This blog is as much a journal as it is just a bunch of random thoughts. I have a very obedient boy. A boy with character like his mother. I asked him to take a kitchen appliance and put it in the kitchen. The counters were cluttered, so he made the choice to put it on the stove. In doing so, he bumped the front burner knob and disappeared into the other room to help with the after-dinner chores with the door to the kitchen shut. When we finally opened the door to the kitchen looking for the smell of the burning plastic, I was greeted with 3 foot high flames. I sprang into action and ended up able to suppress the flames with a handy fire extinguisher. One very close call - and the reason I am still up five hours later wondering how I am going to get to sleep.
It reminds me of an experience I had while a missionary in Brazil. It was in the largish city of Belem, found at the mouth of the Amazon. I was a new Zone Leader there and we had been asked by L Tom Perry to find the honest in heart - and that the Lord would provide the way. We were especially asked to find males that would one day form the Priesthood leadership of a future stake. My previous post talked about the miraculous young man who had prepared himself and brought himself to a knowledge of the truth. Right before that, however, there was a similar trial to what I experienced today. Elder Shipley, an American Elder who loved to cook treats that made us all homesick, decided to try our new oven out to bake choco chip cookies. I have to say, the only time I ever used an oven on my mission was when I was in Fortaleza and some Brazilian Sisters wanted to try out an American apple pie. I promised the hardest working "dupla" large apple pie as their reward for diligence. My comp and I rode a bus 4 hours to deliver it and to go on splits with the Sisters (one Elder, Two Sisters.....). The whole event turned out pretty good, if I do not say so.... I did not burn the house down.
Back to Elder Shipley. We had just purchased a brand new oven the week before when we set up the apartment. We had to find our own place, find our own furniture and get it delivered and all set up. We spent quite some time getting those details hammered out. So, when you cooked down there, there was no central infra-structure such as a gas main. We were happy to have running water and electricity - and that was sporadic, at times. The gas came in the form of 5 gallon "bujoes" or propane tanks. It was connected to the stove via a rubber hose. Well, Elder Shipley decided the stove would be best right up against the wall - with the rubber hose trapped between. Once the oven had been pre-heated, it burned through the trapped hose and I walked into the kitchen to what sounded like an after-burner on a jet engine. The flames were 5-7 feet long and were roaring out of the end of the hose. I threw on my shorts and was madly racing down six flights of stairs to the only guy I knew would have a fire extinguisher. I was yelling and waving my hands in animated tones; we need a fire extinguisher, we need a fire extinguisher (in english, of course...). People just gave me a bewildered look - like I was a crazy man. Then, the test of my Portuguese after 16 months in the country - what is fire extinguisher in Porto?? And under immense pressure. I managed to come up with "extintor" - and the lobby man sprang into action. We sprinted back up those six flights of stairs to face the blow-torch. If the 5 gallon tank were to go - it might well level the whole apartment block. We would be dead and greeting old family members who had gone before. The lobby man fought it back and was able to use a rag to shut down the valve and avert disaster. Our brand new stove was toasted - but we were alive - and I was able to tell a fun story and walk away with this one assurance - stoves are dangerous! My boy can now related and probably will never make that same mistake again!
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