Dear
y'all,
Gradually, the rolling
fields of Texas gave way to an entirely different type of field—vast expanses of cultivated marsh, water higher
than the road held back only by the berm around the edge. Small cages bob at
intervals throughout the water, and workers in small, shallow boats skim across
the surface, stopping to pull each trap out for the crawfish that may be
inside. Such was the visual transition from the Lone Star state to America's French
quarter. Dotting the highway were billboards advertising the great and spacious
casinos available for pleasure and profit, with a mandatory hotline for
gambling addiction scrawled across the bottom of each. As we pulled into Welsh,
beads of yellow, purple, and green dotted the ground from a Mardi Gras parade
two weeks ago. The main street of town is lined by old fashioned buildings,
with shops open to the street with tall windows, though frequently no sign to
proclaim their wares, and residential apartments above. It is to one of these
second floor apartment that we went. Opening the door, we were greeted by a
room that by itself was twice the size of my last apartment. Of course, that is
not all accounted for by floor space, however. The vaulted ceilings stretch so
high that even a leap from the counter top would make them impossible to reach.
The work proceeds in much the same manner as in any other locale, though the
local French influence requires a careful ear. Your tongue has to be quick to
decipher names like Fontenot and Boudreaux, but even the Cajun are slightly self-effacing
about the spelling which was passed down to them. The LSU Tigers being the
proud team of this area, many banners will read "Geaux Tigers!".
Now that you have had
the story book, you can get my more honest personality. We drove into Welsh
last Tuesday, and the apartment really is huge. I may not have leapt from the
countertop, but I did stand on them. I could reach the top of the cupboards...but
those are only halfway up the wall! Most of our lights are burnt out, but I
have no way of reaching them to change them. Having the space is definitely
nice. One of the only downsides is that the floors and walls are very thin, so
we have to step carefully to avoid disturbing our downstairs neighbors. The
apartment does have a washer and dryer...unfortunately, they broke just before
I got here, with no way to repair them.
Our week has been full
of visiting those taught by missionaries in the past, as well as contacting new
people to teach. I have had to get back into the groove of a more standard
style of missionary work, but it is quite honestly pretty fun. Of course, I
have the best time when someone is willing to talk to us...even if they are
stubborn. After all, I always have been fond of a vigorous discussion, although
I would like to think that I keep away from any arguments. (Elder Hancock
reminds me that I Bible bashed someone yesterday. Phooey. I did not Bible bash,
I logic bashed. The man never countered any of my scriptural evidence,
therefore it could not be a Bible bash) Speaking of Elder Hancock, he is great.
He came out the transfer before me, but we have never before served around each
other. Which is a shame, as he is a great guy. I am excited to work with him
for the rest of our time together.
Asides from the town
of Welsh, we cover half of Jennings, and the towns of Rounouke, Iowa, Fenton,
Kinder, Laccasine, which range in size from blink and you miss it to having a
McDonalds to stop by. For anyone keeping track, the nearest Cane's is in Lake
Charles, a 30 minute drive, or a 3 hour bike, or a 9 hour walk away. However, I
did discover that there is a Cane's 3 hours from my house, located in Portland,
Oregon, so that was a delightful surprise.
Something that has
really cropped up in my life this week is journaling. Now, I have always been
pretty terrible at journaling, although almost every day of my mission has some
chicken scratch about the events that transpired. However, I felt really
unfulfilled by it. I didn't like doing it, nor did I really like going back and
reviewing it. To me it was dry and boring. In any case, there have been some
recent personal events that were causing me some stress and internal conflict.
As I prayed for guidance, and I found myself praying frequently, the feeling I
got was that I needed to write my feelings down. At that point I really wasn't
thinking about journaling, although I did pull out my study journal to record
my thoughts in-it is, after all, the only lined paper I own. Well, a couple of
hours later I had filled several pages and felt quite at peace with the
situation. I felt that I understood myself much better, and understanding
myself, I was able to go to God with more confidence. It was after this
experience that I realized that what I had done was really journaling, even
though the events of the day had not even partially been mentioned. And that
sparked a fire in me. In the interim week, I have read almost every article in
the gospel library about journaling, and journaled extensively, even journaling
about my journaling. To me, it has become very fulfilling as I am better able
to ponder as I write. The reason I share this is because I figure, as with most
things in the gospel, I am not the only person who could benefit from it.
So-for me, journaling has given me the ability to ponder, to be introspective,
to receive revelation; but only as I understood that it was okay to write down
whatever I was thinking about, and didn't feel bound by some definition of what
a journal had to be. Take of that and apply it as you will.
Now, the one downside
for you, my captive audience, is that I have been so excited about writing my
thoughts that I hardly recorded what happened this week! I will share a few
memories, however, in the time we have left. These will be presented in the order
they occur to me, not in any given chronological order.
Mr. Clints, down the
road, is an old-fashioned candy and soda shop, which is cool by its very
existence. Its many varied flavors of pop, each in glass bottles, are
represented across the top of our cabinets, from missionaries who probably
gained a couple of pounds consuming them.
While out and about,
we met a man named Russell, who, without stopping on his walk, pointed out all
of the places on the street we could stop, including his sister. It was a brief
contact, but we joke now about how Russell is our most progressing person.
After all, there is a history of some very fine Russells in our church,
including Russell M and M Russell.
Last night, I gave
myself a haircut for the first time ever. I don't think I did too shabby,
although I know I did something wrong with my cowlick. Can't really see it,
though, I just know it is sticking out funny.
Let’s see...the
Assistants came to district council this week. As we were counseling together,
I was participating and sharing insights when a distinct impression occurred to
me, that following my release as a zone leader, I experienced an actual loss of
power and authority in training missionaries. This did not trouble me, as I am
not called to lead at this point, but it is a feeling I had never experienced,
having held comparatively few callings in my life, and, to this point, not
having magnified them very well. It gave me a stronger testimony of the
spiritual power available to us in our callings and responsibilities given
through inspiration by one who has authority. I remember one of the former zone
leaders I served around in Port Arthur, Elder Sheppard, saying much the same
thing, talking about how he lost the ability to discern the needs of other missionaries
when he was released. I thought he was full of it, but I guess not. Honestly,
it was cool to experience.
It turns out that due
to the distance from Jennings to Houston, we attend the Baton Rouge Temple when
we have a session, or when we take a recent convert to do baptisms. We are
doing some family history work tonight with a recent convert, so hopefully
sometime soon I will be a two-temple missionary.
Due to the size of our
area, we may spend a half hour at a time in the car. On one such occasion, I
spent the trip mostly asleep. As we pulled into a gas station at the end, Elder
Hancock reports that I seemed to be waking up, looking around a bit. He looked
down to send a text, and when he looked back at me I was fast asleep again,
when suddenly I jumped, threw my phone, and shouted "I'm awake now!".
I mostly just remember the waking up and catching my phone. I don't remember
throwing it, just catching it before it left my hands.
Something I have
thought about often on my mission, and that continues today, is the idea of
absolute truths, and how we discover them. In reading Joseph Smith’s lectures
on faith, many thoughts have materialized and occurred to me. Really, they are
nothing new, but rather I have internalized the doctrine of the seed taught in
Alma chapter 32. In any case, for us to teach someone, we present them with a
seed by our initial fervent testimony of restored truth. They choose whether or
not to plant the seed by giving us the time of day, and then must discover the
truthfulness of the seed by their own faith and searching out God.
Some more short
excerpts from the week:
We saw a man riding
around on a bike with a machete strapped to his back. We later saw the man
without the machete. We have not yet found the body in the ditch with the
machete in him, but it is here somewhere.
After parking besides
someone’s house, they followed us all the way into town, trying to get our
attention. I must be an oblivious driver, since I never noticed. Finally, she
went on the passenger’s side and Elder Hancock rolled down his window.
"What were you doing in my neighborhood?" she yelled. "Oh, we
are just missionaries" "oh, my bad, sorry" and with that she
sped off. I wonder who she thought we were?
We met a man who
informed us that we (20) were so young, while he (30) was so very old, so very
sorry for all the 30+ out there, y'all are apparently ancient.
Well, this is already
more than y'all usually get out of my emails, so I will cut it off here. Love
y'all, take care, don't let the crawfish bite!
Elder DeFord
Look at the size of
this place!
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