. . . it feels eons since I last sat down at a computer to write---or at least seven years, rather than seven days. A lot of change in these parts; a few trials, a few joys, and (as always) a whole lot of growing.
First, Sister K and I spent our final day together (Saturday) at the church again, from eight in the morning just about til five at night, where we proofread the final typesetter's copy of the newly re-translated Kitab Mormon. It was a blissful exercise to me, reading aloud with a red pen in hand, glad for our packet portion that included Ether 2 right through Moroni 10, some of my most absolutely favorite passages (and so even easier to understand with my limited Indonesian). We had almost 100 people there that day, all grouped into twos to catch punctuation errors or grammar abuse, stopping only for water breaks and one lunch-hour rest. I really enjoyed the work, and even with my four months of Indonesian could really see the difference in this translation, how the language more closely matches the beauty of the English translation and even more fully conveys the glory of this Gospel. It was incredible to be a part of something that will obviously mean so much more to the Indonesian saints.
But the end of that service project meant the end of our companionship, and with weary eyes and full hearts we watched Sister K climb into the car and off and away. She cried! I've never seen her cry. I realized that we'd managed to become friends sweet enough to feel pain at parting---in the course of only six weeks, with the language barrier to boot. I'm very glad she's going home to Malang, one of the few cities Sisters can serve in here and so that absolutely wasn't any sort of final goodbye.
Still sad. And nothing could have prepared me for what came next, either. President, thus far, had only waved us away when we pestered him about new companionships. Just as we were about to turn home, he called me over to reassign me to . . .
Sister L. As in just arrived from Solo, a brand-new missionary of barely 24 hours. And brand-new here is a little different from our brand new there---the newbies in Indo haven't been to the MTC yet, either. There are only a certain number of slots available all year round, so Sister L won't head to the Philippines until November, which means that for the next three weeks, I'm officially a Trainer.
I've been here six weeks, not six months---and besides my not knowing the language well enough for the task, Sister L hasn't learned the lessons to teach, either, so we're something of a sorry pair. Not that she's anything terrible----heavens no. We get along really well, and she's a talker with a capital T so there's never want for conversation and in these last few days my Indonesian has taken a definite upswing (she also knows absolutely no English). But I'll admit, I totally panicked. In the end, we JakSel Sisters banded together in a glorious display of our combined intelligence and sympathy and pulled off a plan that has this week worked really well: whenever I have an appointment, I split with Sister M or Sister S (so we have someone who can actually teach the lesson), and whenever one of them has an appointment, Sister L goes with them to learn the ropes. Anything else and it's up to me---which means those notes I've been scribbling this last little while have really come in handy.
So it's an adventure (as if it's ever not . . .) and things are picking up speed, if only slightly. . .looking back at the last seven weeks I feel tricked as to the passage of time. Especially when things start to go really well, it's all I can do to keep up with the month and date. October? Almost over? Soon enough the next round of American Sisters (and last, for awhile, actually) will be here and we'll no longer be the newbies.
Blast. I'm on a computer with a timer this week and it's quite the race. What else? Oh. Monday. The Best Day of My Mission Ever So Far.
So the very first week we were in Jakarta, Sister Lily and I met Sister O in the English Branch, an ExPat who's been here for eight years now and was ecstatic to finally have Sisters in the Branch. She had friends, she said, and she wanted us to teach them. We called President right away and he OK'd the split and there was much rejoicing as SisLily and I reveled in the chance to teach together again (we're quite the power team, if we do say so ourselves. *ahem*). But Sister O's friends were out of town, and SisLily was swept away to Malang, and so when it all finally worked out, it was me and Sister M at the dinner table, sharing the message of the Restoration with a lovely little family of three.
They're Indonesian, but speak excellent English. . . It was a casual affair---they'd mentioned to Sis O that they wanted to know more about the Mormons and so we simply discussed Doctrine over chicken enchiladas (an added blessing of the evening---oh, Mexican food!) while also talking about life and family in general. And family, this is how real missionary work is done.
Sister M was on fire, giving all the right answers in all the right ways in beautiful Indonesian which I could follow wonderfully, nearly every word. By the end of our two hours together, we'd become friends, had a fulfilling conversation with a side of actual ice cream for dessert, and a return appointment plus the promise of Church on Sunday and that they'd for sure read the Kitab Mormon and pray, too. I can't quite contain what this all means in the space of an email and especially in the sad writing I manage to spit out under a time constraint. . . But here's the thing: we were just doing exactly what all the prophets and apostles and PMG [Preach My Gospel] and MTC teachers have taught us over and over again: members. Members are the key to missionary work.
Oh, you should have seen us in the taxi home. I was talking a mile a minute---me! talking! Like crazy! In Indonesian, too! Laughing for no other reason than that we were happy. It was a real feeling of strength and testimony, the boost and blessing I needed after having a rather rough time of it only the day before. In that hour's drive home, I watched the Jakarta streets rise and fall outside my window with the strangest feeling at the sight: I didn't want to leave.
I'm getting better at managing my letter time, so hopefully I'll be sending another envelope your way soon. Until then,
kasihlah.
Sister E.
Monas, the National Monument of Independence in Jakarta.
been able to fulfill a part of my assignment here in JakSel. President made it clear in my first interview that a major part of mission in Indonesia is within our companionships, the strength and testimony we can give our native companions in the short time we share together. Many of them are converts of only a few years now (Sister K. included), come from backgrounds we can only faintly imagine, and helping them pick up some English alone gives them a major head start for life after these 18 months here. This is something I can---and love---to do. I love spending time with the Sisters I'm currently serving with, and try to come up with new ways to grow closer and help out as often as I can, a crusade that transfers over to our member visits, too. I've said before that these are the hours I look forward to the most here, those lessons we share from the floor of a family's home, in the dim light of a single bulb overhead and the feeble relief of a corner fan. These are the days I feel like I'm doing real work, making real progress.
(click on map: Padang is on the west coast of the large, westernmost island, Sumatra)
