We are all just prisoners here of our own device - 02/10/14

Another week in paradise. Except by paradise I mean Hemet.

Ether 3:14 is my thought for today. I love how the Atonement allows us not only to live, but to live eternally. And not only that, but to live abundantly in both this life and the next. I love my Savior. 

I didn't get to meet with the goth girl's boyfriend last week, maybe this Monday he'll join us. The most solid potential we had is gone. The Medical Marijuana Expert had one good lesson with us, and then didn't show up to the next. At least we got a 9-year-old in a part-member family to show up to church. That's the best we've done all week. Oh, and we met with the 17-year-old daughter of the Parking Lot Miracle couple, but she still hasn't moved in yet and we still don't seem to be any closer to baptizing her.

I was on exchanges twice this week, and both times we had really amazing days for not having any investigators to teach. I focused on making sure that I could provide the best possible day for my missionaries, and God provided a way. They both really enjoyed our exchange, and we got a lot of really feel-good lessons in even if nobody's really any closer to baptism.

I've had to wear my therapist hat a lot this week with the one elder in my apartment that's really struggling. I also got to play the bad cop and snitch to the APs on a guy who won't stop texting and writing letters to his girlfriend who also happens to be a sister missionary in our mission. 

I am losing my mind. I lost my backpack three times this week. I lost my planner once, I think. I drove right past our turn and got us lost on the way to an appointment several times this week. It really got me down on Saturday, the third time where I had to drive back across town to get my backpack. It feels like I've been stripped of opportunities to teach, my best friends have been transferred elsewhere, my recent converts are disappointing me, and now my ability to function as a normal human being is being stripped from me. I don't know where my journal-writing pen is, the one made of spalted oak that Dad made so pretty for me. I don't know where my sweater is that my ward mission leader in Jurupa bought for me. I don't know why I'm so broken. 

Well, that's where I was on Saturday. But church on Sunday was so inspiring. I mean, I definitely noticed that our speakers in Sacrament where terrible, but I left the meeting feeling so much calmer and refreshed. I know that God loves me and that I am capable of finishing out this mission. Whatever it is that he needs me to do still, I will do my best to get it done. I felt a lot better on Sunday. 

Oh, and I got to have lunch with one of my recent converts on Saturday night, and that helped a lot. He's doing so great. I loved hearing his stories from Murrieta. And the food was pretty awesome, too. We also seem to have reined back in the couple of  wayward recent converts that I was so worried about. Things are definitely looking up. 

I don't know what else to say, other than I love you guys a ton. Keep the faith. See you soon.