Black Holes and Question Marks

Hi.

Have you ever bumped into someone you'd not seen in a very long time but with whom you used to be very good friends and found that you didn't know what to say? Maybe you exchanged a few pleasantries, and asked how the other was doing, what was new in his or her life...and then the pauses drew long...and you realized that life had taken you on such extremely different paths that even attempting to relate what had transpired over the past few years in a way that the other could understand was impossible.

Returning from New Jersey feels a little like that. So much so that I'll admit I've procrastinated returning to these pages. But I decided tonight that it must be done. But I'm not going to try to relate what transpired in New Jersey, at least within these paragraphs, in a way that you can understand. And so...

I live in New Mexico now. At Philmont Scout Ranch, to be specific. The first time I saw this place was approximately four years ago. Dad and I were on our way to Brigham Young University for my first year of college. What a memorable time! I had a strong sense of the fact that I was leaving home, in a way so different from the many solo trips about the country to which I was so accustomed. Though I will likely still call it home for a while yet, I knew that our little house in Texas had joined the ranks of other places that I merely visited, not inhabited. It was then that my life first became marked with the big question mark that still hovers over it. It was a distinct, very unsettling sensation. Thus Philmont was a fleeting and quickly-forgotten memory in that journey, buried by much weightier concerns.

Of course, over time things became clearer and I made plans and put thumbtacks on a road map of my life, charting a course over the next several years. I got used to student living, worked my way into a groove and began to feel very certain of myself, my life, and the new people and occupations that began to fill it. I grew to love mountains, preferring them to even my native flat-land.

Then the revelation of serving a full-time mission put a big, foggy question mark back into my view. An eighteen-month canyon suddenly dropped into my path, and I had no way of knowing what lay on the other side. A mission has a knack for making you forget about that question mark, if you let it, like a black hole obliterating everything before and after its appearance. The only thing that exists is the mission. And then before you know it you've been hurled out on the other side into the middle of a living, breathing, dizzyingly fast-paced world, where life is complicated and doesn't understand what you've just experienced. And the question mark is back.

Philmont is a good place to go for those just emerging from the black hole. Dad may never have thought to send an application here on my behalf if not for that brief stop so long ago. It feels good to be in the mountains. It's a beautiful, quiet place. Though I work at base camp in the Trading Post, I flee to the back country whenever I can. It's nice to get away. Still, I feel like a square peg in a round hole much of the time, and even the comfort of the mountains wouldn't be enough without my little sister. Emma is like an anchor. I marvel at how she has grown up and changed. She is so sure of herself, confident and collected no matter whose company she is in, bright and glittery and laughing and free to shout her brilliant presence to the world. I feel as though I know best who I am and what my place is on this earth when I am with her. As excited as I am to go back to school, I can't imagine going back to Utah, where I used to feel in my element, without her. She is my touchstone.

I want to make one thing clear. The black hole is the best thing that has ever happened to me, I would recommend it to anyone--but the journey back to a normal dimension is long and often awkward. Sometimes I wish I was still there. I miss its simplicity. As a missionary I knew exactly who I was, where I fit in, and what I should do. Despite venturing out everyday with no real knowledge of precisely how things would turn out, tomorrow felt as sure and solid and safe as though it had been prophesied to me.

There is a certain excitement about a big question mark in your life. And experience has taught me that I am being watched over, and every big question mark has a happy ending if you listen and follow with the right ears. That's one thing I am sure of.

Another is that, no matter what metamorphoses I may have undergone over the past couple years, I am still Holly...something.

4/11

There are few words to describe my feelings this last week, so I want to simply leave you with my testimony, this last time.

There is no better way to come to know Heavenly Father or the Savior than to labor with Them. I know better than I would if I had beheld Them with my own eyes that they live. Never at any time have I searched more diligently to know Their will, Their minds, Their character, so that I might know how to act. Not simply to know what to choose but how to literally be united with Them, so that I can stand in the Savior's place and do what He would do and say what He would say if He were here--so that when people listen to me, they hear Christ's voice. I have been so humbled when I've realized the enormity of such a task, and my inadequacy to perform it, and there have been few and precious moments when I have felt that I "got it", when I hit the mark. At such times I can feel God's love for His children. I know how He aches for them and how much He wants them to turn to Him so that He can heal them and make them whole. In a very, very small way, I understand the pain He feels when we choose to distance ourselves from Him.

I have felt the power of the Atonement more tangibly as a missionary than any other time in my life. Some of my darkest moments I have endured as a missionary, and only the mercy and grace of Jesus Christ could have helped me overcome them. There are times when I have literally felt picked up, dusted off, placed back on the road and given the strength to keep walking. I know how it feels to be "saved"--from harm, from temptation, from heartache, from sin.

I know that this church is the Lord's Kingdom on the earth. We have no other more tangible evidence of His reality than the Book of Mormon. Nothing clears the cobwebs of the Apostasy and teaches the gospel plainer than that book. I know it is the word of God translated by a true prophet. This is not just another church. It is Christ's Church, and it is guided by the same power by which God has always governed His Kingdom.

I love being a missionary more than anything else. I love New Jersey and its people. I mourn the passage of this time. But I know that it's all part of the grand plan and that I'm just being transferred, called to do the Lord's work and fulfill my purpose in another capacity. I love the Lord, and I just want to please Him and keep serving Him.

I love you. And I'll be seeing you, all too soon. :)

Love,

Sister Black

4/4

Lots of great lessons this week. Good reminders, revelation for a quickly coming future. Evidences that God is STILL there and probably isn't going away any time soon.
 
After a good appointment with our investigator and her member husband, I commented to Sister Cope that Marivic (who is from the Philippines) might feel more comfortable at church if she had a Filipino fellowshipper. There are no other Filipinos in Barnegat that I am aware of, and I pretty quickly dismissed the thought, mostly because the gospel should convert anyone regardless of ethnicity or any other background. But still, the idea persisted. It couldn't hurt. I asked if there were any other Filipinos in the Branch that she knew of. She said no. And then suddenly I said, "Sister, we should pray to find a Filipino family! Wouldn't that be great? We could baptize them, and then they could fellowship Marivic, and then she would get baptized, and then there would be Filipino people in the Branch!" She quickly responded, "Linger-Longer would suddenly become 10 times more delicious!" We both laughed at my idea and started reminiscing about purple yam bread and pan de sal bread and other Filipino treats we became familiar with in Jersey City. And I forgot about it. And then, yesterday, we were knocking around less-active members not far from our apartment, and guess what we found??? A Filipino family. Amen.
 
The other day we were teaching Laura, whom I told you about a couple weeks ago. She is the one for whom I was chastised by the Spirit recently and told not to give up on. Yet again we were trying to read the Book of Mormon with her, and the poor woman couldn't settle down and concentrate on ANYTHING. She makes me laugh so much. Nothing short of a video camera could convey to you what our appointments with her are like. But anyways, she suddenly paused and looked very pensive, then began telling us of a conversation she had with her mother the night before. "I've been thinking about this for a couple months," she said, "and I was thinking about God and I think He must have sat down with me before I came here--with all of us--and given us the opportunity to live. And He told us that it was gonna be hard and we were gonna go through a lot, but He would let us do it if we wanted--He'd say, 'Go for it! You can do it!' And some people probably chose not to come, because they were afraid to, but we chose to come, and He told us that we wouldn't be able to remember Him, because we would just have to accept everything on faith..." I cut her off there and told her very frankly that ours is the only church I'm aware of that actually believes and teaches exactly what she is talking about. She couldn't believe it. We recapped what she had said in LDS-speak, supplemented with a few scriptures, after which she was so overjoyed that she had gotten something right that she left us sitting on her couch and ran downstairs to tell her mother, shouting as she went, "I can't believe this! Mom, I'm a prophet!" I love her so much. Just goes to show that the Spirit really does inspire, teach, and prepare people to accept the gospel.
 
Those are only a couple examples of the amazingness that has been my week. Sister Cope and I have been very blessed lately. I love my missionary life. I love the gospeI. I love Jersey. I love the people here. I love the pizza. I love the food in general. I love the weather of late, and all the little blossoms popping up everywhere. And don't worry. I love you too. :)
 
Sister Black

3/28

Dear Family,
 
SO sorry for not letting you know about yesterday. I forgot that the departing missionaries all go on an all-day trip to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty shortly before their departure, and that day just happened to be yesterday. It was lots of fun but very weird. I'm not accustomed to simply wandering around looking at stuff, surrounded by people. I found myself searching my pockets for pass-along cards, then realizing that I didn't have any with me because we're not allowed to proselyte at either of those places. We got to ride the ferry to the island and all thoroughly enjoyed the chance to be on a boat, especially because it is a breach of mission rules in any other circumstance. :) My favorite part was probably getting to see our friends in the Family History Center where we volunteered for so many hours last summer. We took lots of pictures. The assistants had us posing in front of anything that looked picturesque. It's their job to choose the best photo and put it in the next mission newsletter. We attempted several times to take a photo of all of us jumping in unison in front of Liberty. One of us would count and everyone would leap, but the shot almost never had all of us in the air. After several attempts we all got in the air at the same time, and suddenly there was an eruption of applause, apparently from Heaven, because we couldn't see anyone around. We turned and looked up. There were about 20 people on the pedestal (on which Liberty stands) who had been watching us the whole time. We attempted our leaping photo one more time, and without request they all counted for us. We got a picture of them. It was funny.
 
Next Wednesday is the Temple trip, to which I am really looking forward, and I'm SO glad you have a name/names for me! I think you should be able to send them to me in time...?
That's all I've got time for. I love you!
 
Sister Black

3/21

Good morning! It's raining outside, and the grass is turning green! It was over 70 degrees the other day, and RITA'S IS OPEN! Rita's Italian Ice is one of the necessary destinations in New Jersey, and we have been pining for it all winter. My favorite gelati combination is coconut ice with chocolate custard. :) And a miracle happened there on Friday. Sister Cope and I were driving up the 9 on our way to check on a potential investigator. As usual, I gazed at Rita's as we approached it, wondering when it would return from hibernation--and then I noticed a long line of people at the window. "RITA'S IS OPEN!!!" I screeched, and Sister Cope slammed on the brakes and pulled into the parking lot. We hadn't had lunch yet that day, and we thought Rita's more than a suitable alternative. As we were placing our orders I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around. Nadine was standing in line behind us! Nadine has met with missionaries on and off for years and LOVES them, but stresses in her life right now made her feel that our meetings had best be postponed until further notice. But there she was with her husband, Gary, and we sat in the sunshine with our treats and talked for almost an hour about families, crumbling standards in the world, and other concerns they have. We told them about Family: A Proclamation to the World and testified of how the gospel has helped us overcome some of those same concerns, and they invited us to come see them on Tuesday (cue angelic chorus)! Excitement.

Another miracle. This week Sister Cope prayerfully did a lot of pruning. When we were done and we looked at our teaching pool, it felt very much like we'd been doubled in. The week had been slow and we were worried we wouldn't accomplish much, but we finished our epic weekly planning session on Thursday determined to find some new stellar investigators. Sister Cope picked a spot on the map and we started walking. Within a half hour we ran into a family chilling on their porch, introduced ourselves, explained our purpose, and asked if anyone would be interested. After a very awkward pause while everyone stared blankly at us, 14-year-old Patty said, "That's what's up, yes!" So we taught her and her little sister Taylor about the Book of Mormon and they ate it up. We're going to see them again on Tuesday.

Next week I need to tell you about our investigator Ian. Don't let me forget. For now just picture a 60-year-old man with snow-white hair and beard, a green beanie which I have never seen his head without, and garb befitting an outdoorsman. He loves the Book of Mormon. We read Alma 32 with him the other day, which he LOVED because his fingernails are perpetually encrusted with garden soil. He has a metal dragon in his backyard that we woke up at 4 in the morning one day and decided he was going to make. Just for kicks. He is the human version of Treebeard.

I love New Jersey. I love being a missionary. I love all y'all. :)

Sister Black

3/14

When Elder Bednar was here, he told us about an experience he had with the then Elder Eyring before he was a member of the quorum of the 12. Elder Bednar was the president of Ricks College when it was undergoing the switch to BYU Idaho, and well into the plan that he and his associates had developed to make that change, Elder Eyring came to check on their progress and told them that what they were doing was completely wrong and wouldn't work. Elder Bednar humbly told Elder Eyring that they would do whatever they had to to make it work and meet the expectations of the Brethren, but warned him that, that far into the process, it would not be easy and would probably make people who had invested in helping the school angry. The next morning Elder Eyring came upstairs (he was staying in Elder Bednar's home) and told him that the Spirit had chastened him the night before, that he was wrong, and that Elder Bednar and his team were doing just fine and should keep going with their plans. He then said, "Bro. Bednar, if the Holy Ghost has not chastened you lately, you're doing something wrong." The reason Elder Bednar shared this story with us is now lost to me, but Elder Eyring's statement about the Holy Ghost has been on my mind since. This late into a mission, it is so easy to get into a routine--or a rut, as the East Brunswick Stake President would say--to assume that you know enough and are experienced enough to do the work without regard or reference to anyone else. NOT SO! And I was, thankfully, chastened by the Spirit this week. Let me tell you how.

Before I arrived here the Sisters had been teaching an investigator for some time. She is a single mother of four children trying desperately to keep her home. Her life has been rough--she doesn't have an example of a functional family/home to draw from, and she doesn't have a close relationship with Heavenly Father. She believes in God, but isn't sure what she believes or who He is or what she's supposed to do with her life. She's also a victim of the common belief that God is a mystery and any attempt to define Him is an insult to His divinity, transcendence, power, blah blah blah. And she's been this way for so long that she doesn't realize that life is supposed to be different. She's dying for relief and doesn't even know it. When she isn't writing columns as an online journalist she seeks distraction by spending a great deal of her time glued to facebook or twitter, often during our lessons, completely oblivious to what we're saying. Yesterday Sister Cope and I went to her house with the intent of teaching a Family Home Evening but instead sat and listened to her go off on a rant about things that have been bugging her. The Spirit wasn't there. Both of us were frustrated that she wouldn't stop talking or turn off the computer long enough to listen to our message. The thought kept running through my mind, "This is such a waste of our time. She's not going to go anywhere. There's no reason to be here." As soon as I thought that, I remembered the countless times I have looked through the former investigator section of the area book and seen written in the "dropped" section, "not worth our time". Not worth our time? She might be a difficult investigator, but I was chastened by the Spirit at that moment and reminded that EVERYONE is worth our time. I began to really listen to Laura's concerns and realized that the reason she hasn't progressed and kept commitments is because WE have not given her a reason to! We had not taught HER, we had taught LESSONS, and she could see no reason why she should do anything we asked. I thought about how the Book of Mormon could actually help her and immediately had specific verses come to mind that I could share, ones that actually applied to her. For a moment, she was quiet. She listened. I wasn't sure that it was sinking in and eventually we really did have to leave due to time constraints, but just before we walked out the door she looked at me and said, "There's a little part of me that thinks I should be a Mormon." When I asked her why, she answered, "Joseph Smith's story really does make a lot of sense. I've always wondered why God didn't talk to prophets today." We told her that what she was feeling was the Spirit. We said she should think about our message, read the chapters we had left, pray about it, and ASK GOD. Be an agent unto herself. I'm looking forward to going back. I have high hopes of meeting a changed woman. If not, I have changed as a result of that experience.

In other news, we found two of the coolest families on the planet this week. Both have been taught by missionaries before and have relatives who are members. The Yostpille (rhymes with gospel) family is your typical Jersey Italian family--the mom, Linda, immediately asked us upon our entrance into the house if we wanted some roast and gave each of us three hunks of beef after we responded that we'd have "a little"; they all congregated in the kitchen to watch us eat and ask about our families and tell stories of the previous Elders who have come and eaten there; they have three sons who kept cracking hilarious jokes, at which Linda would respond, "Boys! These are ladies, from a CHURCH, they do NOT want to hear about that!" We had a riot. We asked them about themselves and their uncle who's in a bishopric in Virginia and what they think about the Church. "We're Catholic and happy" is the typical and false response out here, and our typical answer goes something like, "Uh-huh. We're missionaries and we teach people how to come closer to Christ. Would you be interested in that?" They always go on and on about how they were raised Catholic and they're not the perfect Catholics but they intend to stay Catholic--but yes, they would love to hear more.

So that's the Yostpilles. On the way home from their house Sister Cope kept raving about how much they reminded her of another loud Italian family in that area with two daughters that is equally hilarious and she's only met them once but we simply HAVE to go see them again and we have to baptize both families and introduce them to each other because they would get along smashingly and it's just too perfect. So we went to see the Ferrulli family. And guess what?

THEY'RE RELATED. Linda Yostpille is Tony Ferrulli's sister. And we've concocted a plan with the Ferrullis to play a prank on the Yostpilles because they don't know that we're teaching the Ferrullis, too. My life is so funny right now.

I love you all so much. No offense, but I don't want to come home.

WUB,

Sister Black

3/7

SISTER SAMUEL AND I SWITCHED PLACES. We drove all the way to transfer conference two hours away just to find out that we were going to neighboring areas in the same district. SO we played a really funny trick on Elders Taylor and Strong who were anxiously awaiting to hear what happened at transfers. We made up some story and then showed up at Zone Meeting as though nothing had changed--me walking in with Sister White and Sister Samuel walking in with Sister Cope. Elder Taylor caught on really fast but Elder Strong's face was priceless.

I can't tell you how happy I am to be with Sister Cope again! I remember thinking, "Wouldn't it be cool if I went to Barnegat with her...nah! No way President would let me get away with that!" And then it happened. I feel blessed all around because I love her so much but I also get to see Sister White every week at District Meeting and get regular updates on how my dear investigators and friends are doing there. Heavenly Father must love me, or something.

Barnegat's cool. It's like Toms River except much more rural and with slightly fewer old people. Instead it has more antique shops than any town has need for--about 5 on a single street! It is THE furthest south you can go and still be within mission boundaries. It's a beautiful area. The unit here is a Branch! I haven't been in a Branch since the beginning of my mission! It's the teeniest church building I've ever been in--only one hallway and the chapel doubles as sunday school and relief society rooms. The members are AWESOME. I love it.

I love you all so very much, I'm sorry I don't have more time. If I can manage it I'll send you a hand-written letter and tell you more. LOVE YA!

Sister Black