Miracles of a Mini Missionary

This is what I look like when I meet another Barlow!  The Bishop's wife is a Barlow too.  Small world.

This week was wild. 

 I killed Sister Conrad (meaning I was her last companion before she headed home). 

I reunited with the three Nephites. 

Picked up a new companion and practically whitewashed an area (which means that the put two new missionaries in an area instead of only transferring one).  I also found myself in a trio again with a mini mish. 

My new companion's name is Sister H, she's from California and has been out for six months. She laughs a lot, and I am crazy, so this will be one rambunctious companionship. Together we have done a lot of getting lost. Mostly because I'm a bad navigator. But we did switch over driving privileges, so at least the roads are safer. When I had driving privileges, one of the elders sassed me about my driving skills. Which was rude, but fair as this elder once witnessed me almost kill a guy on a bike when we were serving down in Bella Vista together.   

 This week we focused on trying to meet the investigators/leadership in our area. 

 On Thursday I introduced Sister H to our Turkish investigator. He's the most energetic old man I know.  It takes at least 20 minutes to get him to sit down when we come over. He's always busy with something. He's so much fun to teach because he loves to learn so he knows a lot of random facts and stories and he goes on the most random tangents. He also has quite the sense of humor and likes to roast me. Last time we were over there, he showed us this weird bean pod he had in a cup of water and then asked me what it was. I said it was weird and he responded with "it's not weird, it's a bean." And then he laughed because he thinks he's funny. And then I laughed because he is funny.

One of the stakes in our mission pulled together some of their youth and asked us to take them on a mini mission. Sister G spent all day Saturday and Sunday with us. It was really, really fun, and we definitely saw some miracles from it. Perhaps the biggest miracle was that I did not wreck the image of a missionary, even though I'm kind of stupid. 

 And yes, there is a story.  

 We spent Saturday afternoon helping out at the Gilbert Global Festival, a super fun event where the community comes together, and a variety of cultures are showcased. We were helping out at one of the kid's activity booths for 3 hours. Behind our station was a stage where a few different groups performed.  

 The first group was something that I don't really know how to explain. All I remember was that the guy on the fiddle looked/acted like a less dangerous version of Jack Sparrow. He was really hairy and didn't have anything on underneath his vest. At least he remembered to put his pants on. Anyways, he looked like a pirate and yodeled in another language.

 The second group was a hula group, and that was really fun to watch. 

 And then the Chileans got up. It was quite the party. And then they asked for volunteers.

 I sat there and told Sister H over and over again that I would not get up, I would stay in my seat, I would not get up, I would not get up.  

 And then suddenly I was on stage dancing around a water bottle with a Chilean man. 

 By the look on my companion's face, you would think she was having a heart attack. 

 But it was chill because I didn't have to touch the boy I just circled around a water bottle with him. Unfortunately, we did not catch a video of it. I know, so sad. 

 The real miracles brought about by our mini missionary carry the names of Mr. K and the W’s. 

 Mr. K is a large individual who works on cars. Sister G gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon, and he is open to us coming back. People don't say yes to us very often. 

 The W’s are a family who want to come back into activity and asked for our help in getting back to the temple. The wife wants to retake the missionary lessons. 

 Miracles abound, I'm crazy, and God is real. What more could you want?