Week 7: Here I Raise My Ebenezer
This week after emailing, my companion and I went to an escape room. I've done two of those in Provo, one for my 21st birthday and one for my cousin Aimee's bachelorette party, always with a big group. I thought we wouldn't get out in time with only two of us, but we escaped with six minutes to spare!
This one was hostage themed. An eerily realistic child mannequin was gagged and chained to a wall in a locked room. We had to get into her room, defuse her bomb, and get her out. This room had a little glass window we could see through, but we didn't know she was in there at first. So we're creeping around in the dark with red lighting, and all of a sudden Sister Holland rounds the corner and sees a gagged child starring at us from behind glass. She screamed. It was hilarious.
I'm sad to see Sister Holland go home. She was a party in a lot of ways. She facetimed in to a lesson with me and my new companion, Sister Larsen.
This week was a blur of goodbyes and hellos. In the transition period between Sister Holland leaving and me getting my new companion, I was farmed out to another missionary. While I was with her, the umpteenth person asked me if I was related to Joseph Smith, and rather than explain that no, I know my own family history and Smith is the most common last name in America, I just went with it. I told her my first name is Sophronia to honor the family. I'm tempted to make a habit of this. Also, people keep saying "They didn't send you too far" when I tell them I'm from Utah, which twists my gut more than they know, considering the circumstances and trials I had to go through to even get this call in the first place. I think I'll start claiming Schenectady, New York as my hometown when people ask. Nobody knows anyone from Schenectady, and better yet, no one can say it. I spent a night there once while on my church history study abroad and I was the only one in the group who could pronounce it. Sophronia from Schenectady.
My companion and I were doing personal study at the church a few days ago and a choir was rehearsing Come Thou Fount in the background. I've never understood the lyric "Here I raise my Ebenezer." I only knew Ebenezer as a given name, like Ebenezer Scrooge, so I always assumed Ebenezer was some obscure Old Testament prophet. I looked it up, and Ebenezer means stone of strength. Samuel the prophet raised it as a memorial on a battlefield where a great victory took place. Before that victory, that same battlefield was the site of two defeats.
I like that. I was defeated twice in my effort to serve a mission, first in February 2016 and again in the summer of 2017, and now, I hope, I have finally reached my victory.
Here I raise my Ebenezer!
Love you, and thank you to all of you who sent me sweet emails this week.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
This one was hostage themed. An eerily realistic child mannequin was gagged and chained to a wall in a locked room. We had to get into her room, defuse her bomb, and get her out. This room had a little glass window we could see through, but we didn't know she was in there at first. So we're creeping around in the dark with red lighting, and all of a sudden Sister Holland rounds the corner and sees a gagged child starring at us from behind glass. She screamed. It was hilarious.
I'm sad to see Sister Holland go home. She was a party in a lot of ways. She facetimed in to a lesson with me and my new companion, Sister Larsen.
This week was a blur of goodbyes and hellos. In the transition period between Sister Holland leaving and me getting my new companion, I was farmed out to another missionary. While I was with her, the umpteenth person asked me if I was related to Joseph Smith, and rather than explain that no, I know my own family history and Smith is the most common last name in America, I just went with it. I told her my first name is Sophronia to honor the family. I'm tempted to make a habit of this. Also, people keep saying "They didn't send you too far" when I tell them I'm from Utah, which twists my gut more than they know, considering the circumstances and trials I had to go through to even get this call in the first place. I think I'll start claiming Schenectady, New York as my hometown when people ask. Nobody knows anyone from Schenectady, and better yet, no one can say it. I spent a night there once while on my church history study abroad and I was the only one in the group who could pronounce it. Sophronia from Schenectady.
My companion and I were doing personal study at the church a few days ago and a choir was rehearsing Come Thou Fount in the background. I've never understood the lyric "Here I raise my Ebenezer." I only knew Ebenezer as a given name, like Ebenezer Scrooge, so I always assumed Ebenezer was some obscure Old Testament prophet. I looked it up, and Ebenezer means stone of strength. Samuel the prophet raised it as a memorial on a battlefield where a great victory took place. Before that victory, that same battlefield was the site of two defeats.
I like that. I was defeated twice in my effort to serve a mission, first in February 2016 and again in the summer of 2017, and now, I hope, I have finally reached my victory.
Here I raise my Ebenezer!
Love you, and thank you to all of you who sent me sweet emails this week.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
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