I’m here to share the marvelous, glorious news of the pair of witty Peruvians that we baptized last week—Blanca and Cesar. Well. Hna. Blanca now has a calling as Primary President. I don’t think I’ll be able to express how happy this makes me. Because it makes me really, really happy. Like, whenever I have a bad thought, or want to just sit down, ‘No, no. Hermana Blanca now takes care of the children.’ And everything’s okay. I think it’s somewhat like watching your own child accomplish great things. A Prideful Parent moment.
But seriously. It makes me unnaturally happy. So happy. This explains why, when they were receiving the lessions, anything that possibly could go bad, went bad. Satanas! Was working to stop them for getting baptized, I just know it.
Other than that, I’ve had a few rather interesting epiphany moments these last few days. One: I’m a horribly disorganized person. This was a pretty hard blow for me, for some reason. I feel like everyone’s been telling me this for a really long time, but I’ve always just, well, ignored them. But it hit home this time. But I think it was disorganized coupled with incapable or something like that, and I felt bad for a day. But now that I’ve come face to face with parts of me that I don’t like, I feel like I can take that part of me and try to fix it. Or upgrade it. Or make it a little better. But goodness, growing pains are. . . well. A pain. Like exercise, but decidedly worse.
Other than that, nothing has really happened. The last four and a half months with Hna. Ponton have literally disappeared so quickly. We have transfers next Monday. While I don’t really understand how everything’s going by so quickly—running theory that time runs differently on this side of the equator—I feel like I’m getting a little bit done, at least.
I also cut my hair this week, which I felt like was a rather brave, grown-up moment. Just the split ends, mind you, but I felt like it was a big moment.
I’ve also taken—wait for it—to folding my own laundry. I know. I’ve now reached level adult, Mom. You must be proud of me.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve also sent photos this week, so I feel like I’m getting a lot done in my seventy-five allotted minutes of internet time.
P.S. Package? Socks? Please reasure me that I am loved.