The Drains.

Bula,

Last week, I fell in a drain.  We were taking one of our many shortcuts, and I took the lead through an especially bushy area.  I took one step, felt some reeds and then splashed my way into some dark muck that sucked my sandals off.  (Don’t worry, I found them later.)  I sank knee deep into said muck and had to slosh my way out.  My companion and I laughed the whole time.  We kept wandering through the shortcut until we ran into the very edge.  It looked like the whole field was surrounded by drains, and my companion was preparing to jump when a friendly voice called from one of the windows.  A woman called and guided us to the only dry patch.

I’ve discovered that there’s always something in the scriptures for everyone. Until now, I didn’t ponder the journeys of Alma and Amulek, but now they mean everything to me and give me a greater understanding of missionary service.  It’s easy to think that we’re all alone, that no one understands what we’re going through.  I know that someone does understand, always.  Christ is there and understands perfectly, but we can also look to the scriptures for stories to relate to.  There are heaps of stories, stories of suffering and triumphs, stories of struggling missionaries, parents raising belligerent children, wicked people transforming into some of the Lord’s best servants.  Whenever we need support and guidance, we can just search the scriptures and find those that walked our path before and triumphed.

Our ward has started hosting a family fun night every Friday.  We play board games and eat curry chicken.  Last week, I was assigned to teach Uno which went pretty well.  The rest of it went very well because we found a few families that needed lessons and service, and everyone had a great time.

On Thursday, we had my favorite service project so far.  We went out to the heart of Laukena to repair Bubu’s front porch.  She’s a widow in our area, a recent convert, and she has no family.  It’s unusual for Fijians not have family, so we’ve become her adopted granddaughters.  Her house is perched on a hill, and it’s only resting on concrete blocks.  The path to the door had rotted and it was slick with mud.  We pulled together enough pieces of wood to build a new path and covered it with a spongy mattress.  Afterwards, we enjoyed some Tongan food prepared by my companion.  It was very tasty.

Loloma Yani!

Sister Hawkins

(I took a picture with Emosi, he’s the nephew of one of our members.)

 

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