Week 13: I Don't Wanna Taco ’bout It

Why, hello there!

As of today, I have been set apart as a missionary for three months! That’s a quarter of a year, for all those reading this who I’m sure were wondering. Don’t fret, though. There’s still plenty of time left in this hermana’s mission. And I’m sure happy that that’s the case! Because there’s still so much I want to do and explore. And, as Hermana Likes reminded me last night, you only get this experience once.

Wow, who are these styling youths at the bowling alley? That’s right, it’s Franklin South!

I’m sure you’re wondering what the Franklin South District has been getting up to lately for fun. In more prominent news, we went bowling! I definitely was in the lower rung of bowlers, but I did manage to get two strikes that day. This is my long way of saying I will be pursuing a bowling career instead of continuing my theatre arts major once I come back home.

Gotta love the ZLs outside the gyro shop with us. (ft. Hermana Likes’ hand on my shoulder)

Besides bowling this past week, we had a district council with the zone leaders! Elders Forese and Oilar are the best (and Hermana Petersen and I are totally their favorite companionship). Their insights are always really helpful, and I love how they encourage us to do better, but that I never question how much they care about us. Again, the best.

In ways of the actual work part of missions, Hermana Petersen and I are trying our hardest to find people who are prepared for the gospel. Which is sometimes really fun! On Monday, we talked to a lot of people on the square, who were for some reason all eating ice cream? Like, most of the people we were talking to had bought some from the creamery. I don’t know what caused this, because it wasn’t particularly warm, but treats are fun.

Hermana Petersen and I made the best Sunday dinner ever! She prepared a soup, and I made rolls using a recipe given to me by my great-aunt Linda. Thanks, Linda! They were a success!

Obviously, though, there has to be opposition in all things. Surprisingly, when you bring up a personal topic like religion, people can be very rude. Sometimes, though, you don’t even have to bring up religion for things to get awkward. What do I mean, you ask?

So, Hermana Petersen and I have been trying our hardest to have a variety of finding methods. We’ll go to parks, the square, do phone and Facebook tracting. And one day, we set off for the restaurant La Superior. It's one of the most happening spots for Latinos in Columbia, so we went there for our lunch break (and to contact), and let me tell you: I do not recall feeling more awkward. Basically, the restaurant was packed, so we came in, two white girls in business clothes surrounded by construction workers on break. They seemed very confused as to why we were there, to the point that I was sort of confused, too. Every time I looked up from my burrito, someone was staring at me in obvious confusion. We talked to people, but … wow, was it uncomfortable.

Basically, that experience has caused me to think a lot about a verse in Deuteronomy 14:

2 For thou art an holy people unto the Lord thy God, and the Lord hath chosen thee to be a peculiar people unto himself, above all the nations that are upon the earth.

Even though it’s hard sometimes, the Lord asks us to be weirdos. He asks us to walk around a wall and scream so that we’ll reach our promised land. He asks us to build a boat in the middle of the desert with no tools or experience. He asks us to be a pair of white girls with gringa accents sharing His gospel in a grocery/panaderia/restaurant.

Being different can be isolating, but it also offers an unprecedented freedom. When you allow yourself to live in a way that makes Heavenly Father (and, by extension, you) happy, there’s so much peace to feel from it.

Hermana Petersen made this smoothie bowl that looked like a Pokeball, and she didn’t even do it on purpose?

I hope you can all find that solace this week and beyond, and that you’ll continue having an awesome 2021!

— Keep being weirdos,

Hermana Newton