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
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