So yeah, my week's been quite the adventure. Last Vorbereitungstag was a bit boring though we just kind of did emails then wandered around... In a book store I was really tempted to get a Grimm Märschenbuch (Fairy Tale Book) not unlike the one we have at home, only this one's in German, but I wasn't sure if it was the original writing (which I would want, and it looked like it, but actually for all I know, it was written in Old German....) blah blah blah... It cost 20€... I'm told we're allowed to read whatever we want in evenings/ in transit as long as it's not getting in the way of Missionary work. I also don't know how good of an idea it is to just be lugging along extra books with me. Uh oh - I get the feeling I'm just blabbering, and potentially losing loyal readership. So, let's move on...
...to Tuesday, when we had three marvelous lessons (interestingly all in English.....) In the first of which we were talking about the Plan of Salvation, and it was really cool to see how it answered our investigator's questions - she had been really bothered by the fact that not everyone gets the chance to hear about or the opportunity to accept Christ while on earth, and was also frustrated by the idea that those who lived great lives, and were great people, but who fail to accept Christ suffer the same fate as those who commit all manner of crimes and abominations. It was marvelous to be able to explain and testify to her that in the Spirit world missionary work will continue, and everyone will receive the opportunity to accept the gospel, as well as that there is not simply a heaven and hell, but three kingdoms of Glory - the Celestial for those to accept and are perfected in Christ, the Terrestrial for those who lived righteous lives but did not apply the cleansing power of the atonement, and the Telestial for those who rejected it entirely and lived wickedly without repenting. I have always appreciated those parts of the plan of Salvation, but seeing how directly that addressed her concerns gave me a fresh look at the Importance of that knowledge.
On Wednesday, our washing maschine gave up the ghost. It had been leaking a little for a while, so we'd been worried about it, but on Wednesday when Elder Baake put in a load, the water refused to go anywhere but the floor {I almost wish it was dramatic as the image the way I said that put in my head - I'm imagining something like an opened fire hydrant beneath our washing maschine [pronounced ma-SHEEN-uh. Much like machine (which I would write as being pronounced ma-SHEEN), only I realized I was leaving in the german s and decided I'm too lazy to go take them out (Even though that would've been about ten times easier than this parenthetical mess.) ] Alas [in fact, rather luckily], this was not the case, it was just a slight leak and completely dry clothes.}. Anyhoodles, we're getting a new wasching maschine on Saturday, but in the mean time that means we've had to do laundry at members houses. Which so far, has been quite the adventure....
The Chronicles of Laundry: Book One: Redemption of the Soiled Whites
Once upon a time when Elder Baake and I's wasching machine was receiving the lessons we'd neglected to give it in the spirit world, all of our white clothes were pretty much dirty. Our noble metallic steeds bore us to the home of a gallant member couple who had graciously accepted the task of cleaning said articles of clothing. All seemed well.
BUT THIS NIGHT WAS NOT AN ORDINARY NIGHT!!! just kidding, it was actually quite ordinary. I just felt I needed a surge in suspense to be followed by some self contained light hearted literary commentary in order to release some of the tension produced by the cosmic forces weighed in the balance of this story.
As Saturday waned, and Sunday Marched uninterrupted forth, Elder Baake became painfully aware of his lack of all apparel resembling snow, Caucasians, or crack cocaine in hue (For those readers who don't enjoy irrelevant drug references, powdered sugar is a perfectly acceptable alternative - the same is the case if my ignorance is showing through, and crack cocaine is not, in fact, typically white). We called the members who had so gracefully taken the mantel of Stewardship over our clothes, but to no avail. Contact could not be made. Our vehicular stallions once again sped us through the night to the Manor wherein our Whites were kept. We knew that while the members with whom we'd left our laundry were away from home, a younger member who lived in their house was home. Thrice we rang the doorbell, thrice our hopes soared high, and thrice our hopes were shattered like a clay pigeon thrown in the path of a mountainman whose shotgun feels more at home in his hand than a turtle does in its shell. (Don't you just love ridiculous metaphoric (hmm hem - Similic) chains?) Calling this young fellow only added to the pile of bright orange metaphorical shrapnel.
It was a bleak time. As our hope lay in tiny shards scattered about the canyon floor, we nearly rode back without so much as a clean shirt, we very hesitantly excecuted a bold approach.
This particular point in the story has a healthy helping of background information as a prerequisite. This young man was snuggling on the couch watching a movie with a lady associate of his. He was also sick and a bit tired. We had also already bothered him and his female friend about something else at her house just an hour or two before. I had all of this in mind as we sheepishly/brazenly approached the one window with light in the house through which they could be seen. As he beheld us through the window, his face was transformed into one of terror, one of frustration, one of incredulity, one which conveyed the distinct sense of, "Why in name of the Cabbagepatch kids are you staring at us through the window?!!?" He then calmed down, opened the window and engaged us in cordial, if slightly perplexed conversation. He was surprised that we had rung both the doorbell and his cellular device without his hearing it, but he understood our plight, and gladly assisted us in our quest, guiding us to the dungeon where our clothes, whose exceeding whiteness was above the whiteness of any of the above mentioned white things, where hanging. We quickly hoisted that which we immediately required into our bags and once again mounted our beasts of locomotion and vanished into the night. The next night we got the rest of our clothes, which we wore happily ever after.
Wow, I really need to get going. I'm terribly sorry that I spent the whole time talking about my laundry, but I must say I enjoyed it.
I love you, I know this church is true. I know that Heavenly father has a plan for us, and that as we grow to understand that plan we gain perspective, which helps us to make decisions - and to want to make decisions - that will lead us to become better people and to return back to him. I know that that perspective, that opportunity, is something he wants every one of his children to have, and that I have here the opportunity to share that with a few of them.
- Elder Jacob Cloward
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