Week 65: I'm in Jail
Dear Loved Ones,
I lost another companion this week. Friday morning, we got a call telling Sister Coronado that she's being reassigned to Mexico. That meant I had to pack up all the stuff I could, leave other stuff behind, and move to Liberty in the boarding house for lost sisters. I could be here a while. I could be here for a week. I just want to be in Grain Valley again. But I can't go there until my fill-in companion and I (she also lost a companion to Mexico) both get new companions.
This week did have a bright spot. My little brother Jacob submitted his mission papers three Thursdays ago, the very day church was canceled and the world fell apart. I couldn't believe the timing. It reminds me of my friend whose Japanese great-grandparents immigrated to the United States the same day Calvin Coolidge siged the Asian Exclusion Act. I felt like a character in a historical novel, connected with all the right kinds of people to give myself a front row seat of disaster.
With all the chaos that is the mission department right now, I expected his call assignment letter to take forever in coming and land him somewhere in fall. But he reports to Colombia on July 16th. I watched the livestream of his call opening Tuesday night.
The main exports of Colombia are:
1. Drugs
2. Emeralds
3. Shakira
4. Hope
He's going to the Colombian MTC, which tells me a lot about the hope outlook in the mission world, the church, and Earth as we know it.
Every mission call is assigned by an apostle of the Lord. They know what they're doing. I don't know what potential complications could arise with his departure for Colombia, but if the same church that is panic-evacuating healthy missionaries from countries in Africa where only ten cases have been reported thinks that Jacob can go to Colombia in less than four months, I believe that coronavirus will not shut down the world forever.
Also, they've gotta restock because all the internationals are being kicked out of Colombia.
It's a high-stress time for everyone in the world right now. Coronavirus is actually a smaller problem for me right now than being out of Grain Valley is. I just want my new companion to come. But I know other people are struggling much more. My friend Hanna gives birth any day now to her first child. Her husband isn't allowed to be with her during the birth, or for two days after. She is scared and would appreciate prayers.
Missionaries laud themselves too much. Ordinary troubles are supposed to be oh so amplified just because they're on missions. We aren't taking the coronavirus as hard as expectant mothers. And missionaries pump up little things into miracles. "We went to Chik-fil-A today! A tender mercy! A miracle!" Really, it's just a nice day. Missionary life is not special life.
I remind myself a lot that my trials and I are not special just because I'm a missionary. That I'm in the same boat as everyone else. And I look forward to getting a new companion so I can go back to Grain Valley.
Also, we live across the parking lot from Liberty Jail. No one's supposed to climb inside the jail model but...
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
I lost another companion this week. Friday morning, we got a call telling Sister Coronado that she's being reassigned to Mexico. That meant I had to pack up all the stuff I could, leave other stuff behind, and move to Liberty in the boarding house for lost sisters. I could be here a while. I could be here for a week. I just want to be in Grain Valley again. But I can't go there until my fill-in companion and I (she also lost a companion to Mexico) both get new companions.
This week did have a bright spot. My little brother Jacob submitted his mission papers three Thursdays ago, the very day church was canceled and the world fell apart. I couldn't believe the timing. It reminds me of my friend whose Japanese great-grandparents immigrated to the United States the same day Calvin Coolidge siged the Asian Exclusion Act. I felt like a character in a historical novel, connected with all the right kinds of people to give myself a front row seat of disaster.
With all the chaos that is the mission department right now, I expected his call assignment letter to take forever in coming and land him somewhere in fall. But he reports to Colombia on July 16th. I watched the livestream of his call opening Tuesday night.
The main exports of Colombia are:
1. Drugs
2. Emeralds
3. Shakira
4. Hope
He's going to the Colombian MTC, which tells me a lot about the hope outlook in the mission world, the church, and Earth as we know it.
Every mission call is assigned by an apostle of the Lord. They know what they're doing. I don't know what potential complications could arise with his departure for Colombia, but if the same church that is panic-evacuating healthy missionaries from countries in Africa where only ten cases have been reported thinks that Jacob can go to Colombia in less than four months, I believe that coronavirus will not shut down the world forever.
Also, they've gotta restock because all the internationals are being kicked out of Colombia.
It's a high-stress time for everyone in the world right now. Coronavirus is actually a smaller problem for me right now than being out of Grain Valley is. I just want my new companion to come. But I know other people are struggling much more. My friend Hanna gives birth any day now to her first child. Her husband isn't allowed to be with her during the birth, or for two days after. She is scared and would appreciate prayers.
Missionaries laud themselves too much. Ordinary troubles are supposed to be oh so amplified just because they're on missions. We aren't taking the coronavirus as hard as expectant mothers. And missionaries pump up little things into miracles. "We went to Chik-fil-A today! A tender mercy! A miracle!" Really, it's just a nice day. Missionary life is not special life.
I remind myself a lot that my trials and I are not special just because I'm a missionary. That I'm in the same boat as everyone else. And I look forward to getting a new companion so I can go back to Grain Valley.
Also, we live across the parking lot from Liberty Jail. No one's supposed to climb inside the jail model but...
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
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