Coming to Know Him

COMING TO KNOW CHRIST

This last week we heard a knock on the door. 

"It's the testigos again." announced Crystal as she peeked out the window to check.

The Jehovahs Witnesses were back, but this time I felt bad.  "How many times do we knock on doors and people don't open for us?"  I thought to myself, "I've been trying to be a more Christlike person lately, and I've been praying A LOT for charity" so I decided to give it a go. 

I went out to talk to them and invite them to the Noche De Hogar [Family Home Evening] acvitity (forgot what its called in English) for Saturday.  I went, and as soon as I had made it out the door a group of three other people started bashing.  

They never once asked my name, how I was doing, where I was from.  They didn't bother mentioning the lovely flowers in the yard or asking me anything for that matter.  They launched right on in.  They lectured without love and they talked to me like I didn't know anything. 

The whole time they talked, I kept asking myself. "What would Christ do?  How would He react? What would He say?  What would He not say?  "Love them Ruby, just love them.  Let them get it out and invite them with LOVE."  I listened.  I smiled.  I nodded my head as they went on and on and on.

Then one of them interrupted and starting talking down to me. Talking bad about our church and what I do all day everyday.  I tried to let it slide off me, but it hurt.  After a good 20 minutes of listening, I politely interupted and told them we had to get to an appointment and invited them to the activity. 

The lady told me she would not be going.  Cool.  As I walked back into our house I looked up to see my favorite photo of Christ starring back at me.  Then it hit me.  Tears ran down my face as I thought about how many times people Bible-bashed and lectured Him.  How very many times people made Christ feel small and insignificant and stupid.  And the thought came strongly and clearly, "It hurt him too."  Every lecture and cruel comment.  Not because He hated them, but because He loved them. And that makes it hurt even worse. 

Sometimes I think we try to hold back our love or only give out parts of it because when we really love with all we've got it makes it a lot easier to get hurt.  But in that moment I came to know Christ. I guess before, whenever I read or heard of accounts of people giving Christ crap, I figured because He was the Son of God and perfect that it slid off him.  That it didn't hurt.  That it didn't sting.  That it didn't affect him.  After all, He was the Son of God.  He was perfect. 

But in that moment, starring at that picture of Him, it hit me that IT HURT HIM TOO.  And it humbled me a lot to feel that.  In that moment I felt His presence and I felt my prayers being answered.  In the words of a good friend of mine, "Never forget what He did for you, but ALWAYS remember what you can do for Him." (shout out to Jake VanB for inspiring me the other week with his e mail)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

So basically I have the best Mexican friends ever.  We started out the day teaching our WONDERFUL investigator Emma.  She made me a JELLO (woot) and bought me a little donut and a milkshake ( they're just TRYING to fatten me up I swear) and gave me a darling Bettie Boop wallet and a huge [?].  She also sang me the special Mexican birthday ballad.  I love her.

Then we went to visit Nubia and German - our CONVERT, and after the hymn they said, "Wait we want to sing another!" and as I searched for a good hymn they began singing the birthday ballad (the Mexican birthday song is way prettier than ours).  Then while we were saying the opening prayer they sneaked into the other room and set a beautifully wrapped present on the table.  German had made me a watercolor of a tree and Nubia had knitted me a flowered headband. I love them. SO stinking much.

Then later that night we went with our friend Martha to teach our investigator Alejandro.  Alejandro had boughten me a darling scarf and after the lesson they took me out to Mexican cheesecake and pie. They are darling. 

The next day we ate with the bishop and he bought me a cake too!  Also that night when we went to teach our dear investigator Rubicela, she had boughten me a cake too!!  Basically this whole birthday experience was a fattening one. But oh so wonderful.

It made me reflect on the things that really matter. For example: People. Friends. And the importance of surrounding yourself with good human beings.  There's a scripture in John that says,

12 This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you. 

13 Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends . 

14 Ye are my friends,  if ye do whatsoever I command you. 

Christ is the perfect example of a great friend.  And He explains very well what a good friendship should be like.  It's a two way thing.  He gave his life for us, now its time to give our lives to Him. Oh how very thankful I am for good friends and for the love I felt on my birthday. 

IGUANA

So this morning it was kinda cold.  I decided to get my jacket.  I slipped it right on without a second thought and then I felt something on my back/shoulder.  Then I felt something scratch my neck and fall to the floor.  I looked behind me to see a GIANT LIZARD running around.

There was a gigantor lizard in my clothing.  I, of course, danced around like a crazy person and screamed (the neighbors already think we're nutty so it's all good). We caught it and took a series of videos and pictures of it.  We then showed those picture to a member and she told us that it was WAY too big to be a lizard and that it was in fact an iguana.  It's not everyday you find an iguana in your jacket.  My life.

*Nubia and German each made me a handmade gift. German made me a water color of a tree and nubia knitted me a flowered headband. They also sang me the special Mexican birthday ballad. I love them.  [photo failed]

*Martha (a member) and our investigator Alejandro took me out to cheesecake as a birthday surprise. The scarf is the gift that Alejandro gave me all wrapped in christmas wrapping. I love them.

*Love them. Martha y Alejandro.

*Martha's gift was fancy cookies and hot chocolate

*The bishop bought me a cake. It was delicious and they made me eat two pieces.

*Another investigator Rubicella bought me a cake and sang me the birthday ballad as well. I should have told her what I wanted for my birthday was her at church on Sunday...love her.

Fearless

FEARLESS

This week I turn 20.  This week is hump day.  Nine months.  Lots have been asking,  "What have you learned?  How have you changed?  What has all gone down in that period of 9 long months?"

The one thing I've learned (well the one of VERY VERY many) is the importance of bravery and what it means to be brave.  To be bold.  To live it and to love it.  To kick fear to the curb.

As I was thinking about what I could write this week, I sat back and thought through all the stuff in my life that got me to the point of serving a full-time mission.  An experience in Young Women's came to mind.

In a Laurels class we all took turns sitting in the middle of the room while all the other Laurels wrote a word that described us and stuck it on us explaining why they chose that word to describe us. When it came to my turn I took my place in the middle of the room and my dear friends and fellow Laurels started going around putting stickers on me and explaining the word they chose. 

Then it came to Emily Nydegger (SHOUT OUT) and she stuck the word FEARLESS on my arm. Her word surprised me.  Fearless?  I had a lot of fears.  It was at a point in my life where all I wanted to do was please the crowd and go with the flow.  But she helped me realize, in that moment, that maybe I was braver than I thought. 

I think that's how we all are.  Braver than we think.  Stronger than we know.  And with talents and abilities that we have such a hard time seeing.

Something else I've learned on the mission:

-LISTEN. To myself. To the spirit. To others. 

-LOVE. With all I've got. Not holding back. Not expecting anything in return. Even when I'm tired.

-PEOPLE. It's all about people.

-SPANISH. I've learned Spanish. I can speak Spanish. And it's pretty darn cool.

This is all I've got for you guys this week. 

Let's go out and LIVE what we believe, whatever that may be, and do it fearless.

The Natural Man is Dying

THE NATURAL MAN IS DYING

This last week me and Crystal (Hermana Crystal) talked a lot about the natural man.  There is a scripture somewhere in The Book of Mormon that mentions that the natural man is an enemy to God, and we were discussing what we thought that really meant. 

Who is the natural man?  What is he like?  How do we not BE him?  As human beings we're pretty much used to being fairly focused on ourselves.  I'M hungry.  I'M tired.  MY feet hurt.  I'M lost.  We take care of ourselves, our wants, our needs, our desires, our opinions, and everyone and everything (including God sometimes) comes second, or third, or fourth. 

Being a missionary is rough stuff at times because one has to ALWAYS put others first.  We talked about it a lot and decided to set some pretty steep goals for ourselves as a companionship and for our area.  As we were writing these lofty and difficult (but oh-so-genius) goals down, Hermana Crystal mumbled something.  "Huh?" I responded.  She looked right at me and answered loudly and clearly. 

"The natural man is dying."

At first her comment confused me.  The natural man is dying...but how?  And who?  And....huh?  But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.  We were killing him.  Every time we roll out of bed at 6:30 AM and onto our knees he dies a little more.  With every step, every lesson, every testimony, every scripture, every contact, he dies.  

There have been times on my mission where I have been tempted to cry out, "I AM TIRED AND HUNGRY AND HOT AND I WANT TO JUST TAKE A DANG NAP."  Or something along those lines.  Sometimes I don't want to put myself out there and bear my testimony to the people we walk past on the street because lots of the time they tell me no or they ignore me and keep walking. 

Sometimes I'm tempted to sit down in the shade and just take a minute for myself.  Sometimes I want to sleep in or listen to something other than Spanish EFY music.  But that is my natural man putting up the fight.  Well joke's on the natural man because just like Hermana Crystal said,  He's dying.  I'm killing him.  With hard work and heart.  With love and testimony.  With hugs and smiles and prayers. With fasting and saying "have a great day" to the man who told us off the other day.  Were killing him with kindness.  He is dying.  Everyday a little more.  Crystal was onto something there.  The natural man is dying.

TEN

I received an e mail last week from a dear friend and fellow missionary who told me about a goal that him and his mission had set to contact a minimum of TEN people everyday.  His lofty goal made me think.  Could it really be possible?  And could I, Hermana Matesen, do something that big? 

In our weekly planning session, as we came up with our battle plan to kill the natural man, we decided to bump up our wimpy and doable 4 contacts a day to 10.  I looked at Crystal, "Do you think we can actually do it?" 

"I don't know, do you?"

"I don't know."

We sat and we thought.

"Lets do it." I said.

And we did.  We put a big yellow number ten on our door and stuck sticky notes all over the house with the number ten on it to get us pumped and ready to go change the world.

"Ten." said Crystal.

"Ten people." I responded.

"Ten souls," she said.

"Ten of our brothers and sisters," I told her.

"Ten children of God." whispered Crystal. 

And with that we marched on out the door and made it happen.  We have contacted TEN or MORE people everyday since.  And we sure saw some pretty great results.  We told our district leader about it and that inspired him to tell the whole district about it, and now it's spreading like wildfire.  So to all missionaries out there who may read this, I hearby challenge you to kill the natural man and JUST DO IT (go with Nike on this one).  Ten.  Ten people.  Ten souls.  Ten brothers and sisters.  Ten children of God.

PARTY

Went to go visit some investigators, turns out they were throwing a surprise birthday party.  They dragged us in, sat us down in front of a HUGE MEXICAN BAND, and told us to request a song.  I did, and they began to play my favorite Mexican jam (Como te Voy Olvidar by Los Angeles Azules, go look it up).  It was hilarious.  We always seem to find ourselves in the middle of a Mexican party. Mexicans like to throw parties.  And I like to attend them and contact people.  It's a wonderful combination.

*its really hard to take a good stache picture when you can't stop laughing long enough for the mustache to stick.

[separate email]

*yesterday i sat in sacrament meeting and i had a very random and very strong pang of I MISS MY FAMILY.  It hit suddenly like a arrow through the heart.  They don't come very often, but when they come they come hard.  Sometimes I just really love you guys way too much. but then i recomposed myself and focused back in.  Do you get random missing attacks too?

The Rainbow Umbrella Strikes Again

*Crystal owns a lot of black.  I tease her about it.  She teases me about being too colorful and mixing and matching patterns.  As we left the house the other day, I burst out laughing because she was in ALL black and I was in ALL florescent colors.  I love that Crystal.

RAINBOW UMBRELLA

As some of you might remember, when I was in the MTC [missionary training center], I had a rainbow umbrella.  Everyone else had black.  I stood out.  And it was awesome. 

I am now in Mexico.  I still have a rainbow umbrella.  I now stand out more than ever.  And people ask a lot of questions like "Why are you different?"

I just wanted to follow up on the whole message of the umbrella e-mail [go here], and ask one and all, Are you being a rainbow umbrella?

Do you live your life in a way that your friends and those that know you would say that you are different, special, or out of the ordinary?  Do you seek to blend in or stand out?  Do you share your testimony with others or avoid bringing it up?

Something that I seemed to hear, read, and notice this week was a lot about being BRAVE.  It takes a lot of courage to be a rainbow umbrella.  Some people might stare and tell you you're weird.  Some people might tell you that your a little crazy.  Some people might ask you why you don't just go and buy a black umbrella like everyone else. 

Embrace the rainbow in you.  Let it show.  Don't be ashamed if you believe in God and in Christ and don't be ashamed to let it show.  Be brave.  And be different.

GENERAL CONFERENCE

Basically it was fabulous.  I don't know what was better - sitting and listening to someone else teach the lesson for a change, or all the inspiration received.  The two things that stuck out to me were (1) I DONT FEAR MAN and (2) that KINDNESS IS POWERFUL.

About the first point.  It's something a lot of us face.  We want others to like us, to approve of us, to follow up on Instagram and tell us our clothes are cool.  There's nothing wrong with being likeable or popular, but what are you popular for?  For being the nicest kid around, or for buying the right shoes?

That's something that I've struggled with on the mission.  I forget that I'm not inviting the people to come unto me, I'm inviting them to come unto Christ.  Because its HIM that can help them.  Not me.

But I will be bold.  I will talk with everyone.  And will SHARE with everyone that Christ loves them and can change their lives.  I will INVITE one and all to come unto Him and change their lives and their eternities.  Yes that makes me a little (a lot) more vulnerable.  Yes that leaves a lot more room to get hurt.  But it all leaves a lot more room for success.

About the second point.  Kindness really is power.  I can be bold, but if I'm not kind no one will ever want to hear what I have to say.  You can teach an investigator all the right stuff and at all the right times and with all the right doctrines, scriptures, and questions, but if you are not kind to them and if you don't show that you love them and care about them it never really gets you too far. 

Be kind.  But what does that even mean?  Telling someone you think their hair is cool?  Or helping a little old lady across the street?  For me, kindness is channeling Christ.  Doing as He would and being the kind of person He was.  Not only in words but in actions and in thoughts.  

I will follow the counsel of the prophets in these days and those of old.  I will pray for my enemies. The lady who was mean must be having a really hard day, I tell myself.  That person who said they would be there and didn't show up must have had a last minute situation come up.  I pray for them.  I love them.  And not just with words.  With my heart. 

My heart sometimes gets a little bumped and bruised along the way, but you know what?  Its worth it. Put yourself out there and be kind.  Be brave enough to be kind.  To not just those who are easy to love, but those who are really hard to love too.

SOCCER

We got together as a big activity of Elders and Hermanas to play soccer this morning.  I was so excited to be finally playing an actual sport that I was WAY too hard and came home throwing up and feeling so hot I thought I might die.  Heat exhaustion. 

So apologies for any strange and uninteresting things that flowed out of my fingers this week.  I still feel delirious.  Love you all, and thanks a million for all the support and prayers.  I feel them.

*We eat bugs now.  "Just eating some bugs.  Totally normal."

Surprise

SURPRISE BAPTISM

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.

THE DAZER

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.

HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY

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.

God Sends Sunsets

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

BRAVE

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.

BAPTISM

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.

GOD SENDS SUNSETS

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.

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.

MEXICAN WALMART

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. 

IN CHARGE OF CHURCH

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.

I'M HERE

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.

Always.

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.