so with humility. Their prayers are always sincere. Some day their living conditions will change - but not their faith in God. I hope I can "be in that number" to watch these saints when they come marching in.