There was a fireside on Sunday, and I ended up having to do a musical number with Elder Romo, one of the missionaries from my MTC district who also came to my area. It’s a good thing I was in jazz band, because if I couldn’t improvise on chords, I don’t know what I could have done. The Spirit was definitely there helping me, too.
The members here are pretty good about team-ups. They give us lots of dinners as well. There are many awesome families in this ward; you can really tell how the Gospel has blessed their lives.
The Spirit has led me down some random paths here, but it’s all been for a purpose. Sometimes my trainer asks me which way I think we should go, and we end up finding some promising potential investigators. One time we stumbled across the house that a less-active member who I guess sort of vanished turned out to have been staying at. Crazy stuff.
I’m doing my best to retain my grammar. A lot of the missionaries here say “y’all” a lot. Instead of “have a nice day,” the people here generally say “have a blessed day.” I don’t think I’ll have to worry too much about it. If nothing else, I’ll come back sounding like Captain Malcolm Reynolds.
The days are long, but the week has been short. In other words, it’s rather like the MTC, only instead of being imprisoned in a concrete cube with poor natural lighting and being fed excessively like Elder Hansels and Sister Gretels in the house of the wicked BYU Dining witch, we’re gliding down tree-lined roads under the open sky on our bikes.
There’s a Five Guys here, but it’s on the other side of the street that divides the mission areas.
I also had to take down a Phantom Menace poster that was hanging right next to my desk in the apartment. When that’s the only Star Wars you’ve got, it can make you start to think some unholy thoughts about the prequel movies.