Hola mi Familia! Como Esta?
Ummmmm..so okay, it's HOT. We have reached the 100 degree limit, and it's only May. I've started praying for a way to deal with the heat, because come July and August, I will be toast. Literally.
It's been a long week. And yet about the shortest week of my life. All in one. So much has happened.
One Tuesday, we knocked into an 18-year-old boy, River. He had Bob Marley posters splayed across his walls and had a "cool" disposition towards life. It's took a bit to get the ball rolling into the lesson, since it was really easy for him to get distracted and talking about really-kinda-out-there stuff about his views on God. I was learning a lot about what and how other people view God, and it was a bit interesting but he wasn't learning anything about the Gospel of Jesus Christ or the Restoration, which was why we had knocked on his door.After close to 45 minutes of getting no where, I remembered something that one of my MTC teachers would tell us all the time, he would quote a passage in D&C (which I couldn't find) about being sent forth to teach and not to learn. When He told us about this, I was way confused. I was going to learn and grow and change as a missionary, why would we be told that that wasn't part of our purpose. I realized in that lesson with River that day. I was a missionary. I was there to teach about Christ. It was in the middle of that lesson that the words "Cheyenne, you are here to teach not to be taught, TEACH." came to my mind. Then I started to teach. We talked about Christ and His Atonement, and what made him our Savior, showing him a picture of Christ in the Garden. We talked about Joseph Smith's vision and God having a physical body. River was paying close attention to our words by this point. We went home for dinner after that lesson, and I wrote abou it quickly in my Journal. It reminded me of President Monsons story of when he was in the military, and he didn't join the other churchs but stood in line. "Thomas," he told himself "you are a mormon." "Cheyenne, you are a missionary. Teach." I understand that scripture now. Yes, we are to learn, and to change and to grow, and learn about and listen to others on our missions, but we are called and sent forth to teach.
This week, we also made a very long pray list, 27 persons long, of potential investigators. We listed out needs and then prayed for them during weekly planning. One girl, Emeila, didn't have a lot of time, but really wanted to meet with us. We prayed that she would have the time open up to be able to meet with us. We called her the next day and were able to set an appointment to meet with her and her Sister. They are GEMS. They invited us to come over for lunch and then a lesson. We are meeting with them againtomorrow, and they are eating up the feeling that they get when we come by. Emeila, spacifically said that she was somehow able to have free time and was finally able to call us and set up a time. Prayer on Thursday, response on Friday, steller first lesson on Saturday, luck or chance? I think not. God does answer our prayers. Goodness. Time goes so fast.
I played the piano yesterday in Church. In Sacrament meeting. Yes. Freak out moment. We have an electronic piano, and it plays the hymns, so I was just going to push the little play button since I didn't know any of the hymns chosen for the meeting. Go figure I couldn't figure it out at the last minute and had to jump in and play the songs myself. Good thing my back was turned to the congregation, other wise they'd have been to distracted by my face to sing and of the songs. It was quite the show. When I stood up with a "okay, well that was fun" smile in place, I looked at our branch president's wife's face, she is a elamentary school music teacher, and she gave me a big smile and a thumbs up, since she knew I was uncomfortable playing hymns I didn't know. I guess it was God's way of forcing me out of my comfort zone when I wasn't willing to leave. So. I wrote a poem about the exprience. Yeah, I know. I don't write poems. It's weird. I hardly even like reading poetry. It's a struggle. But all of a sudden, it was all in my brain, and needed to come out. Weird. Hahah it's laughable. But I wrote it. And it turned out super long. Ish. Here it is. Enjoy!
[START POEM]
There was a line I walked upon,it wasn't very wide. I tipped and tottered on that line,just barely staying on.
At times I'd stop, my toes off the edge, I'd tip and wobble and almost start to giggle, but never would I cross that line, in case of no returning.
I skipped and trotted down that line, quite happy where I was, when suddenly, a man stood by, And watched me pluck along.
He spake to me, quite kindly,bidding me to cross. He told me if I did so, my life would find more good. I answered Him "no thank you", Saying "I'll probably be just fine."
It was at this point quite suddenly, I felt a kick on the behind, I'd been booted fast right off that line, and had landed in the dirt.
With dust puffing all about my face, I felt like shouting "HEY!" but looking back onto that line, I saw no such kind of thing
In it's palce a door stood firm, with a knob bold and bright. And no matter how I wrenched that knob, It wouldn't budge at all.
Some pounding and a sore foot later, I stood, a cross expression set in place. Softly huffing and with backside throbbing, I set off at last at pace.
As I walked along, no path in sight, I felt lost of all my comfort. With a red nose and a tear stained face, I wondered why it's happend.
It wasn't 'til I looked around, that there was beauty to be found. Although I'd loved my line quite fine, there were things I couldn't see.
Things that sat there waiting, waiting just for me. And if you start to think about it slowly, you start to notice still, that if I'd stayed upon that line, dancing there just fine, those things would be there waiting, waiting there so still.
Luckily for me, I had a friendly boot, that kicked me fast right off that line, landing me splat into the dirt. For it was in the dirt I surely found that there was beauty all around.
That man who stood there watching me, he knew me very well. He knew I'd need a kick head start, to land me way out there. He had the guts to kick me there, right where He knew it'd probably hurt.
And now I see I needed that, for fine is not enough. There are things far out there waiting, that indeed need me to touch.
Now and then I look down again, and notice there's a line, it's at this point I look around, and jump right off that line for now I've gained a greater fear, a fear of getting kicked.
[END OF POEM]
Don't judge me if it doesn't rhymn. I'm no pro. And I still don't like poetry. Pero. I wanted to share it.
I hope that you're all doing great. I think about you often, and you're always in my prayers. Take care family.
Love,
Your Hermana
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