frolicking in a rainy, obscure field
with a half broken umbrella
it was a good night
como habia una paragua rompido
compre bulsas de pan
viente centimos cada una
y nos mojamos
con una miembro del barrio
I want you to know that with all of my companions, I always end up bragging about Keith. That might sound really weird, but I have to be super reassuring that my step dad is cool, because step dads usually get a bad rap, right? So they all know that he’s bald, and has a bad chocolate addiction, and likes to garden, and now they’ll know that he takes kids to the dentist on his day off. I don’t think you guys could understand very well, but when I skyped home last spring, Hna. Ponton basically just asked which one was Keith the whole time. ‘El pelachito.’
This week we changed house because two hombres solteros recently moved into my apartment, so now we live in the house of the most adorable lady ever. So that was a pain, moving. Hno. Cesar helped us move everything was ever so offended when we offered to pay for the gas we used in his motokar.
This week I was teaching lesson 2-El Plan de Salvacion. And it sort of hit me again that this church is true, and that might sound silly because of course it is. But I was teaching about how Satan rebelled against God and Plan Free Will and how Adam and Eve aren’t terrible human beings and that everything is actually a really well organized plan that God has for us, and I saw the little light flicker on behind her eyes, and she was like, ‘Oh. Oh.’ And she was like, ‘How do you know so much?’ but not ‘you’ as in me but as in, ‘How do we know so much?’ Because prophets and revelation and order and because God loves us.
Only recently I’m grasping at what it must be like to not understand. It must be like trying to read without glasses—or play the piano, in your case, mom—and when one finds the church is like magic. Eyesight. Perfect. We can see. Isn’t that cool? Isn’t that wonderful?
We have cambios in an hour or so but I’m almost certain that they’re not going to be kicking me out of Clavero—I have to finish training Hna. Ruis. Or at least I’ve been praying that they won’t, anyways. There are the 4 parts of the mission—Iquitos, Pucallpa, Tarapoto, and Mayobama. Most of the hermanas have already skipped from two or three of these areas. I’ve been camping out in Iquitos for all this time, but I’m actually perfectly alright with that. I like it here. I feel like this is my house, this ward. The kids in the streets know me, the members know me. Like I’m part of the neighborhood. Even the Evangelists aren’t scared of me anymore.
What else happened this week? I see I finally received a letter from Richard—Oh, have I told you of the beautiful little boy named Richard? He has the prettiest eyes, and screams, ‘Hermana!’ upon sight, and his mother cannot peel him from my side until he has given me at least three kisses. (Tried teaching the mom. Shut me down so fast I didn’t even know how to respond. Sigh.) He makes my heart hurt.
Oh. And my pensionista. She may possibly be an angel. An ANGEL. She plays oldies Peruvian music and fusses over us and smothers us in so much love it would almost be suffocating but it’s so not. Her name is Ana Bragga. She’s the bishop’s mom. I love her.
Well, that’s all for now folks. Chao.
p.s. Also, thanks for talking about me?