Email Excerpts : : : 09 July 09

dear family,

[some stats]

One (1) companion.

Sister L. is quite literally the best.

Twenty-One (21) Indonesian Speaking Missionaries.

Take a good look at that number. Twenty-one! This is the most ever Indonesian- speaking missionaries they've taught here at the MTC, so we're setting records every day. The last group they sent out was a mere eight, which means we've double-plussed the numbers and hopefully that's just the beginning. We had to split the district in half with so many of us here, so 11 Elders are in one class, all headed to Singapore, and we two sisters and the other 8 Elders make up District 52, of which 5 are bound for Singapore as well and the other half are off to Jakarta.

Three (3) Elders to Indonesia.

My District is, of course, the best . . .Everyone here is so ready to learn and willing to serve. . . maybe I'm a little biased, but they certainly saved the best three for Indonesia.

. . . this MTC business is definitely an experiment in social behavior. Three meals a day with 19-year-old boys? Dinner topics thus far have included: cars, motorcycles, football, pyrotechnics, and a number of farcical story-tellings that have to be the stuff of Mormon Myth. But they also make every day more fun than it could be, playing with the language so we know really important things like Who's Your Daddy? (Siapa Bapak Anda?) and awkward turtle (risih punyha). They're such gentlemen and treat us girls really well. All in all, such the best.

Which leaves me with seven minutes and all the rest to tell you (can I explain to you how dearly I hate that little ticker in the right hand corner that counts the time? no, no I cannot.). The language is my most favorite part of the day---I love how the words are so conducive to play and laughter. One of our favorite things about it is the double-noun to make a plural; we call each other Elder-Elder or Sister-Sister in groups and it's just as amusing today as it was last week. N___ decided yesterday that we could say Indonesia batu-batu for Indonesia Rocks! which really doesn't work at all but is such a lovely effort that it's a part of our permanent vocabulary today. We've learned how to bear testimony, pray, and teach lesson one---which, according to other foreign language missionaries here, is absolutely insane.

Apparently most people don't teach until their second week here, but we're being pushed to the max and it's absolutely exhilarating. Teaching still scares me mostly half to death but we had a practice run yesterday and it went all right----certainly with two more days of 7-9 study we'll make it through.

xoxo

E

In which we get our first letter:::

and learn some Indonesian. . .

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

:::01 July 09:::

Fare thee well, Sister E.

e.rhondeau//farewell // june 28 2009

Excerpt from talk:

The night before opening my call, I dreamt I stopped in at the BYU Bookstore to pick up a class-required Mission Prep manual. It's a slim volume, only a few dollars and all of sixty pages, yet by the time I arrived home the book was the size of a small elephant. This development, however, didn't seem to phase my dream-self until I opened the package and evaluated its contents, stunned. The thing was packed. I began pulling out skirts, shirts, dresses and shoes as well as books binders, notes and charts until things began to get even more metaphorical and I was reaching at slamming doors and absent investigators, difficult companions and alarm clocks set to six a.m. Panicked, I shoved everything back into the box and raced back to the bookstore.

The girl at the register listened politely to my predicament, but then informed me that a return was impossible. "But this wasn't what I asked for!" I explained frantically. "This isn't what I expected!" She smiled apologetically but simply pointed behind me to the box which, while now the size of a 4-door sedan, was also completely transparent.

Turns out my subconscious isn't all that subtle---I awoke to the sheer terror of it all: what on earth have I gotten myself into? The question was heightened that morning by the uncertainty of a future outlined in a white envelope, but I think quite a lot of us field the same panic every day, forgetting the counsel in Doctrine and Covenants 38:30:if ye are prepared ye shall not fear. And still this scripture might only bring about more questions. What does it mean, to be prepared? To be ready, to be strong? And what, in the end, are we preparing for? There are any number of spiritual surprises that strive to shake us. Yet these great things are made up of the small and simple, and the preparation I would like to talk about this morning is in the day to day baby steps of living; the steps that daily bring us closer to God and prepare us to become as followers of Christ.

In my very limited experience, I have found that this preparation is in knowing, doing, and being. First, we must seek to KNOW. This could easily be a list of the usual: go to church, read your scriptures, say your prayers. We know these constants and strive to live by them--- and yet by knowing these foundational principles, we are held to a higher task. To truly be prepared, we must actively search out truth, or as the prophet Joseph Smith said,

"[thy mind] must stretch as high as the utmost heavens, and search into and contemplate the darkest abyss, and the broad expanse of eternity---thou must commune with God."

dear family,

I would tell you how much I love you

but I don't think anyone's invented words
for something like the way I feel.

Except for maybe that
{ i love you thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisss much }
and also
a hundred trillion swedish fish.

thanks for
teasing me when I'm too much drama,
hugging me every time I come home,
indulging my love of books + language,
growing peonies in the front garden,
learning the jai ho dance,
pretending that sometimes I'm funny,
and
taking care of my blog while I'm away.

{ eighteen months is really nothing, you know. }

I love you.
xoxo.
E.

the universe rings true

We played wiffle ball for my final Family Home Evening.
I am really not good at wiffle ball.

But my dad pitched until I hit it, and we even scored some points,
and the sunlight was just right and the grass was just green enough
and above us the clouds were lit in deep gold and silvers
and we were barefoot and laughing

and I think maybe I've never been happier.

{ oh happy day. }