Blistering heat; white people; a place that’s perpetual fall?

Dear Keith and Family,

 

I too am proud of me for sticking out the cultural differences—by cultural differences, I mean the blistering heat. Actually, I say blistering heat, but I’ve never even gotten sunburned here. Like, it’s really, really hot, and I sweat constantly, but I’ve never gotten legitimate sunburn. And I don’t know that I’m all that much darker. I have a running theory that my state of pastiness has nothing to do with sun exposure and perhaps I’ve got some super-white disease.

I think sometimes I forget that I’m white, and I’m sure that no one notices me when I walk around this city, but every once in a while I spot a tourist or vagabond Caucasian, and my brain malfunctions and I can’t not look away.

White person, white person, white person.

So I say almost every day that I’m going to die of heat, and that I would commit petty crimes to sit in Utah snow for, like, five minutes. But in reality, I don’t think I miss it that much. Or I would stop missing it really quickly if I actually had the Utah cold.

Can’t I just live in a place that’s perpetually fall? Isn’t there a place like that? There should be a place like that.

Hey, I have a new companion. She’s not a newbie, but she’s got six weeks in the mission. And! She’s Latina. She can speak the Spanish language. Granted, she’s Argentinean, so I can’t exactly understand her all the time, but I’m utterly grateful that I’m not training.

What’s been really cool this weeks is that Heavenly Father knows we’re two six weekers wobbling around, a little bit lost and a lot terrified. Therefore, we’ve had members trotting up to us and like, ‘Hey, I have a nephew that wants to know more about the Church! Hey, here’s a lady that’s been attending another ward for a while, but wants to be baptized in this area. Hey, I have a friend that wants to hear more.’ And then at Church we just have people walking in like, ‘Hey, my friend goes to Church here. Can I talk to you guys?’ And other people poking their heads out their doors and are like, ‘Come talk to us!’

Okay, so it wasn’t all exactly like that, but it was almost exactly like that, and it’s so, so weird, because things like this never happen, but we’re really, really grateful.

But also this week’s been really sad, because we have investigators that we’ve been working with for a couple months now, and a ton of less actives that we’ve been trying and trying to help, and I came to the realization that it’s truly difficult to change people, and if it was just two kids walking around the city trying to change the people, we would have no progress. Because it’s not us that can change the people, but the Gospel. I’m still not 100 percent sure where I fit in in this equation, but it’s been really humbling.

I love you all a ton and I look forward to a new house, but mourning all our pretty, pretty fruit trees that we’re, once again, abandoning.

 

With much love, Hermana Compton

 

P.S. The language is much better. I can almost respond to people’s questions now.ImageImage

100 días en la misión Peru 

 
Puedo entender casi todo. Todavía tengo miedo do las preguntas. Y suri. Tengo miedo de suri.
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