Happy Easter 2018

We have had a full day with our missionaries and Zlatko.  They all arrived this morning to watch the Saturday sessions of conference with us.  We had watched the Saturday morning session at 6:00 pm yesterday but downloaded both sessions to watch again today.  We made Easter baskets (bags - couldn't find any "baskets") full of Kinder chocolate eggs, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (compliments of the embassy) and other assorted local candies, notebooks and pencils.  Zlatko was a little confused and surprised, knowing nothing of the Easter Bunny tradition.

Our missionaries and Zlatko with their Easter baskets

We had a lovely Easter program in Sacrament meeting on March 25.  Our 6 Primary children and one deacon sang Gethsemane and did a really good job with it.  The 2-year old contributed a word or two here and there but the others all had the words memorized.  I was amazed they could even say the word Gethsemane.  The Elders and Sisters sang a beautiful rendition of I Know That My Redeemer Lives.  All four of them have very nice voices.  Gunnar, our deacon, and Brother Lott both gave good talks on the Atonement.

The best part of our day was walking into the chapel to find our newest member, Zlatko dressed in nice slacks (left in the Elder's apartment by a previous missionary), a new white shirt and tie (anonymously provided by Brother Lott).  He had gotten a haircut and looked like a new man.

John, Zlatko, Karen on Zlatko's ordination day

 

We all made a fuss over him.  He received the Aaronic Priesthood after sacrament meeting and was ordained a priest.  His entire demeanor changed - he is usually pretty quiet but was just beaming all day.

Elder Evans, Elder Corona, Zlatko, Sister Heder, Sister Icke

John ordained him and showed Zlatko his Priesthood Line of Authority.  Zlatko was surprised and excited to see that it went back to Jesus Christ.  It was pretty sweet.  He changed into his jeans and sweatshirt and said he would leave his good church clothing at the chapel.

It has been raining almost every day so most of the snow we got last week is gone already.  Everything is melting, leaving huge puddles everywhere.

We received word Thursday afternoon that Social Services had located Fadil's family and that he would be buried Friday afternoon.  All the missionaries and three branch members went to the cemetery to honor Fadil.  It was my first experience attending a Muslim service and I was quite touched.  Certainly not what we are used to but I was impressed.  There were three men being buried at 2:30 that day.  There was a general or combined service for all three at the beginning.  The priest or Imams, I think they are called, went to the front and called the Muslim men to assemble.  No women can participate and we all stood off to the side.  The men lined up in rows; probably six or seven rows with 20-25 men in each row.  I couldn't get any pictures with so many people around, since they discourage it.  They prayed and chanted for about 15 minutes, with the men participating at various points of the prayer with hand and head gestures.  When that was completed, they separated into three groups and we each followed an Imam to the grave site.

We waited at the grave site for the cemetery van to bring the casket.  It was a plain, wooden box covered with a green cloth.  John thinks there was no lid or cover on the box, only the blanket but I'm not sure about that.  The men removed the casket from the van and handed it on; they had formed a double line and moved it along until they were at the grave.  Everything was manual; one man jumped into the grave to guide the casket and they lowered it into the grave using big moving straps.  They handed several 2x8 pieces of boards the width of the grave and placed them on top of the casket.  They pulled the man out of the grave, the Iman said a few words and picked up a shovel.  He started putting the dirt back into the grave.  There were six shovels there and other men took them and started shoveling.  After a minute or two, a man would tap the one shoveling on the shoulder and take the shovel from him.  They all took turns until the grave was covered with a large mound of dirt.

Burying Fadil

Covering the grave

With the grave covered the men all squatted on their haunches while the Iman prayed some more.  It was quite lengthy and some of the older gentlemen had to stand up part way through.  And then it was over.

Fadil's sons at the grave

We spoke to Fadil's sons after the service.  They were both crying and visibly shaken.  I felt most of the tears were regret as they were saddened knowing they did not have a good relationship with their father and now it was too late.  They were very gracious and thanked us for taking care of their father.  None of us were wearing name tags and they finally asked if we were a church.  We were sad for the sons but we know Fadil is in a good place and happy and all that other stuff can be fixed later.

On Monday we took the missionaries to the Sarajevo Tunnel.  When the city was surrounded by the Bosnian Serb Army, the Sarajevan's only connection to the outside world was a mountain pass.  Between them and the pass was the airport which couldn't be crossed by either side because it was controlled by the impartial UN.  Many Sarajevans were without food, medicine and water with no way to get in or our of the city safely.  So they decided to tunnel under the runway.  Coal mine engineers spent four months in 1993 digging a passageway that was about 5 feet tall and three feet wide.  Once completed they could enter the basement of an apartment building, hunch over and hike through humid air and emerge at the other end.  From that house they could hike over the mountains to get supplies.

Outside of the tunnel house, still with it's "war wounds" 

Inside the tunnel - only about 50 feet remains as part of the museum

Us outside the museum tunnel exit

The following is from a sign at the museum: "Thousands of shells rained on Sarajevo during the aggression against Bosnia and Herzegovina and UN forces registered an average of 330 impacts a day.  In just one of such days, on 22 July 1993, Sarajevo received 3,777 shells fired from the surrounding hills.  In the siege that lasted for 1,425 days, every single shell left scars on the asphalt roads, pavements or town buildings.  Many of them wounded or killed one or more citizens in the besieged town while explosions were leaving marks in concrete, similar to flowers.  On some locations in town those scars were painted with red resin and hence they were named Sarajevo roses.  As a result, the Sarajevo rose became the symbol and the memorial of those who were killed in the besieged Sarajevo and of their heroic struggle, whereas red color is the reminder of the blood of Sarajevo inhabitants shed while queuing for bread and water, of children playing carefree and of all those who were only trying to survive in the town without an exit.  In the the first phase of the project, 100 of Sarajevo roses were marked but many of them disappeared due to various reconstruction and rehabilitation activities."

Missionary feet at a Sarajevo rose

Today we tried to have a traditional Easter dinner with ham (compliments of the embassy again), funeral potatoes (improvised, as we have no frozen hash browns or cream of chicken soup), deviled eggs, veggies and dip, rolls and orange cake with cream cheese frosting.  It was a good day with remarkable young missionaries, good food and a spiritual uplift from conference.

We know that President Nelson is our prophet and that the things we heard and witnessed during conference are right, true and correct.  We know that Jesus Christ was resurrected and that he lives.  We are honored to wear his name next to ours each day as we try to help further the work of the kingdom in this part of the world.