Where did the Time go?

Where did the Time go?

April 27, 2015

     McKenzie Brett Flake, where did the time go? Time has steadily marched on since we all gathered  at your mom and dad's motel room in Albuquerque, NM to view this beautiful little baby they had picked up at the Church Social Service Office earlier. It was you. You were our answer to many prayers. Not only that, you came in the spring when all things are renewed. You were our new beginning.
     I will never forget the day the phone rang in my first grade classroom and it was your mom calling from her work at the bank to tell me she and your dad were chosen to get a baby. They were to pick you up in New Mexico. It was a miracle! Our whole family was being blessed a year to the time that your aunt had given a beautiful baby girl to a wonderful couple.  How could the Lord be so kind? And you have blessed my life ever since that day I laid eyes on you in Albuquerque. You have sung, danced, played, acted your way joyfully through these last 16 years. You will always be my dear friend as we continue to grow old together.
     Time here in Missouri has moved so slowly this past week as we have prayed and waited to finally hear of the passing of our beautiful Lorraine. We have dreaded this day for a year but it has now come. I can't help but believe that the heavens welcomed her home with beautiful singing and joy. They have been expecting her so they postponed some of the garden and home beautifying efforts until she returned.  She walked in beauty here. What would change in the spirit world? Our hearts ache for Ted and his family as they now learn to adjust their lives without her.
     Such life changing events as births and death always bring back a flood of memories of my parents. I remember the summer before your Great Grandpa Eb passed away he would meet with me to try and teach me a few things. One day he shared with me his favorite verse of the song, "How Firm A Foundation" It is Verse 5 on page 85. Look it up and play it on the piano. Lo and behold, our rest hymn today in our sacrament meeting was this very song. We had a guest Samoan choir that is putting on a fireside here tonight visiting our ward. All Samoans can sing but when several more big men are added to the mix, it was as if Lorraine's Angel Choir took over.  I couldn't sing. I had to sit and listen to my elder sing in my ear.  Verse 4 is for Ted and his family today:

          When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
           The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow
           For I will be thee, thy troubles to bless.
           And sanctify to thee, and sanctify to thee,
           And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

     Time marches on here in Missouri. We hit our 6 month mark today on your 16th birthday. What is 6 months of service in a lifetime? I hope it counts for something. That is why we are here. To pay back the Lord for, oh, so much! I know we will all sit around together in the spirit world someday  and reminisce our lives on this earth. How we got here. How long we stayed. Why we left. Some too soon. Some longer than they expected. Isn't Time strange? You will turn around before you know it  and see your own child turn 16. Mark my words and have a happy, happy day.

My Love,
Sister Seaman

The Palest Ink is Brighter than the Fondest Memory

     Grandpa Eb was full of old sayings.  He always had some old saying to fit a given situation. One of the ones I remember was, "The palest ink is brighter than the fondest memory." For those of you who don't get it, it means if you write down some important thought or event, even if you use the palest ink, it will be truer and brighter than the same fondest memory.  It was actually him telling me to write things down and not rely on a memory.  He was used to doing business with your word and handshake as bond.  Often times I know that he felt that somehow the other person's fondest memory was brighter than his and it wasn't in his favor.  So every time that happened he would remind me to write things down, even if the pen was running out of ink.
     Writing this blog has awakened that old saying.  It is a struggle to think of anything important to say every week.  Sister Seaman and I do the very same thing over and over each week.  Like the movie "Ground Hog Day." We wake up to the very same thing every day.  Don't misunderstand though, I like what I'm doing.  But it is not worth writing home about every week.  So we struggle to find things that will be important to us later, when we re-read these blog posts.  They will be truer and brighter in written form than relying on our memories.
     We have been anticipating Lorraine Lewis's passing for quite some time now.  It is so sad.  She was one of this world's brightest spots. So talented.  So compassionate.  So nice.  It was way too soon for her to go in my humble opinion.  In her passing, we will all take a look at ourselves and do the self diagnosis.  Will it be me next?  Am I ready?  Our hearts and thoughts go out to Ted and family.  The pain of separation is a hard one.  When you love someone as Ted and Lorraine did, you are just not complete anymore when someone leaves.  I have noticed that only the passage of time seems to heal the broken heart.  And time just crawls when it is your heart.  Our prayers will be for Ted and family to heal and that God will bless them with peace and understanding.
     When I read this written memory in a few years, I will  remember sitting at this computer in our little dumpy apartment in Independence Missouri, with the beautiful music playing and a warm breeze blowing in through the open sliding door and I will remember Lorraine Lewis and how she changed the world.
     Goodbye Lorraine.  Until we meet again.
    
    
    

Just before leaving on our mission.  6 months ago.

He Sent HIs Son

He Sent His Son

April 19, 2015

      It is Spring in Independence! The highlight of my day is to take a walk just about anywhere and study blossoms, treebark, and shades of green. Check out the dogwood tree that has both colors of blossoms on it! Who would have known? I can truly believe this was the Garden of Eden. This will, by far, go down as my favorite season to be here.
      We rode the train from Independence to Kansas City yesterday on our P Day. We invited other senior missionaries and then took in some sights at Union Station. Earlier that morning, my elder and I drove the mission van, Starship Enterprise, down to park it. Our friends, the Garretts, followed us there so we had a ride back to Independence. The train was not coming back this way on Saturday so we needed transportation back home in the evening. I will let my elder tell you about his trainride because I think I fell asleep. Union Station is full of history. Kansas City was the hub-bub of the United States at one time.
     On occasion, I get to play the piano in Primary when the pianist goes AWOL. I love it.  My first years of service began on the piano when I was called to play in Jr. Primary on Wednesday afternoons when I turned 12 years old. I played for Primary for the next six years until I graduated from high school and went to NAU. I love the Primary songs. So many bring back memories of when I learned them, played them, taught them, or I listened to dear sweet Primary kids sing them. I cannot hear "Heavenly Father's Prayer"  without reliving the times Caitlin and I would lead our Sierra Pines Primary in singing that. Oh, that room rang with joy! There is nothing like a simple song that bears witness of the glorious truths of the Gospel.
      We sang "He Sent His Son" today. Those words spoke loud and clear to me.

                  How could the Father tell the world of love and tenderness?

             He sent His son, a newborn babe, with peace and holiness

                 What does the Father ask of us? What do the scriptures say?

             Have faith, have hope, live like His Son, help others on their way

                 What does He ask?      

           Live like His Son.

      Our thoughts and prayers are always on our loved ones in their specific trials. We pray daily, all day, for Lorraine and the Lewis family. We pray for the Fuentes' as they begin a new phase in their life. We pray for Lindsay, Jace, and their family-specifically our Elijah. We know that it is all we can do from this end. This song says to me- have faith, have hope, live like His Son, help others on their way. I am going to do that out here in Missouri. It is a simple life for us. I keep the light on in the mission office. My elder finds apartments, move the goods, and we continue to try to live like His Son.

All my love,
Sister Seaman   

All a Board....not

     The Amtrak station is Independence hasn't changed in about 50 years.  This is the place President Harry S Truman came home to and lots of other famous people passed through.  I thought it would be great to ride the train to Kansas City Union Station watching the beautiful scenery pass by the windows.  I was mistaken.  As soon as we left, we were looking at the backyards of old houses with a lots of accumulated junk.  It got worse.  The tracks now travel through the most derilic parts of KC.  The forgorten industial yards.  The vacant old buildings with trash everywhere.  Oh well.  It only cost $ 6.50 a piece for 35 minutes of junk.  Union station is still a beautiful old building. I think it was built in 1914. It is now part of the downtown "crown" section (The Hallmark Crown, because Hallmark is in this part of town) of KC.  Lots to see and do down there.  They were filming a segment of American Ninja in front of Union station the day we were there.  It was prom night and lots of kids were dressed to the "nines" or not, hanging out down there.  It was a good day.  But don't ride the train unless you want to sleep.
     Having lived out west (the dry, arid west) all of my life, the spring time in Missouri is so beautiful, green and colorful.  We got a couple of inches of rain yesterday.  I don't know where all the water goes because it disappears fast, but it is beautiful.  Driving through the country side is an amazing experience for this Arizona boy.
     Sister Seaman and I continue to serve and do the best we can.  Sometimes it feels like it isn't worth much, but most of the time I know that it counts.  Friday night we went to a presentation by Truman Pratt.  A great-great grandson of Parley P Pratt.  He is a member and lives here.  He told stories about his ancestor and it was interesting.  However, the part that stuck with me is that Parley served in different missions for 27 years of his life.  Away from his home and family.  An amazing story.  He was murdered down in Arkansas while serving a mission there, giving his life literally for the Lord and the Church.  I'll keep my complaining to my self.
     We continue to pray for our family.  We love you.

Sincerely,
Elder Seaman

            

Stake Center looking toward Visitors Center - Red Bud
Tree in foreground



Union Station Selfie

Unusual Dogwood Tree - It has both
white and pink blossoms

Red Bud Tree with moss

Run, Mattie, Run

Run, Mattie, Run

April 12, 2015

     Our little Mattie Claire turned 13 this week. Wait, let me change this. Our-Tall-Drink-of-Water Mattie Claire turned 13 this week. I was there when she was born. This was her mother's first live birth. She got our Kenz the hard way - adoption. More on that later. Back to Mattie's birth. I had to leave the room. The doctor skinned Kirsten from head to toe. I could not watch or listen to that. Out of that near death experience we got our quiet, mellow Mattie. Mattie is now in track again this year. She can run like her dad. I hope she runs as long as it makes her happy because, after all, isn't this life to have joy?
     I've had some happy times this past week in the mission field. My uno #1 Happiness stems from that companion of mine. He sticks by me like glue on paper, like jam on bread. Get it?
     Our missionaries have been blessed with Black Boxes from Salt Lake. These were placed in each mission car with a full day of training on how to operate them. I kind of think of those boxes as BackSeat Drivers who know how to drive........"Seatbelt on?"......."Driver's speed is too fast."....."That was a lousy right turn"....I kind of wish Salt Lake could have used one of the First Presidency or Twelves' voice to make the recordings for that thing. That would have made it lots cooler, I believe.
     As a result of a long day of training, my elder and I did the lunch on both days. By now, you all know I am in my element in my elder's truck or on a walk or.....anywhere but the office.....It was joy to again see old friends that had been transferred to the far reaches of the mission. Ask me to set a table and pick up sandwiches and I am confident. I can do it! That is because I have my Elder. It was a different type of service for me this week and I loved it.
     I loved conference. I am still on a high from that. I know my People in Show Low heard the same thing I did. That makes me feel so settled and happy.
     One final note.....since we arrived here in Independence I have waged a silent war on our clothes dryer. As I had earlier reported, to wash and dry a batch of laundry costs 4 quarters at a time. I have made peace with the washing machine because I do love the smell of clean clothes. That dryer is another story. I feed that Maytag 4 quarters at a shot in order for it to BLAST our load dry for an hour. My size XL t-shirts and all other white things have now shrunk to size Petite 5's. I wore that size when I was 12. Jett Walker can now wear Elder Seaman's T-shirts.  So, what to do......my elder and I have figured out if we put a batch in and blast it for awhile we can take it out; add one more quarter; and, WALLAH.....we can dry two batches of wash for $1.25! Oh, this makes me happy!
    So, you see I am a pretty happy missionary this week. The Walker's are coming to visit in June. My elder still lets me be the senior companion most days. We are finding there are lots of ways to serve the Lord on this mission. Mattie Claire Claire can run like the wind and I rule the dryer.

All my love,
Sister Seaman

The Fishing Trip

     This weekend, the Sisters decided to go to "Time Off for Women or Time to Shop for Women."  Something like that.  That left four of us men with no companions and lots of time on our hands.  So the Elders decided to go it alone.  At first it was somewhat uncomfortable as we have not talked to anybody for quite a few months about anything important other than with our wives.  Dinner at the Court House Exchange (a basement bar/restaurant across the street from the Old Court House) on the square in Independence was nice.  It was a good start.  We then went to a movie, which shall go unnamed, due to the violent and graphic nature, and as Elder Garret said, "the bikinis."  The movie was 2 hours of violent car wrecks, shooting, bombing and unrealistic driving skills.  The best part of the movie was listening to Elder Garret, who was sitting on the edge of his seat yelling out loud, "yah" or "Oh no" or just cheering. Elder Garret is the missionary who is here to finish the mission he and his wife started in Oregon several years ago and was cut short by a horrific car wreck, which left him mostly dead.  After the movie he said it was the greatest movie he had seen.
     The next morning we went fishing. Yes, I said fishing. The church owns the property across the highway from the Far West Temple Site.  It has two large ponds on it.  So we got permission and drove up there to fish.  We used worms and immediately began to catch fish.  Elder Garret has a game he likes to play which is called "First-Most-Biggest."  He caught the "FIRST" with a blue gill.  I caught the "MOST" with 6 blue gill and Elder Black caught the BIGGEST" with a large mouth bass. I noticed something that I had not remembered or ever noticed before.  A man will chuckle or even laugh out loud whenever he catches a fish. Such a great sound. It was a gorgeous spring day in the very rural part of Missouri.  I have never seen such color in nature before.  Green grass covers every open, untilled space.  Purple, pink, white and yellow blooms on the trees.  Birds of many varieties singing.  A mated-for-life pair of Canadian geese honking at us for disturbing their nest on the pond.  Ducks taking off and landing on the pond. And the Silence. 
     We then drove on to Adam-Ondi-Ahman and then to Jamesport and then to Hawn's Mill.  It was a great day.  So let 'em shop.  We got the best end of that deal.

Sincerely,
Elder Seaman

Typical Missionary Car with Black Box

Elder and Sister Seaman at Zone Conference Luncheon

Coin-Op Master Blaster - Shrink to Fit

 

I Hear the Music

 

I Hear the Music

April 5, 2015

     Happy, Happy Birthday, our Dearest Kortney! Can I tell you a story? You have heard us talk of our good friends, Elder and Sister Garrett from AZ., right? Well, whenever we get together, Elder Garrett wants my elder and I to go a round of "Name That Tune".  The rules are: He whistles a tune and the first to name the Title of the song is The Champion for The Week. It MUST be the Title - not a line from the song. Now, this is a big deal to him and to us. It is a big deal to him since he just relearned to whistle on his mission. If you remember, they were in a horrible accident on their first mission and when he came out of his coma, he had to relearn everything. He was a whistler before the accident so "Name That Tune" is his game. It is my game because I would remiss if I did not tell you I am the Champion most times.  I was recently de-throned by Elder Seaman and due to illness and other mishaps we did not see Elder Garrett for two weeks. Your ol' papa was The Champion for two weeks. Friday night, I am proud to say, I won The Title back in the lobby of Olive Garden calling out "Old McDonald" first. I must say there were three other senior missionaries in the game with my elder and I........, I beat them all! Oh, I was happy!! 
     I know most of those simple tunes Elder Garrett whistles. I sang those songs to your mom and her sisters and to many children in schoolrooms in Show Low. I danced and pranced lots of times to those songs. You know I love music. I know you love music. You play the flute. You feel it. You love it. Isn't music truly the Language of the Gods?  Elder Wilford W. Anderson talked in the Saturday afternoon session of conference of the old Medicine Man who could teach the doctor to dance, but not to hear the music. The doctor had to hear that on his own. I remembered my life when I heard the music but I didn't take the time to celebrate and dance. Other times I wanted to dance, dance, dance! The times when I have been out of sorts and spiritually down, those sweet notes of the gospel may have sounded and I didn't hear them. His advice to me and all the members of the True Gospel was: Keep Practicing.
     So, Kort, I am going to keep listening. I am going to keep doing my best, with the Lord's help, to be a good mission secretary. I will shake hands, smile and laugh and feed, and do whatever else I am called to do to help these young missionaries have a successful mission. Transfers were this week. My elder and I feel like we "lost" some good friends. Those good-byes are hard. I will make more new friends. I will keep practicing.
     By the way, Sister Garrett celebrated to us that Elder Garrett just "relearned" to sing in the shower this week. She heard him and had to stop and listen. Was that really what she thought she heard? Along with whistling, he had been a Shower Singer. She shared that she had not known how much she had missed it all this time. Oh Kort, aren't we blessed? Isn't the Gospel Of Jesus Christ music to our ears? Sing! Dance! Play the Flute! Shout for Joy! If you will, so will I. My love to you,

my oldest granddaughter. 

All my love,
Sister Seaman

Sportsmanship

     My kids will tell you that I don't play games because I don't like to lose.  Losing at "Name that Tune" has been discouraging, demoralizing, and downright depressing.  Elder Garret and my wife like to rub it in.  Right there in the crowded lobby of Olive Garden, Sister Seaman is jumping up and down squealing with delight and exclaiming at the top of her lungs that she is the champion. And Elder Garret is announcing to all who would listen that there was a new reigning champion and that I was the loser.  I quit.  She must have cheated.  I think Elder Garret must have leaked the title somehow.  They did it in public no less.  I can't stand it.
     Sister Seaman just walked by and saw the title of my blog today and burst out laughing.  She said I finally admitted after 42 years that I was a bad sport. Wow.
     Anyway, so much for games and sportsmanship.  I think I know where I got it from.  My little  brother, the Dentist, used to beat my pants off of every game we ever played too.  I never wanted to play him anymore either.  He would play my our Grandfather, John L Davis, in checkers and Chinese checkers for hours.  My Grandpa would be in tears, literally, (from amazement and frustration) because my brother could beat him too, and he couldn't figure it out.  He was 6, Grandpa was 70.  Now you know. Some emotional scars stay with us. Some of us don't like to lose.
     Some of my grandkids seemed to have inherited that trait somehow.  But they are so much better than I ever was.  Maybe they don't like to lose but they are gracious when they do.  I do like a good-sport.  I like to see someone give his/her all to whatever they are doing, but if they don't win they are always gracious and humble about it.    Maybe the thing that I like to see most of all ,in my self and all others, is that "don't ever give up" attitude.  Every time you fall (lose), you get up (you try again.)  I love to see it in my kids and grandkids.  With that kind of attitude, you will not fail.  We will all win in the end.  And like Sister Seaman, we will be jumping up and down and squealing at the top of ours lungs that we all made it.  I love you all with all my heart.  Happiest of Birthdays, dear Kortney.

Sincerely,
Elder Seaman

We found these on our truck this week.



These are the Mission Assistants. The one in the middle went home this
week.  He will be sorely missed.  Elder Stevens is from Canada.
 

    
    
    
    
    
    



Sister Seaman says no to any set-ups.  He is from Canada.





#Because of Him

#Because of Him

March 29, 2015

       On a late Wednesday afternoon this week, I was working in my office when I heard a group of elders came in the front door. I could tell by the noise that they were in my elder's office. After a bit, a newer elder poked his head around my door and more to himself than to me he whispered, "oh, you're Sister Seaman." I jumped up and reintroduced myself to him telling him that I knew him from his file. After a bit of small talk, he sheepishly told me he wanted to see the real Sister Seaman because there was a guy next door with that nametag on. We went over there together and, sure enough, my Elder Seaman was wearing my extra nametag. Now, notice I told you this was in the afternoon. My elder had been out and about Independence buying mission supplies in stores and lunch at Buffalo Burgers (who knows).
     So goes the life of Senior Missionaries. I live with the guy. I know who he is. There are several office missionaries and none of us caught it. My elder and I just have to come home some evenings and play the Glad Game. We have to find silly things to laugh at. This seems to have been a long week as we have both been fighting colds. The weather has been fickle. Our little apartment has seemed extra small. The work has been slow.
     This week, the church came out with the new Easter video #BecauseofHim. I can't quit watching it. It is so simple, yet so profound. The phrase that has been going over and over in my head this weekend is........"Because of Him we can start over again and again." I love that. I believe that. My cold will go away. We will keep our eyes open for silly things to laugh about. Salt Lake will send a new batch of missionaries' names out on Tuesday morning and I will start over again. Occasionally, when I hear my elder come in the office door, I will get up to check his nametag to see if he is really who I know him to be. Here's to a new week.

Oh, my LOVE to all of you,
Sister Seaman

Bat Cave.....

     Here at the Mission Headquarters we have a storage space called the "Bat Cave."  The storage space is located beneath the Stake Center which is located just down the street from the Mission Office on sacred ground. It sits on a part of the site where the 24 temples that were laid out by Joseph Smith for the New Jerusalem. The Stake Center's design is the one that was popular in the late 60's and early 70's.  It is a large,  irregular shaped building with a full sized basketball court in the gym.  We have one of these in Show Low. They were built all over the place.  This one is peculiar in that it has a full basement under the entire structure.  It is huge.  Only about 25% of the basement is finished for classrooms, the rest is pretty much wide open.  Over the years, a Scout Room was created and some maintenance storage and the rest was divided up for the mission and the wards by 14' high fencing.  The mission has the majority of the open space.  I heard that in the original plans, the unfinished part of the basement was supposed to be back-filled.  It never was and is now known as the Bat Cave, of which I, the mission housing coordinator, am in charge.  We store furniture, washing machines, dryers, kitchen equipment, bedding, vacuum cleaners, etc.  Everything to furnish a missionaries apartment.  It is something.  It is dark and damp, hence the name "Bat Cave."  Just the other day, I talked the FM missionaries into borrowing their dump trailer and filling it up with years and years worth of trash from the Bat Cave.  It took two loads, with the FM folks smashing and flattening everything.  It sure looks better to me, but if you saw it you would wonder about me.  Anyway, Sister Seaman took some pictures of all who were involved.  It was kind of a big deal.           
    Anyway, it was a slow week for me.  The mission is starting to lose its complement of missionaries.  The swell of 18 year olds is waning and the Church wants the complements no bigger that 200.  We were at 280 (when we got here) and by this next transfer will be at 260.  If things don't change, we will be at 220 by August.  Remember that we have 2 visitor centers in our mission which adds about 40 sisters and senior missionaries to the regular complement, which would put us 180.  I am beginning to non-renew the leases on missionary apartments and empty them as the mission decreases in size which means all the good furniture coming out of them goes to the Bat Cave.  Good thing we have it.
    The name tag thing may be funny to some of you, but I wore the thing almost all day and nobody noticed.  I do remember some strange stares from the heathens, otherwise nobody cares what my name is.
     Richard, my brother, showed up at the apartment the other night.  He was doing his thing in Wichita and drove an hour plus just to see us for a few minutes.  He went way out of his way, it was good to see him.  It does make us homesick though.

Sincerely,
Elder Seaman
    

Elder Seaman at the entrance to the Bat Cave.



FM Director Mark and the Trash Trailer.



The Trash Crew. Notice the "Star Ship
Enterprise" in the background and I don't
mean the Other Temple.  See the mission van.

Notice the discreet difference.



The Other Temple

The Other Temple

March 22, 2015

   Girls, I finally talked your dad into going to the Other Temple down the street from our office and across the street from our Visitor's Center. Do you remember that place? The Seashell building. Not much has changed there except it is even more empty. Ted (not your Uncle Ted) was our guide and he didn't make much eye contact as we moved from the meditation room up the path to the sanctuary. Since we visited there many years ago the name of the place has changed from the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Temple to the Community of Christ Temple. They also have added newer pictures of some of their apostles. I noticed a couple of ladies hanging up there with the gentlemen. There were only four guests on this tour, us being number three and four. As we came to the end of the tour and Ted was pointing out The Plaza for Peace out the window, I could hear this clip-clip-clop of high heel sandals walking across the floor. It was loud and echo-y. There was such a hollow sound to it. I looked over and it was the other lady that had been at the desk passing by. I do believe the four guests, us being number three and four, outnumbered the workers in the temple on Saturday, March 21, 2015. By the way, number one and two tourists were two other missionaries from our mission.
     Can you imagine our temples being run by a skeleton crew of workers who sat at the front desk just waiting and hoping a tour group would appear? Especially on a Saturday morning? Can you imagine a tour group even showing up at our temples and going on tours inside?  For that short while my elder and I got to work on Saturday morning in the Snowflake Temple before we came on our mission, that place was always hopping. Plus I could have never gone in there wearing my Pday green Converse and black  pants. Girls, our church is becoming more and more different from the world. It is so noticeable. I love that reverence and respect that is instilled in our people for sacred things.
     It rained here steady for two days and nights this week. What would we do with that much moisture in Arizona?  The weather is fickle. Oldtimers out here say if you don't like Missouri weather, wait five minutes and it will change. My heart, along with all of yours,  has been in Utah with Lorraine, Ted, and their family. I am so very thankful for the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ that has offered us and all the world Hope through Temples. Teach and Preach it to your kids. We are blessed with the true gospel. I have the dearest, fondest memories of my mom getting her temple bag ready to go to the Mesa Temple. She would lay it out and neatly refold it back up, I knew she loved that clothing. I knew that sometime during our trip to Grandma's house in Mesa, she  and Dad would go off early in the morning to the temple. I love when you send me pictures of any of you coming or going from the temple.  Keep it up! Make it a tradition, a way of life. When all is said and done, I have never heard anyone wish they hadn't spent so much time in the temple.

All my love,
Sister Seaman

  Old Rascals...

     Sister Seaman and I were just walking down the sidewalk over by the Mission Office and she said to come and look at something in the sidewalk.  Low and behold, there in the sidewalk is a brass plaque designating lot 131 as being the location of the Dishonorable Lillburn Bogg's house.  There is nothing there now but an empty grassy lot.  But it was the location where apparently somebody tried to assassinate him.  Boggs claimed it was Orrin Porter Rockwell and they tried him in this house.  Rockwell was not convicted.  This is the same Boggs that later became Governor of the State of Missouri and signed the extermination order on the Mormons.  I hope he can be forgiven for what he did.  I heard at a fireside at the VC recently that Governor Boggs has ancestors who have since joined the church.  He certainly was an old rascal.  On the other hand, we were in Liberty yesterday and visited Alexander Doniphan's grave site.  He was a great friend to the church and is attributed to saving the Prophet Joseph's life.  He is not a rascal, but he does have a large monolisk (sp).
     We attended Stake Conference today out in Warrensburg.  It is an hour's drive from Independence.  Some of you may wonder why we went to Warrensburg.  Because that is the Stake our ward is in, even though the ward meets here in Independence.  Kinda weird.  Anyway, I am sure it was like all of your stake conferences lately.  It was a good meeting.  I almost feel like doing more genealogy and missionary work.
     The trees are blossoming now.  It sure feels like spring. We walked across some grassy areas this afternoon and I wondered about the ticks and jiggers.  The Sam's Club RV park was bustling with motor homes and house trailers.  Kids were playing ball and smoking weed.
     The Other Temple was sooo weird.  I felt like it (and everything else the RLDS do) is a cheap imitation of the real thing.  They have no idea.  They are prouder of the fact that they now have women apostles and women can hold the priesthood than they are of their own church doctrine,which is becoming more diluted by the day.  But their trees sure are pretty.  I think their church is now led by rascals who make a lot of money.  Too bad.
     Sister Seaman and I are sure that you're tired of the same old stuff.  Our mission is pretty routine.  But we love you all and think of you often.  Stay the course.

Sincerely,
Elder Seaman

 

 

Can you believe these blooms?

Community of Christ Temple (The Other Temple). Spring is getting pretty.



Plaque in sidewalk.

Alexander Doniphan's gravesite.  This thing
is over 25' tall.

    


    





Greetings from Independence

Greetings from Independence

March 15, 2015
      The windows are  opened this Sunday afternoon. Girls, remember when you were home and we had window, door, and light rules? Opened windows in daylight hours were a no-no. Wide open swinging doors were not allowed. Lights left on in empty rooms were unheard of in our house. Do you ever remember the cry that would go through the house when we saw your dad pull up? "Dad's home! Shut the door!"  He prided us on thriftiness and good common sense. Now, I wonder, how those window, door, and light rules have carried over into your homes?
    You girls know I have a thing for pulled back curtains, sunlit windows. How can a home be happy when it is dark inside? We went to the Community of Christ Church Friday night for a Book of Mormon symposium. Some professors from BYU and leaders of various branches of break-off groups out here were discussing the one and only aspect that still binds us together-The Book of Mormon. I was so excited to see inside this old beautiful church that Joseph Smith III  had laid the cornerstone for in 1888. The most beautiful thing were the stained glass windows. (see below). They were beautiful as the sun shone through them.
     The rest of the  symposium seemed a bit "flat" as far as I was concerned. Sorta like there was a big old elephant in the room. As you know, there are many break-off groups out here in the Independence area.  They all seem to break the rules like we did with windows, doors, and lights when your dad was not home. Priesthood? Sure, you can hold it if you get a degree. Baptism? Sure, I'll send my sister over soon to do it. Well, I'm exaggerating......but you get my drift. It's kind of like they are wandering around in dark rooms.
     If I know nothing else, Girls,  I know The Gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored in its fullness to this earth. We can be beneficiaries of all the blessings of it. I love that we don't have to create new rules to satisfy the whims of man or woman. Study that Book of Mormon with your kids. Make sure they know and understand that it was written for our day. Teach them that we must be baptized by those in authority just as Jesus Christ was. Teach them to follow the rules. Also, tell them it's a good idea to keep doors and windows shut during warm daylight hours. It heats the place up.   

My love to you all,
Sister Seaman

Spring has Sprung...

     We have a picture in our apartment of the Sacred Grove in New York.  The words printed beneath the photograph read like this, "What happened here changed the world.  Let it change your life."  I have felt the same about Independence and surrounding areas in Missouri.  I have read everything I can get my hands on about what happened here.  The sacred ground we go to everyday to work looks like any other property in the Independence area, as do all the other historic sites.  What happened here has widened my understanding of the Lord's work.  It has given me perspective I would never have gotten had we not been called here.  It has strengthened my testimony and my admiration of those who came here and were driven out, but stayed true and loyal to the Lord.  And so I can say, "What happened here changed my life, let it change your life."
      Spring has sprung here. The trees are budding out, the bulbs are sprouting. There is something about this country that pulls at you.  I find myself starting to love the country side, but don't tell anyone.  I can understand a little better, why the saints liked it here.  But it is not my home, no, not yet. 
    Yesterday we went up to St Joe.  It was a good day with good temperature and sunshine.  St Joseph is about an hour northwest  of here.  We went to the Stetson Hat Outlet (They used to make them here but moved the factory to Texas a couple of years ago.  It was interesting though.  The Garret's were with us and they bought hats and dresses, etc. (They are big horse-cowboy fans.)  We also went to the Pony Express stable museum (see pictures.) That was real interesting. St. Joe was the eastern end and the beginning of the Express route west.  It was a good day.     By the way, I was a light and door Nazi.  I was a poor, broken man trying to provide for his family.  You feel for me don't you?  They make fun of me now for it.  I am sorry that my kids had to suffer and now my grandkids.  Maybe not anymore.  

  
Sincerely,
Elder Seaman 


Book of Mormon Symposium inside Stone
Church. Beautiful Stained Glass.



Original Pony Express Stables