January 19, 2011
SO…My brother who is an Elder on a mission in Nicaragua wrote this….
“The thing I hate about writing on Mondays is that everything always happens on Tuesday! I have to wait a whole week just to know what is up. I can´t hear about the family home evening of anybody, or Dad´s first day of work, many times my friends write me and tell me something really cool but they won´t have complete details until Tuesday. I hate Tuesday. Since when does so many things happen on Tuesday?”
I love that Corey said this because I feel the same way! We write on Wednesdays and then Thursday, Friday, and Saturday it seems I am thinking of a million things I want to tell ya’ll about. By the time it’s e-mail day again I can’t remember so many of them! I wish there was a way I could send all my little moments to you! Even my journal is not at all a true reflection of reality. These days I write more out of necessity/survival than remembrance– so a lot gets left out.
This morning I woke up and Sister Reynolds asked “Were you okay last night?”
“Yeah I was fine. Why? Did I talk in my sleep some more?”
“You talk in your sleep every night mooj.”
(the word for woman in Spanish is mujer. Pronounced kinda like Moo-hair, but we abbreviate it and then pronounce it like ignorant Americans– thus the nickname: MOOJ. Moojie. Etc.)
“Well did I talk about something bad?”
“No you just kept getting up during your prayer. I heard you in the kitchen scribbling things. And then you’d come back and finish praying. Lay back down. Sit up again. Reach under your bed for more paper. Over and over.”
“God was telling me things,” I said.
“I wanted to remember them.”
I think all of my companions have to get used to this at some point. The mystery of what the heck is in all my notebooks. Sometimes we have to go on little deliveries of the letters I wrote to people in the middle of the night. I have always been a scribbler of promptings, but never for people I just met.
I’m not sure what all I want to say today, so I’ll just tell you some good things I remember.
Last transfer I was sitting around a table with Sister Clark and Sister Mackley. We were teaching Potato Chip. He is the Dad of a family of four. He sits across from us and I watch the sincerity in his face while he tells us about the concerns he has for his family and the times God has answered his prayers. Behind Him I could see the reflection of my companions and I. It was like I could watch the lesson from all angles. Potato Chip restores old cars and talks about them like they are members of his family as well. He’s been struggling for work lately but when we call and ask him about how he is, he still says things like “just shy of fabulous sisters!” Love this man.Just then we were interrupted for a second because his daughter’s tutor was finished. I watched him walk over to the little kitchen. He is in a greasy mechanic suit. “Did you have anymore questions sweetie?” he said. He counted out some money for the tutor and thanked her for coming. Then he brought his daughter to the table. We read some of the Book of Mormon together. We read about Nephi’s family and how hard things happened to them so that they would know it was by God they were led. The daughter is reading and he is leaning over her shoulder to help her with the words. The strangest thing happened– I felt like I was not even in the room. Like I was watching them read from a far away place and God was letting me see how much he loved these people. This was the first time I have loved someone from God’s perspective. It was overwhelming. I watched the reflection of my companions listening faces and was so grateful to be a part of this family’s life. I am still having a hard time but I want to be here. I want to be good. I want to keep seeing God’s hand in things like this. I want to be someone he can trust to take care of these people.
Another night we went to see The Stories. We knocked on the door and their little 7 year old daughter came running toward the front window. She jumped on the couch, threw back the curtains, and looked to see who was knockin. Her eyes got huge!
“Mom! The Sisters are here!” she yells. It’s like we are the ice cream man or something.
Does anything else in my life matter? I am a Sister! I am here and little story is pumped!
We come in and her older brother is singin in the shower. He sings soul jazzy music and I love this kid. I think he’s a junior in high school. His Mom knocks on the bathroom door. “Las Hermanas esta aqui!”
The Sisters are here! Yeah!
Sister Reynolds is havin some health problems but we are still throwin down in this town. So many people every day. I am so tired and stressed and just a mess all the time but isn’t life good? Las Hermanas esta aqui! We tell people a message of peace. We know its true because life is a mess and we still have peace anyway. Would you like to find out for yourself? Because you don’t even have to trust us. You can just ask God and he’ll tell you if we have the truth or not. Doesn’t that make sense?