Thank you for your letters and for your generosity. This week I have received a lot. My heart is full. You have no idea how much it means to me. Nevertheless, keep them coming. Just two more weeks of letters and then you don't have to write me for the rest of my mission. Just here, in this horrible maze of horrendous orange brick coffins jutting out of the ground, in the midst of ghastly redundancy, encompassed by mind numbing routine for 24 hours, letters are my only saving grace.
On that note, ha-ha, I feel like my letters home have been pretty heavy with MTC mellow drama. This week I'm going to try and focus on more of the humor of our situation here.
We're getting real MTC cynical at this point. We've started developing theories that we're never going to leave here. Like it's some sort of quasi-Truman show. Every week you can see the departing Elders with their packed bags and toothy grins, especially when we do service Monday mornings at the Wilford Woodruff building. As we sweep the sidewalks they get on the buses and wave this prison goodbye. I think no one actually leaves. It's the same people leaving every time. They're just actors. They look real happy, smile, wave, drive around the block, get off at the back of the MTC and leave all over again making a big appearance of it all to give missionaries hope. The new kids are the only ones naive enough to actually think they’re leaving. I’m not sure what they do with the missionaries when their time is up. Maybe you could ask James for some insights...although I’m partially convinced he was merely brainwashed at the end of his two years...... it's a conspiracy worthy of an R.L. Stine novel.
Ok, enough with my chistes (jokes) let's talk about something important, like the food here. I believe Douglas Adams said it best in his novel hitchhikers guide to the galaxy. The cafeteria produces a substance that is "almost but not quite entirely unlike" food. Every now and then it's real delicious, but after consumption, it never feels good. It never sits quite the way you want it to. So when the new missionaries ask us what's for dinner, we always reply, "steak and lobster." Every time. Steak and lobster. Or catering, from the olive garden. Or Chilie's. I would kill for less. You cannot comprehend the insatiable craving I have for something, anything not MTC food. Andrew if there was ever a time to ship me a smokehouse bacon burger, it's now.
In other news, we're officially the oldest district now. It feels surreal. Now we don't have the constant inferiority complex. We’re the big fish in a little pond. Don’t worry; we're also the most humble.
I feel obligated to at least share a spiritual thought. As much as I would enjoy continuing my MTC rant. it really isn't that bad here. As a matter of fact, I love it here. I have never felt the spirit so strongly.
Yesterday, Hermano Gato had us go street contacting around the MTC, but not just to approach anyone, seek them by the spirit. Elder Coats and I were pretty lost as to where to go. We said a brief prayer, and felt prompted to walk down by the gym. There was a series of picnic tables where other missionaries were studying. Two of them looked at odds with each other, not especially distraught, but something was amiss. I wasn't sure if I was feeling the spirit directing me toward them or if it was just me. As I kept walking past I felt the distinct impression to go back and talk to them and let Elder Coats share the message he prepared rather than the one I had planned. I stopped Elder Coats and told him the impression. He said he had felt the exact same thing. We re-approached the elders and told them we felt prompted to share a message with them. Up close, we could definitely tell something was amiss. Elder Coats shared a message about charity and I backed him up. I started saying things I had never said before. That charity is the most important ideal for missionaries to aspire to, and that through charity all the other rules will simply fall into place. I committed them to pray for more charity in their companionship and told them that all the little things that were getting under their skin would disappear as they sought the love of Christ. I couldn't say for sure, but I could tell from the looks on their faces that I think they needed that.
That was one of the first times here I felt the direction of the spirit, also the first time I had sought for it so fervently. Might I testify to you all the importance of following those spiritual impressions? But before following them, ask for them. Pray for ways you can invite others around you to come unto Christ and act on those impressions.
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