hermana rhondeau

11.1.16

dearest family,

We celebrated El Dia de Los Reyes this week, which is definitely not a holiday in the United States. I think that they make up a lot of excuses to celebrate anything and everything here. They commemorate the day that the Wise Men came to find Christ — a sentiment that I have come to love and also look forward to, and not just because there is a giant bread cake with cream cheese involved. We ended up eating about three of those (the cake things: is there really not another word for bread in English that has the same connotation as "pan"?). They have little hidden, plastic baby Jesuses and the person that finds it in their slice of bread has the promise of good luck all year, and then they also have to buy tamales for everyone the 2nd of February. I don't really get it, either. But I love it.

We did a lot of visiting and walking this week. We are now master fast walkers and have the shoes to prove it (i.e. we both have perfect holes in our shoes and socks). We visited Maria de Socorro, an eighty-something year old that is the great grandma of two boys that we are teaching. She is hilarious. She makes us spaghetti and sits with us outside on a wooden bench because she likes how we sing. On Friday she found out that we are leaving in March, and she promptly told us that she would not be accepting "ningun mormon" after we left because she liked us too much and didn't want to have to learn to like other ones. She also knows everyone and calls out, "buenas noches, gordito" whenever anyone passes in the calle (which, roughly translated, means "good night, fatty." I thought Daniel would appreciate that one). We love her. We also contacted some really promising investigators, who immediately told us their whole life story. I had forgotten that that is not normal in real life, because everyone seems to tell us everything they have ever felt or thought or gone through within the first few minutes. I think that has been the greatest and most daily miracle — the miracle of knowing people without even asking. It has become one of my most favorite things of the mission, being able to sit in a stranger's home and just listen to them and come to know them.

Love you and miss you and can't wait to see youuuuuuu.

love love

Hermana Rhondeau

4.1.16

rejoice, o my heart

hola querida familia,

As the weeks go quickly and my heart and mind try to transition to a new year that will not entirely be lived under the Yucatan sun (setting goals at the end of a mission and at the beginning of a year, turns out, is actually quite hard...), I feel full of gratitude for the small moments of eternal happiness that God has allowed me to glimpse and feel here with His children. They are small, glorious seconds which have made up a complete and whole type of joy that is not just felt, but also lived. We had our baptismal interview with Rebeca this past week (this has officially been the hardest baptism in the history of my mission, AND SHE IS NINE but oh my goodness so stubborn it is ridiculous). We walked to the Stake Center with her and little Jonatan who drinks out of my filter without asking and who always manages to steal the mission cell phone out of our bag. Then we had races up and down the calles. They ended up winning every time. That night we ate hot cakes (or pancakes?) with two hermanas from the ward who eat them with sweetened and condensed milk instead of syrup. The next morning we helped Rebeca's mom plan her talk for her baptism that day. We planned it while sitting outside on broken chairs surrounded by the smoke that was coming from two large pots of baked beans that were cooked with literally ten kilos of salt. I have forgotten that some things like that were not normal before. That night we had the baptism; Jonatan wore a purple tie that was so not tied right and we sang "How Great Thou Art" and everyone thought that we should try out for the MoTab (I will probably have really low self esteem when I come home and no one is amazed at my slight ability to sing). We had a leadership meeting at a fancy hotel and ate papaya and other fruit that was cut fancy. People would call that "fresa" here, which means strawberry but also overly fancy/rich.

We walked in the really hot sun (isn't it supposed to be winter?) for over three hours every day this week, contacting people that were so Yucatecan it was hilarious, running to the last minute baptism of Don Peach that the elders taught, waiting for the bishop that showed up on the back of a bicycle because the bus took too long. Hermana Wilson and I have both realized that there has never been a bad day on the mission — there are days that are longer or harder or more trying than others, but I don't think there has ever been a bad one. Just days full of learning and changing and rejoicing.

"Rejoice, o my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my Salvation" (2 Nefi 4:30)

Wishing you a week of rejoicing -- love you and miss you, always.

love love,

Hermana Rhondeau

28.12.15

¡feliz ano nuevo!

hola familia,

So happy that I got to see you on Christmas day, even for a short forty-five minutes. I feel especially grateful for each of you during this Christmas season and with the promise of being with you in the New Year (did we ever think 2016 was going to happen?). Since it hasn't been all that long since we last talked, a small run down of this past week that we had in the Yucatan:

— everyone thinks we are twins, and because of our American heritage people have taken to calling us queens and princesses. Someone also asked us if we were really from this earth (aka: ¿son terrenales?). We think he was trying to tell us that we were angels?

— we had two, almost 12 hour meetings this week during which I managed to eat an entire chicken for lunch one of those two days. I don't know when the whole meat thing happened, but I don't think it will be going away anytime soon.

— we got shots for the flu and I still got scared.

— we listened to a lot of Christmas music, avoided a lot of drunk people, and listened to a lot of pop music throughout the night (because listening to loud music all through the night is a normal thing here. The neighbors never complain).

— we ate a whole coconut (juice and all) which made me feel very native and also very healthy.

— we found a new family to teach and they became our best friends in under two seconds. We have been searching a lot for new people to teach, mostly because we have been having a hard time finding people that are really prepared to recieve the Gospel. Then one night a man on a bicycle stopped to ask us if we were Mormon and we had to hurry and talk to him and write down his address because it was late and we had to be home. We kind of forgot about him until this last Saturday when one of our appointments fell through and we passed by his house and decided to try. He ended up listening along with his son and his daughter-in-law. It was one of those moments and times when you remember why they came on the mission. It made me think that I would serve a three year mission if it meant finding only this family, if it meant finding only one person. I realized that Christ probably felt the same, because He always sought after the one. Elder Bednar had shared a story with us about how he had gone to a restaurant when he was here in May, and at the end of the meal he asked everyone that was there (the waiters and all) if they wanted to ask a question or if they had something to say. He said there was silence for quite some time until one of the waiters started crying and told him about his wife that was dying of cancer. Elder Bednar didn't say anything to him — he just hugged him, and then he told us that it was for that one man in the restaurant that he had come to Merida — he hadn't come for us or for the conferences or because he was on assignment. He came for the one.

I know that Christ did the same, that His birth and life and sacrifice was infinite and eternal, but also personal and kind. Wishing you a Christ-filled December and a joyful New year!

love love,

Hermana Rhondeau