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Stories: Typical Day In Moab

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Typical Day In Moab 04 Dec 2004
Typical Day in Moab It was a hot spring morning in Blanding Utah. As far as I could tell it was going to be another wonderful day of wasting and wearing out my life in the service of my fellow Blandanians; an interesting people, be it for their blue collared ruggedness and high school sport fanaticism mingled with a layed back Navajo undertone. As a product of Southern Alberta, I fit right in. I anticipated my daily encounters with the mule that lived next to the trailer just north of our apartment. A kind and gentle mule, he didn't seem to resent his owners despite the fact that they fastened him to a dump truck rather than fence off an area in the yard for him to roam. I couldn't help but think that the world would be a better place had he not been cursed with the tragic sterility that befalls the offspring of an horse/donkey cross. Sometimes life is unfair. We saw it all to frequently in the Four Corners zone. The three legged dog that frequented the Montezuma creek Elder's mobile home was a constant reminder that tragedy is impartial. When Elder Burdon, one of the missions fine British Elders, introduced me to the crippled descendent of certainly more fine specimens that had been offered refuge aboard Noah's ark, I couldn't help but notice his eyes welling up with tears. The Rez Dog evoked emotion in him that hadn't surfaced since Germany defeated England in the world cup semifinals back in the early nineties. Indeed we all had our eyes opened as we did time as the forgotten few of the mission's outermost zone. The Montezuma Creek elders endured conditions that would have made the Elders and Sisters of the plush and affluent northern zones cringe. You know who you are Alpine. The fact that the Rez Elders had to travel forty minutes to blanding to buy $2 a pack Ramen noodles was made even more painful by the fact that a Walmart supercenter was located just outside of the mission in nearby Cortez. Interestingly enough, when Elder Burdon arrived at the apartment for the first time he found Walmart bags. We can only assume that they were sent along with goodies in care packages from home. After all, only 100% obedient missionaries had ever been assigned to the montezuma area of the zone. Moab on the other hand, had not been as fortunate when it came to receiving totally obedient missionaries, as I found out that spring morning. Elder Hamblin and I were preparing as usual for morning studies; I was in the bathroom maintaining my well groomed appearance while Hamblin enjoyed a well balanced breakfast. The morning tranquility would soon be interrupted however by a phone call from the Moab Elders who apparently had a serious concern that they required our assistance in resolving. We're talking about serious problems. The kind that resulted in letters to President that would take up both sides of the page. From what I could gather from my position behind the bathroom mirror, one of the elders, who happened to be learning English, wanted to spend a little more time than had been allotted him studying his easier to read Book of Mormon reader rather than the real version. I dropped my razor, as the gravity of the situation set in. My companion and I agreed that the resulting dissension had to be suppressed. An emergency exchange was in order. I packed my bags for Moab. We arrived to the makeshift double trailer and were troubled to find the elders struggling to come to grips with the emotion charged aftermaths of the morning's confrontation. During this time of great excitement it Began to occurr to me why we call ourselves a peculiar people. After deciding that the situation required an uncommon but extremely effective extended period exchange in Moab, Elder Hamblin helped one of the missionaries pack for a three day stay in Blanding. I tried to remain composed as I watched my companion back the car up, under the direction of a still shaken temporary companion, and then exit the Moab apartments gravel driveway. Little did I know, I was about to enjoy three of the best days of my mission. Elder Denver Wigg, whom I hadn't ever met, besides a brief transfer van encounter, would be my companion for the next three days. A fellow southern Albertan, Elder Wigg and I had plenty to talk about as we made Our way through the streets of Moab. It was my first real stay in the hot, red rock city that was known in the area as a stronghold for anti-mormon insurgents. Indeed, Moab's five wards were hard pressed for growth and the 'less'-activity rates could rival those of Salina, even without the spirits of the Gadianton robbers that were said to live in the hills surrounding Salina. One has go no further than the local high school and see that the father of all lies himself was elected to be the team mascot to know that he is no stranger to the area. I was fingered twice during my three day stay alone. Despite the opposition, we Elders pushed forward. As I ponder on the events of those three days, a lot of memories flood my mind; the cherry picking service project, the game of full court basketball (it was a very small court), the lady with the energizer bunny tattoo, dragging all of the mattresses into the living room and having my first mission campout...... But of all of the experiences I had, one in particular stands out in my memory the most. Elder Wigg has been known from time to time to be brutally honest. It is one of his greatest strengths but, as I found out one evening in Moab, it can also create very awkward situations. I can remember the Experience vividly. We had a dinner appointment with a family called the Holyoaks in the southern part of the city. It was actually one of the best dinners of my mission. Come to think of it, it could have been the only time I had ribs during my mission. Everything was going smoothly as Denver and continued to enjoy what seemed to be an endless supply of beef ribs. I could tell however that Denver was starting to near capacity as he began to slow down on his main course. Not wanting to spoil a potential dessert, he politely explained to our hosts that he was almost full and inquired as to whether or not there would be dessert. His words went somewhat as follows, "Sister Holyoak, this meal is delicious, but I'm afraid that I'm almost full and I don't know whether or not I should tackle another rib or hold off for dessert. Have you prepared a dessert?" Sister Holyoak responded by getting up from her seat and walking around her table to her daughter, who I think was probably around sixteen but because I only looked once I don't know if I can trust my recollection on the matter. Positioned behind the sweet looking girl Sister Holyoak placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders and answered Denver's question by saying, "Our Jenny spent the afternoon making a blueberry upside down cake just for tonight's dinner." The situation resembled a touching church video dinner scene, but that was all soon to end as I directed my attention from Jenny and her mother to Denver and waited for his response. My gut wrenched as Denver reached for the fork that had been used to serve the ribs and while reaching toward the rib plate said, "Well in that case, I think that I'll be having another rib." At first I hoped that he was joking, but the awkward silence was broken only by the sound of another tasty rib hitting his plate. One time at a highscool volley ball game some girl ran from the stands and tore of my track pants in front of the whole school. It was very embarrassing...... the moment I saw the rib hit the plate in Moab was worse. I ate all of the blueberry upside down cake that I could, but I couldn't compensate for the rib that filled Denver's void. The Holyoaks expressions were priceless. Mastercard certainly couldn't have purchased that experience. For those of you who think that Denver would resent me for this, think again. We are great friends and he gave me his permission to add this story to the mission website. I would love to say more, but my wife and I have to be going to church. It has been great to reminisce for the last couple of hours. I loved my mission and all of the ups and the downs that I experienced in Southern Utah. Just for the records, the Four Corners zone was one of my favorites. God bless you all, and I look forward to meeting your child someday Denver. love Gundy
Denver James Wigg Send Email
 
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