18 August 2010

Dirgahayu Republik Indonesia!

Kelku,

I am going to tell you something you may already know: I am in Indonesia. Mostly I am well aware of this, but occasionally quite suddenly I will remember with all the energy of first opening my mission call ohmywordholycatsforrealz! I am in Indonesia and today was one such occasion. We may not teach much and our statistics look like warung during Ramadan, but boy I love Indonesia. I love that they barbecue corn here and then roll it through sweetened condensed milk. I love that they think the English for doormat is welcome. I love that there are two little boys unashamedly watching me type this email in the warnet and that dinner is only 40 cents or that sometimes you walk so far that the only way back is a horse-drawn buggy. Yesterday was this Tanah Air's independence day, and while we got a bit shortchanged on the festivities due to the Muslim Month, here's a huzzah for this Repulik: Dirgahayu, indeed.

Anyway. On to maybe more substantial somethings. President Groberg dropped in this weekend and, in a nod to Stephen L. Richards and his Pioneers, I'll tell you What He Brought—-though maybe I should start with what he didn't bring, and that would be my new companion. President called late Friday night to tell me that the earlier plan was no more; I guess some MTC dates got switched around, there were some—ahem—unexpected transfers in Jakarta, and financially it just didn't make sense to ship out Sister Soewiono all the way to Malang when pretty shortly here she needs to be off to Manila. This was . . . a relief? A disappointment? A bit of both, and ultimately Sister Sumarno and I were both just glad we hadn't quite gotten around to moving our mattresses around. Those things are wicked heavy and (being by nature floor-bound) kind of gross so turns out, my friends, procrastination pays! Not really. But significantly enough so that I tend to fall into that trap all-too comfortably.

So we're still tea for two here in Malang, Sister Sumarno stealing my hairbrush when I'm not looking and me taking her chocolate milk without asking. Life is normal and nuanced and other such nook-and-cranny things that would be too long to even attempt in the writing. So we'll focus to one day only, the day that President came, and what he brought with him.

He brought mail. Letters from both my sisters, each so entirely their own and then both completely us; I was inspired and moved and laughing ‘til it hurt. Three months' worth of notes from Noah; enough that I could piece together his sketches from Act I, Scene I all the way to Act III, Scene II. The wonderful weekly words from Grandma. He brought my duffel bag. Because I did something smart and last September, after arriving in Jakarta and realizing I actually only needed about 1/3 of the amount of clothes I had brought with me, saved all my most favorite pieces in a special suitcase at Senopati. So now I can slip on my Sundance skirt and feel pretty again. Wear my ruffle-collared tees and pretend like I'm going someplace fancy. Finally throw out my faded, pilly, stretched-to-no-sense-of-form pajama shirt and replace it with the new. Yes. I was so, so smart. Glad I at least have that success to look back on.

So President brought his fair share of material happiness, but what I really want to talk about here is how he also managed to bring me a completely new horizon with a happy sunrise, too. Because for starters, he brought Sister Groberg. And then sent us off on splits.

By the time they arrived in Malang we actually only had one last appointment to go to, but it was the right one to show off in such a short time. We were headed out to Pak Jon's when the Grobergs arrived and it only took about five seconds for Sister Groberg to wave off President and jump in the angkot behind us. Inside, we found a Catholic family from Surabaya who wanted to know more plus an exchange student from Quebec who just wanted to speak English, so our 40 minute ride out to the village was an unexpected and extraordinary display of missionary work (it never goes that easy. never.) Once at the end of the line we had to walk another half hour, uphill, to get to Pak Jon's, which Sister Groberg took in good humor and long strides that had even me skipping a bit to catch up. Pak Jon met us at the door and with questions so we immediately got right down to the lesson (another mini-miracle, given Indonesian meet-and-greet traditions) which ended up being one of those Lessons, the Lesson that you remember not just enough to write it all down detailed-like in your journal, but the Lesson you remember long after that night, that week, that transfer, or those 18 months. We taught about the Spirit, with the Spirit. Afterwards Sister Sumarno whispered to me somewhat conspiratorially "I feel like we just lied to Sister Groberg—-we're never that smart!" Yes. We'll take Gifts of the Spirit for 500, please. Pak Jon was his usual studious, thoughtful self and, though he didn't end up coming to church the next morning, seems to be grasping more and more the things we are trying to share with him. His wife was particularly eager to listen that afternoon, and Sister Groberg bore a simple but powerful testimony (oh yeah, she speaks Indonesian. Much like any one-month-old American in Jakarta would speak Indonesian, but Indonesian nonetheless.) about how the Gospel blesses families and for one of the very rare moments my entire mission I was very much overwhelmed to Mosiah 28:3 proportions. Walking back down the mountain that night I felt a promise fulfilled: that I would find a happiness beyond anything I've ever known in this work of the Lord. I felt Isaiah 52:7 personified.

How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings,
that publisheth peace;
that bringeth good tidings of good,
that publisheth salvation;
that saith unto Zion, Thy God Reigneth!


Tangent: I think what I am working on learning is that such a promise means I won't feel such joy all the time. Mostly, if I'm deadbeatdownright honest, mission is just hard. If not occasionally miserable. But that happiness is there and makes up for all the rest of it and Saturday wrote off all of the previous week's doldrums fast.

So we are walking/flying down the mountain, and to top off the joy of all Joy Sister Groberg is not only a gifted talker and a fast walker but the Queen of Compliments, too—and you know how I love words. I will say that her acclamations were exceedingly generous and altogether far too good, but it helps to hear Hope out loud sometimes. Plus once down the hill we met up with the Elders + President at Pres. Iwan's for dinner, where Sister Groberg gave the good report. And President actually asked us how the appointment went, who the investigator was, what we'd like to do next in order to better prepare him to accept the Gospel. They just . . . care so much. They bring with them a sense of security in this service, that mission is, in fact, possible, and that they are here not only to hear and help and hope but to work alongside us, too. President brought with him this weekend his usual careful wisdom and thoughtful counsel and it gave me a much-needed boost in the Keep Calm and Carry On category. I like President because he gets it. He understands what we're experiencing because he gets out there and experiences it, too. . . . [He said,] "I used to think that the Church here is a drop in the bucket. Then I got here and realized that we are 1/100th of that one drop in the bucket. We've done good work here these past 40 years, but we're still in the beginning stages. The best possible thing you could do right now is do all you can to leave a good impression of who you are and who you represent. That is how we'll move forward. If you feel the Spirit and love the people, you have had a successful mission." Hallelujah, amen.

The Elders just came searching for us in the warnet because we need to get going on a special District Meeting to address our upcoming fireside activities. I am at this moment very grateful Dad mentioned to me the necessity for patience and understanding when called to act under orders from nineteen-year-old boys. He is a wise, wise man. So okay over and out I love you all, miss you all, pray for you all and goodness gracious Daniel is safe (I will tell you a story about that from my side of things some other time)—pray always! The church is true.

maju terus,

E.

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