MONDAY - October 29, 2012

perseverar

I wont lie, this week went by fast and before i knew it, i find myself here again in the computer lab. 

This week came with some surprises, some trips to the federal police (after three months, i am finally legal), some gun shots, some good food, a heart to heart with President Fortunato (pray that november flies by alright?), a downpour of rain, and a lot of bug bites. 

I dont feel like writing about any of the above, just know that they happened. ha.

Instead I will write this week about perservering. 

In English we use the sentence ``endure to the end`` a whole lot when talking about things that happen after your first steps in the church. After baptism and marriage all you really have to do is endure.
Dont ask me why, but i hate this word. I always have. Endure sounds like you are being dragged by your toes through a park of rusty nails. (you are welcome) Whereas really, the rest of your life after baptism is where life begins, its just the start of your journey! Which is why when I began learning portugues I fell in love with the way they put the phrase endure to the end.  instead it is perseverar ate o fim.  or direct english, To persevere until the end. 

And for real, shouldnt we be persevering through life-not enduring? Enduring sounds like you are hating every moment, where as persevering sounds like you are climbing up a mountain singing ``the hills are alive with the sound of music``. (not like i ever do that here in brasil or anything....) Persevere sounds like no matter what happens, you are going to just love it. and stick to it until you reach the finish line. 

Because life isnt about the finish line or who came first, its about how you ran the race. 

Some days are hard. Some days the cars purposefully splash you with water and the doors slam a little faster and the kids make fun of your accent a little crueler (is crueler a word?) Each day no matter what happened, as we close the door to the becco I put my arms in the air like i am running through race tape and say ``done!`` And you know what? Even if i have blood running down my leg from tripping over my own feet, or i have a nice fresh wad of dog poop on my shoe, i still make it home just fine. And my journal entry for the night is that much more amusing. 

There is a boy that is famous in our area. His name is Daniel and he is a convert to the church. He served a full time mission, he came back faithfully after two years, and our area book is COVERED with his name ``ask daniel, he will help you out``. The members in our ward even say things like ``have you seen daniel?`` I tell you what. I have been in this area for 3 months now and up until this past week, i hadnt met daniel. 

I think after my first month of reading and rereading his name everywhere i made it my mission mentally, to meet this kid. When we ask at lunch (we get fed lunch here, not dinner) who they know that is inactive in the area, the irmas always respond with ``well have you talked to Daniel?`` It seems like everyone wants him reactivated. 

Sister Arnell and I called him multiple times, we talked to his sister, we asked what he looked like, we asked where he worked, we even went to his grandmas house to find him (grandmas house is where i got attacked by the dog...) Grandmas house was a month ago, and after being attacked by a dog over this punk i decided to call it a rest for a while. 

Until about two weeks ago when we had lunch with Bishop and his wife. Christina asked me if i had met Daniel yet. I told her no, but that he was on my bucket list of people to meet. She laughed and gave me three clues-he has a mohawk, he is tall and he works on silva lobo, a street we are constantly walking. 

After that day I wont admit how many tall mohawked men i stopped on Silva Lobo asking if they were Daniel. At least 10. At least. No one. The kid is good about hiding from the missionaries i tell you, he was one of us, he must know how to hide. 

And then came this past week. We were in the area of his grandmas house and there were TONS of people on the street. (his grandmas house is on a street that practically everyone is less active.) I began asking a group of young men if they knew Daniel. They all laughed and said yes, he was out on the street. But they wouldnt tell me who it was. (typical of brasillian men here). 

So i begin walking down the street searching for a mohawked tall man. I tell you what, there were more than you would think. Mohawks are instyle right now in brasil. Sister Pereira asked a man with a baseball hat and glasses if he knew Daniel. He smiled and said he had no idea who Daniel was, and that his name was Woodson. Which is right about when I start to laugh. Because poor Daniel doesnt know what I know. 

Unfortunately for Daniel, sister sackley has a cousin named Taoete Tanuvasa and Taoete´s lying face looks just like Daniel´s. As Sister Pereira moves on, i go straight up to ``Woodson`` and ask him where he served his mission. ``Woodson`` starts trying to deny he is in reality Daniel until I ask him to take off his baseball cap...and low and behold, a mohawk. He then looks me straight in the face and tells me he sees me on the street every single day and that he has sucessfully hidden from more than four sets of sister missionaries. 

I asked him why, why he left the church, why he hides from the sister missionaries, why he feels comfortable drinking beer in front of me. He stares for a few blank moments and then in all sincerity he says back its my friends. I made the wrong friends when i got home. 

To be completely honest, it took me by surprise. I just kind of was struck dumbfounded and stared blankly back for a few seconds before it registered. I asked for his telephone number, he gave me the real number and I told him that if he didnt at least wave when he sees us on the street, i would come back and kill him. And that when american girls say things like that, they mean it. He laughed and told me he would happily help us. We have an appointment with him this week. 

Since that moment in the street I have found my mind wandering back to what he said-its my friends. I honestly believe at one point Daniel was a very good, clean cut, missionary man. And at one point, he had a very very strong testimony. But because of one wrong move, one wrong decision, Daniel has long since decided to give up on the journey. Because after making one wrong decision, it is a whole lot easier to make another, and another. 

The best part about this whole thing? That even if you make a wrong move, or a wrong decision, you can turn around and go back. You can choose to finish the race. 

The race track is the same for everyone, it just depends on whether you want to take the fastest, easiest way, or if you would rather stop or turn another direction. But I tell you what, at the end of the day, at the end of your journey, you will run through the same race tape I do. 

So choose good friends, choose to read your scriptures or to say a prayer before leaving for the day. It might be a small thing, but the smallest things are what make all the difference. 

And pray for Daniel okay? I feel like he is the reason I am here in Gutierrez, and whether he knows it or not, I am running full speed after him. 


Love, Sister Mad

Photos!

(it rained a lot this past week)