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
09 July 2012
03 July 2012
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.
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.
25 June 2012
"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
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
11 June 2012
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! :-)
(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! :-)
04 June 2012
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
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
29 May 2012
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
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
25 May 2012
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
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
15 May 2012
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
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
07 May 2012
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
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
30 April 2012
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.
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.
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