July 12, 2021 Bellevue

 You heard right: I am the proud mother of Sister Pace. Unfortunately, I've discovered that I am an awful trainer. Sister Pace's first trainer was sick for several weeks and wasn't able to teach Sister Pace a lot. I didn't realize how much my trainer, Sister Spendlove, did because you have to do your share of the work and help them do theirs in a step by step manner.

Well, I got to my new area in Bellevue and saw that we didn't have many lessons planned. So, Sister Pace and I have been grinding to contact as many people as we can. I've worked my poor greenie to sleep several times. 

Also, as a side note, I found the 'old stuff' section in our apartment which had a Bible bashing book. Now, I don't like to actual Bible bash, but I LOVE to research it.

We worked at a food bank and I fell into the giant pit of vacuum packed pot roasts twice because I was too short to reach the bottom. Then they asked us to throw away a couple thousand dollars worth of roses. I asked if I could take some home but apparently that's against their donation code and I'd never be allowed back on the premises.

Ok, so the big story:

Friday night there was a HUGE storm. The kind that shatters trees and houses and splits telephone poles. We woke up to no power and as we drove around, fences had been pulled apart, whole trees lay in the road and on cars and on roofs. 

Well, one of our members had died a couple of days before, but the church didn't have any power, so they moved the service outside. 

Well, my companion, a young woman named Kat that often comes with us, and I finished helping a woman move out in her dark and unairconditioned home. We were hot, sweaty, and STINKY. But the power was out so we changed in pros clothes super duper fast and sped over to this funeral.

We make it to the service and it's a touching ceremony. BUT, near the end, an older man collapses. A combination of a heatstroke and a heart attack. He's OK, but his blood pressure was over 230/120, so they kept him in the hospital for a couple of days.

Another man tells us that the power might be out for ten days. 

After the service, we rush to a lesson. After it ends, I'm STARVING because it's almost three o'clock and we have been working hard and haven't eaten since seven. The sky starts pouring buckets of water down.

So we head to the church. Well, church buildings without power get DARK. I'm trying to find my way to the kitchen to see if they have any snacks. (It's an unwritten rule that any food that's been left at the church for several weeks is now missionary food). It's pitch black. The kind of darkness that seems to seep through your bones like a fog does on a Halloween movie. 

I realized, several minutes into trekking through the dark church, that I have a flashlight in my purse and a phone. Now well equipped, we found the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator was incredibly stale bread that had expired in February, raspberry jam, and cream cheese. I made a sandwich. (My companion did not stoop to my level).

Slightly filled, we head to our next lesson (who ended up not answering the door even though we were 90% sure that he was in there).

So we start walking around and pulling tree limbs out of the road.

And one older Hispanic man calls us over. He wanted to show us the tree on top of his house. And I don't mean a little Itty bitty one. Twas a very large tree. Well, this man's name was Ruol and he didn't speak a lick of English.

Luckily, I pretend that I can speak a little Spanish.

Now, I'm not going to try to write out in Spanish what he told us, because I don't really know any Spanish at all. But he said hello, told all three of us that we were very beautiful. 

Using Google translate, I told him that we were missionaries and asked if he'd like a message about Jesus Christ. He said yes! 

So we called the Spanish elders and told them to get their butts over here quickly because the language barrier was DIFFICULT.

At one point, Ruol pointed at me and then let a stream of Spanish. The only word I picked up was esposo, or husband for us English folk. He seemed to understand that I had no idea what he was saying so he started miming holding hands and repeated what he said. My greenie, who knows just a hair more Spanish than I do, turned to me and said: 

"He wants to know if you have a husband or boyfriend." And then she shook her head and said, in Spanish, "No, she's very single." Which I thought was a little too personal of a detail to give away to strange men.

And Roul told me that he has many grandsons. 

Well, the elders finally arrived and Ruol was excited to meet with them.

I guess this week I've been focusing a lot on the idea of perfection. In all honesty, this week has been the kind of week that reminds you that you are not perfect. I'm not the perfect missionary, nor the perfect weight or skin or perfect obedience. Not perfect hair or chin or charity. Not perfectly in tune with the spirit. The list could go on and on, because it feels like I never can quite measure up. And I'm sure we all feel like that. Feel like we fall short, that our best isn't enough, feel like we aren't good enough.

But you know what?

Our Heavenly Father knows that. He knows that we aren't perfect. And so he asked Jesus Christ to be our Savior. To feel every shortcoming, every disappointment, every time we break a rule. Jesus Christ's Atonement can help us recognize that we aren't alone. We aren't forgotten. We are enough to Him even when we can't see that in our own. And when we repent and try to change, He will be on our side.

I want to end with two invitations. First, if you are struggling, turn to your Savior. He knows exactly how you feel and he loves you as you are. He will help you.

And second, my dear brother, Elder Brice invited his email recipients to come over to his house. I've been really thinking about this and I completely agree. If you need a safe spot, if you need a break, if you need a spot to rest or complain, or to get snacks, go to my parents house!

Their address is 10850 N Sophie Place, Nampa Idaho

The dog is extremely friendly.

Love,

Sister Brice