August 20, 2010

Bonjour ma Famille!

This is P day #4, and let me tell you, it's high time I head to Montreal. The MTC is getting smaller everyday, but I need to stay here as long as possible to learn as much as possible. Next week we are teaching the 1st lesson entirely en francais! We had a 15 minute contact, and luckily we spoke french the entire time; not once was there an awkward pause. So it's coming along. Elder Mendoza and I had a volunteer investigator roleplay with us as we taught the plan of salvation (in english), and it was terrifying. We walk into the room to find that there is an extra man in the room with our original contact. The new guy is a tall, black Haitian man, with a thick accent and a detestation for missionaries. Catholic, gross. We walked in and he started off the conversation asking "So....these are the men from the new church, huh?"

"Nope, from the old church, actually."

He didn't seem to appreciate that comment very much. We spoke a lot about original sin, and the church as a community, and I was surprised at how well things were going. Elder Mendoza and I are a great team. I answer the questions he has while Mendoza looks up the scripture to back me up. Elder Mendoza has become a scriptorian--we call him scrip-Google in our class. It was excellent. As the Haitian began to speak about being baptized as a baby, Elder Mendoza instantly perked up, caught the phrase, and opened to Moroni 8. A bold scripture, and an excellent choice. He would then read the scripture, and explain how this pertains, then I would answer the Haitians questions that arose from the scripture. We still need work though. Elder Mendoza heard a phrase, and instantly picked up his notepad and tried to draw a diagram for the Haitian. I jumped in to help explain it. The Haitian just looked at us like we were idiots and said "none of this makes sense to me anymore, you are saying many different things." Tap out.
We dumped the notepad on the floor and dove into discussion again. The turning point for him was the scripture 2 Nephi, 25. He liked the idea of a joyous church. Win.

A couple of the teachers here served their mission in Montreal, and I asked them how far up north they are sending missionaries. One guy told me that they had to close down the northermost areas, due to lack of missionaries, but since there are about 20 of us just in this group heading up there, they'll probably open up the north. The highest area (in the world) is in my mission--to get there you take a 10 hour flight from montreal, straight north. There are a good number of eskimo colonies up there, all speaking english. I've been told by many missionaries returning from there that that's probably where our group is heading. Awesome.

I'm kind of embarrassed for you guys, if Kyra is killing you at mini-golf. Yikes. Better pick up the slack on the old putting course, eh?

I have a new favorite hymn--it's only in the french hymnbooks, it's used as a lullaby now. here's the english translation

Souviens-toi
(remember)

Do you remember, my child, thy divine parents?
You were in their arms. It wasn't long ago.
Today you are here, marvelously.
Look, you are shining again, like the heavens.
Speak to me, my child, of these blessed places.
Because for you, light is the veil.

Do you remember, my child, the woods, the cities?
Are we able to imagine it here?
And the sky, until the night, is it pink or gray?
The sun waits for the snow and the rain.
Tell me, my child, the color of the meadows, and the song of the birds-
of the Forgotten World.

Do you remember, my child, the dawn of time,
We were friends playing in the wind.
Then one day, in happiness, we chose to accept the Lord,
The great plan of Life.
That nightm, my child, we promised-by faith-to be reunited.


The words are phenomenal, and it sounds incredible in French.

Elder Erickson in my district has an interesting past. His mom was actually on the price is right not long ago--You guys probably don't remember her, but she lost the mustang, won a pool table, and fell on her hindside when she spun the wheel. We probably saw her before I came. Small world.

Thanks mom and Dad for the letters, and let me know how school goes. To Chandler--It's not that bad, Jr. High is just the same as elementary the first year. And Noah, good luck in the friendless class. Just a big group of fresh minds for molding to your will. That's how I like to look at it.

Almost halfway through my time here at the MTC. Thank goodness! all the food here tastes the same, no matter what I eat.

Je t'aime,
Elder Holm