Week 92 email
I’m not going to have a lot of time this week, so I’ll try
to capture the general feeling of what happened instead.
We had lots of new investigators: MJ, Jack, Mark, Ardash and
Marzi, and Chantel.
MJ was referred by the YSA elders. She and her boyfriend
were working with them a while. He is a returned missionary, but he’s the one
holding up the marriage! He doesn’t want to be pushed, however, and we aren’t
going to push him.
Jack was also referred to us by the YSA elders. They taught
him and set another appointment in our behalf, but he wasn’t there when we went
by.
Mark was referred to us by a different set of elders. He’s
had a hard life. We explained why we read the scriptures and challenged him to
read them every day for the next two weeks, promising by the priesthood that he
would find a stable job if he did. It was a powerful lesson, and I felt that I
applied many of my skills. I didn’t do it –– I don’t know where it came from —
but I also did not feel the spirit guiding me. It probably was the Spirit,
though.
Ardash and his wife Marzi was referred by his friend in our
area. We had a lesson with him a few weeks ago. In going to the 1:00 ward (1st
ward) on Sunday, we started jogging when we heard they were there. We barely
made it to the building when Mohammed, the friend, said they were going to
leave. We were able to have a lesson with them; they asked about the same
questions as last time, more focused on how they could know God is real without
evidence and why Joseph Smith had to be the prophet. It was a good lesson, but
we need to follow up well, too. Hopefully we’ll get an appointment soon.
We had good lessons with Dagan and Hunter and with Ty.
Dagan, Hunter, and Dawnette agreed to meet us at the church, which we arranged
per the bishop’s request so he could meet her. He had an activity to go to (it
was usually at the building, but this time they had a stake activity), but the
ward clerk joined us. We played hangman for the gospel of Jesus Christ (Faith,
Repentance, Baptism, the Gift of the Holy Ghost, and Endure to the End); it was
Elder Vandehei’s idea. At the end, we split off into three separate
conversations, informally. I’ve never seen Dagan pay so much attention as he
did listening intently to me for the five minutes we talked.
In talking with Ty, we determined that he can say one thing
but mean to communicate a different thing. I’ve found that’s often true, even
with people who speak English fluently. To some degree, we all have different
cultures. (As a side note, it’s what helps me to not judge). The brother we
took with us was very direct in trying to say that he needs to receive the
gospel that we have to share, but he and Ty took turns trying to talk. They
weren’t arguing, but it wasn’t comfortable. Ty kept saying he is trying as hard
as we can. I realized from that lesson that he often isn’t understood.
At one point in another lesson, I went over the head of our
investigator. As the foster father explained this investigator’s background, including
abuse, I realized not only that I misjudged this investigator, I was trying to
teach instead of letting the spirit teach. As he talked about it, I could see
the moment in my head the point in the lesson where understanding left us (at
that point, of course, the Spirit left too). It wasn’t a disaster, but I
learned.
Omer has tried to receive the Melchizedek priesthood for
more than a year after his one-year mark, when he could have received it. The
language barrier has been frustrating for him. He really wants to help and is
very devoted to serving God.
Many
of our older investigators not responding: Amy, Parker, and Adan all declined
setting appointments at the moment. We’re working on getting them to talk to members
of the ward so they don’t become entirely uninterested with limited success
I
did not have my best week. On Wednesday, April 4, I was so tired in the morning.
So I decided to soak in the tub for my personal study. I fell asleep. Our
planning was mixed with calling and texting people. At times I've had trouble
being involved in planning, especially when I don’t feel completely alert.
Maybe I need to have better exercise time so I will be refreshed and less tired.
(I had better exercises later in the week and still had trouble focusing during
planning, so that didn’t work.)
During our companionship study, we prayerfully considered the
core of Dawnette's needs. We realized that we need to teach her that she can't
have her children grow up in the gospel without her. It was an interesting
and insightful discussion, as we were building off of each other’s insight and
inspiration.
During this discussion, I learned more about how I can
analyze things so deeply. Elder Vandehei put it very clearly (which is why
I learned): I just try to figure it out. I continue to think about a
challenge more and more until I’ve got a solution. I don’t overthink it,
since I stop when I’ve got a solution. According to Elder Vanderhei, my
analytical process is like I’m scrambling up a mountain with leaps and jumps
that for him (and perhaps others) seems like I’ve overthought it, gotten over
the peak and going downhill. But for me, when I really think, I'm near the top
of my mountain. I've learned that at times I can overanalyze, especially when I
don't have the time ponder. I’ve learned that my analytical process can be
tiring. There are times that I'm not able to start focusing or lock in well,
and I need to reset.
I’ve learned that my thought process is not like that of
most of my companions. My thought process has advantages and disadvantages. The
world might place some value on it if I can use it to solve problems, or create
value, or otherwise profit from it. I can't describe exactly how I see it
or want to see it. I feel like in the eternal sense my ability to think isn't
important so much so as the things I could do with it. Being given a gift
by God probably doesn't mean anything to Him; what matters is if and how I use
it. And I do consider it a gift, despite the tradeoffs.
My thought process doesn't make me better or worse, just
different. I do not consider myself inferior or superior. It’s just how I process
things. Yet at times I’ve struggles to accept how I am and how I can use my
abilities to help others. When I start thinking about how I am, I always
get weirdly emotional. No, emotional isn't even the right word. It sort
of relates to how I cannot take a compliment. I have absolutely no idea
what to do with the information someone just gave me. I don’t know how to
react, internally, per se. It’s not a correction or actionable. It also relates
to how I cry when I sing solo, or how I act at times, or how I occasionally struggle
for words to describe some things. I feel uncomfortable. But not because I’m
showing something deep to someone. It’s because I’m unsure of what word to use.
Even now, I’m aware that I do not know how to describe what I feel, and I’m
trying to understand the why and how of that unsettling feeling being produced.
I haven’t been supporting Elder Vandehei as much as I would
like. This starts with our morning planning; usually, Elder Vandehei starts
putting in names. I go through investigators, talking with him about who we
should go by. He puts everything in. Then, in the day, he has all the plans on
his tablet. I usually sync and have them, but he remembers to start recording
earlier than I do. I don’t know what changes he made, so I don’t record. He
then already has the plans made.
I need to be more proactive. I know I’m getting to the end
of my mission, but it’s not that that’s causing me to not help. The biggest
part is I’m tired, but those reasons do not excuse me.
I’ve been thinking and praying about my college decision and
hit a bend in the road. My goal is to have my decision by next Monday, April
15th.
District meeting went very well. The zone leaders talked
about using the right tools to serve with all our heart, might, mind, and
strength. Their teachings on balancing heart and might so we didn’t shy away
from contacting someone and so we would invite them to do hard things struck
me.
There’s an inactive wheelchair-bound sister in our area. She’s
not an elderly lady and she’s not sweet. Kind of snappish and bitter. She asked
us to help plant a garden for her. We learned that missionaries had tended her
garden for three years. I wasn’t sure if we should do it. I sorted through some
of my emotions. Was she using us? Then I later thought how she loved to see her
garden grow, but could not do it herself.
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