Nevertheless...

Loves of my life,

Are you sitting in a comfy chair? No? Find one. Get comfortable.

Originally I started writing this email that was filled with reflective moments and pensive one-liners. Mid-paragraph I realized that I couldn't reduce this experience to that -- so I'm starting again.
Simply.
I feel as much peace about coming home tomorrow as I did when I originally decided to serve a mission over a year ago.
Do you know how people use the phrase, "There aren't words to describe [insert meaningful experience here]?" That's not how I feel about this.
There are PLENTY of words to describe how much the time on my mission changed my life and me and how I look at everything that matters to me. I'll share some of them when I see you next.

I told my parents something last week and I feel impressed to share it with you all, too.
We're not moping about this situation. We are finding every possible joy in it. We are celebrating -- life, love, everything. We're not going to exchange "I'm sorry's" and "Oh, too bad's." We will hug and laugh and cry tears of happiness and I'll be that obnoxious girl who won't shut up about all the beautiful souls she met on her mission. Then we'll do our best, under the care of great doctors, to find out what's malfunctioning in this luscious vehicle of mine, and I'll feel better. Or maybe I won't.

A man I have tremendous respect for shared this sentiment with me before I left: one of the most meaningful words in scripture and, really, in life is nevertheless. Just saying it makes me take a deep breath and re-focus.
That's what I remember at the end of the day. No situation is ideal; nevertheless, we will be happy. We won't have regrets. We will remember all the good that entered our lives because of a compilation of tiny, good decisions. Yes, bad things will happen. That's inevitable. Nevertheless, life moves forward, upward, onward...joyfully.

Much love, gratitude, and prayers for you guys,
Sister Carlyn Ashlee Goodpaster

A Heavy Heart

Fact: I spent the last hour reading through nearly all of my previous emails to Mama Goodpaster to delay having to write this email. A pretty heavy heart is attached to it.

I've decided to come home.

Typical Sister Goodpaster would proceed to offer all these explanations, reasoning, and "please try to understand's." Now is not the time for that. Details can come at a later time. Now is the time to tell you that I believe I am making the right decision, because I know that I am not making it alone. I trust you will support me, but if you don't, well...you don't.

I want to tell you that I've had a lot of moments over the last week where I felt disappointed at God, myself, and this situation. Everything. And it's okay to feel that way, BUT then I realized it's inevitably better to learn from everything instead of harboring ill feelings. (P.S. This feels like a ridiculously common theme in my posts---one day I'll learn the lesson...probably when I'm dead.) I don't know much, friends, but I know that the sooner you learn from and embrace trials and "I never thought that would happen to me's," the sooner you can move on. Happier. Better. Grown.

It's taken me quite awhile to realize that sometimes we've got to make decisions without the blessing of people from whom we expected support. You have the right to say, "I know you're coming from a place of love, but I have to disagree, and make my own decision. Still, I love you and I thank you."

Ultimately, I know that there is joy to be found in everything. The Gospel doesn't stop hardship from happening to us. It gives us the most perfect tools to work our way around, under, and through the tough stuff. I used to think this explanation was patronizing and of very little comfort.

False.

Re-focus on the blessings. Commit to doing what's right, even when it is not easy. All the avenues are there,  but we've got to test them, try them, and see what works. Decide to smile and feel happy because, sweet merciful goodness, you get to wake up today and be alive and walk and talk and pray to a God who set freedom-to-choose at the apex of His plan for me and you and you and you.

If you've gotten anything out of these blog updates the last eight months, I hope it's that I know God has our backs (and our feet and our hearts and every other part of us that needs supporting). He has a plan and you are so specifically a part of it. I hope you can feel love exuding out of your screen as you read all my randomness. :-)  I hope you've smiled and laughed and felt a little more uplifted after reading any of this than you did before you turned on your computer. If you didn't, well, then just lie to me and say you did. Deal? Deal.

Hugs and love and laughs to all of you,
Sister Goodpaster

Note from Mama Goodpaster: Re-read Sister Goodpaster's blog entry from last week. She has been constantly ill and is no longer able to fulfill her missionary duties. She has pressed forward honorably until she physically can no longer do so. Please keep her in your prayers. Thank you from the bottom of this missionary mother's heart.

"Well, Ollie, what should we do now?" "I don't know, Stan..."

For those of you who have been reading the blog for awhile, I trust that by now you know it's not in my nature to gloss over tough situations. Who would it help? Not me. Certainly not you. I feel like it's easier to do this in my writing because being cryptic takes too many words. Not so easy in the real world.

I am having an incredibly difficult time, health-wise. If you know anything about Mama GP's health issues (see: lupus, fibromyalgia, and scleroderma), you can get an idea of the symptoms I'm dealing with. We're talking daily migraines that last for hours, extreme fatigue, dizziness, constant low-grade fevers. Typing about it alone makes me feel gross.

Last week I got blood work done, so we can move forward in properly diagnosing and deciding how to deal with all this jazz. No update yet from the doctor, but I'll keep Mama posted so she can update the rest of you.

At this point, "frustrated" isn't really the word. "Exhausted" is. I had a great one-on-one with my mission president yesterday. If doctors listened the way this man listens, oh my grace, the medical world would progress like mad. But I digress.

I expected that he would share a scripture of comfort with me and let me know that he cared, both of which he did. What I did not expect is the warmth that I felt when he told me, "Sister Goodpaster, do you think God thinks you're messing things up?"
"Um, yes. I'm running at about 42% efficiency right now. Work's not getting done that should be because I physically cannot do it."
Pause.
"Sister Goodpaster, do you think God understands you?"
"Of course He does."
"Then don't you think He's already well-aware of the fact that you're not well. Do you think that God would allow you to be sick and then be upset at you for it?"
"No, I just feel like this is the job that He told me to do, and I feel like I'm failing Him because I can't be 100% at the one job He wanted me to do right now."
Pause.
"I can see that there is patience to be learned. It baffles me as to why you try so hard to be patient with God and with others and yet you have such a hard time doing so with yourself."

Is he right? Of course he is. Which leads me to something that's given me loads of comfort in this awkward I-don't-what-the-heck-I-have stage.

Watch the video in this link, and then come back. I'll wait...
http://bcove.me/d8agyqna

"Before I got sick I remember defining myself by the different things I did. And I remember realizing that God saw me as someone who was worthwhile as a soul, not worthwhile because I had accomplished this, or done this, or not done this. And then I remember that I realized that I was still me, and I was still of value, even though I couldn't really accomplish much at all..."

As exhausted as I am with this entire situation, (it's been getting increasingly worse over the last couple of months or so), I adore the thought above that she expressed in the video. It's what President Wilson was trying to tell me. It's essentially what God's message is for His children. You are not the things you do. You are you and you're trying your best. At one time very early in my mission, my "best" was waking up at 6:30 with absolutely no pain, working a full/productive day with no headaches, and going to bed a little before 10. Good, sound sleep. At that point I remember being pretty pleased with myself and thinking, "I'm efficient! Life isn't 'easy' but it's pretty brilliant." And then, slowly, my health started deteriorating. I expected this. A mission will make your body straight-up feel things it's never felt before, ailments included.

What continues to be a daily lesson is this: understanding that just because I can't currently be a "100% effective missionary" doesn't mean that I'm not of worth at my job, that I'm slacking off, or that God's disappointed in me for biffing this transfer/my companionship/our area. Not a chance. I'm worthwhile as a soul. I don't have to prove anything; I just have to move forward with patience and earnest effort.

You can, too.

Friends, though the "not knowing" has been a challenge, I remember something wise a dear friend once told me: "Sometimes you have to deal with the concept of indefinite pain. God is not Santa Claus. You have to love Him the most when you feel the farthest from Him."

Final thought: I will find joy in this journey and accept the fact that I cannot control everything. I will find joy in days where all I want to do is spork my eyes out of my face. I know, I know...what the heck is joyful about that? That Heavenly Father is giving me the chance to learn and grow in ways that I probably wouldn't have figured out had I never experienced these trials.

I believe it's called humility. Be patient with yourself. Accept that sometimes efficiency should take a back seat to acceptance and an open mind and heart.

I love you guys. Now go have a laugh and enjoy a summertime frozen treat, would you?!

We hug in this family,
Sister G

It's Not About Me...I Know That. I Really Do.

Not-at-all-confidential-missionary-confession:

(I'm laughing about this now, but last week it wasn't funny at all.)

This week Sister Stumpf and I struggled semi-health/semi-emotional-wise. I'm sitting here thinking that I wish someone had told me before I left for my mission, "Listen, you're going to have days where, despite your AMAAAZZZIIINNNGGG job/calling, all you will feel like doing is eating a tub of room-temperature cookie dough, watching an entire season of Grey's Anatomy, and telling the world, Anchorman-style (is it appropriate to make Anchorman jokes on a mission blog? If I'm being truthful, yes.) "I'M IN A GLASS CASE OF EMOTION!!!"

Cue new realization (I have them about every 3.5 seconds here): God has a sense of humor AND He is merciful AND He understands when you're frustrated at everything for no good reason. I think it has something to do with us being human?

We taught more lessons to prepared people this past week than I have my entire mission thus far. We're talking quality teaching moments. Lessons where things just...click. Things as simple as, "Hey, God knows everything about you and He STILL loves you."
Soooooo good.

I'll sum it up this way: I need to spend less time thinking about myself, even when the feelings are justified. The whole "lose yourself to find yourself" thing. You know it as well as I do if you've spent ten seconds of your life trying to care about others. There HAS to be a point where you say to yourself, "Self, I know you feel like snuggling up to a bowl of Ben & Jerry's Late Night Snack right now, but there are bigger things at stake. Like how much you can help people when you're not thinking about potato chip chunks covered in fudge."

Last thought: this week President and Sister Wilson called a special conference with each zone separately. Overall, the message was this-- when we focus on what is BEST and stop focusing on what's most comfortable/easy/convenient, straight-up miracles happen. Stop making excuses. Stop focusing on personal accolades. Stop basically making this about you.
There are two prominent names on the tag I wear every day:
Sister Goodpaster and Jesus Christ.
Sometimes that feels heavy.
But there are moments, countless moments throughout the day, when I think, "Stop thinking so much. You're doing just fine. Keep moving forward and focusing outward."

Maybe that's today's message. Laugh at your first inclination to do "what I want to do because I deserve it, dang it!" Then embrace a willingness to look out/around/beyond you.

I can do this. You can do this. And we can have joy in the outcomes together. Yes? Yes.

Love,
Sister Goodpaster

P.S. Summer's almost here and I love it!
P.P.S. Sometimes when I go back and re-read what I'm about to send, I feel like it sounds like something from the SNL skit "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey." (YouTube is a miraculous tool if you don't know what I'm referring to.) Completely ridiculous and awkwardly reflective and leaves me feeling like I don't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. Just...just appreciate that I get to be weird and call myself a missionary for another ten months and we'll all laugh about it later, okay? Okay! :-)

It's Okay--I Love You Anyway

Good morning from Washington!

Things you should know:
~ My new companion is Sister Stumpf from Indianapolis, Indiana. One hundred points to Gryffindor! (Mother's note: Carly was born and raised in Indianapolis until we moved to Florida when she was eight.) Also, she's been out not quite four months yet. She's a delightful soul.
~ I had one of the best meals of my life this week. Imagine it with me: spare ribs baked into a beautiful lasagna. Tons of cheese layered on top. If my stomach were capable of singing with pure joy, it would have. Cue the inflation of my waistline. Uh-oh; yep, there it is.
~ Feel-good moment of the week: yesterday. Early evening. Just before dinnertime. We don't have a scheduled dinner, so we're seeking out people on our ward list who we've never seen at church/we know nothing about. Sometimes these visits yield a chunkload of people who are annoyed to see you/are irritated with the general idea that you're cuttin' into their sittin'-around time. BUT, there are times when we find gems. Sis. Stumpf, recognizing that we're both tired and hungry, says, "Let's go find one more and then we'll go back to the apartment for dinner." Done! Don't worry that we show up to the home of a fiery red-headed woman (who, scarily, reminds me of my high school history teacher) who greets us with open arms and invites us into her home. It turns out that this lady hasn't been to church in 36 years, but wants to get back both for herself and to set a good example to her son, who's struggling right now. She wants to know what she should wear to church and what time it starts. And if we can set her up with the bishop and the women's group, so she can feel less awkward about not knowing anyone.

Sigh of relief at the tender experiences we have when we go just one. more. step.

All this woman was waiting for was someone to show up at her house and tell her how to get started. Coming back to something you know you should've been going to all along can be completely intimidating, even paralyzing. I'm thankful to be the person who says, "It doesn't matter how long you've been away. Just show up. People will love you."

Yes, I believe my Church and the Gospel is true. But I also believe that the Church wouldn't be half as wonderful as it is without the people who enrich it. That I get to go out and find those people? "Blessing" is really the only way I can describe it. "Humbled" works, too.

Sometimes, just before I fall asleep, I think not only about all the wonderful people I work with throughout the days, but I also think of you people. You can't give me physical hugs from across the country, but I feel your support and I know that you're there. You're such a large part of what keeps me moving forward. Not just "enduring," but enjoying.

And isn't that what life is for?

Enjoy today. Smile. And thank God for every opportunity you get to say, "It's okay. I love you anyway."

All my love,
Sister GP

Prayer

Hello lovelies!

So yesterday was Memorial Day and the libraries were closed. Happy Tuesday emailing! I've been getting some pretty stellar letters from a lot of you recently, and I just wanted to say thank you. That you take the time to write me on an actual piece of paper, put it in an envelope, stamp it, and then put it in your mailbox means more to me than you can know. (Or maybe if you've been a missionary you know.)

A bit of logistical news: today is transfers yet again and Sister Alberts is getting the boot. Actually, "the boot" sounds like a violent/unkind thing, so maybe we'll rephrase and say, "Sister Alberts is getting the bunny slipper out of Monroe." No idea yet who my next companion will be. Bless you, companion surprises.

Oh hey, before I forget: my trainer, Sister Anna Hone, finished her mission and returned home yesterday. This is your blog shout-out, BrieAN-NA. : )  Don't forget me now that you're back in the land of desert sunshine.

Tender moment of the mission so far. So tender, in fact, that I almost feel like a schmaltz for talking about it on a public blog. Either way, here we go... This week, I was SUH-HICK (emphasized version of sick). We're talking so sick, we-didn't-even-go-to-church sick. We're talking in the bathroom, alien noises coming out of my abdomen, collapsed-on-the-commode sick. If you're currently eating, I'm sorry. Anyways, at one point I've just expended all my stomach's contents and it feels like Darth Vader is light sabre-ing my intestines. And then I think, "Prayer. Say a prayer." I do. Then I wait, which is pretty easy to do when you can't lift yourself off the floor and you're praying for relief.
Then the thought comes to me, "Get Sister Alberts. Now."
So I crawl to the bathroom door and start yelling for Sister Alberts.
She comes in and all I can say is "You need to say a prayer, just say a prayer. Please."
So she sits down, rubs my back, and offers the simplest, most genuine prayer I've heard in recent memory.
Immediately, there is peace.

I don't know what you believe about prayer, the power of it, or the lack thereof. But I am certain that when we offer the most basic supplications to God, He not only hears us, He answers us. Sometimes not for awhile. Sometimes instantaneously. I don't believe in coincidence. Was I able to get up after that prayer and shimmy around like Dancing With the Stars? No way. But my stomach stopped feeling like Sigourney Weaver's alien nemesis was trying to break free from it, and I just felt like a solid sense of...calm.

Sometimes I feel bad that I can't send actual, physical manifestations of my testimony/love to you people. Like an actual hug, or a tangible back scratch of support and an "it's going to be okay." This is the best I can do. I hope it's touched you and continues to help you feel like you can go another week. You can do this. I can do this. WE can all do this because there are great people in this world who are willing to forgive the fact that we temporarily smell disgusting and ask God to help us.

I pray for you often. And I trust that it's working. Somehow. Some way.

Love to you all,
Sister Goodpaster

Randomness

Friends and Family,

Please enjoy several anecdotes because I can't figure out exactly what I should share this week.

Almost daily I feel like stories are just piling up in my brain -- situations I want to tell you about one-at-a-time, but time doesn't permit. Space in my brain doesn't permit, either. But it's okay. I don't have to share everythingwithyouallatonce. There will be time enough for that.

This week we cleaned our apartment like no apartment's been cleaned before. The thing was starting to get...stale. But then we de-cluttered and I was left feeling pleasantly de-stressed. I feel so much more in-tune to spiritual promptings and inspiration when my space is organized. There is room to think/breathe/ponder.

Breakthrough: this week I realized that, while still interesting and entertaining, I just don't have to have celebrity gossip in my life to feel good/smart/in-the-know. Cultural awareness is still something I'm striving for (which is why I still enjoy a good new update from Mom Goodpaster), but I don't NEED to know. Is this making sense? I hope so. Because my brain is just now comprehending that so much of my pre-mission free time was spent straight-up wasting time. Post mission, no more!

Someone I love told me this at Christmastime:
There are three things you can do with time:
~ Invest it.
~ Spend it.
~ Waste it.
I've been letting that roll around in my head since Christmas. And now I'm finally starting to get it...

Sudden realization: the witty banter percentage in these updates is declining at a staggering rate. And for that, I apologize. Because I feel like spiritually-uplifting messages can intermingle with humor.
Follow-up realization: I live on the west coast and no one has served us fish for dinner yet. I feel this is an unfortunate fact. The Puget (one of my least favorite words) Sound is, like, two skips and a leap from us. Someone feed me a crustacean, please!
Final realization, for this email anyway: This has been scattered, but I hope you all know how much I love you people. Yes, you, YOU reading this at 2 a.m. on a Thursday because you can't sleep and no other book is working to put you to sleep, so you're reading these terrible blog posts of some Mormon missionary in Washington because maybe then....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Yes, I love you, too.
Love yourself.
Love God, even when He feels far from you.
Love even that moment when you wake up in the morning and realize, "Sweet beautiful awesome, a new day! And I get to go out and live in it!"

With precipitation and love,
Sister GP

Difficult, But Worth It

So many things I want to say and not nearly enough time to say them all.

Ready. Set. Go.

I'm sure Mom Goodpaster, by now, informed the Facebook world that I Skyped with my parents on Sunday, Mother's Day. Technological goodness, people. Here's something I learned after I got off the phonecomputer with them:
Supportive, loving family makes all the difference when you're doing hard things. Every once in a while I'd look at them as they were talking and just...take a lot of comfort in the fact that I've got a mom and a dad who are just straight-up good human beings.
So much gratitude is in order.

Today our district hiked to Wallace Falls. The hike was more strenuous than I presumed and, no lie, I felt like I had about 500 more pounds attached to my bod than I do. By hike's end I told Sis. Alberts I felt like I was on one of those reality TV weight-loss shows ala Biggest Loser and I needed her to yell something awful like, "You can be fat the rest of your life or you can finish this hike strong!" at me for motivation (and subsequent laughs).
But I digress.
And then, as per usual, I realized something bigger out of all the sweat and dirt trail goodness I was climbing in.

Number One: it does not make you a weak individual if you are weak at something. So many people get so frustrated with the Gospel because they are weak at something. Then they quit altogether. About 75 times throughout this trek I wanted to throw a toddler tantrum and go, "You know what people? I'm done! I can't hike 10 miles uphill in 80 degree weather. I'm done. See you at the bottom."
And then I said to myself, "Self. Pull your bootstraps up. You won't grow by whining. If you have to stop every six seconds, do it. But you don't quit. Move forward."

Number Two: giving up what we want at the moment is usually always worth getting what we need in the future. Cliche because it's true. The falls/views at the top of the mountain were out-of-this-planet gorgeous. What I wanted for those 10 bajillion miles leading up to it was a cheeseburger and a tall glass of Vernor's ginger ale. But I traded it for doing something uncomfortable and very, very rewarding.

I don't want this to sound like a commercial for Jillian Michaels's newest bootcamp show.
I do, however, want you to think about what you might be missing out on because you're not willing to do what's temporarily awkward/uncomfortable/strenuous.
Spiritually, physically, all of the above.

This week is as good as any to stretch yourself and remember, as always, that you're stronger than you think you are.

Love and sunshiney bliss,
Sister Goodpaster

Simplicity

Hello!

This week, I'm keeping it short and sweet, compadres.
The sun is out and my corner of Washington is bathed in joy.
I hope you all know how much I enjoy what I'm doing.
And I hope that you're loving your family and friends. Like, verbally, actually telling them you love them. Not just assuming they know.
Sometimes everything I garner in a week boils down to the basics.
I hope you know that there's a God in Heaven who hears you and loves you and cares about what you care about.
I meet a lot of people who just hope God is real because, oh my chaos, life's GOT to be about more than the 70+/- years we live and then we turn into space trash and particle dust.
It's nice to hope for things.
But I prefer to know them.
And we can. We can know for ourselves if God is really listening. If He cares. If He's there.
Ask.
Listen.
Be willing to move your feet/attitude/heart.

With so much love,
Sister Goodpaster

Springtime, Tulips, and My NAME

Preface to this week's email: Huge congratulations are in order to my cousin Chelsea and her husband Ricky on the arrival today of their new baby boy Mason Riley Eanes. (Kind of disappointed that they didn't end up naming him "Daberkashawn," but I'll find a way to forgive them.) Give the boy loves for me!!

This week was so backwards and forwards and going a hundred miles a minute that I feel you need a play-by-play to sort it out. Here goes:

~ A woman, living in a house built by Communist hippies, tells me and Sister Alberts she's going to adopt us so we can inherit her mountain of antiques. Thank you? Also, there are "little green men" and a six-foot bear living on/around her property.
~ Another woman tells us some 'hey, girl,' too much information details about her and her common-law husband. Somehow I feel like this missionary nametag reads "Licensed Relationship Counselor" to all who see it. I am not. But I'm willing to listen. And sometimes that's really all people want. Plus, talking to the missionaries is free. Like my life motto says: "If it's free, it's for me!"
~ Built a huge bonfire in someone's backyard. And I got to use a blowtorch for the first time! Sister A is persuaded towards pyromania. She's slowly turning me to the dark side. Yes, mom, I'm being safe. Sidenote: there was a snake in the unmowed grass where we were building the fire. Nearly sent me out of my skin. I'll hold giant tarantulas, but I still don't trust animals without arms or legs. Sickening.
~ Oh! Sister Hone came here for an exchange on Saturday. As she'd say, pure bliss. We went to the baptism of a man we started teaching in Granite Falls back in February. Joy #2: He was baptized by a man who was less-active until fairly recently. Now the two are chums. I loved every second of it.
~ I just want to insert a comment here about how beautiful tulips in Washington are in the springtime. EVERYONE has them in their yard. Of all colors and sizes. Sometimes I like to pretend I'm serving in Holland and we're about to encounter someone wearing wooden shoes. Too much? Probably.
~ Comments about my last name run rampant on my mission -- you can probably guess why -- but I've been thinking. Since all of my ingenious comebacks have been leaking out of my brain since I began this mission, I need your help. Ideas for responses to any of the following would be greatly appreciated:

1. "GOODPASTER? Looks like you're in the perfect job for that name!"
2. "Goodpaster? Is that really your name?"
3. "Where is 'Goodpaster' from?"

Seriously, I'm going to just start making things up, like:
1. "Actually, Goodpaster is a terrible name for this job because we worship saltine crackers, and pastors aren't a part of our doctrine."
2. "No, Goodpaster is the alias I'm working under ever since I strangled that cockatiel."
3. "'Goodpaster' derives from the North Cambodian coast, where my ancestors were the world's first patchouli farmers."

See? I need your help.

Anyway, in serious news, I love my companion. I love the people in this area. And I love that I never have to feel like I'm selling vacuums. The Gospel of Jesus Christ either jives with your heart or it doesn't. If it doesn't, I still get the opportunity to meet and love those people, too. Everybody wins.

Be good to yourselves and one another. I love you all.

Love,
Sister Goodpaster

P.S. I go home a year from yesterday. Hello, surreal realization.
P.P.S. The new spicy guacamole chicken sandwich from Wendy's is the cat's pajamas. Do yourself a favor and buy one today.

Change in Location and Health Battles

Blog readers,

Essentials you need to know before anything else. I'm in Monroe, WA. My new companion is Sister Alberts from Southern Missouri. She's been out a year. We cover the Monroe and Maltby wards. We live in a giant apartment complex. Also, we have a wood-burning fireplace in our living room, so you know we're classy ladies. Good? Good.

Greetings from a week of stitches, limping, and constant bandage-changing! And that's just my companion. Long story short: the day before I got here, some sheet metal attacked Sister Alberts's heel, nearly severing her Achilles tendon. A bogus doctor stitched her up and sent her on her way. Zero instructions about how to care for said wound. Sans pain meds. Thanks!

Part Two: I somehow got sick with horrendous stomach pains, vomiting, and coma-like sleep spells. This happened about three days after Metal Attack 2012. Precious, right?

As I'm starting to feel better, I'm realizing something about life. Remember last week's post where I talked about remembering to laugh? It's still true.

Scene: I've run into the bathroom, with haste, for about the seventh time in one hour. Retching ensues. Imagine the sounds that come from a trash compactor. Nasty.
Sister Alberts calls from the living room, "Do you need any help in there?"
"Nooooo," is my reply. And then I chuckle a little bit at the fact that my face is in a toilet bowl, I haven't showered in at least two days, and my companion is asking to help. Sure! You can help by pulling out my innards and giving me a brand new set! Even sick humor is still humorous.

And there you have it. Absolutely nothing is new except that I'm in a new area with a new companion. Same Bat time, same Bat channel. Oh wait! Not true. Yesterday I had the best foccacia bread of my entire existence. Now you're caught up.

I know this was brief, but sometimes I've got to remember an adage from a previous professor of mine: there is beauty in brevity.

As always, I want you to know that I believe in what I'm doing. I tell people frequently that I wouldn't be here if I was just talking to people about some hip, new wave church that maybe, I don't know, would be cool if you showed up sometime.

The Gospel is true. And I love what I do.

Love, peace, and a healthy dose of Excedrin Extra Strength,
Sister G.

Joy and Laughter

This week's email comes with mixed emotions. Imagine tossing disappointment, excitement, anxiety, and peace into a Feelings Blender and pushing "liquefy." The result is a concoction of what I felt after I got the call this afternoon...

"Sister Goodpaster, you're getting transferred."

Sigh.

Yesterday I spoke to our congregation and told them how much I love them and how much they've spoiled me. A hundred+ people stitched into my heart. A family away from my family. BUT just because I'm leaving doesn't mean I'm really gone. Sometimes I think we leave traces of ourselves with those we love so we can find our way back later.

Sidenote: you may have noticed I accepted some friend requests on Facebook.

Fact: No, I'm not trolling Facebook as a missionary.

Story: last week we were asked to write some feelings about Christ on mormon.org/easter. To post it, I had to log in through Facebook.

Dilemma: Sis. Anderson couldn't remember her regular email address/password. So I logged in to look her up and see if she'd listed it on her profile. No luck. Eventually, through some digging, she found both. But as soon as I logged in and saw I had friend requests, I thought to myself, "Self, don't wait a year to accept these fine people as your friends. You're already here and it'll take two seconds." So I did. There you go.

Highlights of the week:

~ Some delightful pastor told me, "I'm a Christian. You are not." Rather than pursing my lips, telling my companions to "Hold muh earrings rill quick," and giving this dude something to be sassy about, I thought again. I lowered my voice, respectfully disagreed, and told him I was sorry he felt that way. People will look and feel ridiculous when you fight their belligerent agenda with few words and kind confidence. Do you know why? That which is right speaks for itself.

~ Chipotle AGAIN on exchanges in Lynnwood. Sweet, harmonious chicken burrito bowl.

~ Had a hamburger filled with nuggets of bleu cheese. And homemade goulash. (Are you people noticing a pretty consistent food theme in this email/post? Me, too.)

~ We attended a baby shower for one of our recent converts. Diapers galore. After a game where we had to get the fastest time hanging baby clothes on a line with clothespins (a minute thirty!), some blessed soul commented, "Sister Goodpaster, you could have, like, twenty kids!" Ahahaha. You've got jokes!

I just want to close with this thought: remember to be silly. This last six weeks kicked me in the proverbial bum, but I remember so clearly the times where I made goofy faces or sounds at my companion, the person we were teaching, or our members. Do I take my job seriously? Of course I do. But I know that God wants me to be me. He wants me to remember humor. Here, tomorrow, forever. I thought about this a lot when I was in the thick of a supremely tough day. Don't just chuckle. LAUGH. Laugh a lot. Trials aren't permanent, but your way of dealing with them becomes habit. You, me, everyone. There's always room for rays of laughter/humor/JOY in the midst of trial. Always.

You want to love people? Serve them. Teach them. Learn from them. Simple as that.

I love you all. A lot. Now go laugh with someone. Okay? Okay.

Love, laughter, limitless gratitude,

Sister GP

Mission Meltdown

Friends, family, blog stalkers--

I feel the need to be both honest with the readers of this blog and myself. Being cryptic about trials, mission or no mission, benefits no one.

This week was bad. Real bad. So bad I broke down and called my mother, bad. (Against mission rules, save for Christmas and Mother's Day.) I don't want you to have to wade through a post about how my week was miserable and how I have it tough, because we don't go through trials just to complain about them on the other side. We go through trials so that we can come through better, educated, and stronger. I don't want you to feel sorry for me; I want you to learn from me.

Reader's Digest version of the Mission Meltdown 2012:

You cannot understand the weight of sickness and a companion who is an extreme challenge until you've lived it. This week had both in spades. There was a point at which rational thought was overcome by all of the anxiety of a harried situation. So I panicked and called Mama Goodpaster, sobbing. After a long conversation, her wisdom and love wrapped me in the warmth of understanding, and sent me on my way feeling renewed. Talks with my mission president and his wife did much of the same the very next day. Hugs were given, tears were shed, mercy was shown.

What I learned:

One of the key bits of genius my mother shared with me was that I'm an adult, dealing with (and preparing to deal with) adult matters. For instance, I am around my companion constantly. Because of her disposition, I worry and struggle for/with her constantly. I feel reprieve when we're teaching and serving and loving others, which happens a lot. However, I've been stewing in the sick-bed for the last three weeks with a runny/snotty case of bronchitisinfluenzaWashingtonweathersick. I pointed all of this out to my mother--the fact that I felt trapped in being sick with a sick partner who struggles even when she's "well." And then Mom threw this dagger at me:

"What do you think being a mother is like?"

Me: "Yeah, but moms get breaks and people babysit their kids. There is peace, you know, eventually."

"[Laughter] You never stop worrying about your children. You never stop dealing with new challenges and mistakes and just flat-out problems. And you do all of that while dealing with your own times of sickness. There is no day off."

Point taken.

When I spoke with my mission president's wife and I told her what I'd done and how I felt, she had a well-pointed question of her own (maybe she got it from mama g.p.?):

"Sister Goodpaster, do you feel like a martyr?"

I thought about that. And I thought some more. And I answered, "Yeah, kind of."

"Do you know what the best solution to that is?"

I shook my head.

"Don't. You are in charge of you. I love you. Don't let this bring you down."

This advice came with a ton of love and the understanding that she wasn't disappointed in what I'd done, per se. Rather, she was disappointed that I hadn't let her help. That I thought I could just do it alone and be fine. My mission president had the same reaction.

He echoed his wife's genuine concern and care for my well-being before he expressed this sentiment:

"It is my job to look out for you, even if you feel like that cry for help makes you look weak. It does not. Weakness is the refusal to accept help from the proper source." He expressed that he completely understood my reaction to my situation, but wished that I'd had enough faith to confide in him. He then asked how he could help the situation in the "right now" tense, but prefaced it with these words:

"Don't answer this question with the mask of 'I don't want to be a burden,' okay? Answer me according to your needs and I will help you."

I'm not saying my mission president and his wife are perfect. But if their reactions to my predicament aren't models of amazing parenting/how God works, then I don't know what is.

Final thought:

I used to love the "broken escalator" analogy for politics, but now I see how it completely applies to me and to many of us who get "stuck" and then freak out in spiritually-critical situations.

Picture yourself on an escalator. Then picture it breaking down, no repair in the near future. In your hands are heavy-laden shopping bags and an infant. Also, your leg is broken. There are people at the bottom and top of the escalator with all manner of devices to help you get to the top. You are weak, but they're strong. All you have to do is ask, trust, and try. In that order. Do you give up and drop the baby and heave the merchandise everywhere, and sit down and cry about how your leg hurts and how life isn't fair? (Okay, maybe for, like, ten minutes, but then...) No! It will be difficult and painful and awkward trying to balance everything, but you can do it BECAUSE there are so many people willing to carry you up those stairs. P.S. There's a doctor at the top, and a wheelchair and a stroller and someone to push that baby and five other people just in case.

Perhaps the imagery is convoluted, but that's how it played out in my brain last week. And I trust you get the point.

Someone told me yesterday that only God can turn a mess into a message. Truth.

The message here is clear: remember to breathe. Remember that sometimes you have to deal with tough circumstances, BUT that no one has to suffer to appear stronger. The ruse always catches up with you.

If everything I've shared helps no one except me, then that's okay. But I know this: the more we learn from our missteps, the less likely we are to repeat them.

Be well. Live better. God is love.

Love from sunny and warm (finally!) Washington,

Sister Goodpaster

Personal Promptings

Loves of my life~

SO THIS WEEK yours truly...

~ made a small child cry when I (jokingly) told him after the 5th grab on a jello square, "No more for you! All the rest are for me!" Confusion as to whether I should laugh or feel like a terrible human being.

~ ate 27 more pieces of cake on account of Sister Anderson's birthday last Friday. Stop feeding me, people! I cannot say no!

~ ATE AT CHIPOTLE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVERS!!

~ probably developed a steaming case of bronchitis.

~ received a call from the Bishop saying a recent convert's daughter was talking to her mom about the blessings of baptism and wants to be baptized ASAP. Oh hello, miracle.

~ was asked by the 11-year-old son of a lesser-active member, "Sister Goodpaster, do you think there's anything after this life?"

Me: "As in, where do we go when we die?"

Him: "Yeah, like, is this the end? I want to learn."

Oh, hello miracle numero dos.

Story of the week: The reason why you always listen to and then FOLLOW your heart/conscience/the Holy Spirit... So we're in Seattle to deal with Sister A's bronchial grossness. Upon leaving we are STAH-HAR-VING. One thing you prioritize as a missionary is sustenance. Immediately, I think of Chipotle. There are probably five or less in our whole mission, and NONE near Granite Falls.

Our GPS finds the Chipotle through a series of confusing directions. We enter and I enjoy the best lunch I've had in five months. As we're gathering our things to leave, a young woman approaches our table.

"Hey, sisters; I just wanted to say 'hello.' I'm a member of the church."

"Yeah, we sort of figured because the only people who refer to us as 'sisters' are, indeed, members. What can we do for you?"

She goes on to tell us about her less-active friend she works with, and how she feels like the missionaries should stop by her home in Bothell to give her some encouragement.

"Absolutely, we can do that! Is there anything else?"

"Well, actually, yeah..."

She then tells us that she just moved to Seattle, and she's having a hard time adjusting to work and church. Then she timidly asks, "Um, would it be okay if we talked outside?"

"Of course!"

For the next 30 minutes we share stories of spiritual uplifting goodness and this woman realizes that she IS strong, that God really is aware of her, and that all will be well. We also exchange addresses so we can keep in touch with her.

P.S. All of this occurs on a shopping mall bench.

Bliss.

Point: Don't underestimate God's power to multitask. He may be graciously carving the path to the nearest Chipotle, but He's also placing people in your path who need you. Not somebody else who would tell them to "chin up and get over it." You! Not only can you uplift another, but you'll be edified yourself. I promise.

Make a beautiful week, and relish the promptings from Someone with MUCH more foresight than you. Sacred, meaningful experiences are in store.

Love to you all,

Sister G.

A Beautiful Birthday Week

Hello, loves of my life!

Let's get down to business to talk about what a wonderful week I had, topped off with a celebration of the day I was birthed. What's interesting about not being home for the holidays and other important days is that you learn to FIND joy. I haven't been home for my birthday (or Thanksgiving...or Easter...) for the last four years. I used to have this Mopey McWhinerson attitude about it. Now? I'm appreciating that I have the rest of my life to be at home/with family/friends on these dates. I will never have another birthday with these people in this place again. Honorary members of the Goodpaster family are everywhere! I had about seven offers for birthday cake, presents, flowers, and general lovefesting. AND missionary work got done, too. Soooo good!

As promised, Mamalama Goodpaster relayed all of your facebook messages to me via email. Warmed my soggy, Washington-resident heart. Thank you! More than thank you! Love to you. As much as I can communicate through keys and screen.

This last week it was G-G-G-G-G-G-G-GORGEOUS in Granite Falls. We did our weekly planning outside, on our tiny excuse of a front lawn, while the sun shined, no clouds in the sky, just about 60 degrees. Bliss. BIRTHDAY bliss.

In other odds and ends, this week I:

~ Held a tarantula. Picture evidence exists. This is my warning to my mother to have an adult diaper on when she views my next round of pictures.

~ Was surrounded by llamas as I tried to get into our car after dinner.

~ Marveled at a 5-day-old baby, born to a family in our congregation on St. Patrick's Day.

~ Had DELICIOUS Indian food for the first time in forever.

This week's bit of insight came to me yesterday evening. A teenage girl in the ward asked us at dinner, "Are missions stressful?"

Pause.

More pausing. Pondering.

Thought: LIFE is FULL of opportunities for stress. Of all sorts. I thought back on all of the times on this mission where I could have chosen to let a situation stress me out, but I chose to give it a moment, breathe, and laugh about it. Little things, you know? Then I thought about all the times where I chose to react like a child and throw my hands up at a situation that, in hindsight, wasn't as cataclysmic as I thought it was at the time.

Take life in stride. You know what helps me?

Prayer.

After a very frustrating inventory with my district leader last night, I tried to determine why every single conversation I have with him is frustrating. Stressful, if you will.

I concluded that he is an awful listener. And then I talked with Sister Anderson.

Think about how prayer works. God is not physically next to us when we speak to Him, nor does He answer in audible ways. Ahem, usually. I know this is by divine design.

I've never ever ever heard someone complain that they were "trying to pray, but God just kept interrupting me and I couldn't get a word out!" or "God kept interjecting with advice when all I wanted Him to do was listen!" or "I prayed to God, but He just kept rolling His eyes!"

Conclusion: God does not listen or converse like the rest of us. He is the best listener of all time. I wonder if we tried to communicate with one another, to really listen, like God listens, how much more loving we'd be. Let's listen intently, respond thoughtfully, and just show love. I'm by no means perfect, but the faults of another should always cause us to look inward. And be that change.

Remember to breathe. To pray. To find the joy.

Love,

Sister Goodpaster

Things Can Always Be Worse

People!!

Gather 'round and I'll tell you a story about how when you think times are trying, there's just another challenge around the corner. As last week's issues were clearing up, I got sick on Tuesday--sinus congestion to the max. As soon as I called our mission president's wife, she says, "Ooooohhhh, you've got it, too!" Greeeaaattt. Pass the tissues, lozenges, and decongestant meds, please.

Basically, the sickness lasted until Friday when I just couldn't take it anymore and had to flee the house...with Sister Anderson, of course. Slowly but surely I'm feeling better, though the throat is still scratchy and the nose runs from time to time. Fact: being sick on a mission has absolutely no rewards, other than maybe some extra sleep. No TV. No computer. No awful Lifetime made-for-TV movies that star Angela Lansbury and make you feel all warm and gooey about going through menopause. NONE OF IT! I read a chunk of the Old Testament, blew my nose 1356 times, tried to sleep on our smelly couch, and thought about the meaning of why we have eyebrows.

ANYWAY, enough about being sick. Life goes on and my immune system keeps on truckin'.

This week's highlights:

~ One of our investigators, whom I literally thought might be dead, appeared at church! Welcome back to the land of the living, brother!

~ Another lesser-active woman came to church for the second week in a row AND is contemplating leaving her verbally-abusive husband. Her grown kids also live with her and it's just not a healthy situation. I love it when the Gospel resolves situations temporally AND spiritually.

~ I had corned beef and cabbage thrice this week. Everyone gets real excited about St. Patrick's Day around here. (They love all the green? You know, Washington? Greenery? Terrible jokes? Yes.) Conclusion: that meal will set your intestines free. Use caution.

~ An investigator who Sis. Hone, along with her previous companion Sis. Saxton, taught also came back out of nowhere last week. Only, this one came back from...JAIL! Are we going to teach this person and love him and provide him every means to become a contributing member of society again? You bet your sweet set of scriptures, we are! (Don't worry, Mom--strong dudes accompany us to every meeting.)

This last instance leads me to this week's thought: God DOES NOT hold onto past indiscretions if we don't. If we move on, doing ALL we can to make it right, He will not only forgive, He'll remember our wrongs no more. I feel like our tendency as human beings is to remember, and to hold on for dear life, to our mistakes and the mistakes of everyone else. This isn't God's way. I know there's a reason we remember our own mistakes: so we learn from them and move forward. But remembering the ills of everyone else? Continuing to hold them accountable for mistakes already repented of? Let it go! Christ's Atonement wasn't just an event that occurred thousands of years ago and "isn't it a nice favor Jesus did for us?" No way! The Atonement is a living, relevant blessing, no, an investment in us. It's His way of telling us, "You don't have to hold on to this. I already paid the price." Let it go? Of course we can. Every single day. Moving forward and leaving what's passed in the past.

I love you people a lot. A lot a lot. Be wonderful. Appreciate the sun. Love your family. Love everyone, really.

With so much love,

Sister GP

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...

Friends, Romans, countrymen...

This week was one of the toughest I've ever experienced on my mission thus far. But you know what? Tough circumstances breed serious growth.

I spend many of my days trying to show people that God will help them through anything, no matter how inadequate they feel. I probably should have expected a considerable trial of that faith, right? No one is exempt from struggle. And now I'm starting to realize that what I'm telling people is RIGHT! God legitimately helps you, and not in some cosmic/incomprehensible way that "you'll only fully grasp fifty years from now." (Okay, okay, sometimes that happens, but follow me...) He helps you realistically, tangibly, with certainty.

Some days you only have the wherewithal to put one foot in front of the other and move forward. And that's okay. I don't have to be the perfect missionary, just like you don't have to be perfect people. This coming week I'm going to make you a serious promise:

I will be loving even when I want to be frustrated. I will admonish God's blessings even when I want to ask him whhhhhyyyyyyy things are difficult.

Things are difficult sometimes, but they're supposed to be. This whole thing--LIFE, and living the best we can--is not a cheap experience. It's a gift. Expect that you'll struggle. But also expect that you'll emerge. Weather-beaten, but better. Tired, but stronger.

I love you people. I feel your prayers moving me from day-to-day. Thank you. Yes, you.

Love,

Sister G

Change and Moving Forward

Hello people I love! How are you? Seriously. I pray you're well.

It's March already!?! I realized yesterday that, at the end of this transfer (6-week period), I'll only have one year left of the mission. B-a-n-a-n-a-s!!

This week President Wilson and his wife had all of the sister missionaries get together for a luncheon and training. Sweet, merciful beauty, it was great. We're up to 21 sister missionaries in a mission of about 160 plus/minus elders. We're a rare breed, but we are mighty. I'll share something President shared that literally blew my shoes off. Often we think about the doctrine of eternal families in the context of OUR nuclear family unit--two parents, some children. But, did you know what we're really doing when we're sealed for time and all eternity to our family? We're sealing ourselves to God as part of HIS eternal family. Our families are not just one complete cross-stitched doily. We are a quilt, people! Your family unit is just one of kajillions of squares. Throw THAT in your bubble bath and soak in it!

Random thought having nothing to do with anything: if I never hear the words "Mitt Romney" again in my mission, it will be too soon. I never realized how much the Church's neutral political stance would bless me in a mission situation. I'm interested in being socially/politically conscious as a member of this great land, but I'm thrilled NOT to listen to the radio, watch TV, or peruse the internet during an election year. People, I know I'm a Mormon. I'm aware that Mitt's a Mormon. Do I know him? Nope. Do I care if Mitt enjoys the occasional episode of Jersey Shore or wants to be the president? I don't. Step off my bean, Washingtonians.

So, it's happening. Sister Hone is getting transferred tomorrow. Little Sister G (that's me) is staying in good ole Granite Falls. Remember last week how I talked about sorrow and gladness occurring in the same breath? This is a lot like that. Sad to see her go, but thrilled for her to train someone else for 12 weeks before she heads back home. I pray my new companion will be as cool as Honesauce (sparse likelihood), or I fear the ward may turn on her with pitchforks and torches.

Final thought for today: we have to accept change so that we can grow. This morning Hone and I talked about how four sisters are going home today, and how it won't be much longer before Hone goes home, too. Leaving this experience should be a rejoicing about the ability to grow, to learn from and move on. I think many of us get stuck in the "Look what I LEARNED!" stage and forget about the moving on sequence. You've got to move your feet, friends (ahem: forward, not backward). Are there circumstances I don't prefer here? You bet your bifocals there are, but there's a beautiful loophole. "Non-preferred" stages are not permanent. You face the challenge, garner all you can, and sprint to the next phase--for better or worse. I guess what I'm trying to say is that this week I'm focusing on not getting caught up in the details of change. "Make the most of it" comes to mind. The keyword is make. It's not "have the best of it," or "search hopelessly for the best of it." We make change good or bad. Something rotten is happening in your life? Your fretting won't cause it to vanish. Your willingness to accept change and be humble/able to grow from it WILL make it better, if not wonderful. P.S.--God's got it MORE than under control anyways, so keep calm and carry on.

Is this making sense? Sometimes I feel like I try to share the thought of the week and it turns into this Oprah Winfrey moment of schmaltz and weak pep talks.

Point: Accept. Grow. Move on.

Love,

Sister Goodpaster

P.P.S. My birthday's in 19 days. I'm counting.

Sadness and Joy

Loved ones,

I'll give you the rundown in real time: 10 minutes ago I read my mother's email telling me about how our family dog died this past weekend. I go to the library bathroom and cry like a child for minutes. I compose myself, return to my computer, and 20 minutes later Sis. Hone tells me she just got accepted to BYU-Idaho. I feel genuinely happy in her behalf.

Everything in its right place.

This week we watched a mormon.org profile (which you should all check out because they would fill my heart with joy even if I weren't a Mormon) with a woman who's gone through some major heartache. At the end of this video (which featured a mother who'd lost her 4 year old son), was this basic message: Life is not fair. But life doesn't have to be fair because God offers us so much more. This life is not the final product of who we are or what we can be. Our happiness is intertwined with sorrow because life is about dealing with it ALL...and then rejoicing in the fact that heartache isn't forever, joy is.

This week was wonderful. Service opportunities were rampant. I want to speak to you all candidly about the real blessings we receive because we have a loving Father in Heaven. I refuse to believe in coincidence, chance, or luck. Refuse. I believe in blessings and I believe that God uses us to uplift and carry others. Intentionally, perfectly. That I get to experience this on some level every day reaffirms to me that I'm where I'm supposed to be.

This week we cleared out the house of a family who's garage burned up during the snowstorm a few weeks ago. Their generator caught fire and they're fortunate to be alive. P.S. the day before the house caught fire, an enormous tree in their front yard fell on and crushed their brand new car. We had to throw away everything that smelled so badly of smoke/was burned that it couldn't be salvaged. It included more of their possessions than not.

As we threw piles upon piles of damaged belongings into a massive trash bin, I thought. A lot. Our cars can get destroyed and our homes can be ashes, but we move on. We are alive. We have one another. The mother of the family told us that we were the answer to her prayers, angels in her life. I don't feel like an angel or a glowing, fiery answer to prayer. But I know that I'm a regular person trying to help other regular people.

Maybe you would never feel sorrow about the loss of a pet. Or maybe you'd never feel relief at going to college in Idaho, but some regular people do. We are here for one another. We literally cannot make it alone. Or, maybe you could, but what a hollow way to live. I believe empathy is the word.

Here's what I know: Bad comes with good. Mortality is not the end. Tender, special joys can be found in everything we experience. Everything.

Love,

Sister GP

Here Is Where I Live!

Love the Washington fog--so cool! I told my Mom that she'd probably want to paint this.

Right after our monster of a snowstorm in January. Total accumulation of frozen whiteness: two feet!

First Set of Missionary Photos

Perfecting my snowball-throwing skills in January. That red car is what they trust us to drive. Except when Granite Falls didn't clear the roads after the big snowstorm...

Sister Hone and I on Christmas morning. My first Christmas away from home, but I sucked it up and did okay.

Our teddy bears are wearing T-shirts that say, "Somebody in Granite Falls loves you." Ahhhhh.

My first companion at the MTC, Sister Driggers.

The infamous map photo that all missionaries pose for while at the MTC. "I'm going here!"

The Good, The Bad, and The Head-Scratching Moments of What People Will Say

Fact: when you wear this nametag, people use it as a sign to divulge interesting details of their life. This week, without solicitation, I've been told:

1. I just got out of jail and my wife is dead.

2. I ripped open my [edited for content] in a freak motocross accident.

3. I spent all of last night listening to Whitney Houston. Her albums just make me feel "one" with her now that she's gone.

I'll let you ponder on those for a minute.

At so many points during the week I think, "oh! I need to remember that for the weekly email! People will laugh/cry/enjoy." And then it comes to email time and I'm at a loss for words. Gross. I'm going to start leaving myself figurative breadcrumbs in my daily planner so that this mind-blank atrocity doesn't happen again.

I don't have any hugely uplifting anecdotes from this past week, other than to say the work and the love move forward. I just wrote a good friend of mine that "no news on the mission is good news." I could tell you about the missionary-esque details of my life, but it would read more like a travelogue than you'd care to read. Basically, I have a lot of cool things happen to me everyday and sometimes all the coolness gets muddled together into a cool mass. Was that last sentence written by a 14 year old girl? Yes.

Oh! This week, everyone should know that my mother sent me a Valentine's Day package containing a handmade card. Don't worry that it contained multiple pictures of Robert Pattinson/Edward Cullen. I laughed for minutes. A public thanks to you, mom.

(Mother's Editorial Comment #1 -- For the record, there were only two photos of Edward/Rob in that card. Also, she forgot to mention the delicious homemade oatmeal cookies that were included in that same package. I'll forgive her for now...)

Final thought: We had a conversation with a woman last night while eating dinner. She talked about how all of life's challenges funnel us to the place we're supposed to be. She made a comment that, basically, if everything (job, marriage, faith) had worked out like she planned, she never wouldn't be sitting with us in that moment. I think about moments a lot.

I think about how, if my plans in the like 2 years or so had worked out like I planned, I wouldn't be absolutely blessed to meet the people I'm meeting. People say that when one door closes, another opens. I believe that when one door closes, not only does another one open, but it opens to a room of wonderful individuals, just waiting to meet, befriend, and love you. No schmaltz involved. We can focus on what we've lost on botched plans OR we can take a look at all of the people waiting to make our life fuller, richer, and more meaningful. Appreciate those moments and the people basking in them with you.

I love you all more than you know. I think about what you're doing, if you're ok. How you're changing and growing and becoming better than you were yesterday. That's all of you, not just my family. Be well. God's making provisions for you right.this.minute.

Love,

Sister G.

(Mother's Editorial Comment #2 -- Sister G sent some photos to share on the blog. As soon as I figure out how to upload those, you'll see them first here!)

Toothaches and Chaotic Religion

Hello, friends and family!

First order of business: this week, in a strange twist of irony, I found out about Whitney Houston's death whilst under the influence of prescribed narcotics (too soon?). It went a little like this:

At the beginning of last week, a chunk of my lower gum swelled and my back molar started to ache like crazy. After a couple days of that nonsense, I called the dentist in our congregation, described my pain, and set an appointment for this past Monday. To manage the constant pain until I could get in to see him, he prescribed me Lortab. Yikes! To imagine what I was like on the stuff, imagine someone marijuaned out of their mind. Quite a sight. Songs were sung. Words were slurred. No video evidence exists, I hope. Anyway, Monday comes around and I'm at the dentist's office. He does all these tests to see what could be wrong with my tooth/gum area because nothing is visibly awry. He takes x-rays, the whole bit. Nothing. UNTIL, he takes his pointy-hooked instrument and roots around my gum area. Blood flows like wine. And then he exclaims, "Oh sick!" and pulls out a giant popcorn kernel. The thing had lodged itself in between my gum and my tooth and had been there, I presume, for about a week. Bingo! I felt ridiculous, but look ma, no more pain!

But seriously, I'm sad about Whitney.

In joyful news, this week I mowed a lawn for the first time ever! On a riding mower! AND I tilled a garden with an electric tiller. Call me Sister Deere.

Also, this past week was zone conference, where we got to hear from our mission president and his wife. Her message is what I want to leave you with...

There are SOOO many people we meet on a regular basis that tell us, "I don't do organized religion." I want to ask them, "do you believe in chaotic/halfway religion?"

Here's the point: any good parent prepares their young children with every needful thing when they go on a trip. Why would God be any different? Why would He send us to earth without any roadmap or organization? He wouldn't. Sis. Wilson put it so beautifully when she said that if she were looking for God's Church on the earth today, she'd look for the most organized establishment possible, with the fullest amount of blessings and provisions available. You don't send a toddler to Nairobi with a bobby pin and a piece of cheese. God wouldn't send us here to muddle through with "unorganized religion" and mediocre instructions. He loves us more than to leave us in the lurch.

This week marked my 3rd month on the mission, and because they scheduled me to go home almost a month before my 18th month mark, you get to enjoy 14 more months of this beautiful prose. Congratulations! Buckle up, people, I've only just begun.

Have a stellar week, my friends!

Love,

Sister G.P.

Oh, The Fun We Have!!

Warm (literally!) greetings to everyone! For the last 4 days it hasn't rained once. The sun has been out all day with little to no cloud-cover. Temperatures peak in the low 60s. I make this point from the very beginning because it's HUGE. Mood improvement, less fatigue, friendlier people in general. Good times!! And significant gratitude for the fact that my hometown looks like this 300 days out of the year.

This week I sent my camera's SD card home to the parentals, so y'all should see some pictures on this blog soon. Laughter will, no doubt, ensue. I wish I could tell you a five-minute story about every single person I've photographed, but alas, time is not on my side. Stories when I get home? Very yes.

In "Good Always Triumphs Over Evil" news, the Giants won the Super Bowl!! I bet that grimace of defeat fits nicely on Tom Brady's bum-chin face. But I digress...

This week on "As the Granite Falls Churn," domestic violence occurred outside our apartment. I know what you're thinking. "Sister G, this is not appropriate blog fodder. Domestic disputes aren't funny." In this context, oh heck yes, they are.

Picture it: It's approximately 9 pm and we're inside studying. When all of the sudden we hear these blood-curdling cries from across the street. "Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth" is a spot-on description. When Detective Hone cracks the door to see what sadness is unfolding, she spies a woman on the street corner, hysterically in tears. Being the good soul that she is, she says, "Goodpaster, we've got to go help this woman. We've got to do something." So we put on shoes and coats and head out the door. From out of nowhere, this man crawls out of our neighbor's bush and walks hurriedly down the street, in the opposite direction of said woman. When she spies him, she takes off after him like a bat out of hello dolly. Upon catching him, she jumps on his back and starts WAILING on him with fists of fury and spitting all manner of profanity. Honedog and I look at each other like "What the...?!" I immediately think, "Should I call the cops? Do we snag our pepper spray and break this up? Do we laugh because this completely bizzaro situation is happening 10 feet from us? Does this woman have a weapon and we're about to witness a murder?" The man then sits on the ground, head in his hands, bawling. It becomes clear that both individuals are super drunk. They appear to settle the situation and said man walks off. Worry subsides and we head in. Twenty minutes later, we hear the same woman (I've named her "Theresa" for narrative purposes) wailing in the streets, "QUINNNNNN!!! (or maybe) CLLLINNNTTTTTTT!!!!" We rush to our upstairs window to see her stumbling up and down the streets before she walks into our post office. At this point it's approaching our bedtime and we figure Theresa is done for the night. Also, our guts hurt from all the laughter.

Moral of the Story: alcohol has the potential to make you look like the fool in the town square. Also, when drama that belongs on an episode of Cops happens outside your door, the best vantage point is from above. To redeem myself and let you know that watching Granite Falls drunkards wasn't the only important thing to happen this week, I'll share something uplifting. It is simple, but it confirmed to me that one good choice influences many.

This week we had another lesson with a woman we've been teaching for the last 2 months. She has a daughter who's 7 and can be a handful (probably like most 7 year olds). I don't even remember what we're teaching when she makes this connection: "Sisters, since we've been meeting together, I have more patience. I am a better mother now than I was before." That's when it hit me: the people we teach, and even those we don't, aren't islands. They are connected to hundreds, even thousands of people on a weekly basis. When we influence them for good, it spreads. That love, that charitable/kind/patient attitude seeps into their parenting, friendshipping, everything. The idea isn't to convince people that they, alone, need to be better. Convincing isn't even part of the equation. What means most is helping them see that they have the potential to make EVERYTHING better. But it starts with them. God will help. He always does. But we have to move our feet if we want to be better for everyone else.

The Gospel is amazing. On a daily basis I feel I have a Thanksgiving feast and it's my job to share it with those who think the only food in existence is crackers.

Let's be good, no, BETTER to each other. Your influence reaches farther than you know.

Love,

Sister G.

Red Meat, Baptism and God's Love

Family and friends!!

I have two words that describe this week: red meat. Literally, almost every dinner appointment we had pulled out the big guns and fed us steak and potatoes. We loved every single second of it, but some serious visits to the gym are in order.

As always, I'm loving the work. I'm searching my brain as to what new and exciting information I can share, but this mission is turning my memory into soup...

OH! I had my first baptism this week! An 8 year old girl who Sis. Hone and her other companion had been teaching since before I got to WA. It's pretty groovy to see anyone get baptized, but kids are different. They want to do it because it's right, not because they've sorted everything out into a logical compartment. Fortunately, the Gospel makes complete sense (because, you know, God is a God of order), but there are people who get caught up in technicalities instead of just taking it to the source and waiting for the answer. God is not a drive-thru machine where we shout in our order and pull up to the next window, hoping that some incompetent individual isn't assembling our burger. God wants us to be happy, and He wants to bless us, but we have to DO something, too. Kids just get that. I love it.

Other than that, for the first time this week since I've been here, the temp rose above 45 degrees. This brought indescribable joy to my rain-soaked heart. Also, you people are rock star status at writing me. THANK YOU!! I'd like to share a quick story from one of the letters I received this week. (I hope this person will forgive me, and take this blog shout out as an expression of gratitude). It went something like this:

This friend of mine had had the worst day. She left her purse on the bus in Tallanasty, Florida and missed her class. As she's crying on the bench outside her lecture hall, two sister missionaries approach her. Immediately their countenances change from happiness to concern. They put her at ease with humor and then share a small message about God's love for her. From my understanding, they do not preach to her, but instead they show love and share basic principles about how God is aware of all of us and wants to bless us.

As I read this letter from my dear friend, I had this palpable boost of joy and understanding. I don't know about you people, but God has never answered my prayers with pillars of light or heavenly manifestations. Instead, I know He sends good, genuine people to comfort me. These situations are not by happenstance. Sometimes all we have to do is listen to those small promptings. You may know it as your conscience. I know it as the Holy Ghost. Whatever you call it, it pushes you to do good for others. Follow it. You cannot know how the other person will take it, but that really doesn't matter. One of the things I'm loving most about this mission is that I don't have preach to anybody. There is no "convincing." There are only situations where I, like those missionaries that found my friend, can follow the promptings of the Spirit and help others feel happiness. Beautifully simple when I stop to think about it...

Final thought: this week remember that some of the most profound moments in our life come when we're in the unlikeliest of places. You don't have to be in a church to feel God's love or to share it. Just do your part wherever you are.

Love, peace, and the smell of evergreen trees,

Sister Goodpaster

Snow, Attitude, Happiness

Dear people I love and other blog stalkers,

 

I'll be frank - last week was rough. It snowed basically every single day and we ended up with nearly two feet of snow. Many families in our ward were either snowed in or lost power for days. For the safety of the missionaries, Pres. Wilson asked that we not drive on un-plowed roads. Guess how efficient Granite Falls is at plowing roads that haven't received that much snow since the '60s. If you guessed, "not at all, duh," you're correct.

 

So many people called to make sure we had power and food. By day 3 I was tempted to respond, "we have no food and Sister Hone is looking at me Donner Party Style." My mother will be relieved to know I refrained.

 

Enough of that nonsense, let's talk about happiness.

 

In hilarious happenings this week:
A 4 year old brother and an 8 year old sister are play-fighting after dinner, when suddenly we hear tiny fist hit tiny face. Don't worry, the brother punched the sister and knocked out one of her baby teeth. Sis. Hone and I laughed for literal minutes.

 

Transfers are this week, and as I type Sis. Hone gets a text and tells me that neither of us are leaving G.F. for the next six weeks. REJOICE!! I love this area and these people too much to leave now. At the end of this new transfer, Sis. Hone will have been here six months. If I can follow in those footsteps, I'll be a happy woman.

 

I interrupt this message to share a message of happy birthday wishes to my Aunt Jane. :)

 

Oh! This week our ward got a senior missionary couple added to the mix! Elder and Sister Hunter - from eastern Idaho - 6 grown kids - both lifetime employees of the education system. They are tops and basically feel like our grandma and grandpa.

 

You might chuckle to know that during our interviews this week with Pres. and Sis. Wilson, Pres. Wilson asked Sis. Hone, "how is Sister Goodpaster? She seems...intense." Sis. Hone said she laughed and told him, "no. not at all. she's goofy and she laughs a lot." Just think about me for a hot second. Then think about the word "intense." And just...just...I don't know.,.laugh because the only time I'm intense is when I'm lifting weights at the gym. (p.s. bench press goes up to 55 lbs this week. Pray for my string bean biceps).

 

Here's the good word: your attitude is everything. If my attitude walking out my door every morning is that people think I'm an annoying religion-monger, then that's what I'll be. If I walk out that same door trusting God to put us in the path of those that need my help, people that are happy to see me, then THAT is what I'll find. Amazing results here. Oh, you aren't interested in my religion? Well, you're about to laugh at my joke. There's always some way to leave people happier than you found them. Missionary success is not measured in conversions and quotas. Rather, it is measured in good intentions and joy. My intent is for everyone I meet to think, "I am happier now, even just a bit, than I was before I talked to that girl." Think about Christ. Not everyone agreed with his teachings, nor did they follow them. BUT, he left no one in sadder shape than when he first spoke with them. It is not our place to judge; it is our place to uplift. Everyone.

 

Take some time this week to enjoy the goodness of life. And then pass it along.

 

Love,

Sister G.P.

Miscellaneous Missionary Stuff

Greetings from Washington where anytime (any time?) I see the sunshine I want to leap for joy. About once a day, if we're lucky, it peeks out from behind the clouds to remind us all that it's still technically warming our planet. At least it's courteous, you know?

 

I've reached the point in the mission where every single one of the days is blurring together and by Monday I can't remember anything that happened the previous week. I'm resolving to keep notes in my daily planner like a 50 year old accountant. Pardon me while I adjust my pocket protector. Here's an attempt at recounting the most important parts of last week:

 

-We're eating dinner with a family when the 5 year old says, "sisters, I had blood in my mouth for SEVEN HOURS yesterday." Umm, awesome. Your parents should probably seek medical counsel and/or an exorcist.

-The amount of cat-infested homes here is mind-blowing. Your houses smell like straight-up urine, people. Ask me to help you sanitize; I'd be more than happy.

-Someone (who's daughter is serving in South Korea) told us that Kim Jong Il DIED last month?? I didn't put question marks at the end of that sentence because I'm wondering if this is fact or not. What I am wondering is why in the cuss no one told me about this. Death of dictators, family births, and celebrity gossip are all things I feel like I should be privy to, people!

-A member of our ward calls me "Miami" because, well, I don't know. Maybe because I look like a Latina? Which leads me to my next point...

-In a lesson with this guy he interrupts the conversation to ask me if I was a) a former Catholic and b) a native Portuguese-speaker. Um, no. He also asked me, voice laden with condescending tones, "have you read the whole Bible?" Why yes, sir, I have. Would you care to converse about it? No? You wouldn't because you asked the question in hopes that I hadn't and you'd make me look dumb? Try again, brother.

-You would not believe - or maybe you would - the number of women I meet here who are AMAZING, but married to fools. Note to self: think before you marry.

-There are countless people here who have nothing in the material sense, but hold fast to their faith. Do bad things happen to good people? Yes, but we keep moving forward. We trust that trying times will strengthen us and allow us to foster empathy for people in those situations in the future. Attitude is key.

-I wish I could care about the BCS Championship Bowl, but 'Bama-LSU is equal to watching Stalin and Hitler argue. Go play in your own evil corner and stay out of my college football sandbox, children.

 

In uplifting news, this week's lesson is that it's easy to be fault-finding and negative. It is harder to find the good in people and decide to love them anyway. Am I still sarcastic (in smaller doses) and witty? Yes. But God wants us to be good to one another, even in thought. Nearly every action is prefaced by a thought. If I choose to love (or try to love) those around me in my thoughts, kind words/deeds will follow suit.

Something to get you thinking as you decide how to be more parts positive than negative: Thomas S. Monson wrote, "Let us relish life as we live it, find joy in the journey, and share our love with friends and family. One day each of us will run out of tomorrows."

 

My final thought: there are loads of missionaries who spend their days thinking, "when I get home, life will be good. That's when life will be ideal." Wrong. Start loving now. Start appreciating the beautiful intricacies of life this minute. Don't do what everyone thinks you SHOULD do until the time comes for you to do what you would RATHER be doing. Life and people and experiences aren't to be begrudged. They're to be loved and cherished.

 

I love you all and I cherish the friendships we have. I'm serving this mission one day at a time and trying to love every second. It is hard, but the effort is there nonetheless.

 

Love to everyone,

Sister G.

New Year's Salutations

Dear family, friends, and blog stalkers,

 

New year's salutations!! Once upon a two days ago, Sister Hone and I had a New Years Eve date at Alfy's Pizza (where I tried with all my might to tear my eyes away from the Virginia-Auburn game). We stuffed ourselves full of foul-smelling, but heavenly tasting carbs, went home to down 2 bottles of sparkling grape juice, and were promptly in bed by 10:30. Oh hello, geriatric partying.

 

I want to start off the real portion of this week's letter by giving shoutouts to all of those who've written me in the last 3 weeks. I called you task my first week in the MTC and y'all responded! Bless you. Being away from home for Christmas for the first time was tough, but it was for a good cause so I couldn't ever get into a funk about it. I have the rest of my life to be with the people I love during the holidays, missing 2 Christmases won't kill me - unless an errant egg nog truck runs me over.

 

In hilarious/ridiculous people news, people are fools for the Seahawks here. Knock on my door during a 'Hawks game? Punishable by death. Get a DVR and get over it, people. I'm not here to ruin your life or cut into your sittin' around time - I'm here to brighten your day and tell you God loves you. Perspective, people, perspective.

 

In sickest thing I've ever eaten news, pickled green beans. Stop. The only thing that should be pickled are cucumbers in the process of becoming pickles. I ate one and then, yikes, get that nasty jar away from me, please.

 

In other foodstuffs news, my plan to not gain 100 lbs on this mission is in full swing and working! Did I tell the people of blogspot that Sis. Hone and I are working for our biceps at the Gold's Gym 1.5 blocks from our apartment? Well, we are. Every morning we get up at the crack of early, wipe down all the cardio machines, and then get our fitness on for 25 minutes. We alternate between cardio and...wait for it...weightlifting. I will preface this story by saying that 5 years ago if you saw my attempt at bench pressing anything, you would've laughed yourself into a stupor. The words "juvenile" and "embarrassing" come to mind. Anywho, I would like to note that I am now benching 45 lbs (start small, ok?), 12 times in a row, like it's nothing. Basically, I'm going to look like Gillian Michaels when this is all said and done. Watch out, world!

 

As always, I love the work. People are frustrating and lazy and grouchy and all kinds of negative adjectives, but I keep my chin up. My mother will be proud to know that last week I raked leaves laden with horse manure...and felt pretty cathartic upon completion. The bottom of my sneakers were covered in feces and I was happier than when I started. Change from the "please, don't dirty my hands" jerk I was 2 months ago? Big, HUGE. I love it.

 

Here's my final lesson learned: even if people don't understand why I'm here doing what I'm doing, that's ok. I'm realizing for the first time in my life that I know what I'm doing is right, and that's really all that matters. It has little to do with the technicalties of Mormonism and everything to do with love. I'm here to show my love to God by showing love to others, no matter what. I'm here to communicate God's love for His children, even if they could care less. I'm here to show my love to my friends and family for nurturing my spirituality and supporting my opportunity to serve. Love, people. That's what all this is about. It's a pretty awesome perspective with which to start off the new year, eh?

 

Final thought: holy pregnancies in my family! Jess and Chels at the same time? I love it. What I do not love is the fact that I'm going to miss the first year of both of those little nuggets' lives. Send me an obnoxious amount of pictures.

 

i love you guys. keep living the dream.

love,

sister g.