Dokuzuncu katta Yaşam (Life on the ninth floor)

Every Morning the view over the City to the Southeast
from my seat on the coach in my underwear.

It is time to come clean and confess about the real life of adult missionaries in Turkey.  Sure we sacrifice our time and energy and of course our own money to come and serve, but our life as Missionaries do not even compare to the young Elders or Sisters around the world.
No one really keeps track of us.  No one really has a clue as to what we do or do not do.  Yes, we have the same little white book, but little of it applies to us and there is no reporting or accountability of our service.  We are pretty sure we could disappear and not a soul would have a clue.  Well, maybe on Sunday if we were not at Church someone might say, "Where are the Weavers?"  But then again maybe they would not.  We even wonder how many people back in the Huntington Hills Ward even know we are gone or just missing or not even noticed.
In this particular assignment, we have been instructed not to wear our black badges.  We wear levis as often as we wear suits and dresses.  Most of our introductions are Ben Fred or I am Fred and Ben Nori. Last names in this country are an afterthought and we are never to proselyte or teach the gospel.  We are here to just look out for the poor and needy.
As Humanitarian Missionaries in Turkey, we are not allowed to hold any leadership positions or connect to the Church so someone could say our goal of giving is to get people to join the Church.  We have been cautioned to exercise extreme care in how we portray ourselves and never give anyone the impression we would like them to join the Church.

In our spare time, we are consumed with paper work.  Not only do we have to account for every lira spent on our projects, but for the division of travel time and personal time for the church work and our private time.  The official recognition of the Church in Turkey is designated as follows; İsa Mesih'in Son Zaman Azizler Kilisesi Istanbul Derneği.   That means we are an Association bound by the most goofy bunch of rules imaginable.  Some how the entire management of this association along with the creation of process and monetary control has fallen into my lap of responsibility.  It is like running a business all over again except my boss is in Russia and not well versed in business.  The bureaucracy of the Church is equal to the Federal Government and could truly challenge a testimony. 

Fred's desk
Even my trash is out of order.

Nori's desk

A good deal of our time is at our desks doing paper work and trying to stimulate people to communicate with us.  We have lots of calls and followup on project materials.  Unfortunately Nori has to deal with my lack of organization and I have to deal with her neatness.  She has to deal with my sense of doing business and I have to struggle to help her to expand her computer skills.  She gets to experience first hand my frustration with incompetence and lack of expediency on our support groups.  I cannot even imagine a couple trying to run a business together.

Dogs day out.

We try to get out and exercise along with our routine walks, but unfortunately we have the nights and we consume too many calories sitting on our couch.  We watch Fox news when the service is not interrupted like right now the sound does not work and we have been unable to find an english speaking service tech to explain the problem.  Oh well it is Turkey and they speak Turkish here.  It is us dumb Americans that cannot communicate with them in their own country.

We hold a family home evening once a month and fill our apartment with the entire United Nations.  The variety of countries and languages represented blows me away.

Nigerian, Turkish, Comoros Islands, Iran.
Turkish Dance lessons.

It would certainly appear that it is the youth of this country that seems most eager to experience the gospel.  They are so different from the youth of the United States.  Rarely a tattoo or a piercing and they are so anxious to learn.  Most of the non Turks have left their homeland to find a life free from oppression and depravity and have not seen their families in years.  They get up and dance and share their thoughts and always treat everyone with so much respect.
The young people all get some english education and are excited to share their own culture and language while they learn something new.  They dress very respectfully and seem to have so much more maturity than their American counterparts.

Perhaps the most notable part of this mission that I reflect on that is so different than the young missionaries, is that it would seem old people do not get as much attention from home as our young men here in Turkey.  This is the whiney part .... the young guys get mail and email every week along with packages on a regular occasion.  As old missionaries we have to beg for someone to even know we are gone.  It is so strange.  Even this blog seems like I am communicating with the infinite internet and very in-personable.  Other than Cami, it would appear our readers are non existent.  Of course as Cami told me, this will be a good log of our mission so it will be worth it.  I try to compare this experience with what would have been my experience if I had served as a 19 year old and I have decided that there is simply no comparison and to think that finally serving my mission will never make up for not serving as a young man.  There are just too many differences.