It's amazing how much a nice email from your family can pick you up :) I was feeling a little melancholy throughout the week and especially this morning. I don't really have a reason, other than missionary work is hard haha. But like always, my week was good, life is good. Every once in a while Sister Parcell and I look at KL's skyline from our apartment and do a reality check. Do we really live here? How lucky are we? Tenang hati saya.
I really should develop the habit of saying a prayer of gratitude any time I'm feeling ungrateful. But I also remind myself feeling sad/homesick/tired every once in a while is normal. Everyone who's ever served a mission can relate.
Last week, the district went up to the Genting Highlands for our grand P-Day adventure. My favorite part was the ride up there, in our charter bus with the crazy bus driver through the valleys and mountains outside of the city. It took us half an hour to get there even though it usually takes about an hour. Elder Ferguson, true to his character, kept freaking out and was sure the bus was going to topple right off the mountain. The scenery was BEAUTIFUL. I would have been happy hopping off the bus halfway through the ride and hiking through the jungle. As we got up higher, the elders pointed out pine trees. It was the strangest thing to be reminded of Oregon in Malaysia. We hopped on a cable car, and we naik the mountain some more. We walked around the highlands and took pictures, etc. but like always, I just really enjoyed the company. Afterwards, the elders showed us their favorite ex-pat grocery store and I bought Hot Pockets for way too many ringgit but it was worth it. It's the little things.
Tuesday, the Weichers, one of the senior couples, made the whole zone, all 50 missionaries, enchiladas after district meeting. Enchiladas with real cheese. It was good to see everyone, especially from Klang and Puchong because they live jauh from the inner city so we don't get to see them very often. On Wednesday, no one could meet except in the evening, so we were thinking about cancelling one of our appointments, even though the Allen twins said they could follow us to our appointments. As I was racking my brain over what to do, Sister Parcell burst from the room and said, "I just had an idea. What if we go on splits?" My genius companion. I love inspiration. We each took a twin, Gweneth and Leisel, and had amazing lessons. How is it that 15 year old girls are already better missionaries than I am? It was fun to talk to Gweneth about what an American teenager in KL likes to do. I told her all one million reasons why I love being a missionary. It was really fun. We met up with Sister Parcell and Leisel afterwards and we got them ice cream because we love them and they're incredible.
Thursday, Janet and Ramel made us Filipino food because they know I've been craving it. I had the best pork adobo ever, I don't even care if I get fat. Ma sarap. On the way there, we accidentally missed our LRT stop but it was fine because I could see their flats from the next one over. As we walked, we thought that maybe this other LRT stop was safer because we wouldn't have to cross a bridge and go through a tunnel at night, and the street was well lit. On the way home, we went back the way we came and this man and woman stopped us and said, "Hey, you're the god of Mormon, right?" Sister Parcell and I, a little puzzled, said, "Sure, close enough!" and this guy proceeded to tell us he was given a copy of The Book of Mormon in Singapore, but lost it but had lots of questions and asked if we could meet with him. We got a return appointment and he said, "Sorry, I have to go do a business thing right now, but we'll take you out for sate sometime so we can talk!"
Sister Parcell and I walked away, jaws hanging open. "I don't get why this keeps happening to us." she said. Me neither, people contacting us instead of the other way around, and that just does not happen in missionary work. We decided it's because Heavenly Father loves us, but more so because He also really loves the people we run into. Sometimes we wonder if we're good enough, or deserve the blessings of teaching really prepared people. But Heavenly Father loves us, whether or not we think we deserve it, and I love telling people that. Friday, our district called our "second P-Day," because we didn't get any missionary work done... We went to the Puchong chapel and helped sew a quilt for the only woman in...Malaysian parliament? I'm not really sure, she's the only woman in some sort of government office here. It was really fun to sew. After that, our district sat in a hospital for about 3 hours while one of the senior couples who drove us got an MRI of her knee. I wish we could have contacted there, but we legally couldn't. After that, they drove us to get pizza, and we were in traffic for about 2 hours, but it was okay because we had a good conversation about how as a district, we would for sure survive a zombie apocalypse in KL and made a game plan for escaping. We ate good pizza, and afterwards went to the Pasar Malam (night market) at Jelatek. Sister Parcell tried durian for the first time ever, she flipped. Saturday, we did a combined Indonesian lesson for Deborah, and then she took us to a pasar malam by our house, and Sister Parcell and I bought a ludicrous amount of duku fruit and mangosteen for really cheap. She ended up giving half of it away to Deborah and strangers on the train (she is really Christlike) and we've been snacking on the rest.
I feel bad that I had so many bouts of sadness. In church yesterday, we were asked to help out in primary because I needed to play piano (which reminds me, Elder Rasmussen volunteered me and himself to play piano for sacrament and I will never ever ever forgive him). As I played through "He Sent His Son," a song I learned years ago in primary but haven't sung since, I almost started crying in front of all the little kids. The lyrics are so simple but powerful.
I learned my favorite Malay word a couple transfers ago in Kuching. "Berbaloi." It means, WORTH IT. Berbaloi when I'm sick, berbaloi when it wears on me that I can't legally preach to anyone on the train even though they're all good people. Berbaloi when appointments fall through, or when people reject my message. Berbaloi when I lose sleep over our investigators, berbaloi when I make mistakes. In Sentosa, our relief society president once asked me to bear my testimony and said (rough translation), "Why are you even a missionary? You used to be so pretty." (I laughed at this) "Your legs used to be pretty and now they're covered in mosquito bites. And you have to bike everywhere in the sun."
I told the sisters, "Berbaloi because I love all of you. I want the church to grow here. I want you to have a temple."
Berbaloi because we have a Savior, and He understands exactly how we feel. So I have no reason to be sad anymore. I have a great supportive family back home, I'm serving in the most beautiful city in the world, I'm doing the most important work there is.
Stay genked up, doji ni. Til next time!
-Sister Wynn
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