Slovenia owns a very large part of my heart. As a child I would listen to my grandfather sing songs about ironing and dancing in a language unlike any other I had heard. He would refer to his wife as "punca" to which she would giggle and smile. And for most of my life I assumed most children knew how to polka and ate klobasa and potica on a regular basis. I was however so intrigued by this language and what was known as Yugoslavia that I made a goal to move there, and learn this odd language.
Focusing on school and my future plans, I almost completely forgot about this desire. In the Winter of 2008 I decided to take a break from school and prepared to serve
a mission for the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints. When my assignment arrived in the mail I was more than anxious to know where I would be serving and living for the next 18 months of my life. Although the assignment is given through inspiration by the leaders of the Church, I was kind of sure I would be sent to Italy because I wrote that my grandmother is Italian, I studied the language in college and worked in Italy for a brief time. When I opened the letter and read the words; you have been called as a full time missionary to serve in the Slovenia Mission speaking Slovene, my heart stopped. I called my dear grandfather who was just as stunned as I was. Not a member of the Mormon Church he was shocked they even sent missionaries to such a catholic country. Not sure of anything else, I was just ecstatic to realize that childhood dream and learn about the land where klobasa, polka and my family came from.
I believe that God knows the deepest desires of our heart and when we strive to do what is right, God's path for us often provides opportunities for us to receive our desires and more.
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| *my pops and lidija the woman who connected us all* |
While serving in Slovenia I met an amazing senior couple who worked in genealogy before coming on a mission. On our preparation days, when we had a few hours of free time, they would assist me in finding names of towns where my relatives may have lived. Sadly my time in Ljubljana, where they were living was only a few weeks, so I left them the names of the villages and asked for them to spread the word. The Sunday after having been transferred to Maribor I received a phone call from Elder Petersen, the man who had helped me. He sounded so excited but equally eager to hand the phone to a woman beside him. This foreign voice softly said hello through tears of joy. I responded with a confused hello but before I could finish getting the word out of my mouth it hit me- I knew this woman! She is my family. She then told me that she was visiting the Church from Croatia where she lives with her family when Elder Petersen asked her if she could look at a few village names that a missionary had found while looking for family. Being a genealogist she kindly accepted. As Relief Society began he slipped her a piece of paper with the names on them. Being asked to translate the meeting she glanced at the names before turning on the microphone to translate the lesson into English. As she saw the name Ratje written before her, she quickly realized she wouldn't be able to translate as tears began to swell in her eyes. Not only did she know of Ratje, but she too came from Ratje, a small village where only 20 or so people remain today. As the meeting concluded she ran out to call me. Some how I knew who she was before she told me. Although we did not meet for a while after the call, she worked with my mother and father in finding more relatives names as I continued in my proselyting and service.
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| *view from great grandmother's home* |
During my final week in Slovenia I was given permission to go to Ratje and meet my grandfather's first cousin Jože who lives with his wife in the home where my great grandmother Catherine Plutt was born. As I sat at his table in that tiny village, he showed me aged photos of my grandfather in America. Having lost contact decades ago, they had no real idea who remained in the family. My Grandfather up to this point knew nothing of relatives in Slovenia and assumed non existed because his mother sent letters and photos home without telling her children. But now all of the photos and letters came together and connected all of the pieces.
Although there are still times when I wonder if God remembers me and my struggles- I only need to recall the love He showed my dear grandfather Rudy Okoren by reconnecting him to family he never knew he had. With more answers to his past, my grandfather's life gained a new sense of joy. He is relearning the language of his childhood and even has a friend to practice with (me!). Miracles are real, no doubt about it.
So while Jaims and I decided to go back and visit friends and family in Slovenia from our mission we figured we would invite my parents to join us on their way to Latvia to pick up my brother from his mission. Taking my father to his grandmother's childhood home was a priceless memory that I will never forget.
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| *Reading old letters* |
Ken and I secretly hope that one day we can own a little land in Ratje, make our own honey and have a huge garden.
