May 21, 2012
That’s what Hermana Barlow told me the other day when I braided my hair. I think she might have just ruined them for me, too.
Let’s see. This week our golden family dropped us. The undropped us. Really, I’m not sure what is going on. After a long P-day, we had dinner with C and she made us tortas the size of a football and soup and ice cream and tunas (the fruit), and she has a rule that you have to eat every bite she serves you. So, we were both about to explode. Then we went to teach the golden family and the dad, told us that he had some concerns. They still wanted to learn about the gospel, but wondered if they could maybe go to the English ward, or something. We told them they could, but they would have to switch missionaries. So,he pretty much told us he was done with the church then. The 12 year old started sobbing because she soaks up everything we teach her like a sponge. She is so great. She was so sad to think that she couldn’t learn anymore. Then the mom started crying, too. I was trying my best not to tear up, both from being dropped and the 17 pounds of food sitting most uncomfortably in my stomach. The dad, surrounded by emotional women, began to backtrack and said he’d talk more about it to his wife and they would try to think of something they felt comfortable with.
The next day was the Sisters’ Meeting which we have every transfer. They always have a program and a big lunch. So, the Sisters’ Meeting was good. The Spanish sisters did a musical number and it was actually pretty awesome. Also, Sister V, one of the Spanish sisters, made a cake that looked like a set of scriptures. Really impressive. And again, I am including more food updates in my weekly letters. I’m going to need to spend some quality time with Alton Brown when I get home.
On other news, the football that we ate on Monday was incredibly spicy and caused a flare up in Hna B’s ulcer. She spent the rest of the week on Vicodin, which made for an interesting adventure, and we pretty much spent the rest of the week in. Which is hard. But I got a lot of really productive things done like alphabetizing by name of sender all of the letters I have received, and reading the first three books of the Old Testament, and highlighting all the uses of the past subjunctive in the book of Mosiah.
On Wednesday, I had a doctor’s appointment, but my under-the-influence companion needed to rest, so I got to go on temporary exchanges with Sister R! It was great. I love that girl. We also got to teach C and it was just like the ol’ days. She was telling me about some of her post-mission decisions that she needs to make because she is going home in 2 transfers. Which freaked me out, because she’s not that far ahead of me. I’ve decided to become a rogue missionary after the mission, wandering the streets of Orange County, handing out copies of the Book of Mormon, wearing my tag, hiding from anyone that tries to make me go home.
I also got to apply to school for Hna B this week. I make a great Hna B. I think I should start a business of filling out applications for people.
We taught the golden family again on Thursday, and they acted like nothing had happened. Hence, we have no idea what’s going on there. But they still want us to come over, so that’s a good thing. I love that family.
The temple tour was on Saturday and their daughter was really sick but insisted on coming anyway. Her parents had to stop the car twice on the way there so she could throw up. I would have gone home by that point, but she wanted so badly to come to the temple tour. That girl is amazing.
We taught a less-active guy this week and he fed us about 10,000 empanadas. And by us, I mean Hna B hasn’t eaten anything but scrambled eggs for a week, so I ate about 10,000 empanadas. I want Hna B to get better so, you know, she’s better and not in excruciating pain, but also so I have someone to split the massive amounts of food we are given. I can’t eat it all; I’m only human. Also, Daniel, we (the guy and I) were wearing the exact same shoes because I was wearing the ones you got for me in Argentina. Also, we are going to learn how to drink mate this week. I’m going to be Argentine when I come back. And Mexican. And Salvadorian. And Guatemalan.
Yesterday, the bishop sprung Primary on us again. Always an adventure. We taught about prayer. When one of the elders asked them what things we should pray for, one of the girls in the front shouted, “A kangaroo!” I also gave out some scratch and sniff stickers, and this seven year old, who is quite possibly one of the most refined children I have ever met (he wears a 3 piece suit to church and carries handkerchief) said, “Now I have perfume!” So, maybe these are you-had-to-be-there moments, but those kids are pretty funny.
If anyone is still reading at this point, I would like to say that I love you. Also, that the Church is true. I’m bad at bearing my testimony non-awkwardly in group emails, but I do more here than drink mate and wear abduction hair and alphabetize mail. This work is amazing. I am so grateful to be here and share help share these blessings with others. It’s miraculous.
I love you all.