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