06 October 2010

The Key for Holding World.

Dear Family Rhondeau,

That subject's the tagline to a local English Club we pass by on our way to the church every day. It makes me smile and I fully support it and wish them the best but this is not an email about English, or Clubs, or even English Clubs. This is an email about Love.

Because I love training. Being responsible for the happiness of another person's mission, being in charge, being made strong. I have been scared and shy-shy-cat* but I find that as I simply (yes) gird up my loins and Do the things I Know everything else follows. I study, I teach, I listen, I learn, I talk to everyone we meet and I even call people on the phone. I feel like maybe I've become more in this last week than I have my entire mission; I feel like I am giving heart might and mind to the work; I feel like I am the missionary I have always wanted to be. Still of course no where near perfect and will remain, I'm afraid (but human), far from it, but just what I suppose I mean to say is that I go to bed every night content. Knowing I did my best. And that feels good.

I love Sister Nab. Not just because she cooks exotic curry dishes or obsessively tidies the house or took over the little kids' English class with expert ease. Not just because she is a classy sister with an eye for accessories or even because she occasionally tells me HK stories. She is all of that, and I love her for it, but she is also hardworking, thoughtful, and teachable. Together we talk about the work, how we want to do it and how we're going to do it that way. We talk about our investigators and how we feel about them and what more we can do to help them. She likes to think and then share her thoughts. She likes to study and then learn together. She is dynamic.

I love the Elders. Elder Meek is deeply thoughtful of everything from batik ties to gospel principles, could be the MTC's poster child for their Quiet Dignity battle cry, and does the dishes when we cook Sunday lunch for them (someone thank his parents for me). Elder Mari talks to me about blogs and tech and photo-shopping, translates everything Meek says in English to Indo, and is currently buried in some secret project involving world maps and temple locations that we're not allowed to know anything about (though he promised me it's not some secret combination so I've lessened my attempts to sneak his notes away when he's not looking). They are good missionaries and they help us to be better.

I love the members. Sister L stood on Sunday to bear one of the single most beautiful testimonies of our Savior I have yet to hear. Sunday School following the testimony meeting was a riot of good-hearted gospel sharing and our fair share of laughs. And Sister M gets the gold star for member missionary work with her A+ referral this week. We taught her friend Nila last night and have a return appointment for Friday afternoon. She is searching for the truth and ready to receive it.

I love our investigators. Ibu N is reading the Book of Mormon line by line and praying to better understand it. Pak J was hospitalized last week for a minor stroke that shook him into prioritizing his life and the realization that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints needed to be a part of it. He's stopped smoking, drinking tea and coffee, and is coming to church. With his whole family. Who now holds regular family prayer and scripture study. Our lesson with them Saturday night came just on the heel of the previous day's break-down (a heartbreaking lesson with Mas D and the overwhelming weight of the world; Sister Nababan cried but I told her Things Work Out because I am 15 mission months old and stronger now) and so rather caused our souls to sing bright praises to the lyrics of Ether 12:6. Dispute not because ye see not. For ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith. Don't you love living scripture? I do.

So while English is good, Love is better and my mission week's key for holding world. In just a few minutes now we're off to the church to meet up with the Elders, who have promised to try fixing the oven if we bring the cookie dough. Which I made last night, sifting the flour together with the baking soda through leftover mosquito netting, because that is how much happiness living in Indonesia is. I just feel like smiling, a lot a lot. And not just because friends have been telling me I look pretty lately, though that helps. Hilariously. . . . the everyday acquaintances we pass regularly in our daily routines have exclaimed aloud "Sister Rhondeau! Kok, tambah cantik ya?" Indonesian shock for something like "you've gained beauty, haven't you?" Not that I think it's true, but I certainly don't mind the compliment.** Then there was Beke, my favorite lost boy in the hodge-podge group I teach at Bhakti Luhur, who yesterday suddenly stood mid-lesson to exclaim Terpujilah engkau di antara semua wanita!*** Which is maybe sacrilegious? but I laughed and laughed and laughed til I cried.

I love being a missionary. I love being a missionary in Indonesia. I love the Gospel. I know it's true and the manner of happiness—this overwhelming, overflowing, overarching happiness I am living right now.

And I love you.

selalu,

Sister E.


*that's an Indonesian phrase they like to say in English. It's actually malu-malu kucing, in reference to how cats approach food so freely offered them. You know, as if it's going to bite them back and they have to take high-tension tip-toe steps to reach the bowl in the first place only to run away? Yeah. That's shy-shy-cat.

**While on the subject of my own vanities, I think it will be a big shock to come home and discover I'm short again. So many people per day tell me I'm tall that I've come to believe it.

***hint: Luke 1:28. Or Luke 1:42.


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