Comfy

I'm a creature of habit.  As we drove Premal had me rank places I'd most like to live, and Baltimore was in my top three (following DC and Denver--obvi). He went over the locations I deemed "less than ideal:" San Francisco, New York, Portland, Chicago...? *blink   blink   blink*At that, he looked down and laughed out loud. "It's like this shirt," he said."I like that shirt.""I know! Which is why I'm photographed wearing it in roughly 10% of our travel pictures!" (I'm the one who usually ends up packing...)Meanwhile, I was busy contemplating the white sweater I had on. The same one I've worn 3-times a week since I bought it in November. Which is to say, he has a point. But then again, so do I.

Zion's Walls

We recently added a "blackboard accent wall" to our kitchen. It broadcasts my to-do list to any soul who enters our home. The space isn't huge, and I had hoped its modest size would limit the number of tasks I would accumulate. Unfortunately, it's just helped me master my minute-chalk-script. Some chores (taxes) I think I've completed, but somehow I keep sticking them back on, unsatisfied by the results of my efforts. Others (gardening), taunt me with the idea of the satisfaction they are sure to bring--after I put in the requisite research and prep-work. Currently there are eight starred 'priority' items on my board (down from 12 yesterday [Yay for me!]), with another 12 'lesser' duties. Times like these can only be described as drudgery. 

So, it should come as no surprise that when Premal suggested that instead of his flying to San Diego solo for a short blip at a medical conference we road trip out together, I jumped at the notion. Working from home can be isolating, but the freedom to wander about as long as I get my projects done does a lot to lessen the monotony of life in general. 

True to his form, Premal meticulously mapped out our route. And true to my form, I considered his plans more of a loose suggestion. We ended up spending a day en route hiking Zion National Park, and it turned out to be just the break we both needed. The sun was warm, the air was crisp, and we couldn't have been a merrier couple trekking through one of the most glorious corners of the earth. 

Life is life. At times it is mundane, at others it's exhilarating. But really, it is always magical. Our jaunt in the desert woke me up to the wonders of our life at home. And that's the glory of it all. Every little thing we do is a miracle in and of itself, whether it be hiking a mountain, doing ones taxes (online!!!), or simply waking from a dream on a weekday morning. I am so grateful to have be roused--for now--from my apathy at the awesome world around me. And here's to hoping that next time I get mired in the lists of life and such and so-and-so, there'll be another impromptu road trip to wake me up. 

Notes from Montreal

Another week - in which, during an attempt to ask about what she thought was a new fish in a recent convert's fish tank, my companion asked if this new member had a new sin....It was a little awkward, especially because the member in question recently moved in with her boyfriend...But it was all quite silly and jolly and I don't *think* anybody was horribly offended.....Nah!

Oh! So elections are taking place in Quebec right now. There are a lot of get out the vote signs, and other political signs. And they are all. So. Weird. Really really odd. I'll take pictures today and send them next week. But they are super strange - and a very good way to see some fundamental differences between Quebec vs. U.S.A. Just to give you an idea, one has a stony faced 60-something year old woman with purple streaks in her hair and a giant bobble necklace. It's weird, and not particularly inspiring. All of the campaign posters have giant pictures of the politicans on them. It seems like something from a Kurt Vonnegut story. Yissss....these frogs are a little odd. Also, we did some street contacting and were mistaken for campaigners...And then we street contacted one of the politicians from the creepy giant signs! She was not very sympatico. So we've started passing out flyers for her opponent. I kid, I kid! But we actually should.

I gave up bread to help understand one of the people we're teaching who wants to stop smoking. I went three weeks! And then she told us to stop.....But. I do understand a little better now. And, sadly, I don't love bread as much as I used to :( 

Je vous aime!

It's All Greek to Me

Around the corner from my office in DC there's a tiny storefront restaurant called, quite simply, "Greek Deli". It would be easy to miss, were it not for the long serpentine queue stretching all the way to the pavement, then turning 90-degrees and continuing on for a good distance more. Unsuspecting pedestrians are often corralled by the hungry ranks, eyeing the potential interlopers with suspicion as they push through towards their intended destination. You might think foul weather would dampen the resolve of the masses, and sometimes it does. But there are days when the promise of a carton of lush avgolemano soup is the only thing that gets you through the dull, grey drudgery of life in the city. And so you wait.

You take the full hour for lunch, and you spend most of that hour outside in the drizzle, the collar of your wool-coat hiked up and itching your neck because you left your scarf at home again. By the time you make it to the door, your coat smells, and you hate every person ahead of you. You stare at them through the stenciled door, they're smug and cozy, and also idiots. You didn't think this was possible, but you actually hate them more as they bumble through their orders.

And then, the door opens. A rush of warm air, saturated in olive oil hits you, and suddenly the last 40-minutes spent shivering in the cold are forgotten. The space is packed tight to the counter with customers. Behind the glass stands Kostas Fostieris. He looks like the captain of an old dory, with his fisherman's cap, leathery skin, and a beard as full as his belly. You watch him age through the pictures and news-clips crowding the walls. You're shocked by how little has changed. Aside from the color of his beard and the style of the suits, the scene around you perfectly mirrors the ones on display. Does he notice it too? Finally, it's your turn. But you were distracted by the photos and the baklava. "MEEEEEESSSS! MEEEEESS?" barks Kostas, and you realize that you haven't decided what to order. Now you're the one staring into the case of steaming lamb and salmon and brisket and spanakopita and moussaka and orzo and white beans and green beens like a tongue-tied nincompoop. The woman behind you sighs heavily, and someone from the back of the shop hisses "you've gotta be kidding."  Suddenly you're very warm, you blurt out a list of six different items. Because overcompensation? Azzad is at the the register, more relaxed than his employer, he sneaks you a wink and a smile along with your giant white sack of food.

By the time you make it back out into the rain you're late for work. You take the shortcut through the alley, and a driver blares his horn at you for blocking his way. That girl across the hall gives you the stink eye as you slink into your office, and you can't really blame her. The conference call you were supposed to be on has already started and you hope no one notices the 'bloop' announcing your arrival. They say something about slide five, you mute your line. You, are very, very hungry. You rip open the sack, it's oil-stained now and making an even bigger mess of your desk. You start to ask yourself why you keep going there anyway, but the first bite of warm bread shuts you up before you can finish the thought.

The below is my rendition of one of my very favorite dishes from the Greek Deli. I've added kale to make the dish a bit more substantial, and would not be against throwing a fried egg on top for good measure. Serve with crusty bread.

Rustic Gigantes Beans with Kale

---

3/4 lb. dried large white beans

1/2 c olive oil

1/2 large sweet onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, diced

1/2 c white wine

2 t fresh dill

1 16 oz can good Italian tomatoes, whole

2 c kale, chopped

2 oz Greek feta

Cook beans in salted water according to your preference until just shy of done. For me, this means a "power soak," followed by about 20 min. in the pressure cooker.

While beans are cooking, prepare tomato sauce. Pour tomatoes (including their juices) into a large bowl, and squish to break up into a nearly uniform consistency. Heat 1/4 c olive oil in a large sauté pan, cook onion until translucent, add garlic and cook 2 more minutes. Add wine and tomatoes, fill can half full with water to rinse out any additional juice and add that as well. Cook over high heat until reduced by almost half (you can always add water if it gets too concentrated, sauce should still be a bit soupy). Add beans, kale and dill, and season to taste, then stew until beans are tender. Stir in additional 1/4 c olive oil, and top with crumbled feta.

MEEEEEEMORIIIIIIEEEEES, ALL ALONE IN THE MOOOOOONLIGHT

               We’re sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house.

We’re waiting for the curtains to arise.

We're sitting on the steps of the Budapest Opera House, waiting for Charity to check whether there’s a matinee showing of Faust. She’s the only one who sort of speaks Hungarian.

We’re sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house.

We’re waiting for the curtains to arise.

I actually don’t know the song. Liberty and Mercina learnt it in Tour Choir – the most advanced group in the Colorado Children’s Chorale – but they only remember the first two lines. I was in Chorale too, but I was never promoted to Tour Choir. They know a lot of songs I don’t.

We’re sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house.

We’re waiting for the curtains to arise.

I’ve picked up the song by now – it’s only two lines, and most of the words are the same. I sing until I get dizzy and have to take a breath. Chary comes back. There’s no Faust. She sits on the steps and starts to sing too.

           

We’re sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house.

We’re waiting for the curtains to arise.

We sang a lot on that trip. Charity would sing O Mio Babbino Caro in public squares in Budapest and Vienna and make me walk around the resulting crowds carrying her sun hat. Pedestrians would throw 1€ and 2€ coins into it and I felt like a beggar, which was sort of the case but at least it’s a good story now. We’d use the money to buy lemonade at fancy cafes later on.

We’re sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house.

We’re waiting for the curtains to arise.

We’d sing along to My Hips Don’t Lie and Weekends & Bleakdays in our apartment when they played on MTV Europe, which still showed actual music videos most of the time back in 2006. We sang Hungarian folk songs when we went to tea with my grandfather and grandmother at Budapest’s New York Palace, which is still the most beautiful place I’ve ever had tea in my life. We would sing in English every Sunday at the international congregation and sometimes I’d look up from the hymnal to see if the bishop’s son was looking at me.

We’re sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house.

We’re waiting for the curtains to arise.

Now Mercina is upset. She thinks we’re making a scene. Mia’s always had the most dignity of all of us, unless you catch her at 9pm – then something funny happens to her blood glucose levels and she starts acting totally sloshed. But it’s only 2 or 3 in the afternoon right now, and she stalks off into the cobblestone sunshine of the Budapest afternoon to escape our uncouthness.

We’re sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house.

We’re waiting for the curtains to arise.

We can’t see Mercina anymore in the rush of city people running errands, so Charity makes us get up. When we find Mia, she promises us that we’ll go to a café for some lemonade.

Postcards from the Everglades

 

So many pretty birdies.

 

Willa calls them "dirdies!"

And gets very, VERY excited to see them.

'Gator faces.

...and 'Gators!

Song To a Fair Young Lady Going Out of Town in the Spring

Ask not the cause why sullen spring

So long delays her flow'rs to bear;

Why warbling birds forget to sing,

And winter storms invert the year?

Willa is gone; and Fate provides

To make it spring where she resides.

*I hope John Dryden forgives me for taking the slightest bit of liberty with his charming ditty. I don't know Chloris, to whom he originally penned the poem, but it's certain that Willa's been hogging good weather lately. Sincerest apologies to those she's left behind in the Polar Vortex!

Notes from Montreal

I lose stuff.

A lot on my mission. Like really a lot. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's this giant coat that I wear all day every day, maybe it's because I'm just a little distracted all the time (thinking about peoples' eternal salvation seems so much more important that making sure I put the keys back on their hook ;). Anyway, it happens a lot. And this last week things took a turn for the worse. I lost our phone. Here's the thing, I lose our phone all. the. time. I leave it in the snow. In our apartment. In our car. Lots of places. But we always find it - mostly because my companion usually realizes I don't have it soon after I lose it. But last week I reallly lost it. For the realz. And by the time we realized it was gone it was late. We had been in a lot of places. And...as missionaries, we don't even have another phone to call our lost phone. Or a computer. Or any important numbers! JUST KIDDING WE ALWAYS WRITE DOWN REALLY IMPORTANT NUMBERS BECAUSE WE'RE TOLD NOT TO RELY SOLELY ON THE MEMORY IN OUR PHONES.....what I just typed may or may not be true. 

Aaaanyway, I lost the phone. It was late. And dark. And crazy windy, and frigid. Like -25. But we went to look. We retraced all of our steps. And went back to everyone's house. And used people's phones to call our phone. And nada. And then we digged (dug?) in the snow for a while. But nothing. So we went to bed. And I don't know why, but my mission seems to have sucked all of the anxiety that may have ever rested in my body out of me. Really. I can't get anxious about much of anything. It's awesome. I slept like a baby. And then, when we woke up, we realized we probably had to do something. So. We got dressed, and we prayed. And we both realized where it had been lost. We had picked up a member to come to a lesson with us and when I got out of the car to open the door the phone fell. So we went back to see if it was still there. But the snowplows had come, so our searching was a little wetter than we might have hoped. And we looked crazy. Like misled little squirrels digging for invisible and non-existent acorns in massive heaps of snow. And so we stopped. And we went to a member's house to call our District Leader. It was early (8:30am), so we were a little hesitant about knocking on this couple's door, but we didn't really have a choice (we didn't actually have the elder's number ourselves....). We knocked, and were welcomed in with more love than I knew what to do with. This couple is amazing. We've always loved them, but they were just so kind. They were so happy to see us - they made us breakfast, and set my companion up on the computer doing genealogy while I made the calls. And It was such an example pf Christlike love. We had made a mistake, we were bothering them early in the morning to help us fix the mistake, and they were thanking us for gracing them with our presence. It just made me think of how Christ and God are always waiting for us - with extended arms - no matter how surly or uncharitable or disobedient we are. Aaanyway, I called the elders, and then I called our phone. And someone answered! It was a woman - and she had found our phone exactly where we had thought it had fallen! And we met up with her and were so very grateful and then wrote down some numbers.... :)

In other news, I ate one entire fish. I almost died. For the realz. It was too much. There were eyes. And so many bones. And I didn't know what to do - or how to eat it, and I really felt like I was going to pass out. And then this sister took the head off - only to reveal all the meat I had been secreting inside so I wouldn't have to eat it. It was a very bad moment indeed. And then they expected me to finish it. And uughghghgh. Yerk. Yuck. I only like shrimps. 

Smooches,

Notes from Montreal

Howdy peeps!

This last week was an adventure. Really. It was very packed with experiences - and at times seemed really long. But mostly in a good way - if that's possible.

It all started when we met a referral from another investigator from another ward. We really didn't know what to expect, but even if we had I think we would have been surprised. Saif is from Afghanistan. He's been here for a little over a year  - and his French is really rough. But between his French and English, we were able to learn that he's totally into Jesus. Like, really, really into that guy. AND that he's read the Book of Mormon twice! In Pashto - for the first time when he was 8. Kind of cray, cray, eh? And, he's totally into the church, but.....We can't baptize him because the Taliban will kill his family if we did. Which is actually kind of a problem. So, we're allowed to teach him, but nothing more, for the moment. #investigatorproblems

I can now pray in 4 languages! And as I've learned to talk to God in Spanish, French, and Haitian Creole, our relationship has been enriched (I'm only kind of joking.) 

One funny thing about my mission is that I can count the number of times I've been door-to-door tracting on my fingers and toes. It's good, because we usually have more productive things to do. But, last week we had about 20 minutes between appointments, and decided to try to visit a potential. She wasn't home, but her cousin was, and after chatting for a few minutes and setting up another time to meet we decided to knock on some of the other doors in the building. Within 10 minutes we found a less-active member AND a young man who said he had been praying and reading his scriptures when we knocked on his door. We had our first real lesson with him on Saturday. He's cool. 

As I mentioned in my last letter, we feel very fortunate to have a good pool of people to teach. But just because we have people to teach doesn't mean things are always easy. And after reflecting and realizing that most of our investigators weren't budging, we decided to fast. Friday morning we went to sing with the old people and missed a call from an ami. An ami who had been a referral from a member and...well. It's rather complicated. But do any of you remember me telling you about that woman who a member had invited to recover in her home after a crazy operation? If not, that's ok. The details make the story a little more painful, but I don't have time to do justice to them right now. Anywayyyyy, we called her back. And she told us she didn't want to take lessons from us anymore. She was simultaneously  sweet and vicious. I haven't cried much on my mission (maybe 10 times. One being during our Christmas call, and most of the others after receiving Glorianna's painfully poignant mix of gruesomely nostalgic tunes last week.....Thank you, Noni. It was a good thing. I just miss you. A lot.). Anyway, I cried when Vilma dropped us. It wasn't awesome. And we were hungry. But we just picked ourselves up and continued to go to our appointments. Someone cancelled. Someone else cancelled. And we were pretty mopey. And then we went to the home of one of our favorite amis...and she wasn't there either. And we had had an appointment. And it was just rough. We were walking back to our car when she ran out of the house to get us (she had been putting her baby niece to sleep). So it was better.

Then that night, we had a lesson with one of the families we're teaching. The husband was having a lot of difficulty understanding the role of prophets, and we were struggling to explain in a way he could understand. And it was just ...rough. And then his wife was like "You girls were sent to us from God - and I want to be baptized. I wasn't sure for a looong time. And when the boy missionaries were here I was pretty sure your church was satanic. But it's not. Je veux etre chez-vous. I want to be baptized. As soon as I can be. And, Jerome, I'm setting an example for you. I know I was already baptized, but I want to be baptized by proper authority. And everything you girls have said has come from God. And I want all of the kids to be baptized. And Jerome, I'm setting an example. I hope you're paying attention. Sisters, please come back tomorrow while he's at work so we can pray for him. He needs to be baptized, too." And we were like " Uuuuuuuuut", but actually we were really happy and it was very challenging to temper our reactions. 'cause it was just kind of amazing. And then we went back and prayed for Jerome and had a lesson with all of the kids. When we asked them if they wanted to be baptized the super smart 15 year old boy was like, "Yeah. I really want to be baptized because it's like starting all over again. It's symbolic of the resurrection" and we were like: "Uuuuuuut"

And it was super great.       

And this is really incoherent, but I'm just struggling to write this morning. There's a lot I want to say, and not enough time.

Je vous aime - beaucoup. It's just too much. The love and fulfillment I feel when entire families agree to be baptized is only matched by the despair which rests in my heart when I think about being so far away from you. And when I listen to Noni's music and just wanna have a Fun Day.

All Hail the Pig King -

Hail.

Hail. 

Hail.

Notes from Montreal

Birthday Cake!

Howdy, folks! I hope things are peachy, though - from what I've heard - after two weeks of earth shatteringly frigid weather up north, y'all are experiencing some pretty nasty stuff down yonder. Stay warm. And Safe. And healthy (that last one is directed mostly at Charity, but it's for all of you). This week has been pretty packed. And while the temperature is definitely much higher than it has been, the results are less than keen. For example: as a result of the warming, melting, and freezing which has taken place of the last few days, entire parking have turned into sheets of ice. No joke. And the ice is thick. And there's really no way to find spots which aren't slippery - because everything is ice. Everything. It's....and adventure, to be sure. And it is only by the grace of God that I have not fallen on my face - several times. I have no idea how I've managed to stay vertical. It is maybe a not so small miracle. 

So...my companion and I are very blessed right now. We have a lot of people to teach. For missionaries serving in a fairly snobby suburb of Montreal, we feel tremendously fortunate. And our amis are really cool. And loving, and just good people. Occasionally we have a hard time understanding how we balance being friends while still teaching the gospel, but it works out. We also work with a lot of recent converts and less -active or returning members. For the most part, we just love all of the people we see. A lot. But no matter who we're teaching, one of the biggest difficulties we have is controlling time. It's. Just. SO. Hard. Our job would be easier if we had enough time to talk to our amis about everything that's going on their lives, help them with whatever they need help with, AND teach them the gospel, but there's just never enough time for anything.  

Everyone needs different things - Sometimes the goal of our visits is to teach new information, sometimes it's more about reminding people of things they already know. Sometimes the work is really hard, and sometimes - when my days are just so profoundly enriching and rewarding - I feel guilty for ever thinking missionary work was hard. . .

Ok. Time's up. Pour le vrai. I love y'all far too much. It makes my insides squirm when I think about it. You're just the very best. 

Until next week!

Planning vs. Postponing

If I were forced to create a daily itinerary for an upcoming trip (regardless of the destination) it would likely look something like this:

Day 1. Arrive (did I tell soandso I was getting in? eh, just cab it to the city, I'll find her later.) Wander. (I was sure I took down her phone number before leaving... Shoot.) FIND INTERNET CAFE (Read most recent Modern Love column. Find the number--or more likely send a panicked email to said friend with an approximation of my location). Reunite with old friend. Nap. Eat.

Day 2. Find a cafe. Order a cappuccino and baguette. Read... Isn't there a good shopping street or something?

Day 3. (Repeat "Day 2" schedule)

Day 4. Ditto.

Day 5. OMG I LEAVE TOMORROW AND HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING! (Repeat "Day 2" schedule.)

Day 6. Depart.

Suffice it to say, planning is not my forte. Premal on the other hand thrives on programs. Everyday of a trip with him is a meticulously mapped-out adventure. Days start early, agenda in hand, and end not too late. We took a little trip to California over the new year, and put more than 700 miles on our little rental car over 5 days! We did basically everything you'd expect someone to do in NoCal. We hiked in Muir Woods, drank wine in Napa, meandered up Route 1, ate a sundae as big as my head at Ghirardelli Square and saw tons of friends and family along the way. It's great, but it can also be exhausting, and I'll admit to longing for my old aimless way of vacationing every once in a while.

What about you? Are you a planner or do you tend to be a bit flighty?
My solution for our next vacation? I'm going to plan a day of casual meandering. BOOM. Marital oneness achieved!

Notes from Montreal

Huzzah!

It's 2014! I'm old! But I'm alive! Despite having no heat in our apartment for three (!) days last week. Yerp. It. Was. Cold. Actually, to be a little less vague, things here got down to a toasty -39F last week....For any of you who can't even begin to comprehend what that means, I will translate: it. was. unbearably. frigid. Like 5 pairs of fleece-lined tights, two pairs of leggings, many socks, boots, toe-warmers shoved in boots, all covered by wool skirt kind of cold. Yeees. It got so bad that we had to move-in with some other sisters - which was actually really fun. So it's all good. We had a little New Years Fete (I know I don't have the accents, but I can't worry about those things at a time this); we popped some bubbly, shoved grapes in our mouths and made wishes (apparently its what all the cool kids down south do nowadays), popped some poppers, jumped around and sang some really delightful, really off-key French drinking songs. Happy 2014! I also made sure to shove everyone full of lentils, and took time to bathe my visage with apple water. So it should be a good year. We  spent New Years Day with one of our investigators and ate traditional Haitian/French soup. You should look up the recipe. It's independence soup - with squash and stuffs. You'd like it. 

Actually, this last week we were celebrating all over the place. I turned 22! :( But it was ok. My district threw me a wonderful party with the most exquisite blood orange praline cake. It was really very beautiful. And it was procured at the most amazing bakery! If anyone wants to visit, I'll take you there. It's called Rococo and I discovered it last week.

Oh, so - we teach an English class every Friday night. Well, last Friday night, we didn't teach. The other missionaries taught, but while we were at another lesson, we got a text from an unknown number inviting us to lunch the next day. After a little back and forth, we realized it was one of our English students. He invited us to meet his family and eat Moroccan couscous together. It was very unexpected, and a little strange because English class is supposed to be completely non-religious service. It takes place in the church building, but we are not allowed to talk about religion. And we also felt a little strange talking about religion with this lovely Muslim family. But they were totally into it! We talked a lot about both of our faiths, and they were really kind. They were also very surprised and touched to learn more about what we were doing in Canada as missionaries. The mother became teary-eyed as she explained that she didn't think there were other people like us in the world. Thought they are probably not going to join the church, they would not stop telling us that their impression of the United States was so very positive after meeting us. We're the only Americans or Canadians they know here!!!! They both worked with the UN before coming to Quebec, but now they only know other immigrants. Which is crazy. But it was great. The only problem was that they expected us to spend the ENTIRE day with them. And that just wasn't possible. So, after 2+ hours we bade them adieu and scurried off to our other lessons. 

Yesterday one of the members of our congregation asked us to meet him in the kitchen after church. He's studying food processing or something strange like that. He is a very nice person, and made me an impeccable, three layer black forest cake which was quite amazing. I don't think I've ever had so many special birthday cakes, but it was very dear. And very impressive. It was perfect. I'll send you pictures. Unfortunately the taste may not translate, but it was really, really good. The members here are crazy nice. Weeeeellllll, I love you so much! I have to run! But thank you again for all of your goodness and love! Tom sent me the sweetest book of pictures and memories and it just made me reflect a little more on how very much I love each and every one of you. Thank you for being so awesome.

Muchas smoochas!

P.S. One of the sisters from my zone in the MTC got into a terrible accident. She was serving in Tahiti and was hit by a car while riding her bike. She's been in a coma ever since, and I can only imagine how her family is feeling. People have been so kind about praying for us when we've been in similarly dire circumstances; if you could make sure to include Sister Rachel Taylor in your prayers that would be super. I love you all so much! 

Notes from Montreal

Yesterday I received three impossibly delightful packages from The Cookies, Momo, and Glorianna! Thank you so much! They were far too lovely. And they came at the perfect time because I came down with a very nasty flu-type thing last week. After a day of rest (I think I slept around 16 between yesterday and last night), I'm feeling much better. I'm not exactly healthy, but I'm much better.

And while it's never fun to be sick, it's particularly unpleasant to be sick away from home. But the people here are really kind and caring. Our investigators sent me special remedies and treats, less-active members called to make sure I was ok and to coach me on how to recover quickly, and members called to offer any help I needed. It was very heartwarming. Y'all should know I'm being well taken care of :) 

For much of last week, missionary work took the form of caroling. We teamed up with two of the other sisters and went around singing in four part harmony with our very own guitar accompaniment. It was a really special way to pass the days before and after Christmas. And having the time to visit those we recognized as being alone, and to spread a little holiday cheer through music, cookies, and the message of Christ's love was an amazing gift. A lot of the people we visited said we were their only visitors for the holiday season. We also put on two concerts at old folks' homes. It wasn't (isn't) easy being away from all of the people I love most - especially during the holidays, but it is gratifying to know that I'm using my time for good - and to see that being here does make a difference in others' lives. (We were so busy last week that we didn't have much time to help people shovel sidewalks during the day. Instead we adopted the habit of using the 30 minutes after our last appointments of the day to take part in night-shovelling! It was a little odd. But also probably good exercise.) 

Perhaps in an effort to repay us for our efforts to uplift and inspire, one of our friends decided to give us some pretty elaborate gifts. For my companion, the gift took the form of some saucy, spiky, sandals. And for me....A winter coat with a giant fur collar. As in, real. dead. animal. Hanging all over my neck. I didn't really know what to say - except...wow! and thank you! And that's faaaaar too nice of you. *Eeeep*. She's keeping it for me until I have a place to put it......

We're spending New Years with some of our investigators. They are also Haitian and apparently all Haitians eat special independence soup on New Years. It a French soup which Haitians weren't allowed to eat before winning their freedom. So it's kind of a big deal now. Imma make some lentils, too. Just to be sure :) 

HAPPPPEEEEE NOOOOOOOOOOOOH YEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRE

Notes from Montreal

  

Beloved Peoples! 

Singing Christmas music with old women is also really fun. Especially when it has been transcribed by non-native English speakers. Very entertaining. Example: We were singing Frosty the Snowman at the old folks' home. You know the part, in the second verse, where it says "until the other skater's knock him down"? Well, that was delightfully translated into: "Until the alligators knock him down." - which basically means the same thing. There are many other lovely examples, I just can't remember them at the moment.

Merry Christmas! There's a really wonderful video that you should all watch. It's called "Oh Emmanuel." It has The Piano Guys? And some really beautiful footage representing the life of Christ. I'm usually not super into that stuff, but it's very uplifting - and I would encourage you all to take 5 minutes to watch it.

Also, did you catch the Christmas Devotional last night? The music was spectacular, and the talks were....not my favorite. But there was a story which really touched me. It was about a young, single mother with 6 children - during the 1800s, I think? The man speaking had read the account from the mother's journal (she was one of his ancestors). She wrote about the anguish she felt as her hopeful children hung up their stocking, full of faith and expectation for what they would find in them the next morning. She knew she didn't have anything to fill the socks with, but she combed their small house, looking for something, anyway. And as she looked she found an old squash, which we realized she could roast and boil and use to make a simple, sweet syrup. After preparing the syrup she used it to flavor a flour, cinnamon and water mixture she had concocted. She and explained that after cutting the crude dough into every shape imaginable and cooking the pieces on the stove-top (they didn't have an oven) she packed the children's socks full of the imitation gingerbread. She recounted the children's delight upon finding the cookies in the morning and explained her relief at having been able to express her love for them in some small way. I'm afraid I didn't do a very good job at re-telling the story, but it was very moving - I think mostly because it's such a clear representation of the intense love we can have for each other - and the lengths we go to in order to express that love - however meager or inadequate those efforts may appear. And during this season, it's very humbling to recognize that Christ's sacrifice for us was made solely out of that same intense feeling of love for each one of us

Love you all!

Notes from Montreal

So missionaries aren't actually encouraged to use slang. We're actually told not to use slang. Ever. But, for some crazy reason (read: Satan is probably trying to eat my soul), I like using slang even more now than I did before coming on a mission. Sometimes I feel like I should be sorry about it, and other times (read: mostly all of the time....) I  feel like I'm a bear and I just don't care.

Mostly I just find myself using slang in English -- when I'm talking to myself or with my companion. But sometimes I also have the urge to speak French like a cool kid - and let me tell you something, French slang is just as fun as English slang. And I know missionaries have rules for a reason - and I totally understand the motivations behind the injunction to avoid slang. But I also recognize that in order to appeal to a wider audience - including angsty Quebecois wannabe gangstas - I'mma have to perfect my French slang. Would you want to talk to sister missionaries who didn't use slang? Exactly. I wouldn't either. Case in point. So, I actually didn't really plan on going off on this tangent, but I did it anyway. Probably because I didn't really gather my thoughts before sitting down at the computer today.

Aaaanyway, this week has been good. Remember Carol? I love Carol. I've always loved Carol. She's always kind of been my favorite person here (or one of my favorite people here). OK. So, I *can* speak French now, and I can understand others when they speak. But sometimes (read: almost always) I don't catch everything. But sometimes that comes in handy. And sometimes that makes my companion really dislike me.

Example: The elders came to give Carol a blessing (she asks for 1 per week to help her stop smoking). One of the elders questioned whether she really needed the blessing. Carol was wounded. She scolded him, and we thought that was the end of the encounter. But the next time we saw her she was clearly still upset. I knew she was upset because she was saying she was upset and because she looked upset, and I guess Chorale trained me to be very expressive with my face because - between just a few words and looking sympathetic - Carol decided that I was the only one who really understood and loved her. She felt that while my companion was nice, she just didn't understand all of the things that Carol was dealing with, and that the elders were bad missionaries, unholy, etc.. The irony is: I really do love Carol more than the other missionaries. They all know it's true. But I actually didn't understand much of what she was saying that day -- Carol speaks real Quebecois, and sometimes I'm just a little too tired to pay close enough attention to understand everything (and even if I did have the energy I still couldn't understand everything). Little lessons: sometimes God blesses us when we're tired. Sometimes people get mad at other people for no good reason - for not understanding even when they're the ones who really do understand! And sometimes (maybe always?) love can make up for any lack of comprehension we may experience. That was supposed to sound both humble and profound and I think I failed on both counts. Oh bother. 

I sang "Michelle, My Belle" at the old folks home this week. I say "I sang" because even though there were about 30+ other people, I was the only one who knew the verses. So I sang the verses, and the sweet, senile old folks sang with me on the chorus. And it was pretty darling. And it's really heartwarming when old people start to remember you from week to week. Even though they don't remember who or where they are....

Je vous aime!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!