God is so good!

PSA: I am now a raisin.

 Because I'm so dehydrated I think I've shriveled a size smaller. So dehydrated that my hands feel chalky.

 Because we were betrayed by Japanese takeout. I think the food itself got angry because I accidentally referred to it as Chinese food. And so it poisoned us.

 My experience this weekend has taught me that revenge is not sweet... It actually tastes like vomit. Dis. Gust. Ing.

 My poor companion was up all of Friday night and into Saturday morning introducing her insides to our toilet. And I gave a rousing final performance around 10 o'clock that morning. Luckily, there have not been any calls for an encore.

 This is where it gets wild.

 We were dying. Dying, dying, dying, practically dead. Sick as can be and all sorts of exhausted, we called up our zone leaders to give us blessings. In those blessings we both received the message that there were indeed people to see, light to share, and miracles to participate in. Tonight.  

 Are. YOuu. KIDDdiNg. MeeeEEEEEeeeeee.

 I was a little ticked. This was clearly a test of our humility.

 So to our knees we went, begging to know where to go, when to go, and that we wouldn't puke on a stranger.

 I've never pedaled so slow in my life, but forward we went.

 Conditions were bleak; my ribs ached from the violence that had raged within. And it had rained that morning, making Gilbert surprisingly chilly.

 The first strangers we stopped to talk to were polite but definitely not interested (the same song we hear every day). Mostly these folks just wanted to get back to playing with their funny scooter things.

 The next person we talked to was waiting for the bus. She had just barely missed the last one which meant that she had to wait another hour. Which meant that we had all that time to chat with her. At first, she was soooooooo not interested in talking with us, but with a little persistence, we became awkward acquaintances. It was so much fun just to sit and talk with a stranger (most people in this area try to get us to leave asap). We talked about what we do and why we do it, about family and circumstances, about silly animals and crazy adventures, about favorite scriptures and where God came from. She's had a hard life, and it was clear to me that our priesthood blessings were unfolding right before our eyes. Ashley needed some light right then, and we were the carriers that day. We left fast friends, and she, with a copy of the Book of Mormon.

SOOOO SICK!!!

 The power and blessings of God were upon us that hour we sat on the bus stop bench, I had been cozy and comfortable the entire time. The second we biked away however, I realized that I actually had ice blocks for feet. I was freezing and tired and nauseous and achy. And at peace with it all, because we were doing the will of the Lord.   

 We warmed up for a few minutes at a members house and then went back to it. Our area was dead. No one was outside. I think Arizonians are allergic to the rain.

 We stopped by a man named Joe, a referral from other missionaries. We knocked, no one answered. We were on Joe's driveway looking up our next destination when an old man peeked his head around the corner and scared any thoughts of illness right out of me. It was Joe, coming to say hi... and that he wasn't really interested, but to come back when it was warmer. Yeah, I know, I'm confused too.

 The next door we knocked on (another referral) turned on the porch lights to see who it was and then promptly turned them back off. Without ever answering the door. Got it.

 The next door didn't open, the next stranger on the street just really wanted to finish his walk, and the stranger after that "knew God, had a church they went to, loved it, and was just out exercising." Well okay.

 At this point, we're as cold as dead people, we feel like dead people, we look like dead people, and we might be dead people if we don't get our sick bodies out of the cold, dusty, damp Arizona weather. So we prayed to God and felt it best to stop by the last person on our list and then go home.

 We had seen some people, shared some light, and the last thing left was to be participants in a miracle.

 A REMINDER: This area has stalled out for the last six months in terms of people willing to hear the gospel. Polite rejection and abrasive anti are what we meet every day. As a missionary, you set goals every month about how many people you want to be baptized in a month. In this area, we have prayed and studied and experienced and subsequently replaced the typical goal with a goal to simply have two progressing investigators. We have experienced small, personal miracles meant to keep us going, to keep us faithful, but nothing that has turned into viewable progression for the people.

 And then, with that final stop of the night, we knocked on the door of a family we had met a week before. We met them while they were out walking their dogs, had a friendly conversation, and got a vague return appointment: "yeah stop on by, if we're home we'll chat with ya." Those conversations typically never go past "We're actually not interested."

 But stop by we did, and how grateful we are that God led us there.

 The dad invited us in, and we talked with him for about a half hour. His wife was in the house but not feeling well, so we just talked with him. About halfway through our conversation, he started to cry. This man has been so frustrated with his seemingly impossible search for truth that he is open to hearing what we have to say. He just wants to know if there really is a God, if there is a life after this, and how such beliefs benefit his children.

 He was completely willing to read the Book of Mormon (even with all of the strange stuff he's heard), and we're meeting with him again tomorrow.

 That is a miracle indeed.

 How grateful I am for God, for His strength, His guidance, His love, and His mercy.

 Earlier this week I got to attend the baptism of one of the people I taught in my last area. This was the guy who we felt prompted to stop and talk to even though he was on the phone. His name is Tim. Tim just soaked in the gospel message and tore through the Book of Mormon. At his baptism, I found out that the conversation he was having on the phone when we interrupted him to share the gospel (speaking of the goodness and greatness of God) was literally about his search for truth. He had been speaking with his brother about his continuous search for God and spirit and truth right when we walked up to him.  Wow. God is so good.   

 Tim shared his side of that moment when he spoke yesterday at our new member fireside. He chalked his initial reason for talking to us up to "when two pretty girls ask you if you want to talk, you hang up on your brother." Which is hilarious, because Tim is blind, and doesn't know what we look like. Hahahahaa.

 Clearly, God is good, so remember that, and have a good week!