Monday, September 29, 2014



We've been working with German a lot lately.  We love him.  He loves us.  His wife says that every morning when he wakes up he asks, "Are the missionaries coming today?"  He took the missionary lessons from some Elders [guy missionaries] a while back and gave them a hard time.  They stopped coming by.  Then the Sister missionaries found him.  They began teaching him and his less active [in church] (for 15 years or more) wife, and they began to open up and let the light in. 

When the missionaries first invited him to be baptized he said no.  Then we asked him again a few weeks later, and his answer was a quiet but firm YES.  We had his baptismal date planned for October 25, but he was just so excited and pumped on the gospel that he asked us on Tuesday afternoon, "Look Hermanas, if I KNOW this church is true and feel like I'm ready, could I be baptized sooner?" We both looked at each other and then back at German. "Um YES!" we both said in unison. 

"You could get baptized THIS VERY Saturday if you wanted." I told him.  Then he got a look on his face.  He was seriously considering it.  "Pray about it, and call us tomorrow!" we told him.  Sure enough, the next morning, a text message arrived on our tiny cruddy grey brick phone.  And there in hard-to-read Mexican text-slang it said, "We're going to do it. Saturday's the day." 

We took a moment to scream like teenage girls and dance around the house.  Then we cried for a tad. Then we danced some more.  "Wait a minute," I stopped and said. "I have no idea how to plan a baptism." 

We went to Preach My Gospel [a guide to missionary service] and called our District Leader enough to bug him, and in the end we pulled it off.  We did it.  We organized an amazingly perfect baptism with talks, special musical numbers, and the Spirit.  The day of the baptism was magical. 

There really aren't words in English or in Spanish to describe it, but I'll give it a go anyways.  We showed up right on time and they were already there waiting out front in their Sunday best (they are THE most darling people).  We got everything set up and then went outside to take some pictures. 

We took a million and one pictures and laughed and laughed.  Inside jokes galore.  Then we went inside and got started.  By some miracle, we invited enough members [of the congregation] and investigators [people receiving missionary lessons] that we filled that little room right up.  There were two small talks and I gave the second.  I shared my testimony of the miracle it was that two white girls who both speak pretty iffy spanish could help get someone to baptism. 

I shared a scripture in Alma 26 about our great reason to rejoice.  I don't remember exactly what I said, but by the end of it everyone was crying and laughing and the room just filled with an almost tangible love.  It was like the room was glowing.  It was like it was on fire with some sort of unseen celestial power.  It was like a little slice of heaven. 

Then the moment came for German to be baptized.  Everyone got very very quiet and he stepped into the water.  Never ever ever, as long as I live, will I ever forget that sight.  German.  My investigator. But more than my investigator, my friend.  And even more than that, my brother.  A precious son of God. 

Hermana Crystal and I held hands and leaned so far forward we were practically falling out of our chairs.  I felt joy.  Pure joy.  The kind of joy that makes you want to jump up and down and shout and burst into tears all at the very same moment.  It was indescribable.  When he came out of the water and smiled, I thought I would explode of happiness.  It wasn't my baptism.  It wasn't my convert.  It was God´s.  He just let me come along for the ride.  And boy am I glad that he did. 

While German was changing,  Hermana Crystal and me, and two other ladies in our ward [congregation] sang A Child's Prayer in Spanish, with the harmony part as well.  It was beautiful. And powerful.  Then German came back in and had a few minutes to bear his testimony.  It was wonderful.  He bore powerful  witness of the gospel.  He told his reasons for being baptized that day and they were ALL the right ones.  He was ready.  He was prepared.  He was glowing. 

And then to end we sang, "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go."  We sang it, and I cried.  I cried and cried because I remember so clearly singing that very same song in the MTC [Missionary Training Center in Utah].   I remember singing it and having absolutely NO idea what I was getting myself into.  What pain, trials, hardships, joys, successes and life-changing experiences I would have.  I was filled up to overflowing.  Just like it says in Preach My Gospel, "more joy awaits you than you have every experienced."

God loves me.  God loves German.  God is so very good.


My dearest mother sent me a dazer this week.  A giant clunky remote looking thing that sends off a high frequency sound that only dogs can hear and apparently repels and scares them off.  Hermana Crystal and I had a good laugh when it arrived because it looks like a time travel device. 

Then we set out to give it a try.  And get this: IT WORKS!  We were finally able to visit a ton of people that we couldn't before because of their terrifying and angry dogs.  It is awesome.  No matter that all the Mexicans think I'm crazy because I randomly pull a giant grey remote out of my bag, point it at animals, and press the buttons repetitively.  We are dog free baby.


So Mexicans.  They are very honest.  Blunt might be the right word.  Or maybe brutally honest.  If someone is ugly, fat, or has bad skin they state it like a fact.  "Oh ya, the really ugly one?" they ask. "Hey Hermana Crystal you have gotten really fat since you showed up."  or my personal favorite the other day, "Hey Hermana Matesen, you really need to buy a cream for your face or something because your companion's skin looks a whole lot better than yours."  Thanks.

It's hilarious.  But I'm starting it pick it up.  When I'm explaining people to others,  I say things like, " you know, the fat white one." and then they respond, "ooooooh her."  It's a bit sad.  But you get used to it.  

So if I come home just saying everything like it is and being overly honest someone just let me know.

*Baptism Happiness.  I love German. Resisting the urge to hug the crap out of him the whole baptismal service was quite exhausting.  The love was just too much.

*German and His White Buddies.  Never prayed and fasted for one person in my life.  It was worth every prayer.  It was worth every skipped meal. 

*We laugh. A lot. Sometimes so hard that we cry.

*the dazer.  Look out rabid dogs.  We gon find you.

Monday, September 22, 2014

God Sends Sunsets

*I love activities with all the sisters.  We have fun.


This last week we had a Multizona.  Multizonas are kind of a big deal because its basically a giant meeting and the mission president and the assistants come and you learn all sorts of stuff that you need to do, and it gets you all pumped and ready to go WORK!  But anyways, of course we couldn't find a taxi and of course there ended up being some sort of elementary school parade that caused a road block and of course we showed up 20 minutes late; running in soaking wet because it was pouring rain...That was kind-of embarrassing.  It's rare that you get to see the mission president and the one time he sees me, I'm running in to an important meeting soaking wet and panting...oh well.

But anyways, the meeting got started and he showed us a talk by Elder Ucthdorf about being brave and how Christ's apostles were fearful in the beginning.  They were hesitant, timid, they mostly just followed and witnessed, but after Christ's resurrection they became changed men.  They were brave. 

This message hit me right in the heart.  I'm a people pleaser by nature.  I like people to like me.  I talk to everyone, but do I invite everyone to come unto Christ?  I'm chatty and friendly, but do I really share my testimony and purpose with everyone I talk to? 

I began really thinking about it.  Christ has blessed me with the gift of gab, now what am I doing with that gift?  I left the Multizona with a renewed desire and FIRE to work, to talk, to invite EVERYONE. 

We hopped into a taxi and right there in front of all those present I struck up a gospel-centered conversation, and the whole half hour ride home we talked about families, Christ, God's love, and religion.  It was fantastic!  I bore my testimony.  I told them who I was, why I was on a mission, and what this church and God's love has done for me. 

No one accepted the invite to receive the lessons or go to church, but I made sure every single one of them had a pass along card with the church time and our number on it.  Then we proceeded on with our day and I TALKED WITH EVERYONE I SAW.  Literally though.  And I was BOLD and I was BRAVE. 

I am a disciple and a witness of CHRIST.  The son of God.  Who am I to be afraid of people?  I will be brave.  I will tell all.  They may say no, they may say I'm crazy, but that won't and that CAN'T stop me.  I am a cork.  Push me down in a big bucket of water and I'll come popping back up.  Why?

Because I know who I am, where I came from, and where I want to go.  And I'm here to share it.  I'm here to say it.  I'm here to shout it from the rooftops.  Why?  Because its true. 

And just like it says in the Bible, the truth will set you free.  And that's why I'm here.  To set people free.  Free from addictions, sadness, and confusion.  I'm here to tell them how with and through Christ they can change forever.  

And its the coolest thing on the planet.  I will not be shy, embarrassed, or told to be quiet.  Because I am a disciple of Christ and with Him by my side, I cannot fail.


A lady that I helped teach two changes ago got baptized on Saturday.  I love her.  I got permission to go to her baptism [out of Ruby's area] and what an experience it was!  I showed up and all the people in the ward [congregation] remembered me and came running to hug and kiss cheeks and all that good stuff. 

I felt the love.  There were a lot of tears.  Happy ones.  Brisia has been receiving the missionaries for TWO YEARS, but because of problems with her husband-not-so-husband, she hasn't been able to be baptized. 

But on Saturday she did it.  She left it all behind in the water.  And it was beautiful.  As I sat there in the back of the room and looked at everyone around me, I realized once again that the mission is not about where you serve it's how you serve.  It's all about the people.  Those good good people who are just trying their best to get by; just like the rest of us.  I soaked all those hugs right in.  And it was glorious.

*This is Brisia. She has been through a whole lot of HARD in here life.  She was baptized on Saturday.  She cried.  I cried.  I love her.


This last week there was a rough day.  That happens sometimes on the mission.  Hard days.  All the appointments fell through and all the back up plans as well.  All the people who were contacted were rude and turned us down.  All the members [of the local congregation] were busy or gone.  

We contacted a cute looking old lady selling honey.  She smiled just as sweetly as the honey she was holding and then launched into a lecture about how terribly confused and incorrect we were.  She talked down to us and made me feel small.  Then she ended saying, "You really should study the scriptures more so that you don't walk around all day every day wasting your time." 

I wanted so badly to tell that little woman that I wake up at 6:30 every single day and study for 3 hours so that I can teach with authority and with love and with the spirit.  I wanted so badly to tell her that it was NOT wasting my time.  Normally I'm pretty good at letting the harsh words and the mean looks slide off me, but this one stuck.  She hurt my feelings. 

Then my companion started to have a melt down about the language and cried and cried.  I didn't know what to do.  We went to our next appointment.  They weren't home.  Went to a member who lives nearby.  Not home.  I then saw somebody standing on the curb and decided to go contact them and to contact them with such love and with such testimony that they would have to say yes and accept us.  She turned us down.  HARD. 

It was then that I just didn't want to do it anymore.  I didn't know what to do about my crying companion.  I didn't know who else to visit.  I didn't know who else to contact.  And right there in the middle of the street I began to cry.  The first time in my whole mission when I've had a melt down in the streets. 

So there we sat.  On the curb.  And we cried.  We both just cried.  Because sometimes being a missionary is really really hard.  Sometimes people tell you that you are wasting your time and sometimes you are tempted to believe them. 

And there we were.  Two white girls sitting on a curb crying.  And then something beautiful happened.  We sat there and witnessed probably the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen in my entire life.  The sky turned purple and pink and yellow and orange and the clouds were indescribable, and in that sad little moment I felt it.  I knew that God was there and that He was aware of me. 

And then, even though all my efforts had failed, He was proud of me.  The little white girl sitting on a curb in Southern Mexico.  And even though I had failed to find someone to teach.  He still loved me. 

We watched the sun go down, and when it disappeared behind the mountains we stood up, brushed the dirt off our skirts, wiped the tears off our faces and we kept going.  Teaching.  Contacting.  And being missionaries. 

Sometimes in life we've just got to sit down on the curb and cry.  Sometimes we fail.  Sometimes we fall.  But God is there.  And He loves you.  Success or failure.  He's our Father.  He loves me.  He loves you.  And He loves the mean lady who sells honey.  

Being a missionary is hard. But God sends us sunsets. And He makes it all right in the end.  Always.

Monday, September 15, 2014

I'm Here

*so there was definitely a rainbow, but of course it doesn't show in the photo.  
But just imagine a really cool rainbow above me and we'll call it good.


So my area is about a half hour from the big city of Oaxaca, and today we decided to have an adventure and go check out the Walmart they opened up a few weeks ago.  The whole experience was rather hilarious.  My two worlds collided, and it was bizarre.  Mexican Walmart. 

It was the best mash up of all things American and Mexican.  The whole thing was so big, so clean, and so full of normal looking food I hardly knew what to do with myself.  We also found conditioner and face wash (some of the two most impossible things to find here in Mexico). 

We don't have an oven but we bought brownie mix anyways.  We have a plan to try and make it on our stove using a frying pan next week....stay tuned to see how that bad boy turns out.  

Basically it was a strange feeling.  Everything was so new and clean and Americanized, and I felt so...out of place.  You think I would have felt at home or maybe more comfortable for a moment, but instead I felt lost and sad.  I wanted to run back to dusty dirt roads and tiny corner stores where they just sell bread and eggs. 


So Sunday rolled around and somewhere in the middle of the first talk the bishopric realized that the second and third speakers weren't gonna show, so they asked me and Hermana Crystal to give a talk. Cool. I had about 3 minutes prep.  But somehow I ended up giving a solid 5 or 10 minute talk.  I shared a story, a scripture, related to our lives, bore testimony and sat down.  All in Spanish. 

And then poor Hermana Crystal who hates talking in front of people got up there and ROCKED IT. What a champ.  I love my Hermana Crystal.  Then sacrament meeting ended and the Gospel Principles teacher wasn't there, so I taught Gospel Principles too.  And it went AWESOME! Everyone was super involved and loving it.  It was great.  And tiring.  But mostly just great.

*you cant see it very well in the photo but we are soaking wet.


Yesterday we got a call from the cutest tiny member of our ward and she asked us if we would come with her to visit her brother because she wants to try sharing the gospel with him again.  We, of course, happily agreed and ran right on over.  She explained to us that her brother used to drink a lot and now, because of all the things he did when he was younger, he is blind. 

He went blind about a year ago so its still pretty recent and she told us that since he lost his sight he has been mad at God.  We showed up and there he was.  Sitting in a cushy maroon chair in the middle of a darkish back room.  He had a blanket over his legs and his posture and body language all screamed the word: SAD. 

His head was bent down and his hands clasped together in his lap.  We walked in, and I introduced myself.  I told him what I looked like and who I was.  "You're from the United States?" He asked, "Yep!" I replied.  He then paused, "But you speak perfectly!"  That felt good to hear. 

I told him we were missionaries and that we taught people about God.  He then began to silently sob. "God has forgotten me," He cried out. "He has abandoned me and left me here.  All I want to do is just die, just leave this world and this body and rest."  He began to shake violently and cry out. 

Before the mission this sort of situation would have FREAKED ME OUT.  Sobbing, yelling, Mexican, blind man.  But I'm somebody different now, so I pulled up a chair and sat down right in front of him.  I grabbed his hand. "Do you feel that?" I said. "I'm here."

He then stopped crying just as suddenly as he started.  He clasped my hand tight with both of his big wrinkly hands and held right on.  I told him that God had in fact not forgotten him because He was the one who sent us. 

I then asked him about what makes him happy and what God has given him.  We talked about music, and ice cream and religion.  Then we sang him a hymn and taught him about God's love.  All the while my hand clasped tightly in his. 

There I was sitting in a dark dusty room in the south of Mexico holding hands with a blind man and telling him that God DOES in fact love him and remember him.  When we left he checked several times to make sure that we would be coming back to visit.

Sometimes I think a lot of us are like my new friend, Juan.  We feel lost and scared and forgotten. We cry out, "God has forgotten me, and God has abandoned me."  We ask why.  Why so much pain? Why so much suffering?  It's not right.  It's not fair.  It hurts.  It's hard.
And then He grabs our hand tight and says,  "I'm here."
He's there.

God will never and can never ever in a million trillion bajillion years forget you.  Not even if you wanted him to.  Not even if you were the rottenest human on the planet, you can't make him stop loving you.  Ever.  HE IS THERE.  I know it because I have felt it. 

Two white girls, a blind man, and his sister were not the only 4 present that day, because He was there.  Leading and guiding me.  Helping me say what I said and helping me help this man.  He was there.  I felt it.  I know it.

Sometimes we forget He is there.  Sometimes those around us do too.  So help God out this week and tell someone who needs it, "I'm here."  And if the moment is right, "He is here."

This mission is the hardest and most wonderful thing I have ever done.  But I'm going to keep on doing it.  Want to know why?  Because He's here.

*A [church] member who is famous for his bread.  Makes it in his hand made fire burning oven. 
It's pretty much delicious.

Monday, September 8, 2014

All About the People

*This is Maria.  I love her.  Her dog does not love me.  I don't love her dog either.  But even though the dog is in the picture, it is still a picture full of love.


The mission is not about the place.  The mission is about the people.

German - A painter who loves to read The Book of Mormon and ask hard questions. 
He's a thinker.  Very smart, but very humble.  A very good listener.  He met with the missionaries years ago but told us that he just asked them hard questions, and they would just get frustrated because they didn't know all the answers. 

Then we showed up. We started teaching him little by little. When he asked hard questions we would write them down and then look them up. The other Hermana that was here before me tried inviting him to be baptized several times and he said no several times.  He kept saying he needed to know for himself. 

I love visiting German because we laugh.  This last week we took a leap of faith and invited him to be baptized the 25th of October (3 days after my birthday).  And he said yes.  No hard questions.  No big doubts.  Just yes.  I love German.

Maria - When we first found Maria the lessons consisted of listening to horror stories of all the awful, unjust, and just plain old sad stories of things that had gone down in her life.  She would cry, we would cry, and nothing would really get taught.  It was hard. 

We didn't know what to tell her or what to teach her that could help her.  Whenever we tried something it never worked out or she would doubt it or say she didn't believe it.  Then little by little she began to start keeping the commitments and invitations we were leaving behind. 

Then one Sunday, out of the clear blue, she showed up to church.  Miracle of all Miracles.  She loved it.  She told us the next day, when we went to go see her, "I have been to about a million and one churches in my life and I have never felt like anybody or anything in those churches could help me." 

Then I asked her what about our church. "You know what?" she said, "For the first time in a long time I felt like maybe there was somebody or something that could help me."  Progress.  This last week we went to visit her, and she had studied a whole chapter from the Gospel Principles manual and was SO excited about it, SHE taught US the lesson.  It was fabulous. 

I went from dreading to visit her (because it was SO hard to hear all the horrific things she's gone through in this life) to looking forward to seeing her.  She started out our lessons asking about what happens if a person commits suicide, and now she is asking how she can change her life and live with God again. 

Who knows what the future holds for this one, but at least we know we made a difference.

Juan - The husband of a faithful Catholic turned Mormon.  Drinks a lot and comes to church, but can't be baptized because of his addictions.  We went and taught him about our lives before we came to earth.  I told him that the same spirit that was brave enough to come down in such a difficult time in the world is the same strong spirit that's inside of him right now.

I asked him if he knew if God loved him.  And then right there the big tough alcoholic man looked up with tears running down his face.  "I know it." he said, "God loves me."  Powerful.  So so powerful.


Hopped off the taxi in front of the local high school and started heading to our next appointment when out of the CLEAR BLUE a random high school boy started running after us calling "Missionaries!!" 

We stopped and he came up to us, told us his name, and explained that he had a reference for us.  He buys tortas from the same lady everyday for lunch and she had started asking him what church he goes to and had a ton of great questions. 

So he took us right on over, introduced us, showed us where she lives, set up an appointment and then he left.  Random people showing up out of the blue and giving you a golden reference out of no where....that my friends does not just happen.  It was a little miracle.


-while waiting for a member to get ready and go to a lesson with us we found a teeter-totter across the street.  We started teeter-tottering and then realized that everyone and their dog were starring. Then we realized how strange a sight we must be.  Two white girls on a teeter-totter in the middle of Mexico. Then we laughed so hard we could hardly climb off the dang thing.

-I saw a particularly delicious and ripe looking guava hanging from a tree in the streets, but it was just high enough to be out of my reach.  So I handed Hermana Crystal my bag and got a running start to leap into the air and grab it.  My only problem was when I came down I landed on an old and mushy guava and came crashing to the ground.  Wipe out. 

And the greatest part was I flashed the whole neighborhood in the process.  I stood up covered in old guava.  On the bright side, all the old and rotten guavas broke my fall and I did get the one I jumped for in the first place. It was delicious.

-walking along in a little pueblo and walking past a little store we heard the following conversation,
Mexican 1 - WOAW did you see that white girl?
Mexican 2 - TWO white girls.
Mexican 3 - Wait, WHAT?

My life.

*I love them.  We laugh a lot.

Monday, September 1, 2014

A Prayer in the Pouring Rain

*our little friend


In the middle of our studies we heard a bit of scuffling around the house.  After a short search we came across a small puppy that wandered its way into the house.  We then continued to chase it around the house in attempts to get it the heck out of there.  Then it came back.  Then it sat in front of our door and cried for ten minutes or so.

Just about to go to sleep when I noticed a FAT DADDY cockroach crawling on the wall by my bed.  I grabbed the broom and made a swing at it.  After 7 months of cockroach killing I've gotten pretty accurate, but this time I missed (I blame it on the lack of sleep), and then out of no where the GIANT cockroach started to FLY.  Yes.  Fly.  They now fly. 

Naturally we both screamed and ran, like the crazy-white-girls that we are, into the kitchen to hide (and to get the bottle of Raid).  Then we started in on the process of trying to kill the flying cockroach, which actually took a good half hour. 

We would spray it and take a swing at it and then leave the room screaming until we built up enough courage to take another go.  By the end of it all, we were both laughing so hard we could hardly stand up straight.  Oh Mexico.  You just keep getting better and better.

Also, we have a new investigator.  She works at a pet shop and owns a boa constrictor.  We opted out to hold the smaller snake was pretty excited [exciting?].  She informed me afterward that the snake I had chosen to hold was actually known for biting.  Well, good thing I've got all those missionary blessings on my side, right?  I almost held the tarantula, but then I decided I value my life.


So apparently macheteing is a verb here.  Isn't that the greatest thing ever?  I found that out because this last week we had the opportunity to go to a park and do some service!  They told us to bring machetes.  The day before, we went to go pick up the machete that our friend said we could borrow. 
So there we were, two white girls in the middle of Mexico walking around with a GIANT machete. Totally normal. 

We showed up the next morning bright and early at the park, and they gave all the machetes to the Elders [the guys] and gave all the Hermanas [the girls] paint brushes to paint the fence.  Well I was all pumped and ready to learn how to machete stuff and I wasn't about to go and let some Elder do it for me. 

So I politely declined the paint brush and went at it.  At first I just kind of stood there like the awkward missionary that I am and watched the Elders go at it, and it looked easy enough so I went for it.  A Mexican Elder was kind enough to give me some pointers and once I figured out that it was all in the wrist, it was a lot easier. 

Turns out macheteing is kind of hard.  After a while I developed a pretty mean blister and my forearms were starting to burn, so then I decided to go paint with the Hermanas for a bit...BUT I lived my dream. I machetied just like a real Mexican.  I cut that grass right down.  And you know what?  It felt really good. I think Im going to look into buying one of those things when I get home.  And the best part is they gave us sandwiches full of jalepeƱos afterwards.  And I even liked it.

 *Doing some service at a pretty cool park. Please be sure to take notice of the 
nice machetied grasses below. 
*I love Hermana Crystal  *we love each other


So the area I'm in had a few little pueblos that are about 20 minutes away and we have to take 2 taxis and a moto to get there, and we went last week to one of our little pueblos just to find out that all of our appointments had fallen through.  Cool. 

We had just gotten done painting, macheting, and pulling weeds for 3 hours and I was already beat. We still had 6 hours of proselyting and I was feeling anything but motivated.  I was bugged.  Bugged that everyone who said they would be there who were not.  Bugged that the members that said they would come with us bailed.  Bugged that the paint we used to paint the fence got all in my hair.  

Then it started to rain.  HARD.  We stopped by a member's [member of the church congregation] house as our last hope to teach someone, and they informed us they were just on their way out the door.  I asked to use their bathroom.  I needed a minute. 

I ran some cold water over my hands and sat there for a second.  Then the thought came.  Pray.  So I knelt down on the questionable bathroom floor and told Heavenly Father what was up.  I told him I was tired and it was raining and that I just wanted to teach somebody.  I asked him to put someone in our path.  Anybody.  And to help us recognize them.  And then we left.  Out into the rain. 

We just started walking.  "Where are we going?" asked Hermana Crystal.  "I don't know."  I said. Then a bus came to a stop right in front of us and out hopped a lady carrying a TON of stuff.  Perfect. We ran right over and offered to help.  And get this: SHE ACCEPTED.  People in Mexico NEVER accept our help, but this lady DID!  Miracle. 

I then proceeded to chat her ear off as we walked through the muddy streets carrying Mexican tupperware.  My life.  Then when we got to her house she even let us teach her something.  WHAT. Then we still had a good hour or so until our last hope appointment, so we kept right on contacting. 

We stopped a lady who was carrying groceries and asked her about the names of the streets, then out of nowhere I got a volt of courage and blurted out "... and can we come to your house and teach you a small message about Christ?"  She started to say no.  You could see it in her face, "ehhhhh," she said. And then she stopped.  "You know what," She said, "Why not?  Follow me. "And just like that we found another person to listen to us.  It was amazing.  It was awesome.  It was an answer to a prayer in the pouring rain.

 *raining. always raining.  *my life lately
 *Teaching the Gospel in a pet shop
*found a friend the other day