Well. I survived my first transfer. Go me.
And doesn’t Vancouver just sound lovely for all of you. I, too, would love to have a condo overlooking the beach, watching dolphins and stuff in the tranquil atmosphere of British Columbia but it seems that I am destined to roast in this Pennsylvania wilderness. But fo real, this week hasn’t really been that bad. I finally broke down and bought a couple short sleeve shirts. When it’s me versus 100 degree humidity, I know when it’s time to wave the white flag.
I’ve been learning how the mission process works and it’s quite interesting. In a perfect world, these two years that I have on my mission are supposed to be the only two years I have off from finding people to teach. That’s the member’s job. The missionary’s job is to teach those people the members find. Doesn’t that sound completely crazy and backward? Man, do I feel like a toaster for not doing my part before my mission. I definitely know that I’ll be working harder at that when I get home now that I know how hard missionaries have it.
Following up is key. Once we scheduled an appointment with a lady the morning of, and when we went over that afternoon, she wasn’t there. Wait what. Sometimes I feel like the people that we find and schedule appointments with have to be the flakiest people of all time. I JUST CALLED YOU LIKE YESTERDAY, HOW DID YOU ALREADY FORGET OUR APPOINTMENT?!?!?!1!
(pant pant pant)
Sorry about the freak-out apparent in those last two paragraphs, it’s been a hard week. For pretty much 3 days straight we went through fully planned days, not seeing one of the people we had scheduled for. I don’t understand. What is the Lord trying to teach me here? Maybe I’m becoming too prideful? Relying on my own intellect rather than the Spirit of the Lord? I have no idea. Those words in the Primary Song are becoming all so true on my mission,
“Heavenly Father,
are you really there?
And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?”
It’s crazy to think that Heavenly Father can hear the millions of cries from his children every second of the day and somehow find time to answer them. But it’s weeks like these that make me feel like one of those insignificant beings swept under the rug, like I’m doing something wrong. Even my faith in my investigators is shaken as they tell me they “haven’t gotten an answer.” I’ve pondered quite a bit lately at what point should they expect to be answered by the Holy Ghost. Right away? When they come to Church? When we’ve taught them the first three full lessons? One of my Zone Leaders shed a little light on the subject when he interviewed me last Wednesday. He said that because my companion and I prayed about the baptismal date we challenged our investigators with, Heavenly Father will answer them before that date. His answers aren’t dependant on our schedule or when it’s convenient for us, but they come subtly, through a still small feeling. His timeline is more perfect than ours will ever be. And as long as we haven’t compacted layers of pillows over our ears with sin and pride, we’ll be able to perceive that answer. For the song promises,
“Pray. He is there.
Speak. He is listening.”
Elder Low
P.S. You sent my package to the wrong address? :S noooooooo…
P.P.S. Someone tell me about the new Fleet Foxes album!
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