Week of March 25, 2013: Miracles

[Insert witty salutation here.]

Another week happened! This Sunday is our daylight savings (I don't know how or why we decide to do it later than the western hemisphere, but that's what happens) and I'm a little nervous about it. Why? Because last year we found out about daylight savings in the manner of our zone leader CALLING US at 5:30 in the morning and saying, "Hey it's actually 6:30 now! You have to wake up!" and my poor companion hyperventilating and panicking because she thought a call in the dark in the perceived middle of the night meant some kind of natural disaster or emergency. But also Bulgaria is thinking about getting rid of daylight savings? According to "word on the street." Anyway.

Some interesting happenings! Um, let's see. We are officially with eight new investigators this week? You know, in the numbers. Which is kind of cool, but of course counting someone who agrees in a first lesson to be like "Okay, I'll be your investigator and meet regularly!" and someone who actually ends up investigating in the long-term have a big gulf between them (what was that sentence structure?). But it was nice this week to meet a lot of open, new people who are willing to discuss ideas with us, and gave me hope that there are people who will be open to what we have to say. We met an interesting family tracting in the area of a former investigator, Shukri (Panti, you know who I'm talking about!), who told us to come back in a few days with the book, and when we came back at the appointed time they let us in, the mom and husband and a son (have no idea how old he was) and listened and there was a really hot heater on making me fuzzy and sleepy but they were really nice and agreed to learn with us. AND this is the most important part: I have actually, in my whole mission, never been let in tracting, readers. Yep. I mean, the other important fact is that I haven't really tracted all that much on my mission either (mostly street contacting, tracting when it's cold or night). But I have sort of had this secret thought in the back of my head that tracting doesn't actually ever lead to finding anyone who is taught. And this is my first experience with that! So that's cool.

Also we went back to go follow up with a cool lady and her two English-speaking sons who Sister Bingham and Sister Turnbow met last transfer, and she was very nice and let us in and gave us "homemade juice" (this thing people jar here that is basically jarred fruit with lots of sugarwater in it that you drink) and her sons agreed to talk to us and were all very nice. So that was REFRESHING.

And finally! We met this really cool lady (I hate using the word cool, but what to say - "excellent?") named Ivanka, who I only talked to for about two minutes on the street streetboarding one day, but we randomly set up an appointment for Saturday and went half-heartedly to go meet her (appointments that involve going to meet someone somewhere who you met on the street once, unfortunately, actually turn into lessons about 1% of the time) 

But she showed up! And actually we passed her on the street and didn't notice she was there, and tried stopping and talking to a few other people, and as we got to her, she said, "I saw you talking to those other people! I was sad that they didn't stop and hear what you had to say." Which was AMAZING because no one has that attitude about us, almost ever. And then we took her back to the church, where the Relief Society birthday party was going on (mom, how did that end up going in the Seattle ward?) and had a first lesson with the second counselor in our branch presidency here, who is awesome. And she showed us how she always carries around some tiny spiritual pamphlets/books with her, because she says they help her with her life, and one of them was an Articles of Faith passalong card from about ten years ago! So someone had given that to her long ago, and now we are teaching her! She agreed to be baptized April 20th, and came to church this Sunday and stayed all three hours, and even made comments during Sunday School and Relief Society. Pretty cool, and a pretty big blessing. Even if things don't end up going the exact way we planned with her, I'm still grateful for those tiny miracles and the way Heavenly Father directed us to her and her to us. Also I had a cool experience on a bus going to tract out in a neighborhood called Vladislavovo one night. I saw a lady at the bus stop in her 50s or so reading a tiny pocket Bible (which made me STARE because it's so unusual here) and immediately set my sights on sitting next to her on the bus so we could talk to her. It turns out (as I expected) she's a seventh-day adventist, and we had an interesting little conversation in which she asked why I don't obey the fourth commandment (of course) but mostly we just bonded over loving Jesus and the Bible and having a spiritual life, and I gave her a Book of Mormon handout even though she probably won't believe in it. But it was a sweet experience (to use a corny overused expression) and made me realize how our tiny acts of seemingly pointless service are actually part of one big whole (like a doughnut hole). There are no tiny acts of service. Only tiny doughnut holes. The only "big" act of service was the Atonement. So.

Anyway, learning lots and missing everyone and I LOVE YOU. Keep your long sleeved shirts on or bad weather will come! (according to custom here.)

Love, 

Sister Crandhole

Extra Bonus Post! Pix Stolen From Facebook . . .

Week of March 18 2013: Week in Pictures!

Week of March 11 2013: Women's Day!

Editor's Note:  I'm sorry about the weird background color and formatting over the last few weeks.  I finally figured out the issue and hope that today's post is a little more aesthetically pleasing.  I've also changed up the font!  And made it larger for everyone's reading pleasure!  Thank you all for supporting Eliza.  xo

A very successful hello to everyone! (I think I read somewhere that if you talk about being successful, you will BECOME successful and a fancy businessman with your own sweatshop! Or something like that.) Um, this was a week of a lot of work and sore feet and walking around the main street of Varna all day, every day trying to find people to teach. We don't really have that many investigators now, so I have a feeling it's going to be a lot of weeks like this for a while. But that's okay! For the first time on my mission, I'm actually more excited than anything else by the prospect of finding new people. Before, the weight of nervousness or stress or frustration kept getting in the way of me wanting to search and openly talk to people, and even though I did, it was harder. But now I'm in a position where I can be bold and unafraid and just work without fear. It's a nice way to feel, especially being here and thinking about the place I was in a year ago, and how much better I've gotten at this (even though I'm still not very good). But it's cool!

I'm trying not to have the mentality of "needing" or "deserving" some particular measure of visible success in the last stage of my mission, because that's lame. Even though it's tempting to think that way. So I'm trying to be grateful for every experience, and I've realized that praying and thanking God on a more frequent basis throughout the day really does help that. I'm also trying not to work myself to death or bitterness or numbness, although that's also tempting. Just working as hard as I possibly can and being thankful for being allowed to.

I love you guys. Happy Women's Day! Men's day will commence for the next 364 days. 

Sister Cryndball

Week of March 4, 2013: Written in the salty air

I'm back in Varna! How did this all happen, you ask? Well, I don't know. Last week found me in the mission office in Sofia frantically trying to do emails on an office computer while the awesome office couple, the Sedgebergs, quietly tapped along on their computers (we used to have office elders, who could talk to Bulgarian landlords/run errands/pay bills, but now this couple, who used to work in the Latvia mission, has stepped up and does it ALL. And they're converts. Pretty cool). And now I'm here in Varna, after we got here on Tuesday. Let me tell you some interesting things about being back in this area. It reminds me a lot, obviously, of being here exactly a year ago as a new missionary and feeling all these extremely intense, powerful feelings - homesickness, excitement, inadequacy, confusion, indigestion - that somehow are all written on the buildings and landmarks and the salty air and that I keep remembering. And what else. We're not allowed to go by the sea anymore, so that's kind of a bummer. But WHATEVER! The sea is in my heart! Etc.

Also this week: a district meeting that reminded me of my very first district meeting and how I got into an argument about breastfeeding at the district lunch immediately following it. Yeah. Even though the people I work with in the mission now probably wouldn't believe me, because I still am very argumentative, I used to be a LOT more argumentative than I am now. I used to be a lot different than I am now in a lot of ways, I guess. Like now my hair is longer, for instance. Just kidding, that's not what I mean. I mean that this lifestyle kind of (obviously) internally changes your thinking and your approach to problems. For example: the other day I was looking at some pictures of family/home, and I had this weird flash across my mind, looking at a picture of this one person: "Ooh, I wonder if they'd like to be taught the Gospel!" and then I shook myself out of this world and thought, WHAT? Since when do I wonder such things? Not that I don't believe in teaching the Gospel to everyone, but before I came here, my approach to thinking about missionaries and missionary work was kind of the same as my approach to like, firefighters: I don't know any, I don't see any, I'm sure they do great things, I hope they're okay, whatever. Kind of distant and vague, unfortunately. But now it's weird because my whole world is measured around looking for people who might be taught and baptized. I'm describing this badly, but I guess my point is I had no real connection to missionary work before my mission, which is unfortunate, but it's fascinating how it's completely changed my daily thoughts, but more importantly, my way of thinking.

This week, we were able to see some investigators I taught a year ago, and it was amazing to see them and think about their progress and how much I cared about them and thought about them, now deeply they impressed me, even though I understood about 2% of what they said. It's just funny how you don't necessarily plan to start caring about these people this much, and then it just happens and you can't control it. And the best experience was probably church, which really, really felt going home in a lot of ways: I saw all these people who had loved me and been kind to me and cared for me when I was new and scared, and it was very tender to see them all again. (I told one member, a very hip, though middle-aged lady, that my brother was in South Korea on a mission, and she immediately started singing and dancing that one Korean song that everyone is sick of from every pop station of every place in the world. Twas funny.)

Anyway. We have a lot of work to do. A lot of finding and building up new investigators and a lot of tracting and street contacting. You know, normal life. But I'm excited. I'm trying not to think about going home, but see myself as a new missionary still, one who doesn't have to be jaded and tired and number-oriented (which I have to admit, I sometimes have a tendency to become, as an older missionary). But someone who, like last year, is just excited and feels lucky and overwhelmed to be given this job.

I read this week some good things. What were they? The Book of Mormon, especially things about faith and repentance. But also that talk by President Eyeball (I mean Eyring) about the pavilion. Go read it.

I love you guys. Pictures to come shortly. Understanding of cameras to come longly. (Hahaha, kind of forced but at least I tried to make that joke.)

Love,

Crister Scrable

Week of February 25 2013: Varna!

Sorry for the incoherence/upset of last week. I think it was probably from just having come from a funeral (probably). But this week continued in its strange, slightly painful fashion, which was made stranger and more painful, but also more sweet by the fact that it was Sister Tate's last week, and 1) made me realize how awesome she is and how much I'll miss her and 2) how close I am to being in my last week, and how sad that is. Just reminded me of what Mom wrote to me and what is written on every upscale yuppie tea bag, Dove chocolate wrapper, and smooth pebble with writing on it: something something about living in the moment, enjoying the moment, not thinking about the future too much.

I found out on Friday that I will be moving to Varna next transfer. Those of you who are regular fans of this story will remember that I was there a year ago as a new missionary, and then another mini-transfer after that, making this my third time in Varna. And I love it there! I am really, really happy. It's kind of funny, but it feels like going home in a lot of ways. Most ways. Varna is where I have memories of understanding no one and nothing but loving everything, and maybe that's what I want to get back to being like again? Just in confused excitement and clueless? It was a good time. There are investigators and members there who I love a lot who I've always thought about and missed, my whole mission, and so it's really a sweet blessing to go back, even though I've come to love Ruse.

Interlude: I was writing some notes in our area book about people, members, etc. and wrote one about a friend of ours who I described as "very sweet, but flaky," and then realized the pie crust-implication of my description. Also, I recently saw a Coke truck that said "Trink Coke!" instead of drink, I suppose. Funny!

Another interlude: yes, I did remember that thought by writing "sweet blessing" and then realizing how silly "sweet blessing" sounds, like a brand of cake shaped like a Bible or something.

ANYWAY. The format of these letters needs to be switched up. So I'll do so by writing, instead of about events, etc., about PEOPLE! Whom I will miss.

There's a girl in Ruse who's best friends/kind of siblings with our new convert Svetlo, who's thirteen so I won't say her name in a scary public place. She's kind of wacky and out of control, if anyone's noticed the evidence on Facebook (and I haven't LOOKED, other people have just TOLD ME). She and Sister Tate and I have become a weirdly familial like kind of friends, in which she calls us "babo" (which is a vocative form of the word for "baba," grandma) and we also call her "babo". (This is a grammatical practice also in action with "mamo," or mom. It's kind of funny to hear kids call their moms, and then their moms call them "mom," back, but that's what it is.) I am addicted to parentheses, its seems. Anyway, the other day we had her and Svetlo teach us a lesson about the Restoration for practice/teaching is the best form of learning reasons, and it turned into Babo imitating me in all of my movements and expressions and wearing my tag, and then putting on my coat and pretending to make a fake missionary planner in her little notebook, and bossing us around and telling us she and her companion (he chose to be called Elder Randall Scott, in honor of a cowboy of some kind that I don't know) had another lesson. It was really cute and funny and awful (she also sprayed my coat with men's cologne). And it just made me realize how much I love her and want her to be a member and to grow up happily with the Gospel. She can't get baptized now because her parents are against it, but she wants to and talks about it constantly. Anyway.

Well, the gist of everything is that I'm happy, I'm going to Varna, and I will miss Ruse. And more and more, I realize how little time I have and how much of a blessing it is to be here. Corny corny balls. Oh well.

I love you all. Bam, i did get your package! Thank you so much! And Erin, thank you for the missive from the homeless shelter! And Dana, I'll talk to you soon! (In June?) And I want to recommend the following verse: Ether 12:27. So there.

Love, 

Sister Crundbeyell

Week of February 11, 2013: Black Dog

Here I am again! You can't get rid of me! Well, another week has slipped grossly by, like the drip of an electric heater falling down freezingly down my shirt from an apartment high above me, like they all do here. Not that I go around wearing shirts with giant holes and openings inviting the entrance of freezing water drips, but . . . okay. You get what I mean. This week involved going to Sofia for Sister Tate's passport updation, even thought she leaves like 2 days after it expires, but whatever! We visited a Sofia classic, of whom most former missionaries here will immediately have some kind of memory: Dyado Velichko, the king of all sister missionaries. Oh, Sister Heiney (spelling incorrect probably)!!! You have greetings from him. You and I should just conference call him when I get back to make it one exciting explosion of Dyado! Anyway. We visited him with Sister Tate, and he's this older guy who lives in a very old block and who was tracted into by sisters like 10 years ago, reads the BOM, probably believes in the Church, gets visited by members, but is too old for baptism/membership, but just loves having sisters (especially) and missionaries in general visit him. So we visited and he told us an excellent story about a tiny elephant who became a big elephant. I pinky swore with him to call him regularly, because he is all alone and SO CUTE. So that's that. My sistery freakout is over.

 

For some reason it is very hard to find/make time to go contacting/tracting in Ruse. Probably I'm just a bad missionary and it's always been hard for me, but for some reason here, the tasks and chores and random tasks (Austin Powers reference) just kind of make time get interrupted or something. But maybe I'm complaining, and I should go take it up with PAUL who found time to be KILLED by people during his mission. So whatever. But any thoughts on that? Still struggling to find people who are going to be real investigators and eventually find true desire to follow Christ. So please continue to pray that we can find them, because Ruse really, really needs some new strong members in the branch right now.

 

We had a few lessons with a guy from Algeria named Mustafa (like one guy in my Arabic class picked as his Arabic name! or like the Genie in Aladdin says to mock the latter!) who got a BOM in Arabic (I also slipped one home to do some useless "attempts" at "reading") and basically wanted to spend a half hour telling us about his knowledge of Old Testament characters and saying "This book is cool. I will read it," and then asking us if we knew Zacharaius in a kind of judgy way. But that's okay! He was cool. Stereotype alert: I find that a lot of the people I teach/meet here who have Muslim roots or background(s?) are very open and friendly in a discussion kind of way, especially, but just have these huge roadblocks to helping them accept Christ. Like, for instance, not believing in Christ. Boring missionary phrase alert: It's an interesting experience to meet them and talk to them.

 

We also continue to meet with our Romanian friend, Iulian, for whom we crafted an enormous chocolate chip cookie with a smiley face on it because he's sad he has to move back to Bucharest in March (aren't we all). Furthermore, we had a lesson with this cool guy named Deyan who lives in a smaller village outside of Ruse for most of the month and can only have lessons once in a while, but who has read almost all of the BOM and brought us an American tomato seed packet he wanted us to translate to make sure there was nothing wrong with them. He said in May he'd bring us some of the tomatoes they grew. I. Want them.

 

Okay one more thing (actually 2) and I'm done! On Saturdee, Sister Tate and I went to visit some members who live in a kind of rougher area of town, and they gave us some cakey things when we left that we were both not in the mood to eat, so we walked out with the intention of tossing them into one of the dumpsters, where undoubtedly, some human or beast would shortly eat it and then use it more than we did. Only as Sister Tate walked up to the bin, I felt a sense of foreboding drifting across the smoky, garbage-scented night. A single star cast its light upon the broken bottle chips and cigarette butts near the can. I sensed a strange presence - almost animal-like. A subdued, anxious snuffling issued faintly from the dumpster. As I opened my mouth to say, "I think there's an animal in there," in a matter of 20 confusing blacked-out seconds, a giant black dog leaped balletically from the dumpster's depths, pounced its paws on Sister Tate's chest, and then darted away growling and whining. After, we stood there for a few seconds in shock, not really understanding what had just happened. Then we shrugged and walked away.

 

One more thing: Lyodmil, the convert who got baptized last year with Sister Tate, moved to Ruse! And he plays guitar! So yesterday I had a guitar session with him for our cowboy party this Saturday (oh boy) in which I taught him "Angel Band"! So. All dreams fulfilled.

 

I love you all. Try and listen to the Spirit! 

 

Sister Crandmill