After spending a couple of months in the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo, UT, we finally arrived in Yerevan, Armenia, to be our new home for the next year and a half.
It was a modest apartment on the 5th floor. It had running water and electric part of the day. The Armenians are recovering from a devastating earthquake and their means were already meager.
We had learned the language *a little* but there seemed to be little problem understanding and communicating with them. The Lord oversaw that.
When we got to our new apartment, the neighbors were very welcoming. They loved the Americans so much!
Our first Sunday there, we, of course, had no meetinghouse yet, so we met at the large apartment of our leaders which was in a very nice hotel—one used for visiting dignitaries and community leaders. There were seven of us. We had sacrament meeting and then discussed our plans and duties. A housing factory had been set up to build homes for those displaced by the earthquake. The men worked there and taught with their wives.
We stayed and worked for about 4-5 hours and then headed home on the streetcar. As we got off, there was a man waiting on our stoop. When he saw us, his face lit up! He beckoned us into his apartment, which was in the basement. His name was Arshak and he introduced his wife, Arrax and teenage daughter, Lusina, teenage son, and their 2-year old baby, whom they proudly named after an American hero, Edward Kennedy.
We sat in their living room, and Lusina brought us coffee in dainty little demitasse cups, which we had to gently decline, due to our faith. She then brought out wine. Nope, not wine either. So sorry!
We found out through discussion that Arshak, the head of the household, had seen us leave that morning and waited on that stoop all day for our return so that they could welcome us. Such were we to find all the Armenians. As we served them, they humbly lived to serve us.
It was a modest apartment on the 5th floor. It had running water and electric part of the day. The Armenians are recovering from a devastating earthquake and their means were already meager.
We had learned the language *a little* but there seemed to be little problem understanding and communicating with them. The Lord oversaw that.
When we got to our new apartment, the neighbors were very welcoming. They loved the Americans so much!
Our first Sunday there, we, of course, had no meetinghouse yet, so we met at the large apartment of our leaders which was in a very nice hotel—one used for visiting dignitaries and community leaders. There were seven of us. We had sacrament meeting and then discussed our plans and duties. A housing factory had been set up to build homes for those displaced by the earthquake. The men worked there and taught with their wives.
We stayed and worked for about 4-5 hours and then headed home on the streetcar. As we got off, there was a man waiting on our stoop. When he saw us, his face lit up! He beckoned us into his apartment, which was in the basement. His name was Arshak and he introduced his wife, Arrax and teenage daughter, Lusina, teenage son, and their 2-year old baby, whom they proudly named after an American hero, Edward Kennedy.
We sat in their living room, and Lusina brought us coffee in dainty little demitasse cups, which we had to gently decline, due to our faith. She then brought out wine. Nope, not wine either. So sorry!
We found out through discussion that Arshak, the head of the household, had seen us leave that morning and waited on that stoop all day for our return so that they could welcome us. Such were we to find all the Armenians. As we served them, they humbly lived to serve us.
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