. . . the major moment being PLD (Zone Conference).
It was bound to be good, seeing as we've been looking forward to it for weeks now. That first week we arrived was our last one, so on parting the five MTC originals were all handshakes and promises that we'd see each other at least by next PLD. Which turned out to be a little untrue---Elder G and SisLily have left us for the Solo PLD these days---but the reunion was no less joyous. Plus, it was only the beginning of a full weekend of gathering; our PLD coincided with District Conference for all of Java Barat, which meant we got a General Authority in the mix, too.
Elder Kent D. Watson presided. Presided, uplifted, enlightened----the gist of his lessons and presence will have to wait for a letter (things on the more emotional side are never any good to explain in the rush of a time constraint). His wife was especially engouraging, and just the general atmosphere of the meeting was something I've missed for a while; it was all the electricity of an MTC Sunday, with the added vivacity of being together as missionaries, as feeling some sort of unity in a country that constantly makes us feel the smallest drop of water in a tumbling storm. Within fifteen minutes of the opening prayer, I was feeling pretty good about life.
Until it came to talks----every PLD the message goes out from President what the topic will be (usually you can choose from 3-5 principles of PMG) and we're expected to prepare a three minute ceramah just in case it's our name called from the pulpit. That's the way it's presented on the program, too: Ceramah . . . . Mungkin Anda (Talk . . . Maybe You). And wouldn't you know it, by an inspired process of revelation known only to a GA, Elder Watson pulled my name out of his pocket. Mine, Elder S, and Elder M.
Which was okay, because I was prepared! Two pages written out in neat Indonesian script so I wouldn't miss a syllable of pronunciation, with clear references to the scriptures I would include if asked to speak on Hope. Except that Elder Watson, as the power and authority at the meeting, put a new spin on things: If you had been serving longer than a year, you had to use your second language. So Indos in English and Americans in Indo. But, if you had been here less than a year, you would share your thoughts in your mother tongue.
And there went my talk.
Because, given that I'd prepared it in Indonesian, it was a lot more simple than I would have kept it to had I been given the chance to speak in English. And there I was, given the chance. Luckily Elder S took the stand before me (delivering an address on Charity in fluid English, I might add), and by the time M got up to go next, I'd arranged enough of my thought into a somewhat workable outline that allowed me to listen to my former DL in relative peace.
It was classic Elder M, very simple and balanced but powerful to every point. And I couldn't help but smile; he'd chosen Hope, too. When I got up to follow him, I mentioned that we were definitely on the same wavelength still, as these last two months have been something of a crash-course in the principle. And then . . . I just talked. For exactly three minutes, managing to say all I needed to say and, in a true manifestation of the Spirit, saying it the way I wanted it said. It was a really good experience for me, realizing that I have changed these past four months, that an assignment that would usually mean excruciating hours working every last word to perfection and then read from the pulpit had become an easier thing for me, a rush, even. I didn't do it all on my own, of course, but it was still the push I needed to feel a little more the strength I've slowly cultivated since arriving in the MTC only four months ago.
Right. So if that's not enough, the rest of the PLD was super stellar, and then the very next day we all got to meet again with the Jakarta saints and then as missionaries at Senopati for a Halloween dinner, that ended in us singing Called to Serve in the loudest chorus we could muster, all 30 crammed about the piano where Elder L pounded the keys with little attention to any musical marks other than Forte all around. Sunday we taxied to Senayin, where the saints of West Java filled an entire conference room full with hymn and prayer and the little Primary choir that started it all was enough to break your heart and bind it up all over again. Joy, so much joy. It was the soaring high we all needed---numbers are lower than I would even want to tell you and it's only a sight like Saints that could overcome it.
I've got to sign off on this epistle if I'm ever going to get to pictures and a few more quick answers, too. Apologize for all the ADD. Love you.
Sister E.
It was bound to be good, seeing as we've been looking forward to it for weeks now. That first week we arrived was our last one, so on parting the five MTC originals were all handshakes and promises that we'd see each other at least by next PLD. Which turned out to be a little untrue---Elder G and SisLily have left us for the Solo PLD these days---but the reunion was no less joyous. Plus, it was only the beginning of a full weekend of gathering; our PLD coincided with District Conference for all of Java Barat, which meant we got a General Authority in the mix, too.
Elder Kent D. Watson presided. Presided, uplifted, enlightened----the gist of his lessons and presence will have to wait for a letter (things on the more emotional side are never any good to explain in the rush of a time constraint). His wife was especially engouraging, and just the general atmosphere of the meeting was something I've missed for a while; it was all the electricity of an MTC Sunday, with the added vivacity of being together as missionaries, as feeling some sort of unity in a country that constantly makes us feel the smallest drop of water in a tumbling storm. Within fifteen minutes of the opening prayer, I was feeling pretty good about life.
Until it came to talks----every PLD the message goes out from President what the topic will be (usually you can choose from 3-5 principles of PMG) and we're expected to prepare a three minute ceramah just in case it's our name called from the pulpit. That's the way it's presented on the program, too: Ceramah . . . . Mungkin Anda (Talk . . . Maybe You). And wouldn't you know it, by an inspired process of revelation known only to a GA, Elder Watson pulled my name out of his pocket. Mine, Elder S, and Elder M.
Which was okay, because I was prepared! Two pages written out in neat Indonesian script so I wouldn't miss a syllable of pronunciation, with clear references to the scriptures I would include if asked to speak on Hope. Except that Elder Watson, as the power and authority at the meeting, put a new spin on things: If you had been serving longer than a year, you had to use your second language. So Indos in English and Americans in Indo. But, if you had been here less than a year, you would share your thoughts in your mother tongue.
And there went my talk.
Because, given that I'd prepared it in Indonesian, it was a lot more simple than I would have kept it to had I been given the chance to speak in English. And there I was, given the chance. Luckily Elder S took the stand before me (delivering an address on Charity in fluid English, I might add), and by the time M got up to go next, I'd arranged enough of my thought into a somewhat workable outline that allowed me to listen to my former DL in relative peace.
It was classic Elder M, very simple and balanced but powerful to every point. And I couldn't help but smile; he'd chosen Hope, too. When I got up to follow him, I mentioned that we were definitely on the same wavelength still, as these last two months have been something of a crash-course in the principle. And then . . . I just talked. For exactly three minutes, managing to say all I needed to say and, in a true manifestation of the Spirit, saying it the way I wanted it said. It was a really good experience for me, realizing that I have changed these past four months, that an assignment that would usually mean excruciating hours working every last word to perfection and then read from the pulpit had become an easier thing for me, a rush, even. I didn't do it all on my own, of course, but it was still the push I needed to feel a little more the strength I've slowly cultivated since arriving in the MTC only four months ago.
Right. So if that's not enough, the rest of the PLD was super stellar, and then the very next day we all got to meet again with the Jakarta saints and then as missionaries at Senopati for a Halloween dinner, that ended in us singing Called to Serve in the loudest chorus we could muster, all 30 crammed about the piano where Elder L pounded the keys with little attention to any musical marks other than Forte all around. Sunday we taxied to Senayin, where the saints of West Java filled an entire conference room full with hymn and prayer and the little Primary choir that started it all was enough to break your heart and bind it up all over again. Joy, so much joy. It was the soaring high we all needed---numbers are lower than I would even want to tell you and it's only a sight like Saints that could overcome it.
I've got to sign off on this epistle if I'm ever going to get to pictures and a few more quick answers, too. Apologize for all the ADD. Love you.
Sister E.
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