after the trial of your faith

hello dearest family,

These days have been full of rain and more rain, a time of season that reminds me of home and mountains and real comforters. I found that I can almost make my hammock feel like a bed during the fall if I pull the end half up to my head so that it covers my whole body (like a cocoon?) (is that weird?). It rained so much this week that our bedroom filled with water. We wondered why and then we discovered a crack in the ceiling. Nonetheless, we are happy and well and still the best of friends. I think these last eight weeks with Hermana Canseco have been the most fun and different weeks of the entire mission. I am already missing her, as she leaves for home in only THREE WEEKS. I am dying. Sometimes it is hard changing companions. 

We walked a lot this week (again) and contacted many of our references. Turns out no one wanted to listen to us for a good four days. It's funny, because I use to be okay with people not wanting to listen so that I didn't have to speak Spanish. Now it makes me sad (and also frustrated). For example, we contacted a man that had just lost his dad and he had a lot of questions about life after death that his pastors in the Catholic church weren't able to answer. We answered all of his questions and talked about the Plan of Salvation, and then all he asked us was how we knew what we know and how he was always going to be Catholic. At times I find myself getting frustrated with other's ignorance, but most of the time it makes me sad when people reject doctrine that just simply makes sense. We had a good, long trial of faith, which was only made better with hermanita Rebeca telling us that she wants to get baptized with her grandma in the Catholic church . . . we are going to have to work on that. 

We talked about why we weren't having success because we felt that we were doing everything that we could. We decided that we needed to be more grateful for the small miracles and hands of God that we are privileged to see and feel out here in the mission field. So we started to be more grateful. I was grateful for the way Rebeca and Jonathan yelled "good night" in English out of their large front window; for the act of sitting outside with our neighbors under a starry sky to sing hymns; for the small boy at church who wore all blue with water-slicked back hair and socks that obviously did not match. Gratitude does good to one's soul. It lightens your heart and opens your eyes to the small moments of glory that remind us that God created everything and saw that it was good so that we could experience joy. 

I feel especially grateful for you, dear family, during this Thanksgiving season (which I am definitely still going to celebrate, even if it be with pizza and spaghetti). I love you and am grateful for the eternal glory and happiness that will continue to be ours to share. Happy Thanksgiving!


Hermana Rhondeau

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