Week 30: Fia Is Not My Golden Tiwi
Dear Loved Ones,
This past week was Pioneer Day. My first Pioneer Day spent around people who don't know what Pioneer Day is. There is, however, this west-facing pioneer monument in Shawnee, Kansas, one of the towns I cover. This used to be the edge of the frontier. I see markers all the time telling me the Oregon Trail or Santa Fe Trail crossed here. I started my mission at one end of the Oregon Trail and now I'm finishing on the other end.
Last Pioneer Day, my brother caught a plane to start his mission. I have a strange relationship with my brother's mission. I watched so many younger friends leave on missions before I was allowed to, but I always thought I'd get to go before my three years younger brother. One night in March 2018, I got into a dicey roommate situation and had to call the cops on her. I didn't feel safe spending the next night at my place, so I drove home. When I got there, my house had been cleaned and our kitchen table was prepped with soda. I knew some kind of party was coming up and the timing wasn't right for a birthday. I asked my dad. He admitted that my brother had gotten his call and they'd be hosting a call opening party later that night.
I got in my car and drove back to Provo. Spending the night somewhere sketchy? I can handle it. Spend the night with a brother who got the call I couldn't have? I wouldn't have been able to make it without crying.
No one noticed my absence then and only one person (shoutout to Holly Casper!) noticed I wasn't there at his farewell party. Missionaries eclipse siblings who don't serve.
One missionary here asked me if I felt my family had been blessed because I am serving a mission. This is one of the same missionaries who asked "Did you find any body to teach?" in response to "Today I handed a woman her child's cremated ashes." No, I don't think they've been blessed because I'm a missionary. They watched me suffer a lot these three years and me being gone, finally, is the blessing in and of itself. Also, I take issue with the idea that I wasn't worth as much as a child when I wasn't a missionary. Pretty sure my family didn't love me less than my brother during the five months he served when I wasn't.
We're three years apart in age, but now we're living parallel lives. I appreciate him so much now because he's my reality check. Missionaries here, and perhaps everywhere, have this parasitical up-tightness to them. Obedience is pushed really hard. I've been slightly distressed lately because there aren't many people to teach and I have long, hollow weeks. I worried I wasn't having success because I wasn't obedient enough or receptive to the Spirit enough. Last week I asked my brother:
@Brandon, have you ever genuinely found someone because the Spirit led you to a place, or do you just tract tract tract like i do and hope it works?
Brandon: I just KNOCK SOME DADGUM DOORS and then what happens happens.
I started laughing so hard. I showed the message to another missionary we were hanging out with, thinking she'd find it hilarious too, and was met with awkward silence. I think secretly, we all know we're just wandering around knocking on doors and logging hours, but we won't admit it to other missionaries. I've heard stories of laser-guided promptings panning out, but most of the time we're just wandering.
Now, for the biggest news of this week: I put Fia on date to be baptized on August 31st! She is so golden. She quit smoking and says she turns to the Book of Mormon whenever she's bored or restless or feeling anything that would make her crave a cigarette. Yesterday in church, we sang Called to Serve and she said she's considering it for her new alarm tone.
She will be my first baptism of my own making. When I met Luvlee and Taylor, they were already scheduled to be baptized. I'm exhilarated, but I keep reminding myself that missionaries don't convert people-people convert themselves. That is especially true with people like Fia. Though she is new to it, she has such a fire within her.
This week, we had our cars inspected for cleanliness and the winner got a "golden tiwi." Tiwis are these boxes that live on our windshields and yell at us if we go too fast. They got replaced a few months ago and the old ones are being repurposed as trophies. They're super annoying, and I often tell mine, "Someday you'll be bronzed and bedazzled like your brother and won't be able to hurt anybody anymore."
I had no ambition of winning this trophy because we inherited a trashed car from some elders who didn't maintain it at all. In fact, I was worried we'd be grounded from driving for a week since it was so dirty.
And then we won. Somehow. When the car inspection guy called our names, I honestly thought he was just luring us to the front of the room to chew us out. But nope, the trophy has my name on it.
When we hit the parking lot, some elders came over to scope out our car and agreed it wasn't that great. One told me of a time he'd pulled his car mats into the tub and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed them, but didn't even crack the top three. Meanwhile we do absolutely nothing and get rewarded.
I think that's a pretty good metaphor for mission life as a whole. Obedience doesn't bring success, no matter how much it's preached. Because when it comes to people, more so than cars, someone else's salvation is not your reward.
Fia is golden and has a golden future ahead of her. But she is not my golden tiwi.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
This past week was Pioneer Day. My first Pioneer Day spent around people who don't know what Pioneer Day is. There is, however, this west-facing pioneer monument in Shawnee, Kansas, one of the towns I cover. This used to be the edge of the frontier. I see markers all the time telling me the Oregon Trail or Santa Fe Trail crossed here. I started my mission at one end of the Oregon Trail and now I'm finishing on the other end. Last Pioneer Day, my brother caught a plane to start his mission. I have a strange relationship with my brother's mission. I watched so many younger friends leave on missions before I was allowed to, but I always thought I'd get to go before my three years younger brother. One night in March 2018, I got into a dicey roommate situation and had to call the cops on her. I didn't feel safe spending the next night at my place, so I drove home. When I got there, my house had been cleaned and our kitchen table was prepped with soda. I knew some kind of party was coming up and the timing wasn't right for a birthday. I asked my dad. He admitted that my brother had gotten his call and they'd be hosting a call opening party later that night.
I got in my car and drove back to Provo. Spending the night somewhere sketchy? I can handle it. Spend the night with a brother who got the call I couldn't have? I wouldn't have been able to make it without crying.
No one noticed my absence then and only one person (shoutout to Holly Casper!) noticed I wasn't there at his farewell party. Missionaries eclipse siblings who don't serve.
One missionary here asked me if I felt my family had been blessed because I am serving a mission. This is one of the same missionaries who asked "Did you find any body to teach?" in response to "Today I handed a woman her child's cremated ashes." No, I don't think they've been blessed because I'm a missionary. They watched me suffer a lot these three years and me being gone, finally, is the blessing in and of itself. Also, I take issue with the idea that I wasn't worth as much as a child when I wasn't a missionary. Pretty sure my family didn't love me less than my brother during the five months he served when I wasn't.
We're three years apart in age, but now we're living parallel lives. I appreciate him so much now because he's my reality check. Missionaries here, and perhaps everywhere, have this parasitical up-tightness to them. Obedience is pushed really hard. I've been slightly distressed lately because there aren't many people to teach and I have long, hollow weeks. I worried I wasn't having success because I wasn't obedient enough or receptive to the Spirit enough. Last week I asked my brother:
@Brandon, have you ever genuinely found someone because the Spirit led you to a place, or do you just tract tract tract like i do and hope it works?
Brandon: I just KNOCK SOME DADGUM DOORS and then what happens happens.
I started laughing so hard. I showed the message to another missionary we were hanging out with, thinking she'd find it hilarious too, and was met with awkward silence. I think secretly, we all know we're just wandering around knocking on doors and logging hours, but we won't admit it to other missionaries. I've heard stories of laser-guided promptings panning out, but most of the time we're just wandering.
Now, for the biggest news of this week: I put Fia on date to be baptized on August 31st! She is so golden. She quit smoking and says she turns to the Book of Mormon whenever she's bored or restless or feeling anything that would make her crave a cigarette. Yesterday in church, we sang Called to Serve and she said she's considering it for her new alarm tone.
She will be my first baptism of my own making. When I met Luvlee and Taylor, they were already scheduled to be baptized. I'm exhilarated, but I keep reminding myself that missionaries don't convert people-people convert themselves. That is especially true with people like Fia. Though she is new to it, she has such a fire within her.
This week, we had our cars inspected for cleanliness and the winner got a "golden tiwi." Tiwis are these boxes that live on our windshields and yell at us if we go too fast. They got replaced a few months ago and the old ones are being repurposed as trophies. They're super annoying, and I often tell mine, "Someday you'll be bronzed and bedazzled like your brother and won't be able to hurt anybody anymore."
I had no ambition of winning this trophy because we inherited a trashed car from some elders who didn't maintain it at all. In fact, I was worried we'd be grounded from driving for a week since it was so dirty. And then we won. Somehow. When the car inspection guy called our names, I honestly thought he was just luring us to the front of the room to chew us out. But nope, the trophy has my name on it.
When we hit the parking lot, some elders came over to scope out our car and agreed it wasn't that great. One told me of a time he'd pulled his car mats into the tub and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed them, but didn't even crack the top three. Meanwhile we do absolutely nothing and get rewarded.
I think that's a pretty good metaphor for mission life as a whole. Obedience doesn't bring success, no matter how much it's preached. Because when it comes to people, more so than cars, someone else's salvation is not your reward.
Fia is golden and has a golden future ahead of her. But she is not my golden tiwi.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
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