Lost Then Found

We as a missionary force re-state our purpose regularly:

to invite others to come unto Christ by helping them receive

the restored gospel through faith in Jesus Christ [and so forth].

This is often explained as "the gathering of scattered Israel".

At the heart is the concept of "finding" - I take that as theme this week. 

My post edition features a few stories that demonstrate 

situations where something or someone was "lost".

A verse by long-ago poet Edmund Spenser 

(Faerie Queene, 1590) will set the stage:

For whatsoever from one place doth fall

Is with the tide unto another brought.

For there is nothing lost, that may be found,

If sought.

* * * * *

First, I begin with an eye-catcher showing the beauty

of this world and the area where we live. Stunning blossoms!

The first drops of oil filling our lamps this week came

as we received a surprise gift quilt from (released & home)

Sister Paytin Drollinger (Idaho) who made these wall quilts

with her mother and sister(s) as something "to keep them

busy during isolation".

This is the one that landed on my desk and

snuggled close to warm my heart.

 The surprise that Vince had most fun with this week

was a gift of damaged-framed exotic butterflies.

He loves entomology and collections, and has purchased

a few display specimens while we have been here.

Below you can see him working to repair and re-mount.

And below are some of the newly shadow-boxed butterflies.

Elder Pat Hoke of the Mission Office staff gifted the collection

that he found at an estate sale locally.

 This is a week we knew would arrive, despite our dread.

The other Office couples have come to the end of their

missions. Here below, Elder Ron and Sister Sarah Matkin

posed on the final day as Mission Secretary and

Financial Officer (and then some!).

We had a small celebration with proper distances to mark

their departure, and the birthday of Elder Wells who

will be manning the secretarial helm until the senior

missionary replacements arrive at the end of July

(delayed because of the COVID virus complications).

Elder Matkin has had a running line about wishing to

see a moose while here in New England.

Though he didn't, we celebrated with a ceramic miniature.

(NOTE the "obedient" moose - staying in the crosswalk!)

Elder Pat and Sister Bobbie Hoke

will depart early this week. She has been serving

in energetic and miraculous ways as mission nurse.

Elder Hoke has assisted her, and performed other

support functions, besides being our friend.

  "Something found" STORY ONE comes from Sister Hoke.

Though a long, interesting tale, here's a summarized account:

Sister Hoke completed her Mission Medical training in

Salt Lake City last June where they had traveled from Arizona.

After day sessions, she walked to the neighborhood

near 6th Avenue and L Streets where her grandparents had

lived when she was a child. Flooded with memories of playing

with cousins at family gatherings there, Sister Hoke maneuvered 

for the best place to take a commemorative photograph.

(This may not be the home, but it is near the correct location.)

The current homeowner, 78-year-old Louise, spotted then

guardedly questioned her. After the acceptable explanation,

Louise invited Bobbie to come inside for a guided tour.

She remembered the "same old carpet", the built-ins

in the dining room, the packed earth floor in the cellar.

Turns out there was only one other owner between grands

and Louise. Soon the two ladies moved to the back yard, 

where Bobbie recalled a 50th wedding anniversary celebration

 with extended family. In the middle of those recollections,

Louise exclaimed that she had found a sterling silver fork

in the back garden, and had kept it. 

The retrieved utensil (this is a picture of the actual fork)

prompted Bobbie to tell the story, how one in a set so highly 

prized had gone missing, that all had been enlisted to hunt and

scour the property, but to no avail. The fork was irretrievably lost.

Time rolled on. Grandparents moved and passed away.

Later, Louise had found THAT fork - providentially, because

a connection needed to be made between these two women.

Bobbie returned to her hotel, and immediately received

a low-level "emergency" text: Louise had fallen and asked

her new nurse-friend to come check her over. Louise confided:

though an independent woman, a blacksmith and

a woodworker, she had few friends and no grown children

to check on her. Now with a friend for life, there was

more than one thing "FOUND" that evening.

STORY TWO: Elder Robert Gay (Seventy) hosted a NHMM

remote devotional last Friday afternoon via Zoom from SLC.

Speaking without prepared notes, he explained about his call

to be a Mission President with preliminary information that

they would be speaking Spanish - a language Elder Gay had 

learned as a young missionary. More specifics would follow.

Sister Gay confidently declined to begin language learning,

saying she just had a feeling they would not need it.

Eventually, Elder and Sister Gay were assigned to Ghana, Africa

where they learned about Brother William "Billie" Johnson . . .

. . . who had been converted at age 30 (1964) to 

the Book of Mormon, long before missionaries had been 

allowed to preach in his home country, and at a time before 

black members participated fully in priesthood functions.

For 14 years, Billie walked across his country converting others to

what he had come to know was true, and longing to become

a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

One of his life goals was to lead a school for the African

children, a dream left behind as he followed those spiritual 

promptings to travel, teach and gather. A rich story had

unfolded, involving the rolling forth of missionary work in the area

and eventual baptism of hundreds of people reached by Billie that

can't fully be shared here. In essence, during Elder Gay's service 

in Ghana, meeting and working with Billie started a lifelong

mutually-beneficial relationship, leading to plans to

eventually build the long-sought for school.

STORY THREE: Young Elder Crum (recently released)

and companion Elder Bagley were leaving a restaurant

near Burlington, VT where they were assigned when a random

car pulled into the lot and parked next to them. The lady inside

motioned to them to roll down the window, so she could

talk. She handed them $10 and told them to use it to go 

buy ice cream as her treat. She knew they were 'Mormon' 

missionaries, and had recognized them getting in the car.

She was prompted to pull into the lot, and to stop to chat.

"Turns out" she is a member of the Church who had fallen

out of activity five years earlier. But after this chance

interaction, she opened up again to Gospel teaching,

and to association with the other members in the area.

Her Church activity has been restored and her commitment

to God "found" again, evidenced in her choices and plans.

STORY FOUR: The Vernal Tabernacle had become 

somewhat abandoned as a new, safer meeting house was

built, even to the point of being sold with plans to demolish it.

Friends of the historic building organized and pushed for

preservation. Eventually promptings and plans were rolled out

for an extensive "remodel" into a House of the Lord (temple).

There were a number of "found" miracles. Here are a couple:

Expansion and renovation would require repair using scarce

sandstone bricks. 'Miraculously' a historic home nearby became

available which had bricks verifiable as from the same "batch".

Volunteers dismantled, cleaned, repaired and transported bricks.

 At about the time of the makeover (when the complete

interior was removed, rebuilt to code and for new purpose),

Vince and I learned about another "found" aspect (re-told to us

by revered South Jordan UT 9th Ward member Bob Perschon).

Using a photocopied image as his visual, he explained about

the Vernal temple rebuild plans. In the photo, a foundation wall

was excavated and exposed ahead of plans to break through to

the planned baptistry location, determined to be the best way

to install the large font and oxen elements to the inside. 

There waiting in the wall was a wide arch, filled in with bricks, 

providing for minimally-invasive demolition, and
structural support, apparently planned in the century before.

STORY FIVE is from my own personal experience.

Our daughter Kenzie came to our family through

adoption, being placed at three days old. She has been

a blessing to us from the moment we fell in love at first sight.

One of my precious memories was our heart-to-heart hug

in the bride's room at the Salt Lake Temple before she

married her sweetheart Mikey. Before that,

she had always planned to search and find her birth mother,

but technicalities, and later growing demands as a mother

of four young children (later to become six) interfered

with the hunt. When Ancestry DNA testing started things

in motion, she eventually unlocked the final door, though

unfortunately Debbie had already passed from disease.

But half-sister Ashlee was found. Initial moments of

discovery were fast-paced and bumpy. Ashlee was being

cautioned by loved-ones to avoid a possible scam.

 To fact-check, she asked about a baby dress, and letters

that Debbie had mentioned in her explanation to Ashlee.

Could these be produced? In a very spiritual experience,

the dress and the precious documents were "found" by me

at the bottom of a cedar chest which had previously been

searched. A vital and eternal connection was re-forged!

(Below are Kenzie, Debbie and Ashlee.)

Journeying through life, we have these "lost then found"

moments collect themselves into our spiritual vaults.

Sometimes we know the details. 
Sometimes we are just a cog in the works.

Sometimes we simply see "through a glass darkly".

But when they come close enough, and IF we pay attention,

the sizzle of the confirming Spirit resonates, and we understand

that God our Heavenly Father pays attention to

EACH and EVERY ONE of his children --

One by One.

Hope you can watch for and remember some 

of your own "found" moments in the challenging days ahead.

One Stone On A Stone: Walls of New Hampshire

We arrived here as missionaries at the beginning of June,

and at full summer, could not see into the forest's interior.

Seasons changed; a historic stone wall was discovered there.

I had already been collecting images of walls we passed near.

This wall just yards away consolidated my "study". 

But first, a "Happenings" report.

Each week an arbor du jour takes the stage to dazzle.

This flowering tree delighted me on a recent walk.

Likewise this flurry (fleur-y?) of tiny weed flowers covered

a yard near the paved walkway along St. Anselm Drive,

and immediately brought to mind . . .

. . . a previous early autumn day when I walked the same path

in the hour before dawn, and saw this fairy haze.

On May 20th, we celebrated the one year anniversary of

our mission start date, when we began training at

the Provo Missionary Training Center in 2019.

At the end of that training, our MTC tour overlapped briefly 

the training of our "flight group" of 10 young missionaries who

would follow us, to arrive in New Hampshire later.

Their start date falls at the end of this week, so we

celebrated by sending them cards with "credit" for treats.

 Tuesday and Wednesday of this week we welcomed

a small and then a larger group of new NH missionaries.

Usual procedures were modified to have them stagger

arrivals, stay outside, come for reassignments and

depart within minutes. Here I show the parking lot at

Manchester chapel mission office where a certain amount of

cheery greeting couldn't be suppressed. 
It felt so good to see faces!

 Over a week ago, something happened that Elder Warner

does NOT want me to report - so I won't [sort of].

Here he is with compression-wrapped and elevated leg as

he nurses a strained muscle (and caters to his lunch appetite).

I'll just note that he will be a little more careful -- in a few weeks

when he feels well enough to play tennis again --

NOT to chase that drop shot with quite as much gusto!

On Thursday night, we had to say goodbyes to the three

outstanding young Elders who have completed their service:

Elder Crum, Elder Davis, Elder Beckstrand.

(The two on the ends were APs for a long time, so we

got to see and interact with them in the office a good deal.)

Our adieus were expressed via a Zoom conference call,

where Pres. Beck also recognized the concluding service

of other office seniors Sister Hoke (Mission Medical) and

Elder Hoke, Sister and Elder Matkin.

Through early summer, we will be the ONLY office seniors.

(Office duties will be carried out by three Special Assignment

young Elders, while the new nurse works from Utah home.)

* * * * *

Now for this interesting topic: Stone Walls of NH and neighbors.

The first image I offer is of a wall at the former residence of

NH native Robert Frost in Derry, who penned 

the familiar "Mending Wall" poem from which the blog post 

title is lifted. In his verse we become acquainted with

the summer/winter cycle that pushes stone walls over.

And from there, the ageless phrase from his neighbor:

"Good fences make good neighbors."

(Listen to Robert Frost reading "Mending Wall" HERE,

scroll about half way down the page.)

 Never need much of an excuse to buy a book.

This is the one I chose to educate me on this topic.

Some of the images included here, and much of

the information, comes from William Hubbell's pages.

Newcomers to New England often share our same wonder:

who would build stone walls in the MIDDLE of the woods?

Hubbell asked the same question to his father, who he says,

"patiently explained that what is woods today was once

pasture land." This image allows walls to show through

the foliage-less tree growth. (Hubbell)

 This lidar imaging study by Johnson and Ouimet reveals

farm roads and fences hidden by new growth forest.

The story of the stone walls goes way back to the age of

glaciers, when boulders of wide size range were carried along

as if in a stream for long distances. Then, when the glaciers

retreated, the stones were deposited where they thaw-dropped.

Left-behinds are called "erratics", and most were small enough

to become buried. But NOT this immense one in Madison, NH.

One famous erratic is seen in Acadia Natl Park in Maine,

known as Bubble Rock. (Hubbell)

 Here, a cut-away view of a gravel pit in Maine gives us some idea

of the degree of stone concentration hidden below the surface.

(Hubbell)

Early settlers staking their claim may not have known what

challenges to farming lay underground at plow blade depth.

Eons of freezing and thawing forced the stones upward - 

and the movement still goes on today.

Even the cutting down of the early forests for heating fuel,

building materials and to clear the land changed temps

to encourage the upward movement of rocks.

There is a saying that if the US had been settled from 

West to East, instead of from East to West, 

that New England would STILL belong to the Indians.

(Photo by Hubbell)

As visitors to New England for the first time over 30 years ago,

we immediately made memories of the stone walls

that were part of the visual landscape. As temp residents now, 

we see them everywhere, in the woods, and along the roadways.

This one, below, runs to the side of Mission home property

in Bedford, NH. No mystery about why the stones

are organized into fences, once we understand how 

ever-present they are. Besides clearing timber, settlers needed

to clear the land of stones, so they were "tumbled" to

the edges of field boundaries, informally or by design.

 Below is a historic and well-laid wall that

can still be enjoyed at the Canterbury Shaker village.

This size stone was called "one-hander" which a waller can lift

with one hand. These evidently were selected and fit together

with practicality to withstand the seasonal heaves and

thaws, one of the destructive forces at work against walls.

At the ends, or where breaks needed to be

left for passage of livestock or humans, extra care was

given, adding heavy stones as bookends to withstand

the pressure from the rest of the wall.

Nature does NOT like a "void", and gravity does pull.

 This wall, below, was photographed on our early hikes

in hills around Goffstown. 
An entire vocabulary surrounds stone wall building: 
this example is a TOSSED wall,

which has a little more planned form than a DUMPED wall.

There are SINGLE walls, DOUBLE walls (two larger stone

rows close together, with smaller rubble filling in between),

LAID walls (flatter stones in a stack), DRYSTONE (without

mortar to hold stones in place) and WET walls (with cement).

 This wall, below, near another beautiful barn structure at

Woodstock, VT, is a single stack wall at field edge,

sometimes called a farmer's wall.

Over time, single stacks sometimes became double stacks as

farmers continued to clear stones from fields and pastures.

Where the land was not good for planting, stone walls

often were simply boundary walls defining property.

 This neat wall that we photographed in September

last year is on Mountain Base Road, near my favorite

local red barn. Can't beat this color combination.

Attraction to stone walls by many is often explained

this way: they are just "peaceful".

 Near the Old North Bridge that we view in Concord, MA

is this single stacked wall. If a good quantity of smaller stones

was interspersed with these medium and larger, leaving

spaces, this would qualify as a "lace" wall style.

 On a hillside farm near Weare, NH, we saw this dumped

fieldstone wall, clearly resulting from pasture clearing,

requiring lots of labor nonetheless. Most New England walls

are only as tall as an average man's thigh, determined

by the ergonomics of lifting the stones. If the farm was subject

to incorporated township laws, the farm wall might need to

measure 1.2 to 1.5 meters high. A wooden fence often was

added to the top of stone if it would be used to pen in animals.

 One estimate is that more than 380,00 kilometers of

stone walls were built by the end of the 19th century in NE.

Other structures that were part of early American rural life

qualify as stone walls. Retaining walls helped hold hillsides.
Foundations were walls upon which homesteads stood.

Dam walls provided water control.

Bridges were specialty walls engineered to assist

continuation of trails and turnpikes.

Below is a containment stone wall known as a "pound",

often built near a town center so that a wandering

animal could be taken to the "lock up" until claimed,

with minimal inconvenience to all.

Living near these ubiquitous monuments to New England

independence, self-reliance and resilience, we no doubt

will feel their absence from the western landscape we return to.

They are simply one more element of our experience here

that fills our lamps with no outlay or effort.

Apart from walls and trees, many things continue to

fill our lamps and offer their own strength and comfort.

Continuing the theme of "stones", I recall the hymn lyrics

Come Thou Fount

by Robert Robinson in 1758 who wrote of the biblical

stone of praise offered to mark success on the journey:

Here I raise my Ebenezer,

Hither by Thy help I've come.

And I hope by Thy good pleasure,

Safely to arrive at home.

We feel the blessings and watchful care of our God,

and we acknowledge the Gospel "fences" that guard us,

and that guide us toward Heaven.