Well it has been another exciting week here in the lone star state. Actually, I was wondering this the other day: who have I been called to teach? People always come home from their missions saying “I love the japanese people,” or “I just love those Spaniards,” but what am I supposed to say? “I just LOVE those Texans!” False. Nothing against Texans, but every time we run into one it’s a disappointment because they’re not hispanic. We still teach them though. And so I guess I’d just have to say “I just LOVE those displaced-central-south-american-not-quite-american-citizens, and all their texan-multi-ethnic neighbors!” Wheph!
Speaking of Texans, yesterday we went on exchanges so I was serving in a neighboring area with Hermana Case (who I was originally supposed to be companions with in the MTC before I switched classes so it was fun to finally get to work together). But we ran across a dear little Texan man who talked to us several inches from our faces about his anger problems ensuing from the suicide of his father. Let me just say, instead of a sweet smell there was stink, and instead of well set hair, there was baldness! Not the most pleasant of experiences, but pretty funny afterwards. Those situations are always funny afterwards, but during you’re just glad the neighbor is out in his yard with one eye pointed your direction because you’re not really sure if the guy you’re contacting is going to demonstrate his “anger problems” on your companion since she didn’t give him the $1.50 he asked for. So that was my Texan cultural experience for the week.
My random lame thought this week is that I have developed a strange phobia, and if someone can tell me what it is called I will give them fifty points in the celestial kingdom. I am afraid of the eyehole in people’s front doors! Okay maybe afraid isn’t the right word- it’s more like this weird obsession thing. Idiosyncrasy. I don’t even know anymore, but it’s weird. Every time we knock a door I feel this strange desire to stare STRAIGHT into the eyehole. I think this derives from the fact that I know they’re looking at me out of it, and it’s kinda like when you pull up next to someone when you’re driving and you just HAVE to look over. Then you make awkward eye-contact and you look away quickly but you have to sit at the light and then you start getting weird urges to look back and… yep! They’re still looking at you and now it’s just totally awkward. That’s how I am with the eyeholes. I have to tell myself “don’t look at it! Don’t do it!” So finally my district leader told me just to hold up one of our pass along cards with the picture of Jesus on it. That way, when they ask us “Quien es?” (mom, that means “who is it?”) we can say God and mean it. I thought it was a pretty good idea. But still. I feel like those eyeholes can stare straight into my SOUL. “are you looking at my soul?” Bryan Reagan. Anybody?
Three nights ago I was snug as a bug in a rug in my leetle bed when suddenly I woke up. Weird. Why would I do that. Three in the morning and I’m wide awake. Then, I realize that people are yelling outside. Right outside. And seeing as I sleep right by the window, I could hear them as clearly as if they were right INSIDE. And let’s just say, they could use all the soap in Texas and they still wouldn’t have gotten rid of the filth coming out of their mouths. They were sooo drunk, and sooooo mad at eachother. And Soooooo in loooooooove with hiiiiiiim. “I looooooooove hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmm” is what one girl was crying over and over. I finally looked out and I could see her crying on the stairs, until she decided to get up and walk over to the parking lot and throw up. Then, they all started fighting and I stopped looking out the window because I hated what I was seeing and I feared getting involved in witnessing a crime or something. I’ve never heard people slam doors that loud, and that many times in a row. And this went on for about an hour. Finally, six cops showed up. But by then our poor missionary, overly-sensitive-to-cussword-nerves were completely frayed. Not the best of experiences, but I told hermana Harry that I’m really glad she doesn’t use her mouth like that. Let us oft speak kind words to eachother, okay everybody? Will you all commit to using a higher standard of language in the coming weeks? I know your neighbors will appreciate it and you will be blessed because of it. Haha. Okay I feel better now.
So last week we had two investigators come to church – Maximiliano, and Ezequiel. Sp? But I’m so excited about Maximiliano! (well, both but Ezequiel was a referral so I’m still just getting to know him) We’ve been trying to get Max. into the chapel for a while now. He loved it! He doesn’t have work right now and so he just picks up random jobs so he often works on Sundays. It’s really cramping our style, but maybe now that he knows how amazing church is he’ll start making room for it in his schedule.
We’ve also been working with two teenage girls that are cousins that are going to be baptized next weekend. They’re about fifteen and sixteen and way excited about church. I just wish their moms were just as excited as they are. One just isn’t interested and the other has been deported so she’s in Mexico, but she told her daughter to listen to us and do what we ask her. We originally started teaching the one girl, Ana, and her mom. Her mom wasn’t interested but one day we found ana home alone and so we taught her and committed her to be baptized because lately president is way into committing them on the first or second lesson. She said yes! Then she brought her cousin to church. Mission presidents are inspired.
Lots of good things going on. We have so many people to teach right now I feel like I’m going crazy! It’s hard to focus on everyone at once, but I think we’re going to see a lot of good things in the next few weeks. Cross your fingers I don’t get transferred on Monday! I don’t think I will, but that’s what I said last time. Harry and I are trying to stick together. Just call me Ron Weasley.
Hope everyone is doing well in good ole Utah! I miss you guys. Funny how the letters haven’t been coming lately…I’m not dead yet! Meagan…. You have a lot to tell me. Get writing. That’s a commandment. Sorta. Okay I’m done. Until next week! Reading Rainbow.
Love love love