Just another Wednesday.

June 19th.  Just another Wednesday in the United States of America.  People going to work, shopping.  Moms playing with their kids, televisions playing, computers working, the internet bringing us all the information we never knew we didn't need.

June 19th.  Just another Wednesday at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.  People dropping their kids off, hugging them for the last time in a long time.  Kisses, tears of sadness, tears of joy.  Excitement, nervousness, Dork Dots, and the thrill of starting something new and bigger than young minds can even imagine.

Today I am just one of those normal people living life and going about my business.  So many Wednesdays ago I was one of those new, green missionaries entering the MTC, the great unknown on 900 East in Provo, Utah.

Dropping me off at the MTC.  April 5, 1995

 

 

My first Sunday, and Easter as a missionary, at the MTC.

The day I went in, April 5, 1995, my best friend Jen Edwards took me and sat with me, along with my cousin Jessica in the Hall of Tears.  Thankfully, that no longer exists.  Parents just drop their kids off at the curb, hug and then are politely shuffled off MTC grounds.    When I said goodbye to Jen and Jessica, there were no tears, just a quick hug and out the door I went.

 

With Sister Wilhelm at the Provo Temple on our first Sunday as missionaries.

Laryssa will kill me for putting this in, but I had to.  This is her, this is us really. Funny faces, farts, hiccups, uncontrolled giggles and louder than we should have been.  Quiet Dignity -- who cared?!  Not us, that's who.  Everyone got to know us, very fast.  They'd say, "There go the Bulgarians". 

More normalcy from your favorite set of sister missionaries.

We thought we'd practice being Bulgarian, by hanging a clothes line in our dorm room.  Little did we know, this was how it really would be for us and our laundry most of the time.  Of course, I always knew where to take my laundry to be machine washed and dried. :)

The carpet, which thankfully has been updated. 

Just another day for Sisters Wilhelm and Brinton.

I followed the arrows to get my books, have my medical records checked, to get my spending money and to get my name tag.  Then, after all of that, I climbed four flights of stairs to my dorm room and quietly knocked.  My new companion Sister Laryssa Marie Wilhelm was waiting for me.  She looked at me and said, "You're Joyce Brinton and I love you!" and then proceeded to give me the biggest and tightest hug I have ever had.  Then I was a bit taken back at this.  Normally we're not really a hugging family, and I'm still not a hugger, but I'll hug Laryssa.  I'll hug a Wilhelm any day.  I love the Wilhelm love.  But I needed that hug, I needed that assurance that I was going to be with a good person for the next 8 weeks.  I was deathly afraid to go to Bulgaria.  It was the great unknown and all that I did know about it, was that it was a place where missionaries got beat up a lot.  I was also scared to learn a backwards alphabet.  Only the week before had Sister Wilhelm been an employee at the MTC, so she had connections.  She knew everyone, and they were happy to help her and her companion.  We always had nice easy cleaning assignments and she always managed to get the Elders second helpings of dinner.

The Elders of Group 22.  In the back: Elder Marchant, Elder Winder, Elder Cutchen, Elder Florie.  In the front: Elder Higgins, Elder Stebbins and Elder Reher.

 

 

Group 22 in Class.

 

We were the 22nd group of missionaries to go to Bulgaria, and Laryssa was the 13th and I was the 14th sister to be called there.  Back then everyone knew everyone else who had come and gone.  There were legends in the field, Kawai, Childs, Bodily, Masters, Christpholous and MacDonald.  Would be become part of that pantheon of missionaries?  I think some of us did.  I know my clothes did at least.  Generations of sister missionaries after me passed my clothes down.  Thanks to my mother for being such a good seamstress and sewing clothes for her very tall daughter.

The happy duet became a lively trio with the addition of Sister Durfee.

Sister Durfee and Sister Wilhelm

Speak no English, Hear no English and See no English.  We were just that devoted to learning the language.  Right?

Half way thru our stay at the MTC another group of Bulgarian missionaries came. They were group 23, and had one sister, Sister Durfee.  She turned our happy duet into a lively trio.  We LOVED her, we still love her.  And she and Laryssa had the chance to serve in the field together.  We loved her so much that we went to the travel office to ask if she could just come to Bulgaria with us, a month early.  They said no, and it made for a very teary good bye the morning Group 22 left to go to Bulgaria.  She joined us soon enough though and began the journey with us.




Group 23 in class.

 

 

Today a new group of Bulgarian missionaries goes in, there are SIX, yes SIX sisters going.  If I could I would open their heads and pour what I know about Bulgaria into their brains.  But then again, that would be robbing them of the chance to discover Bulgaria on their own, and to make it theirs.  Missionary work moves on, more people are called.  More groups go -- who knows what number we're up to now.  But it is exciting to know that new people go to infuse the work with fresh excitement and desire.  Hopefully they will all love the Bulgarians like we did and tend the miles we walked and the people we knew.

Happy Wednesday!

Prayers, fasting, blessings and Standing in Holy Places

Did you see my essay on Kveller.com about teaching children to pray? HERE is the link. How does one get an essay published on a Jewish parenting blog, when one is not Jewish? I entered a contest, that's how. You all know me an contests. I enter them. But really they were looking for all sorts of perspectives, and I'm sure when they saw I was a MORMON they just went "Heck yeah, and oy vey we must have her!"

So, I wrote about prayer. The essay just popped into my head the second I decided to enter the contest. I'm calling it my one moment of lucidity in a week where I had a two moments of lucidity and knew exactly what I was supposed to do in a certain situation. But seriously, I hope that people read that, and know they have access to God. I shared it with my RS sisters, and one of them, who is the only member in her family wrote me back last night. She said she didn't know how to teach her family to pray, but she was going to do as I suggested. I'm happy about that!

Situation two is this:

I was thinking about my Bulgarian friends, and I was weighed down with how hard it is for them to be members of the Church in Bulgaria. It's not easy to be a young person there, because there are so few young people to socialize with, and to help support each other in keeping the standards of the church and the commandments. I know a lot of the teenagers (who are now adults) and young single adults that were in Bulgaria when I was a missionary are now in the US, married to Americans. And while I do not begrudge them their success or the blessings of living in the United States, I do mourn the loss of them as a resource in building up the Church in BG. It's important that people stay where they are at to build Zion.

That being said, there was a weight of problems resting on my soul at the beginning of last week for my friends, and for my far-away home. I didn't know what to do but pray. I'm sure the Lord just wants to turn the volume down on me most of the time, because I am having a running conversation with him most of the day. But I prayed very sincerely for help for my friends, and asked what more could I do than "just pray" for them. The answer came instantly, and it was one of those times, when I knew it was the Spirit directing me, not the voices in my head. "You can fast for them, and you can invite your friends on facebook to fast for them as well".

So I organized "A Facebook Event", and invited about 50 or so people. People with connections to BG, and connections to Eastern Europe (thank you Carolyn Buttercup -- we're so fasting for Hungary in June!), and invited those people to invite their friends and so on and so on...I even had friends without connections to anything but me say they'd fast for BG too!

The next morning about 300 people had been added to the invitation to fast for Bulgaria and the Bulgarian saints, and slowly over the week the number grew to be about 550+ ish week's end. By the end of the week 121 people committed to fast with me for Bulgaria. I didn't know most of these people, and they were from all over the world too! It was also very humbling to me as well. I cannot express in words how humbling to know the goodness of people willing to help a total stranger fast for other total strangers, but they did it because they are saints of God, they are members of His church and they want the best for their brothers and sisters, no matter where.

Saturday night, when Joseph and I knelt down to start our fast, I said the prayer. And without sharing too much sacred here on the internet, I'll just say that the spirit was strong, the feelings I had were real, heaven was close and I could feel the that power near by. To me it is an awesome thing (and I don't mean 'like, totally' valley girl awesome) but AWESOME, please make a movie Cecil B. DeMille, awesome that we have the power to connect with our creator so readily available to us. We just have to ask and He is there.

As for the fruits of our fast...thru this I've been able to connect with other Bulgarians, those whom I did not know as a missionary, because they were not members of the Church yet, and I've been able to reconnect and strengthen my ties with my old friends. In a conversation with a new friend the other day, she told that the church is growing, that there is an awakening, that the youth are staying in BG and are bonding and connecting. They recently had a youth conference and the theme of the Conference was "Stand Ye In Holy Places". They are doing it!

Here is the video from their Youth Conference. Parts are in Bulgarian and parts are in English:



It's a great blessing to pray, and it's a great blessing to fast and it's a great blessing to be a Bulgarche.

Това е голямо благословение да се молят, и голямо благословение да бъде в състояние да пости, и е страхотно, да бъде Българче! Трябва да знаете, колко много те обичам България и българския народ. Знам, че Църквата е истина, и на Евангелието на Исус Христос е истина. Молитвата е вярно и Бог нашите молитви отговори.

Keep standing in Holy Places, keep praying and keep doing.  I know I will!

Down a Bulgarian rabbit hole

I've been thinking a lot lately about my mission.  Probably because I've the very special privilege of coming in contact with three new sisters that are going to Bulgaria on their missions.  These three sisters are part of the new younger missionaries, you know, those soon to be EIGHTY THOUSAND who have chosen to serve the Lord.  It sends chills up my spine to think of that number!  But because of that I've been very homesick for Bulgaria.  Not, obviously, for getting the door slammed in my face or trash thrown at me, or for being groped on a bus...none of those things.  But rather for the places I knew and the people I loved when I lived there. 

 

Enter Google maps and Google street view.  It was late Saturday night and I went down a rabbit hole trying to find the places I love on the map.  And I found them...these are places very dear to me, because they are the places I lived in, went to and spent time at.  As ugly, monolithic and utilitarian as communist housing is, I love it.  Yes, I love every dingy, dirty blok in Bulgaria.  I love them.

 

 

So here are my places:  This first one is of my first mission apartment in Plovdiv.  The address was Ulitza Koprivshiitza No. 48.   My first impressions of my new home, were not, as you can imagine, all that great.  I remember feeling like everything was grey and made out cement.  It was, for the most part.  I was overwhelmed at the sights I was seeing, I had no idea where I was or how I got there.  I really just wanted to go home to my blue bed room where my brothers and sisters would come and bounce me out of bed every morning.  I remember being driven down to Plovdiv in the mission stay-wag by the AP, Elder Ginn.  He was also bringing another Elder down for a transfer.  They along with the other AP were chatting away the whole drive.  I was petrified of them, of Bulgaria and that they would find out I didn't learn a thing in the MTC.  We stopped at gas station along the way to fill up the car and for them to get snacks.  I didn't move as they all bounded out of the car into the mini-mart.  When they came back they told me to go and get some food inside.  I was too embarrassed to tell them I didn't have any Bulgarian money yet.

 

 

This is the back view of our apartment.  If you count over three balconies on the second level, that was our balcony.  Remember the night I locked us out of our house and Sister Johnson had to enter the apartment of the people below us, climb the trellis and break into our apartment?  And then remember how she kept screaming at me for a screwdriver and I didn't know the word for screwdriver so all I could ask for was "edno neshto", which translated means, "one of those thingys".  Good times.  Not only did our neighbors think we belonged to a homicidal cult, but they thought we were crazy to boot.  We were kind of crazy.  You had to be, to survive in the BIG BG.

 

 

 Here is the front of our blok.  Ours was the second entrance over.  How many times did we walk in and out of that door?  Up those stairs?  Oh, too many to count.  We used to beat our carpets out on the bars in the front parking area, we would catch the  #5 or #102 bus just down the street from here.  You can't see it, but there is a rail road right behind where the person who is taking this picture is standing.  The train would come and go all day and all night long.  I loved living next to the train.  We'd cross the tracks and walk over to the big swimming pool when people were baptized, as we didn't have a font in those days.  And in the late Thracian summer, when the rains came, we'd open up our doors and windows and let the cool breeze blow into our house.  I loved laying on the big green couch in our family room just listening to the rain come down, kids play in the common and the sounds of our town.

 

These next two pictures are of Restaurant Kishiinev -- the slimiest place in the universe for church.  It was more of a dive bar than anything else, and it was the only place that would rent to the Mormons.   We once had an investigator tell us she wouldn't come to our church because it was colder inside than out. I didn't blame here, because I was about ready to go find a different church at that point in the winter too!   There was usually a layer of dead cockroaches and the fragments of broken plates on the floors (from weddings -- Bulgarians break plates too at their weddings), and you didn't dare use the restrooms, unless you were really desperate or very brave.  Squatty pottys and communicable diseases never were so terrible as in the restroom there. 

 

 

And what was very typical of Bulgarian restaurants were the numerous advertisements, posters and such for American cigarettes and beer.  I thought it was hilarious that every week, over the sacrament table, an advertisement for Camel cigarettes spun slowly around.    But despite all of those inconveniences, there was love and sainthood in the Plovdiv Branch.  I felt love there, from the members there and I was sad when I was transferred away.

 

This next blok was the Elder's apartment building.  Boulevard Maritza 55.  I have this really great snap, in black and white of the address plate on the front door, left over from the communist days when the street was called LENIN.  Times changed fast in Bulgaria after the fall of communism.  Things were in chaos and flux when I was there.  I suspect as soon as they could the Bulgarians reclaimed their street names and their places for their own.  Maritza is much prettier than Lenin in my opinion. 

 



 

But because we didn't have our own space to meet in, this blok was our de-facto headquarters in Plovdiv.  We had district meetings, zone conferences, Sunday dinners, Thanksgiving, and Elder Stewart's famous "emergency taco nights" there.  I even had a hair cut from one of the Elders in the kitchen once.  I know, probably against the rules, but it was, what it was.  Our apartment was just on the other side of the river from this blok.  Once, when our phone was out, Elder Stewart and his companion walked all the way over to our house at 11pm to make sure we were safely in that night.

 



One last place.  This is the Mladeshski Pazaar, right down the street from the sisters' apartment.  We would shop for our groceries there.  When I first came to Bulgaria we had to go every morning to get our Kislo Milako (yogurt) there.  It still came in glass jars without lids that first summer.  It was very homemade and still warm when we'd go to buy it.  I remember being afraid of plain yogurt at first, because it was so different that anything I had ever eaten in America.  But I soon grew to love it and actually still prefer my yogurt plain, very sour, smelling slightly of a goat and warm. 

There are three people I want to mention who worked at this pazaar.  The first person was the flower man.  He was the nicest fellow and would always make sure to save a gerbera daisy for us every week as a gesture of friendship.  The second lady I remember there had a little stand.  She loved Madonna and even looked like her a bit.  She loved talking to "the American girls".  She never wanted to take the lessons, but she loved us.  The third person was Ani.  Ani worked in a Xerox shop on the edge of the pazaar.  One day, right before I came, my two companions stopped at her shop to make a copy.  They invited her to take the lessons and she did.  I taught her the first discussion, in very broken and green Bulgarian.  Ani did join the church on July 30, 1995, and was baptized in the pool across the street from our apartment.

And lest you think this was it, I walked down the virtual streets of Sofia and the Borovo Quarter as well...but that's another rabbit hole for another day.

Women in the Scriptures

I will catch up on blogging the life of my family ... one of these days.

But I today we had a good lesson in Relief Society.  Our 5th Sunday lesson with the bishopric was cancelled, I suspect because 2 of 3 were out sick and the third member was basically running around keeping us all in line today.  Bless you Bro. Judd.

So our dear little Kylie, who was the only RS Presidency member here today planned a lesson on "Women in the Scriptures".  She had 4 sisters present small lessons on 4 different women. 

The first woman, was actually a group of women.  The mothers of the Army of Helaman's Stripling Warriors from The Book of Mormon.  We all know the verse in scripture that talks about how these young men knew the gospel and were trained by their mothers.

The second presentation was about Abish, also from The Book of Mormon.  Abish was a Nephite servant in the court of the Lamanite King Lamoni when Ammon converted Lamoni.  Abish was so excited about this conversion that she ran out and told everyone.

The third woman was Huldah, a prophetess from the Old Testament.  I have to admit, I had no idea who she was.  I get lost in the Old Testament, most of the time. Although I did read it all the way thru once in the 9th grade.  But that was 1987, and 25 years ago, and my brain has come along way since then.  King Josiah came to Hulah to learn the Gospel.  She helped Josiah learn so that he could then teach Israel and help them return to God.

Finally we had Mary, the Mother of Jesus Christ.  Mary was a woman who was called to do a very important thing, that is bear the Son of God and raise him up.

I had a lot of thoughts go thru my head as I listened to the presentations today, too many to share, and I'm sure some of them, perhaps too personal, but not too sacred to share here.

First, as to the mothers of the Army of Helaman....aren't we all teaching our kids to go out into the world and to fight for what is right?  My friend Julia mentioned that it is important to think of teaching our children in generational terms as well.  It's not just us, it's our extended family that will impact and influence our children.  I've been thinking a lot about that this holiday season.  Over Thanksgiving we stayed at my Grandparents house.  That week was a very tender week for me, thinking about all of the growing up, playing, crying, learning, fun times, sad times, sacred time and family times we had in that house.  My sister-in-law, Becky, even said when they came over to see us, that she felt the power of the house.  I know it's because Grandma's good spirit is still there.  I just hope whoever buys the house eventually realizes the awesomeness there in, and does not just junk the Elkay Lustetone drainboard sink in the kitchen either.   Back to the point, teaching our kids is important.  If we don't the world will, and a BIG no thanks to that.

Second, as to Abish.  There are few better examples to me of being "not ashamed" of the Gospel of Jesus Christ (see Romans 1: 16).  There Abish was a stranger in a strange and hostile land to her people, and she went and boldly announced the conversion of the King.  As Latter-day Saint women, we have to stand for truth and righteousness, sometimes when it's hard.

Third, in regard to Huldah, she had a big job given to her.  She was a prophetess, she taught the King, she helped restore and heal a nation.  We have that job as women to heal and restore things.  When I was a missionary my only transfer came at the end of February 1996.  I was sent to Kraso Selo branch with a new to that area companion, Sister Cunningham.  We had a lot of work do to to help the members there.  It was hard work to help strengthen the members there and to teach them the Gospel and how to be better members of the Church.  But, it was rewarding work, blessed work -- even when my feet felt like they would never defrost, and I wanted to give up, it was important.  When I left Krasno Selo in September, I felt like it was in much better shape than when I came there. 

Finally, Mary.  Like I said, she was called on to do an important thing.  I think we all are given important things to do, things that only we can do.  After I had Jeffy, one day was particularly hard and I asked Joseph for a blessing.  In the blessing he told me that both of my sons were given to me, specifically because I had qualities and things that they could only learn from me.  Very humbling to hear that, but also very empowering too.

As we were wrapping up our lesson one last thought came to me and it's in the context of the recent "wear pants to church" kerfuffel that went on before Christmas.  I look at the women we learned about today and I know that women are important.  I feel that we are important.  Life could not happen with out us. Wards would fall apart without us.  Cream of soup casseroles would not be made without us! (ok that part is a joke, but you get the point...compassion would be in short supply without the sisters).  Julia also made the comment that many times women are behind the scenes doing the unnoticed jobs and the thankless work, but that does not make what we do any less important.  We are asked as women to teach, to stand, to heal, to do important things so that the work of the Lord can go forward, and that is a pretty great thing.

The BEST Banitza EVER!

I mentioned in my pitiful tribute to November that I'd made the perfect banitza ... twice!

Yep.

That is not the greatest of pictures, but I am not a photog.

My friend Becca Anderson, who actually was my study partner at BYU, in German, yea many years ago, and who also served her mission in Bulgaria forwarded me a recipe she uses when she makes Banitza.

The original recipe is HERE.

I don't know who you are Ralitza, but oh for the love, your bantiza is the best thing I have ever eaten. Seriously, Bulgarches, it tastes just like homemade banitza your Bulgarian best friend's mom would make for you. It is that good.

Here is how I did it:

FYI: in a box of phyllo there are two packages of sheets. Defrost only one package for each pan of banitza you make.  And the best way to defrost it, is to leave it in the fridge for a day, then set it out on the counter for an hour or so the day you are going to make this.  You want the sheets to be at room temp.  Also remember, work fast with phyllo, as it dries out quickly.

For the filling:
4 eggs
1/2 c grated, cold butter.
1 C of sharp cheddar or Colby-jack cheese
1 package of feta cheese crumbled up. (I used Athenos, but that is not my favorite. Be sure to soak it in fresh water for about 2 hours before hand)
1 C plain yogurt -- with live active cultures.
1/2 tsp salt, or a bit more if you like a bit more flavor

Mix that all together and set it aside.

For the pan:
Melt a stick of butter and use it to grease your baking dish.

In a 9x13 baking dish (you can use a glass dish or a metal dish)
brush a layer of butter and lay down 1 sheet of phyllo. Do this 6 times. The layer in a cup or so of the filling and spread it evenly over the dish. Layer 6 more sheets, making sure to butter each sheet. Repeat this until all of the filling is used up. BEFORE baking: cut the banitza into squares.

For the top: mix 1 beaten egg with 1/2 C soda water and pour over the top of the banitza, making sure to cover the entire surface with this mixture, especially the corners.

Bake in a 400 degree oven for 35-40 mins. Poke with a knife to test for doneness.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 15-20 mins. It actually tastes really great if you wait an hour or so to eat it (if you can even wait that long!)

Variations include spinach and onion. Just add 1 to 1 1/2 C drained, and patted dry frozen spinach and/or green onions or leeks which have been finely chopped and cleaned.

Thank you Ralitza, who ever you are, and thank you Becca for sharing this with the rest of us. Now be quiet and pass me a plate.

Lytenitza

We went to Utah a month ago and Joseph's mom loaded us down with tomatoes from her garden. She had about 7 or 8 plants, all of which, were in full bloom. Have I mentioned that I love fresh tomatoes? I do. They grow here in The Atomic City, but our growing season is short I never bother. In the end, I think we brought home about 30 pounds of tomatoes. Not that all of those survived the journey, but enough did to make...

LYTENITZA!

You know, that most wonderful Bulgarian tomato and pepper relish you spread on hot, fresh bread. It seriously melts away all of your problems as well. Any Bulgarian will tell you that. It's pretty much the best thing you can spread on bread besides Nutella.

When I lived in Sofia there was the little deli down the street from our house. The Babichka of the owners made the lytenitza fresh every day, and because he thought we were pretty he'd give us a 500 gram container of it whenever we went in there for free. Thank you. Oh, how I'd missed it since I came home. It was one of the two things I never learned how to make while there.

Thankfully my friend Holly is a librarian and when I made mention of lytenitza she found me a recipe. I'm sure I could have found myself a recipe, what with the google and the interwebs and all, but I never connected those dots. She found a good recipe HERE.

You will need:

3 lbs roasted red pepper /red pepper paste (I used roasted red peppers in jars)
3 lb tomato, crushed
4 roasted eggplant
1 C sugar
4 Tbsp salt to taste
4 Tbsp dried summer (Balkan) savory

Do the following:

1--Roast the eggplant before you start by pricking them like you would a baked potato and roast on 375 for about 45 mins. Remove them from the oven and allow to cool till you can handle them. When they are cool, remove the skin and scoop out the seeds. I used a grapefruit spoon to do this. 2--Process the eggplant in a food processor till a thick paste. 3--Drain the red peppers and process them in the food processor till a chunky paste. 4--Cut and quarter tomatoes and process in the food processor as well, till a thick puree with some chunks. 5--Combine all of this along with the savory and sugar and salt in a big soup pot on the stove to reduce in volume. My own experience taught me to add the salt last, as things will reduce and the salt will become more concentrated and will overpower everything else. 6--Bring to a boil and reduce to med-high so that it's simmering for about an hour. It should look like this:


7--The finished product will have liquid, but will not be watery. Think the consistency of a really thick spaghetti sauce. 8--Allow to cool and freeze in freezer jars, or if you are really brave, can it.

The finished product should last about a month in your fridge. I mentioned you spread lytenitza on bread, but it's good on eggs, sandwiches in place of mayo, as a pizza sauce, or as a base for guvech or mussaka. (If you don't know guvech or mussaka, let's talk shall we?)

My stove and kitchen looked like this afterwards:

And out of my brain spilled this:

Lytenitza is DONE! My house smells wonderfully of Bulgaria, and autumns past and of chooshki and choobritza. The sun is lower in the sky and I think to bundle myself up so that I won't offend my Babichka neighbor, who is after all, looking out for us young religious girls. I can imagine myself drinking a big cup of lipov chai (linden flower tea) from a big bone china tea cup or a tall Russian tea glass, but it still tastes comforting and warm no matter the vessel. I see the kiosks in the Krasno Selo and Zhenski Pazaars over flowing with food and flowers, too much to buy and take home, but it's comforting to see such bounty, to see the love of God made manifest in the fruits of the earth. My Bulgarian friends gift us with jars of food they have preserved for the winter and the hungry times, so we won't starve. Riding home late nites on the trams, rocking back and forth, being lulled to sleep, I know this is where my heart is. I love this land and these people. I am a Bulgarian. Az sum Bulgarche. :)

I only wish I could have all of you na go-sti so we could enjoy it together.

Spring in Bulgaria

I never knew what spring truly was till I lived in Bulgaria.

That year we had suffered under the burden of a winter without end for six months. It had been grey on grey on grey that whole time. By February there were small inklings that spring might be on its way. One day I even went out without my long underwear and a sheer skirt on. I was promptly chastised by a Baba who said I would catch my death of cold, among other things. I couldn't resist that day, but it was only a tease. The next day it snowed with a vengeance, as if to say, "Never again with there be spring in Narnia".

The winter persisted and on Easter it snowed. It snowed with colorful eggs and Easter bunnies and daisy chains in our hair, it snowed, almost killing the newness of life that had begun to bloom.

Then it became May.

May, glorious, warm, wonderful, colorful May. It was warm and green. It seemed like every day something new bloomed. Blooming things were totally foreign to me, as I had only known HOT and not-so-HOT in the Desert Southwest. Every day new colors appeared on trees and bushes all over Sofia. We spent many hours outside, walking, jumping fences, laughing, breathing in exotic scents of Bulgarian flora. My favorite quickly became "lipa" or linden flowers. On a daily basis we would see babichki picking the blooms to dry for tea.

In the evenings, those same babichki and their dyados started to emerge from their bloks to sit on park benches. Young people also emerged. Babies born in the deep mid-winter were seen for the first time with their parents. Older brothers and sisters ran thru streets kicking soccer balls. Boys and girls held hands and snuck kisses in the fading days. It was a magical time to be in Bulgaria, to see to the rebirth of spring after the long, cold winter, to feel the sun on my skin, to feel alive again.

That was my first spring, that wonderful spring in Bulgaria.

Mt View Class of 1991 turns 20.

I'm sitting here at my desk watching the elementary school play ground across the street. Morning recess has just begun and the kids are streaming out of their classrooms like water from a faucet. It's the last morning recess of the school year today. Tomorrow another class will graduate. Yesterday everyone at home graduated and had their last days. It's summer in America.

I can hear the collective sighs of relief from all of my school teacher friends, and part of me sighs too. I don't have a child in school, nor do I teach anymore, but I still sigh at the end of the school year. I think part of me still feels that build up, anxiety and stress of the end of the year. I've watched the red marquee scroll messages across the street for the last 9 months. I've seen the message "WE ARE LIONS" (the school mascot) so much, I feel like I'm part of the pride!

Twenty years ago, this coming Monday I said my farewells to public education and to school. I graduated from high school. Yes kids, the Mountain View High School Class of 1991 is turning 20 years old this year! I don't remember what was said at our graduation, or who said it. All I remember was the week before at Baccalaureate (you could still have one of those 20 years ago), I cried thinking it was all over. I mean, I was sad to be leaving my friends, my teachers, Mt View, my happy little world. By the time graduation rolled around the next week, I was more than happy to jump my way up to the diploma stand and say fare-thee-well.

This is the Brinton Four circa 1990ish. I'm sure it was my senior year. I give you this example of my big bangs. I was an Aquanet baby if there ever was such a thing.

Four days later I was on a plane to Germany and a student exchange trip. It was the time of my life up to that point. It's also good to mention, my real and true love of gummie bears began on this trip. I am currently passing that love on to my son. He knows the Haribo....Haribo macht kinder froh, und Erwachsene ebesnso!

In the ensuing 20 years though....

I went to MCC...for 3 1/2 years, to the consternation of my father. Sorry Dad. I really didn't know what I wanted out of life. But I met some of my best friends there! And I loved hanging out at the Institute, not necessarily going to classes, but the social life was good. I don't think I ever actually finished an Institute class I started.

This is Plovdiv, my first mission city. And for the record, I've walked down every one of those streets and knocked on most of the doors in this picture.

The Turkish Bath in Sofia. I hear they've restored it and you can go in for a bathe now. We met for church right across the street from this place too.

I went on a mission. I had never planned to go on a mission, but that's where my path led me. You all know how much I love Bulgaria. Thanks for sending me there, Heaven. I've mentioned it before, but I'll mention it again, when serving in Plovdiv you are serving in an ancient Roman city. Why yes, the Apostle Paul preached there as well!

Mt Timp from the BYU campus. It looks much better covered in snow.

I went to BYU. Again, never planned on that. Had to eat lots of crow for my years of razzing the Zoo, but I loved it there.

Worked at the MTC Mailroom, which is the best job I have ever had. And my boss there, Heidi Van is the best boss I ever had. I love the MAILROOM! You may now begin your economic interpretive dance I also worked at a teacher for the senior missionaries and as a translator there. I got to translate at a President Hinckley fireside. I say here and now, that man was a prophet, and the gift of tongues is real!

Got to sing a solo in the DeJong Concert Hall in the BYU Fine Arts Building when the soloist sicked out on the event. A "very thoughtful" neighbor volunteered me to fill in. I don't remember being nervous as such, but embarrassed that I had on a (very nice) denim dress, and it wasn't quite fancy enough for the DeJong.

Went to University of Phoenix when I had the realization that a career in litigation for profit was not for me. Became a school teacher in 18 months and worked at Queen Creek High School. Class of 2003!! Those were my first babies to graduate.

This is the weekend we got "officially" engaged. Joseph asked me to marry him though, on our second date. Yes, the second date.

Had my heart broken a few times in the dating game, but one of those heartbreaks led me to Joseph. Thankfully I listened to the Holy Ghost when he said, "Do not be a stinker about this set up!" I remember being really nervous on our first date, and really, wanting everything to work out. I was so nervous I couldn't look at him. He thought I didn't like him and was about to end it early. Oh nelly, that would have been bad! I just wanted it all to work out. So far it still is.

Got married and moved to New Mexico. I'm still getting used to it here. It's weird, and everything is made out of dirt. And also dread-locks on white people look stupid. And also, hippies, the 60s have been over a LONG time. Move on. And Santa Fe, you could do a better job at timing your traffic lights. Also, the blinker is not optional when changing lanes. And Atomic City, some of the civic improvement ideas are duds, just sayin'

Became a homeowner. I always thought I'd end up a spinster with a cat or two, renting a room from Nicole the rest of my life.

At Mt Rainer, Washington State.

With Melanie and Meredith at Brandywine Battlefield. The cannon was used in the Battle of Saratoga, in the Revolutionary War

Taught at Satan's High School and survived. Met Deb the Band Teacher there. I love her, but not there! I still blow a razzberry every time I drive by the place.

Got to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, The Hill Cummorah Pageant, Valley Forge, lots of Church History sites, Mt Rainer, Colorado, Carlsbad Caverns, Albuquerque from the top of Sandia Peak, New York City, North Carolina, Utah and too much Salt Lake City, Women's Conference, the inside of several emergency rooms, The Ranch and my sister move back home. I've been to Montreal, eaten at a Sugar Shack, seen the mighty St Lawrence Seaway, had so many layovers in the Atlanta airport, I feel like a part time Georgian and I've been to 43 of the 50 (57, for the president). I also own a piece of the Berlin Wall, have been to a concentration camp, an orphanage, and have seen Greece, Serbia and Macedonia from their respective borders.

Started my first blog 10 years ago, before people really even knew what blogging was. Now it's all the rage.

Took a tour of infertility gardens for a few years. Learned a lot there. Grew closer to God there. We have our angle babies waiting for us in heaven. One day, one day.

HELLO BABY JAMES!

Became a mother to Sweet Baby James. He really is a sweet baby, even if he refused to eat lunch today and screamed for 30 mins in time out. I'm sure he had his reasons.

Now, I'm 1 month away from truing 38, and a few months from the 20 year reunion (which I am not going to -- hello, it's in a bar and costs $100, no thanks.) Thankfully, I ditched my bangs and the Aquanet in 1992, and survived with my wit and humor in tact. I like a saying my friend Dana once shared with me, "Families are forever, if I can just get thru today." That kind of sums up life right now. On to the next 20 years!

Starting out in Plovdiv with Elder Hill

Last week was my mission anniversary, April 5th. It was very "случаенo" (Sloo-CHAI-no) or fortuitous, that on that same day a friend from my mission, Elder Chris Mosdell, posted a link to our friend Elder Ritchie Hill's mission album. Ritchie passed away a few years ago from lung cancer. We miss him very much, he was the kind of person that always made you happy. Ritchie and I both started out in the Plovdiv Branch of the mission and were in the same branch all but three weeks. I don't know if President knew that we were an amazing musical duo (he played the piano and I led the music for church where ever we were).

A view from one of the seven hills of Plovdiv toward the center of town

Like I said, we started out in a city called Plovdiv, which is about 2 hours south-east of Sofia the capitol city. People from Plovdiv are called "Plovdiv-chani", and for the entirety of my mission, people could tell I was a Plovdivchaina from my accent and the slang I used. It really is a great city though. Anciently it was called Philippopolis and evidence suggests that the Apostles Peter and Paul probably passed thru there a few times. In the Roman times it was a cultural and political center. There is evidence of the Roman past all over the city. Oh, hello random ruin

The Ancient Amphitheater
Roman Stadium
Ethnographic Museum of Bulgarian History(We always called it the Blue Museum. Technically, this was also not a museum of Roman things, but it's full of Bulgarian history).

I loved serving in Plovdiv. It was nice town, with (mostly) nice people. I say mostly because in August, as all over Europe, people flee the cities for the country and only the mean people are left. It wasn't that I didn't have enough faith during that time, as a companion suggested once, it was that only the mean people were left. Mean, grouchy, big, hairy, fat-men-in-speedos, mean. The members of the Church were also the best people as well. They tried so hard to be brave and stay strong in the face of so much opposition and pressure.

Back to last week. When I saw the link to the website I copied these pictures. Good times, good memories...

Plovdiv Zone Conference. Sometime in the Fall of 1995. I'm in the bottom corner in a blue dress. We were late to this meeting because we had an appointment before hand and ended up getting locked in the lady's house. Yes, locked it. It was like an episode of Hoarders in there, but with out cats or gross things. She was a bit paranoid that people were trying to steal her stuff, so she locked us all in and lost the key. Seriously, we were locked in the house.


Elder Hill, Me, Sister Johnson, Sister Ball on top of Aliosha Hill (Bunardzhik tepe) in Plovdiv, January or February 1996. Plovdiv is nestled in between 7 hills. Aliosha was a Russian soldier who helped liberate Bulgaria from the Turks. From the bottom he looks very small, but when you get up close, Aliosha is about 3 stories tall.


This is Aliosha:


In January of 1996, Ritchie was transferred to Sofia and we were all very sad. Not only was he a great friend, he was a good cook. Elder Stewart, who was from New Mexico, knew how to make real tortillas. Ritchie found a place that sold pinto beans and figured out how to make frijoles refritos. We frequently had "burrito themed" district and zone meetings. About 3 weeks later were sister transfers. Yes, President Partridge liked to transfer the sisters separately from the elders, so he could personally drive us to our new areas in the van. I was very appreciative of this because by the time I moved to Sofia, I'd been living in Plovdiv for 9 months and, as you can imagine, and accumulated some "things".

About a week after moving to Klon Krasno Selo in Sofia, Ritchie joined the Krasno Selo district as an office elder. Living 5 mins from the mission home had it's perks. Many times while coming home at night, the APs would spot us waiting for a bus (that never seemed to come) and would take us home in the car. We also were able to help Sister Partridge a lot. I know many people I served with did not like Sara and have nothing nice to say about her, which is sad, but I love her, and I am forever thankful for her attention to me and my companions.

My last day in Bulgaria Ritchie drove us to the airport. It was a tearful good bye for everyone that day. Even President Partridge was a bit weepy. In my exit interview he said something that was very nice, "Sister Brinton, there are some missionaries I have to worry about all the time. You are not one of those people. I knew I could always trust you to do what was right and solve your own problems. I appreciate that you were so obedient to the rules and worked so hard." Like I said, weepy all around.

At the Sofia airport with my "bagazhe" waiting to go home for good. Elder Hill was the AP at the time. We were the very best of friends and had been the same district all but three weeks of our missions.


Those were the days of hard work, sore feet, happy times, sad times, adventures a plenty and good friends.

The Hanging of Vasil Levski

Today is March 3rd, Bulgarian Independence Day. The Treaty of San Stefano (1878) created the Republic of Bulgaria out of the Ottoman Empire. Many people gave their lives for the cause. One was the Patriot and "Apostle of the Bulgarians" Vasil Levski. This poem, by Xristo Botev, the Bulgarian national poet, was written as a metaphor for his death, but also for the Bulgarian struggle for independence. Naturally, it's better in Bulgarian, however, since none of you have done your Bulgarian homework this century, here it is in English. I'd say more, but I think I'm nursing a terrible case of the gurggles, which I think might be what cholera feels like....

I love you Bulgaria, I really do.

The Hanging of Vasil Levski
by Xristo Botev


O my Mother, dear Motherland
Why weep you so mournfully, so plaintively?
And you, raven, cursed bird -
On whose grave croak you with such a dread?

Ah, I know - I know you're weeping, Mother
Because you are a dismal slave,
Because your holy voice, Mother
Is a helpless voice - a voice in the wilderness.

Weep! There, near the edge of Sofia town
Stretches - I saw it - a dismal gallows
And one of your sons, Bulgaria
Hangs from it with a terrible power.

The raven croaks dreadfully, ominously
Dogs and wolves howl in the fields,
Old people pray to God with fervor
Women weep, children cry.

Winter croons its evil song,
Gales sweep thistle across the field
And cold and frost and hopeless weeping
Heep sorrow on your heart.

It's MARCH! Честита Баба Марта

IT IS FINALLY MARCH!

Честита Баба Марта на всички!

For those of you who still have not done your Bulgarian homework this century, that is a great BIG Chestita Baba Marta to you all. I love Grandmother March's special day. If you don't remember what that is click HERE or HERE and to see some great examples of Martenitzi click HERE.

I love fun stuff like this...sadly my favorite Martenitza is missing. I must find it by the end of today.

Other great things about March:

2nd -- Joseph's birthday!
3rd -- Bulgarian Independence Day
8th -- Bulgarian Mother's Day
14th -- Anna's birthday & Grandma McKay's birthday (Happy Birthday old gal in heaven)
15th -- Aunt Celia's birthday and IDES OF MARCH (Beware! I'll do more warning as the day approaches! :)
17th -- St Patrick's Day
24th -- Larayssa "Kapooka" Wilhelm-Waldron, my first mission companion's birthday
29th -- Cousin Jeri's and Cousin Kylie's birthday

And Marian, I know your birthday is in here somewhere, I'm just not sure where...sorry.

But it's MARCH people! That also means the end of this stinky winter! Bye-bye winter don't let the door hit ya on the way out, and don't bother coming back anytime ever.



MARCH!! Chestito people! a BIG HUGE CHESTITO!

Kyiv Ukraine Temple Dedication Video

I've talked about it before, my mission in Bulgaria. I cannot say enough about it.

The Church just released this youtube video about the temple dedication of the Kyiv, Urkraine Temple. Bulgaria is now part of that temple district and Bulgarians were able to participate in the cultural celebration the night before the dedication.

My friend Ivo Shalev is was interviewed for this. He's at 1:42, 2:36 and 3:45 in the video. Oh, and those dancers at 2:36 and 3:45, they're Bulgarians too!

When I was a missionary Ivo turned 12 and was given the Aaronic Priesthood, it was a serious milestone for the Plovdiv Branch, as he was the first 12 year old to recieve the priesthood. Most of the men who were priesthood holders were older than 12. For my non-LDS readers, 12 years old is the age when boys are given the priesthood, but as most of the men in the branch were older when they joined...well you can see what I mean here.



This is just an inspiring video, of the youth of the Church being great. It gives me great hope in our topsy-turvy world.

A Border Crossing

I've already posted this on my facebook today, but it made me think a bit about Bulgaria and some of the things we experienced there as missionaries. Sometimes I wonder if my mission was more about learning life lessons and how to live, more than it was about sharing the gospel and converting people to the Church.

The article that I saw was called Mormons dismayed at Swiss job quota change. A quick recap: The Swiss have laws that govern who can and cannot come into their country to work. Mormon missionaries fall into that category. The changes would effect missionaries and possible have negative consequences on their abilities to work. A couple of years ago I wrote about our experience with the Plovdiv police at Christmas.


A street sign in Sofia, directing traffic toward the Kulata/Kalotina border crossing with Serbia

In 1995-96, the Bulgarian government was ruled by the old communists, who'd changed their names several times, so as not to appear communist. The re branding was about as far as the changes went with Bulgarian aparatchiks. It was still communist business as usual. And since the government was in full cahoots with the Bulgarian Orthodox Church to suppress any religion but their own, Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists, Protestants and the like were persecuted at every opportunity.

The sign above the Kulata/Kalotina border crossing withe Serbia

One of the rules that the government wanted to place on Mormon missionaries was that to get a "work" visa, they would have the authority to say how many of us were in the country, where we could live, with whom we could associate and what we were allowed to do. Obviously that was not going to work for us, so our president came up with an idea that would allow us to remain "free" to work. Every month each of us would have to go to the Yugoslav border near a Bulgarian village called Kalotina to go and get a new tourist visa. It was beautiful there. I only wish our border crossings were as beautiful as the scenery all around us.

So three days a week, President Partridge would take a van load of missionaries up to the border, park and send us all down to exit Bulgaria, turn around and re-enter Bulgaria. (We didn't go all the way down into Serbia, we actually turned around in no-man's land). Some days we were held at the exit for whatever made up reason. Some days we were held at the entrance back into Bulgaria. Once a group was held for 5 hours before being allowed back in. There was also a time when the law changed and it cost $20 to get back into Bulgaria. No one knew about this change, and it was fortunate that one of the sisters in the group had been prompted to bring all the money she had that day. She had just enough to get everyone back into the country. Being a woman as well had its perils at the border. We were routinely propositioned for sex and cat called among other things.

We'd go thru checkpoints similar to this when exiting or entering the country. And we'd pray for good weather and nice guards.


I don't know if that's the solution for the Swiss missionaries, but it was the solution for us while I was a Bulgarian missionary. Those trips were a blessing and a curse. A curse because we were really at the mercy of the border guards and their bosses, and there were times when I could see the Devil at work in front of my face. A blessing because they were lessons in faith. Faith that the Lord would protect us and help us in doing His work. I can say that I felt, many times, the presence of angels bearing us up and helping us thru those border crossings safely.

Now, or so I'm told, Bulgarian missionaries get 6 month visas issued thru the consulate in Sofia. The only time they go to the border is to come or go from the airport. How different things are there now. But I guess that's how it is in all stages of building the kingdom. Some grate the earth so that the ground is smooth for the next person to walk that road. My hope is that the LDS Church will work something out for the Swiss missionaries and that all will be well there.

See also Desert News' take (the comments are hillarous. I love it when people try to out "righteous" each other with quotes from the Church leadership, scriptures etc. Sure Switzerland has the right to say who can and cannot come into their country, however they are wrong to not let the LDS missionaries stay.

Seeing out of obsurity and darkness

I mentioned Ivan the blind man in my previous post. You all should know his full story.

Ivan (pronounced Ee-vahn), was some sort of optical scientist. He was happy, just another person in the People's Democratic Republic of Bulgaria. Then he lost his sight for no reason, and became angry at God. He said, "If God loved me, then why have I lost my sight?" He stopped believing, and because there was no religion he could not find his answers. Over time and the years Ivan's heart began to soften and he began to want to know God again. He began to search. And then a wall fell and he really could search for God.

Isa. 29: 18 And in that day shall the deaf hear the words of the book, and the eyes of the blind shall see out of obscurity, and out of darkness.


This is an image I found on line, but it is truly how the sunsets looked in Plovdiv

It was a typical Thracian afternoon. The sun had just begun to set and had descended to that part of the sky where everything turns a bright fiery orange. It was stiflingly hot, there was no wind and no movement in the air. So when an orange car drove past me, I noticed the wind that kicked up in its wake. It didn't recall giving the car much thought other than I thought they were driving too fast for a neighborhood. I was walking far behind my companions on a dirt burm that was the sidewalk thinking about why I was in Bulgaria, and what I was really trying to do. I was really feeling sorry for myself, when a woman and a man stopped me. They grabbed my arm and asked me if I was a Hari Krisner. I knew enough Bulgarian to say "No." Then they started jabbering away in rapid Bulgarian, far past my 'zaiche' (greeny) ability to understand. I had to get my companions to come back. I yelled at them and waved. They ran the quarter of a mile back to me.

I quickly explained what was going on, and Sis King took over the conversation. Ivan and his friend Margarita were out for a drive. Ivan was blind so Margarita was explaining to him the sights. She mentioned there were "three girls from a religious sect walking on the road". He asked her to stop the car because he wanted to talk to them. And that's where they met me.

We explained to Ivan that we were missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Mormon Church, and that we had six lessons that taught about our beliefs. Ivan wanted to learn more. We took his name and address and told him, we'd give his name to the Elders that lived in his neighborhood.

The next Sunday Ivan was in Church, and the next week as well. Finally is was July and fast Sunday. In the LDS Church the first Sunday of the month is called Fast Sunday. We abstain from food and drink for two meals and then in our service, instead of having assigned talks (or sermons) the members can get up and share their testimonies of Christ. It was another hot day and Restaurant Kishinev, where we met for church was hotter inside. I was looking up at a slowly turing ceiling fan when Ivan stood up. His voice boomed, "Brothers and Sisters! I am Ivan and I am learning from Elder Madsen and Elder Mosdell about the Gospel. I know they have the spirit of God with them. I feel their presence when they come into my blok and when they are in my home." And then his voice became very quiet. "And I would like you to know that I am a candidate for baptism into the Church. I know it is true." I didn't understand much, but I understood that.

Ani and Ivan after their baptisim, July 30, 1995. Plovdiv, Bulgaria.


July 30, 1995 was here. Ani (our other investigator) and Ivan were being baptized. Ani was baptized first, by Georgi Lukov. Ivan was baptized second by Elder Madsen. Ivan was lead down to the edge of the pool by Elder Mosdell and slowly lowered himself into the water. The water was deep and came up to his chest -- we baptised in the public swimming pool, Vecen Mladost. Elder Madsen said the baptismal prayer and immersed him into the water. When he came out he was glowing with happiness and waded to the side of the pool and literally jumped out! He was so happy. I was so happy. We all were happy to see another person enter into the waters of baptism.

The next Sunday Ivan was sustained as a member of the Plovdiv Branch and was given the Aaronic Priesthood and then ordained an Priest. The next Sunday he sat up on the first row of the room with the other men and prepared to pass the sacrament. After the prayer was said, the brother that was sitting next to him took him by the hand and gently led him around the room so that he could pass the sacrament. They repeated this when the water was blessed. The third Sunday after his baptism Ivan sat at the sacrament table. He'd memorized the sacrament prayers. He knelt down and said the prayer over the bread. He'd had some of the male members of the branch help him memorize the sacrament and baptismal prayers. He'd also asked some of the members to read the Book of Mormon onto tape for him and my companion and I sung some of the hymns on to a tape for him to learn as well.

Ivan kept coming to church and I saw him grow in the Church as well. I left the area the early in 1996, and I don't know what ever happened to him. I hope that he is still coming and still an active member. The lesson that I learned from Ivan was that with God anyone can "see" the truth, if they are open to it. Ivan needed help to learn about the Gospel because of his sight, but he saw with his spiritual eyes the truth. I'm thankful that I was a small part of his conversion and was able to witness the miracle of his entrance to the Church.