I hope they call me on a mission

On Saturday, July 27, I got in the car with Brandon, Mallory and my 3 Oregon grandchildren and we headed to the westest west...the Oregon Coast.  My parents were called on a 6 month mission to Lincoln City, OR.  I really wanted to see them as missionaries, so I was thrilled with this opportunity.  As luck would have it, Saturday was my parent's local Pioneer Day celebration. (We can't celebrate pioneers too much.)  That meant we would go to the celebration location before my parents'  place.  That was fine except it was held at a little farm off the Salmon River Hwy.  They had an address, but you know how GPS is when the address is off some highway somewhere.  It's never pretty.  We should not have been surprised when after 2 hrs. (The predicted total driving time) we were in some small town on a small road with small children in the car and actually some small unknown children on the sidewalk wondering who the confused strangers were in the mini-van.  But this is 2013 so with a couple of calls on the cell phone and some "recalculating" we were on our way to the right place.  It was noted that our city of lostness was Dallas.

My Dad had instructed us to call him when we were almost there, "After you come down out of the crest and you're about 10 miles from our house, (which we had never been to) call me and I'll go out to the road so you can see where to turn."  This did not sound like a promising plan, but we went with it.  When we were 15 minutes from our ETA, according to my parent's home address, we made the call.  A couple of minutes later we must have come down out of the crest because there sat my dad on a chair on the side of the highway.  Can I tell you that that was a beautiful sight to see?  I swallowed the joyful lump in my throat as I hugged my handsome dad who had loved me all my life and would sit on the road to lead me to the right place.  My wonderful mom was not too far away. I felt giddy to be in Oregon with all those dear loved ones.

Of course we had a conversation about where we had been as opposed to where we were supposed to be.  When I mentioned the town of Dallas, my dad revealed that his father had been the Branch President of our church in that little city in 1941.  I'd never been so happy to have been lost.  I had chills and a bursting heart at the thought of the fortuitous mistake.

We started our festivities with pioneer pictures.  I don't think real pioneers wore aprons over capris, but they should have.  My mom introduced us to her  friends. She loves a lot of people so we met a lot of people. The elders (young male misssionaries) who serve with my parents were especially happy to meet Brandon who works at Nike and gave them a "friends and family" coupon.  The children were feeling pretty  disappointed that their day of adventure was looking a lot like a day of driving and strangers, but things started looking up when they discovered the swing by the river.  My day, which I thought couldn't get any better, went over the top when I discovered a zip line over the river.  Heck yes I rode it.

We ate lunch. (Thanks mom, for bringing potato salad as our family contribution.)  Then we had a pioneer program.  One of the elders played the fiddle, (always a treat) the children walked in a short parade around the picnic tables, some women told some stories and then this sweet little girl read and recited a story from a church magazine.  This was especially meaningful when Mom shared that this was the little girl she had been tutoring in reading for the past few months.  I wouldn't have missed that moment for the world.

  Of course, when it was time to leave the party, the children who didn't want to be there, didn't want to go.  But that's life in the fast lane.  We got them into the car and headed to our next stop.  I was excited to see my parents' mission apartment.  When I walked in I realized I could have spotted it a mile away.

There were Mom's pink roses and candles and pretty things with a bit of a missionary twist...2 shelves of Book of Mormons ready to share. She had a patchwork pink and white tablecloth on the table, and it felt just like home.

 Every morning, before they start their mission responsibilities, Mom and Dad exercise by walking on the beach looking for agates.

They wear their missionariy tags and love to talk to people about Jesus Christ and the restored gospel  and sometimes just shoot the beach breeze. Today they had their family with them, but they also had the chance to visit with some fellow beach walkers.  They walk the sand and surf in rubber boots.  I used the extra pair.  The water was seriously cold.  This is the Oregon coast weather I remember.  I used to wonder how much they paid all those Californians to sit on the beach in nothing but swim suits in the movies.  The temperature and strong surf were going to be a problem for the babies, but there was a pool of fresh water that was significantly warmer than the ocean, so they swam happily albeit in their sweatshirts.

I want to talk a little bit about this agate collecting.  Apparently all the locals have glass containers with agates they have collected and polished displayed in their homes.  My dad's friend polishes rocks for the cost of grit.  My mom has a handy little picker upper that she bought.  Dad uses a branch that he took from a tree from his childhood home of Harlan, OR.  He has taped a little sieve at the end so as to facilitate the collecting without the crouching.  They have developed an eye for agates and jasper and have hundreds.  Each person that comes to visit can use the little light that makes the agates glow and choose one beautifully polished rock.  I have to confess that I asked for 2 because I couldn't decide.  I feel guilty for being greedy.  There, now I feel a little better, well, not much.

After some lovely time on the beach we headed back to the apartment.  There were some heroics involved in this short walk because the children were shivering and tired and all needed to ride in the stroller, up hill, in the sand.  Yay Brandon. 

 Then we all gathered in for some very nice food, visiting, and pretending.  Well, we all ate.  The adults visited, and the children pretended.  Mallory has a fantastic imagination and has taught her children well.

We felt like honored guests when we were served the sparkling blackberry cider.

 It was a happy, happy day.