Milagros

I am so happy.

On February 12th of last year, my trainer called President Taylor to counsel with him because I wanted to go home. I was sure that I couldn't do this anymore.

I never want to go to that dark place again, so I have been praying since August for divine aid to take me through February 2014. These three gifts stand out to me as merciful details that only a perfect Father could orchestrate in my behalf:

1. No transfers! I am still here in my quaint little organized apartment with my own bathroom. These details matter. They make a Jenny sane. I know the area, and I love the ward. I know my social and spiritual resources, and I know my limits. I am comfortable settled into a pleasing daily ritual. I know who I am, and I know what to expect.

2. Hermana Dupape. She is 20 years old, from Seattle, Washington. She wears a masked Batman onesie to bed and cooks Mexican food for lunch. (I should mention here that she is caucasian, but deeply enamored with all things Hispanic.) She misses the Spanish branch, so she coaches me through a chapter of the Book of Mormon in Spanish every day. And most of all, she believes in miracles. Her faith in Jesus Christ and in the converting power of the gospel is without limit.

3. The temple. How ironic that my second temple trip of the mission is on February 12th, the one-year anniversary of my lowest point of the mission. Big alligator tears slipped out of my eyes when I recognized that God was arranging for me to be a guest in His home on the very day that I worried about the most. I told myself that I could count myself victorious if I made it to February 12th.

So even though it's cloudy and the temperatures are in the teens, I am happy. I hesitate to quote the hymn, but there's simply no better way to say it: there is sunshine in my soul today!

Oh, and our library security guard? He came to church with his wife yesterday. They stayed all three hours. and tonight they are feeding us and the elders. And then we will teach them a Plan of Salvation that will change their lives.

Genta*? She also came to church. I hadn't even mentioned her in letters because I thought she'd never come. Betsy Crockett*, our weekly less-active visitee of the last six months? She was there too. These are the miracles of February.

God loves us. I learned a word in Spanish that I think we all need to apply this week:

Milagros.
Miracles!

As you look for work and serve in your callings, please know that I believes in miracles. Milagros. It is simply a divine display of Fatherly affection.


*Changed names. Hermana Dupape needs no pseudonym. If she discovers this blog entry someday, she can know how much I love her.