Д В А. [T W O.]

уже два года прошли.

уже?

два года. же.

the truth is, there are still days i feel a whole lot like this, or a bit of this.

(i still have an obsession with the concept of home--did you know?) 

the truth is, i hardly ever look at these emails i wrote home, and as i wrote them i never edited or reread.

and most of them left out a grand majority of my experience.

because you just can't send those things home.

the truth is, everything was always just a stream of writing.

(the truth is, nearly all of the things i write are like that--with only minor edit or revision.)

the truth is, i should probably read my mission journal more--

because that's where the real truth of it all can be found, inasmuch as is possible to capture.

i should reflect and embrace the struggles and the miracles together.

but the truth is, sometimes i can't. 

because sometimes it is too much to go back there.

and because i'm starting to think i don't really believe in the validity of should's.

i remember vividly the process of writing my final email home. the dingy, but large, internet club in center donetsk that was infinitely nicer than nearly all the others i'd used each week throughout my mission. all the little boys and men playing games and other things on computers all around us, the scent of beer and breathe reeking of cigarette smoke wafting all around. the emails exchanged with my daughters still in-country. the beautiful emails i received from jillian and megs that made me nearly cry two tears. and most of all, starting the email i was trying to write over and over again. because what do you say at the end of so many months like that? what do you say, when you start to realize that it really does end and there really will be the juxtaposition of simultaneous relief and heartbreak at being pulled away from it? what do you say when dreams and nightmares become reality, and reality becomes dreams and nightmares?

sometimes i feel like God lets me to write, so that i have something to hold. so that i have some way to capture experiences or feelings that cross me, of course. but--perhaps more importantly--to hold the lessons He teaches me for later. i wish i could say i feel like this all the time, that i maintained a status quo of that perspective. i don't. sometimes that wintergrey still gets me.

i've found myself talking a lot about ukraine lately--more than i have in a long time. there's still so much from ukraine that defines so much of who i am, but time's a funny thing, you know? distance is a powerful informer of perspective. as are these 730 days. i'm still 93 million miles from the sun, though some days feel much closer to the warmth than others. it seems fitting that this two-year mark collide with the weekend of finals, the end of my first semester of grad school, jillian's wedding, among other things.

i wish i could say that i've progressed a lot in these two years, though i'm not so sure that i have. it looks like it, of course. objectively speaking. i graduated form college. applied, was accepted, and began graduate school. went to israel. met a million different people--some who have stayed, others who kept moving onward. but has my heart and soul really changed? i don't rightly know. or perhaps she didn't need to change. but i'd still like to hope i've learned a thing or two in these two years.

when i first came home, i wanted so badly to throw out every piece of my life that preceded ukraine. i didn't like the girl i saw there--the way she was or how she thought and lived. i wanted so badly to begin life anew, keeping only small and important pieces from anything before, and building mostly upon ukraine and the woman she made me.

i've started over a lot in the past two years--in every sense of the word--just as i did in ukraine. starting over and over again, here i am living in radical uncertainty. moving all around, often nothing quite staying.

and yet. it's all part of the path. how it ever ends? only God really knows. but you know what? all those things and people that don't seem to stay are a sifter for the things that truly do. because it's in that process that you come to find the things that truly matter--not only inside yourself in regards to where you're going, but also in discovering what matters most in building your life.

december the twentieth was an odd day this year, with a little piece of everything inside. one that ranged through a whole lot of different experiences. because apparently, just like last year, there's just something about these important days, you know? you know.

in the middle of the day, i purposefully chose to walk a ways through the snow to and from my churchings, and there was something so cathartic about that walk through the cold and snow, ukraine style. the chance to breathe and be. walking along and having a good talk with God about who i am and how i got to where i am. in addition to where i am striving to go.

and this twentieth day of december? a day that went from cold and icy to pure and sweet. i'd like to think that it was an odd sort of metaphor. a microcosm of life. i certainly hope. because two years later? in all this building and all this striving? here i am living and breathing. finding that perfect blend of selected pieces of past working with selected pieces of present, paving the way towards future.

two years already? now we've only just begun.

because everyone loves a good stream of consciousness.

i don't have an explanation for why i blackhole myself for days, weeks, or months sometimes. or why in the bloggitysphere, i do so and then post three times in one day. i couldn't tell you the last time i did that.

i do this thing where i think i've replied to someone, when in reality i forgot to do so, or sometimes it's just that i didn't hit send. it's sad how frequent this happens.

or i do the opposite, and i reply and text with whatyoudoingwhatyouthinkingthinkimprettywheredobabiescomefrom ad nauseum. like solnichka who would be silent for three days, and then talk for three days straight to make up for lost time. turns out we really are twins. my friennnzzzzz still love me, right? (uhhhhhhhhh.)

i'm really into the phrase ad nauseum lately.

speaking of solnichka. renae randomly called me in the middle of the day yesterday while i was on my way to a hearing screening training lab. and surprise calls are actually the best thing.

bean wrote me the most brilliant email today about islands, loneliness, and guilt. i must write more about it and expound sometime. it was so very insightful, though. i've learned much this week. about life and guilt and people and revelation and loneliness. and. most of all, about how much i don't know.

i chittered with kolya today in a middleoftheday call too. she is love and goodness and glittering joy. my sisters, you guys. i can't get over these sisters of mine. or the way they love me so purely and admire me so greatly, especially when i feel i hardly deserve it.

i've learned more about Jesus from my sisters than i ever could have imagined. i should write about that.

this morning i woke up to the alarm that's intended to tell me it's time to go. #greatday

growth feels like a loss. my grandmother said this. and i think it's genius. that grief, though.

i feel this gradschool lyfe has meant some new friends, but also the loss of many with whom i am no longer geographically connected. and that fact gives me heavy boots sometimes. i thought we were friends. oh wait.

my fatal flaw is the tendency to worry unnecessarily or prematurely. 

tomorrow i shall see meglet for the last time until christmas. i'm thrilled for her oxford masteringhogwarts adventure. but i'm also a little bit like.alltheweepingeyes.

to avoid this morning's rushed fiasco, i now bid you adieu.

because my words are all muddied these days. 

and so i leave you with, how's your heart?

always pertinent.

how they shine for you.

i've been thinking a lot about ukraine lately. about my ukraine, to be specific. (whendoinot?) but in actuality, it's because i've been home now longer than i served. one more time: i've been home now longer than i served. and the three year anniversary from the day i entered the mtc recently passed. and there's something about things like this that force you to think--reflection and pondering and a whole lot of thinking.

the hardest thing i ever loved: never enough while being too much.

may i show you of some loves from my ukraine?

not by any means an all-inclusive selection of my ukraine.

just a random collection taken mostly, though not completely, from two summers ago.

because there are so many things about that summer that were pivotal for me.

because in that summer, i found peace.

in the active verb kind of way.

because i chose to. because i almost had no choice but to do so.

because. i needed to find it.

how did i? i found it in chaos.

it was lack of control that allowed for clarity of vision.

because i was completely outside myself while being more aware than ever of my own heart.

and that's when i learned best: peace is a choice.

when so much may be spinning out of control, there can still be peace.

peace in doing what you know to be right anyway.

peace in following your heart--a heart seeking to become a heart like His.

a new heart also will i give you, and a new spirit will i put within you:

and i will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and i will give you an heart of flesh.

and i will put my spirit within you.

ezekiel 36:26-27.

it may not have always been pretty, but it was always beautiful.

like meeting this babushka and already recognizing her because megs had known her the summer before me.

or being there with my two obi daughters on a pleasant summer evening.

speaking of megs, how about our sasha? сашка наш.

meeting a formerKGBlooking man on our street corner, and finding our long lost uncle instead.

lessons and streets and history and laughs and protective concern.

a man who really listened, but sometimes couldn't listen.

who saw. who knew. because he's a good man. a very good soul.

speaking of sashka and goodness, we can't talk about him without mentioning this woman i love.

novels and novels i could write about tomara and our short piece of merged eternity.

this woman i love, i leave to god to order and provide.

because her heart is one of gold. she there for me and i there for her.

i met her at the beginning of my mission, and i told heavenly father that it would be okay--

were i to not have any other real loves the rest of my time in ukraine-- that tomara was enough.

toma is always enough.

speaking of having enough, what about вера who survived the holodomor?

(ukrainian famine in the 1930's also known as the "terror famine." a genocide.) 

более того, what about the beautiful legacy in her descendants--

in both ukraine and russia, among the strongest in faith?

the stories she'd tell us, or her son-in-law who said, моя семья - это моя радость. 

[my family is my joy.]

speaking of joy, what about the thrill of entering a lesson with вера,

and having all three of us know that we were changing it on the spot without ever communicating in words?

or that summer of being with sister hassard and sister andrade in general.

because together we learned and i came to know what it means to love and to serve in balance.

(and they taught me and i taught them how to take a chill pill.)

and to laugh. oh, how we laughed.

speaking of laughter, what about the lessons and dinners and gatherings and joy we shared with this family?

they were so good to megs and me. to everyone, they are so good.

so willingly giving of themselves. so patient with me and my newness.

speaking of patience, understanding, and love. how about хозяйка люба?

still loving us after calling and locked out of our apartment at 11 pm on american christmas.

if that isn't patience, i don't know what is.

to say nothing of how she cared for us, the family home evenings we had in her home,

and the way she so freely gave of herself. 

and while we're talking about freely giving of oneself, we must remember these women.

these sisters. the laughter and tears and love we shared.

what a place we were in back then. what a place, indeed.

speaking of those places, how about the day that megs finished her mission?

the blessing of getting to be her companions for some of her last hours in ukraine,

or the pouring rain that drenched us minutes before our first meeting with our new mission president.

great first impression, obviously.

speaking of firsts, there's the first time i met this other tamara.

(i'm telling you. there's something about that name.)

on a split with two new sisters, and having one of the most beautiful lessons of my mission.

going back to an area i adored despite being there only a short time,

and meeting a woman who so earnestly sought understanding.

and so we made metaphors and talked of trees and libraries. there we talked of real growth.

and while we're talking about real growth, what about my sister fin fin?

my youngest daughter as i finished my mission who trained the moment she finished being trained.

all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into reviving an area.

an area new to both of us on a street i knew too well.

with the mention of my last companion and the youngest daughter, how about my firstborn?

while all of my daughters were so different, it could say the same thing that means something different:

to all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into an area new to both of us.

learning to be human, learning love, and learning to learn.

with all that learning, let's mention this woman and her beautiful poetry.

she wrote a poem that she shared with us about three kinds of prayers that was strikingly beautiful.

and was part of an area that re-initiated me to my kharkov home.

in the vein of striking beauty, our лариса. who sold us perfume, has beautiful children,

and gave some of the most enlightening lessons to both me and my daughters.

in the lessons themselves, and because of the lessons themselves.

lessons, lessons, lessons. not only the official kind that get a tally in your key indicators.

singing with babushki on cold evenings in late autumn, or listening to them tell their stories.

learning the value of every story, the importance of love, and also of working like you've never worked.

because there's no number for miracles, and the most profound of experiences aren't always in formalities. 

all things in their proper order.

because while missionaries must have heart, they must also have mind.

because too much heart and not enough mind is just as dangerous as too much mind and not enough heart.

anyway. i've been thinking a lot about my ukraine lately.

about my people. about everything god gave me and taught me.

about having a place and purpose, and always belonging.

don't cry for me ukraina. i've been thinking of you.

украина, я тебя люблю.

[ukraine, i love you.]

i love me some armknechts.

it's no secret that i'm a little bit (read: a lot) in love with megan beth. 

- - -

two of her sisters returned from missions in the past couple of weeks,

so i went to their combined homecoming today.

why?

honestly, i think sistersarah and sisterkaty were wondering the same thing. 

but meg wasn't.

afterwards, i met a friend of her mom's from college who had come to town for the occasion.

oh, you came just for this? --meg's shocked reaction upon learning what really brought her there.

what can i say? i love me some armknechts. 

and, you know. i really couldn't have said it better:

i love me some armknechts.

   i met meg on october 4, 2012. you don't easily forget the day you enter a country that's about to be your home for many months. and, transfer day is thursday. как раз, the thursday after arriving in ukraine is the day we met. because megan beth. well, i only knew her as sister armknecht. sister arm, when trying to make it easier on ukrainians who just really, really couldn't pronounce her german фамилия (family name). (let's be real, if they struggled with nevers, they're really going to struggle with armknecht. i think we had already been companions for weeks and already become bffs before i even knew how to correctly spell her name in english without asking her.)

   our time together was golden, and that area sacred ground. it was only later that we truly realized the depth of miracles we'd experienced together. the people of ours from that time--they're among the people who stand out the most from our entire missions. our sasha--who was more for her. tomara--who was more for me. iraida. sveta. and perhaps the greatest miracle of all: our friendship. because. had we met at any other time, in any other place, i'm not so sure we would have been friends. in fact, i almost guarantee it. but. at that time. in that place. we were primed to see and be. and since that time, the love has only grown.

   i mentioned our notes a couple of days ago. but. i didn't mention the extent to which those notes were so often a lifeline. glimmers of sparkle in darkness, if only for a moment. answers to prayer, or sometimes even just a reminder of that which is good and our own role within that. and some days--one especially, those notes were pieces of salvation.

   meg is one of those people who leads you to jesus just by who she is. because to come to know her, is to come to know him. i realized recently that i've been surrounded in the past few years with people who are just so good at that--at making god a part of every change and uncertainty, because he is their foundation. and meg was one of the starts of me starting to consciously see that. because she just knows him and loves him and is good to her very core. she'd do anything for god. in fact, she does. and you know what? her sisters are filled with that pure goodness too. and so is evan. and so are her parents. it's an armknecht thing, i've come to see. a perfect blend of spunk and poetry. each in their own way.

   megs and i, we have one of the most special relationships i've ever known. and. i treasure it deep inside as one of the most precious parts of my soul. because she is a part of my soul. i just didn't realize it before october 2012. but. an inseparable part of my soul. she is the moon and i am the sun. one without the other is useless.

   she's going to oxford this fall. oxford! and. something about that is starting to sink in these days. something about israel was a foretaste of a cross-the-globe relationship. and then sitting in the midst of her family today, it hit me again how precious all things armknecht are to me.

   her sisters. watching her sisters, i could see pieces of her. seeing the pure goodness that surrounded me in her cousins, aunts, and children of cousins--in addition to her own immediate family--well it did make me to almost cry today. because that is why we do all the things we do. that is why we live the lives that we live, serve the missions we serve, and strive the way we strive: in order to attain daily families like these.

   and that? well, that's something i can get behind. and that is what makes life most precious. having people like megan beth armknecht sailing through life with you. ahoy. be mine? maybe i can sell you with the transcript of one of our signature i like you poems.

i like you.

i like you more than i like anna akhmatova.

i like you more than i like dr.purves.

i like you more than i like russian lit.

i like you more than i like the whole russian department.

i like you more than i like fudgyrichperfectbrownies.

i like you more than i like hearing aids.

i like you more than i like literacy.

i like you more than i like the moon AND the sun.

i like you.

- - -

i like you more than sundeee walks. 

i like you more than spring. 

i like you more than twinkle lights, 

for all the light you bring.

i like you.

(because if you know me. you know.

for me to like anyone more than these things--

that's a whole lot of like.

more than like.

даже love.)

i love you, megan beth.

to love. чего-то неопределённого.

one.

on the last day of class last week, my professor ended by having us watch this and then this.

and in these faces and places used as representations of all places and faces, i was overcome.

because in them, i saw ukraine. certain faces, certain places.

they looked of ukraine.

and i was engulfed in love as well as perplexing wonder.

these pieces of the world that are so much of who i am.

these faces i know and faces i don't--the idea of them itself.

and i wondered.

how is it possible to love something so unquantifiable--like a country or a people--so much?

what does that look like?

this overwhelming surge, that makes you want to embrace it all.

to love so fully something as impossible to materially visualize or quantify as a country--a people?

deep in my soul, i yearn for ukraine.

this all-encompassing divine kind of love.

how is it possible?

guilt to peace, despair to hope.

in some ways, those very four feelings perfectly sum my entire mission.

they perfectly sum one of the most profound lessons i did learn.

the value of hope, and that peace is a choice.

hoping in people, finding peace, and gifting hope and peace together.

how is it possible?

благодаря Ему.

it's been one year today since i came home.

one year since i said goodbye and parted ways with a nation and people that have my heart.

i adore them with all that i am, and i miss them with all that i am.

i miss the way they talk, i miss their mannerisms and language.

i miss talking with them and hearing their stories.

i miss specific people, yes. but i also miss them collectively too.

the very way i love them: specifically and collectively.

and i miss opening them up.

opening them like eggs.

eggs that look made of titanium steel, but are really just covered in tinfoil.

my people.

i went to the temple today.

i reflected on this year.

in some ways, my circumstances have changed very little in this time.

and yet.

everything is different.

i am different, even from the sister who walked off that plane.

my life is different, and my life is moving.

and we all know how my mission gave me an obsession with movement and change.

that divine restlessness, as my ma would say.

i've spent this whole year learning millions more reasons than i ever imagined for my gratitude.

because ukraine is everything.

those people, those lessons, that life.

being completely consumed in every moment of every day in the work of Him.

being completely consumed in every moment of every day in the needs of others.

i love God.

i used to get a little annoyed when people would say just that--because what does that even mean?

but now, i really know. and i have no other words besides those.

i've been so filled with recognition recently of how much i love Him.

even though there's no real way to fully express that in mortal words.

there are a lot of reasons.

but also,

i'm not really sure i could give you one definitive answer.

i just do.

i love Him. and i love Jesus.

for God so loved [emily], that he sent her to ukraine.

my heart was hollowed out and broken,

but filled again with nothing but the purest love and wisdom.

more than that--with understanding.

and for that opportunity to be his servant for that time,

to love and know his children the way He does?

i will forever gratefully praise His name.

because where God is, there is home.

with you to be.

from one of my stunning and sweet companions, sister rohrbaugh.

i love to watch her talk about her relationship with the savior. because. when she talks about it, it's about just her and him. he's not the savior, he's her savior. you can feel the closeness in her voice. the way she holds her own so sacred in her heart while simultaneously wanting so badly for everyone else to have their own personal version of that which she has. whenever she shares her testimony of the importance of the sacrament and church attendance, she always talks of him. of the way every week during the sacrament is a sacred, special time to be alone with the savior. just her and him. just me and him. just you and him.
i still think of her sweet, glowing face saying that almost every single week.
i wish everyone could watch her talk about it, see the earnestness in her eyes.
that special moment. alone with the savior.

me and sissy r. thanksgiving day, 2013.

there's this song by sufjan stevens called to be alone with you. you'd think that it's about a romantic love. but no. it's about jesus. about being alone with jesus. and how he went through all that he did so that he may be alone with you. and you alone with him. he gave all. so that he may be alone with us.
and that's one of the most important aspects of the sacrament--the opportunity to be alone with the savior while simultaneously renewing all covenants and coming not only unto him, but unto god the father. because partaking of the sacrament is a witness unto the father--a witness of love for him that also cultivates willingness to obey. and the strength to do so comes from the same place: from the sacrament, from covenants.

for this purpose, we pray. we fill our hearts with all the faith we can muster.
when people talk about faith, they almost always also talk about prayer as well.
faith is prayer. prayer is faith.
faith is an honest conversation with god. sometimes (ironically) prayer can be made out to sound so distant and grandiose. but i prefer to always think of it in terms of honest conversations. i live for honest conversations--genuine and sincere. and god is always genuine and sincere.
therefore, i like talking to god.
to be alone with him.

all this we do, 'to be alone with you.'
just you and the savior. just me and the savior. just all of us. with the savior.
for that special moment.
that glorious, beautiful moment.
there's nothing like it. nothing in the world.

 

my solnichka's wisdom.

i realize i'm a very inconsistent writer or chronicler of life anymore. especially since my mission.

but i want to share something my solnichka sister said this week. a story she told.

because it speaks for itself.

"Last night, we had an experience that taught me something I really want to share with all of you. Every Sunday night, we let our direct leader know how our week went. It keeps us accountable and is a nice way to get feedback. Well, last night we were both so tired, we got home, planned, and just went to bed early; we totally forgot to text our district leader. At about 1am, I'm woken up by someone saying "Sisters! Sisters!" I was so shocked when I realized it was President in our apartment! When we hadn't texted in, the district leader had tried calling us, but our phone had been on silent. When we didn't respond, he called the zone leaders, who then came to our apartment to knock and see if we were ok; we didn't hear anything. When we didn't answer the door, they called President. At this point, all our leaders thought that something really terrible had happened to us. President had gone to the office, gotten the spare key to our apartment, and let himself in. When he called for us, and we responded, he was so relieved to know that we were ok and nothing bad had happened. After he was reassured that everything was alright, he and the assistants left. By this point, we were awake, so we went out to the living room to see what time it was and check our phone. Then, President came back and said that he just had to make sure again that no one was in our apartment, that everything was ok. We reassured him again that it was alright and we apologized profusely for making him and everyone else so worried. When he was talking to us, I had this realization hit me: he wasn't mad. Despite all that we had put him through, despite how worried he had been about us, there was not one ounce of anger in him. He was sad. He was worried. When we listened to the voicemail he had left us on his way to our apartment, he was crying because he was so worried.

I realized that this experience with President is exactly like our experience with Christ. Christ never gets angry at us for making mistakes. He is never angry when we do the wrong thing. He is sad. He is worried. He mourns for us. But He is never upset with or angry at us. Instead, He hopes that we are ok. He hopes we will be alright. He does all that He can to make sure we are ok. And when we are ok, when we come back to Him, He hugs us. He tells us how happy He is that we are safe. We feel nothing but love radiating from every fiber of His being. It is ok that we made a mistake. He loves us anyway. And because of His Atonement, we can be forgiven and start over. We are imperfect. We make mistakes. We do the wrong things. Heavenly Father knew that this would be a part of our experience here. He wanted it to be that way because it is how we grow and learn. But He also wanted us to be able to live with Him again. He wanted us to have the opportunity to change. And that's why He foreordained Christ to be our Savior, to make up the difference we cannot do alone. Heavenly Father loves us all so much. Christ loves us all so much. They know us personally and They are so excited to see us again one day, to hug us, and tell us They love us. They anxiously wait for us to reach out to Them, ask them for help, ask Them for strength, ask Them to forgive us. They are real. I am so thankful to have had my testimony of this strengthened yesterday.

I love you all so much and I know that Heavenly Father and Christ love you all so much. Please believe that and please don't forget that."

(sister renae louise andrade.)

a children's tale.

the past few days, i've had an extra amount of tender mercy moments.

which is to say, an extra number of things that have god's signature in them as a note to me.

personal reminders, if you will.

a note of his goodness, a note of his love.

but most of all, a note of his awareness of my life and its intricacies.

over a week ago, i lost my keychain. my little украинская матрёшка.^^

i was a little bit saddish like a radish, but it was the end of the day when i noticed, so it could be anywhere.

yesterday when i came home for lunch, i parked in a random spot in my complex.

there at the end, poised just as photographed, stood my украинская матрёшка.

there she was, a whole lot worse for wear.

but there she was.

it seemed a metaphor.

yesterday one of my ukraine daughters told me that i'm like her little void.

where she can keep all her thoughts and feelings and worries and dreams.

( like in you've got mail the way joe fox serves as a void for kathleen kelly. "goodnight, dear void." )

another sent me a beautiful message about the value of choosing to feel.

the value in continuing to ponder and explore--the way i always do.

imploring that i never let the sappy hippie inside me die.

i don't believe in coincidence--in chance encounters.

logistically, maybe it seems small and inevitable, but i still don't believe they are chance.

there have been several in the last little while.

nothing earth-shattering. just little things at significant moments.

little things that mean something.

because. life is allowed to be significant.

god finds himself in the details--even, or perhaps more especially, within the temporal.

his awareness and care covers every aspect, not only our faith or spiritual welfare.

ask, and ye shall receive.

two. // два.

two.
today makes two years since the official beginning of my ukrainian adventure.
two years since i became sister nevers/сестра нэвэрс.
two years since i began meeting people and having experiences i never would have otherwise known.
two years since a new life began.
two years since i discovered how truly incomplete my life could have been.

there's a lot i could say about this past two years of my life, but this is dedicated solely to those three months spent in the mtc--there where it all began. dedicated to the people i shared it with. dedicated it to the moments that prepared us, though maybe not the way we expected. dedicated to that time so different from anything else. here's to them.

elder ostler&elder bingham // мы со всем округом // elder harrison&elder gelwix
sister holmes&sister pace // elder ogden&elder egbert // sister coulson&sister nevers

here's the thing about the mtc. once you've been there long enough, you kind of start to feel like the mtc is your mission. like you're never actually going anywhere else. (three months in confinement is reallllyyyy looong.) and for me, it was such a special little time, because so many of the people around me never even went to ukraine, for they were called to russia. a testimony of the divinity of mission calls, but also of the timing of god. therefore, we were reserved to be a part of one another's mission stories only during mtc time. which. the mtc just really isn't the mission. and yet, it's fulfilling a mission in different ways than you ever could in-field.
i'm certain i was in the mtc when i was so that i could have sister coulson as a companion. and be with my district. because. my companion didn't get to come to donetsk with me. which, that would have been really really great. and i wished she was there with me sometimes when i was in ukraine, and wondered what that would be like to be able to see your mtc companion throughout your mission--or maybe even serve with them again in-field. but at the same time. there's something that made things extra special about having connections spread far and wide. not only sister coulson, but the other sisters and elders from our district.
because. i was in the mtc at that exact time for these darling dweebles that i'm sharing a few million photos of.

i have a confession to make. when first setting out on a mission, one of my greatest concerns was this: elders. (okay, maybe not greatest. but. it was a concern.) i was scared they would drive me insane. that they'd be absolutely and completely ridiculous and that i'd want to wring their necks a few thousand times. while that did end up true, turns out those snot-nosed dweebly elders aren't dweebles at all, but instead some of the most heartfelt, sincere, kind, hilarious, and loving people you'll ever know. innocent and pure caring and kindness. never any frills or faces. boys are much simpler than girls, really.
and turns out. i came to adore every last one of them in all their nineteen-year-old glory. because at the start of my misson, turns out i was a sap. because i am a sap, though it's dramatically diminished over the course of the past two years.

and now, for my sisters. the beginning we spent together, though all three of them served in rostov while i was on my own as the only sister headed to donetsk. but oh, how glad i am that i was put with them. these are three incredible women, you know. it would have been a delight to serve with them. because they care. because they give their whole soul. and they know in every moment why they were there and whom they are ultimately serving. our companionships were divinely inspired, though i adored our sisters too. it was all just right. just as it needed to be. and. from all that time we spent together and the mountains we climbed. there's no one like them. and rostov, russia must be counting its lucky stars that it was blessed with the presence of these sisters of mine instead of them coming to ukraine with me. here's to the flashcards, the staying with sister holmes after her surgery. the long talks, and the lessons-taught and received. to say nothing of all the laughs and the sharing of pieces of our lives.

elder gelwix//elder harrison//sister nevers//elder holowka//elder johnson

these are my donetskers. the few, the proud. we look ridiculous (which is then again true of every photo in the mtc. i looked like a real bleener while there.), but i also can't say the photo we took in ukraine when all together for the first time since the mtc in october of 2013 looked much better. (mission office lighting after mlc is rough on everyone.) i guess in some ways, though. this photo is telling. a description of each of us that can be read in our faces several days before arriving in ukraine. unfortunately for me, in the mtc i wasn't around elders johnson or holowka much. i only really got to know elder gelwix and harrison because they were in my district. and even then. elder johnson and i shared the beginning of our ukrainian time (mastersatreadingpeopleclub), and elder holowka i encountered for a short time in the middleish, but that was it. and elders gelwix and harrison? hardly saw them one bit while in ukraine. but. i heard of their goodness from afar and of all the good they did. (and members loooove them. with good reason.) here's to our donetsk, the place we called home that no longer exists as a mission. that now-war-torn land that we love.

there were a lot of moments that tapped on my heart and soul, telling me that sister coulson and i were mfeo (made for each other). but i think we can all agree the most telling is the fact that we had matching mission shoes. welcome to the mtc. 'hi, i'm em--sister? nevers. we're wearing the same shoes.' or maybe the time that we became such friends with one another and with our district. the elders we loved slash loved to be annoyed by. the talks we had, the laughs we shared, and the way we threw around phrases like 'theory of mind' with neither of us blinking. and i think the most important, is our bench by the tree of life, as we called it. the evenings we spent there before going in for the night. the talks we had, the lessons we learned, the problems we solved, and the people we loved and cared for and shared our bench with. do you need a thinking place? we highly recommend the bench right off of the big tree of life in the midst of everything. i'll never forget the last sunday before she flew out monday morning. we sat on this bench for our final opportunity to really talk and process and analyze, just with each other. i'll never forget that early monday morning as the russians all rushed away in the dark of the morning, and as i stood there in the hall alone after they walked away - and throughout the day after they had gone - wanting to cry. i'm not a crying person. i don't cry. but there i stood alone in that hall around four in the morning and almost did. #sistercoulsonwithdrawals. because there just aren't words to fully express how much i adore her fiery soul and how much i learned from her while we were together. god is a master of logistics, an expert at timing. and even if it is a computer that puts together companionships, there's no doubt that we were meant to be together. there's no doubt that we were supposed to be the companionship being sent to different missions. our feistiness has to be spread around.

i forget sometimes. i forget that the mtc really happened. i forget all those moments that gathered up and the way my pile of good things grew. i forget how much i loved these souls so deeply and came to know them so well--the benefits of being blessed with people-reading.

so here's to these people i love. to the moments we shared alldayeverydaythreemonthsinonesmallroom. because spending that long with people means that you become family. it means you laugh, you cry. you get annoyed, and you rejoice as you watch them learn and grow right along with you. because they're not going anywhere and neither are you, so you might as well figure it out or get over it.

which also includes letting go of the fact that you're never going to get a photo with everyone smiling. (most common offenders that i restrained sister coulson from strangling: elder gelwix, elder ogden, or elder bingham--see below. good thing we chose to loooove all of you.)

the mtc can't be discussed without also mentioning that i had my violin with me and played during mealtimes, pdays, in church, and at our roleplaymockbaptism. my sanity was saved within that confined space, and another mfeo moment with sister coulson was made the last few weeks when she suggested that we wake up early so that i could play even more before breakfast before having to take quite the hiatus whilst in ukraine. (i played a couple times in ukraine on ghetto violins, but not really.) i played, sister pace sang. elder harrison plays the piano like a wizard. good on all our souls.

so, yeah. there were antics--how else can you survive? and we all lost our minds a few hundred (or thousand) times. we learned russian and how to be missionaries, only so far as to realize how much we didn't know russian or how to be missionaries. we lived in a very confined space for a whole lot of endless days and questioned our sanity a time or two. but despite all that, and all the trials we climbed through, i wouldn't trade it for the world. the mtc, or my mission. why? because. because of the people. because of the experiences. because of the growth. because of the becoming that came from it. because. missions are miracles. missions are transformative. and. if you let them, they'll change your life forever.
even if you don't want to let them, they probably still will. that's the magic of missions. because by the end of my time as сестра нэвэрс, that person created in the name of sister nevers was pretty great, i must say. because in the process, i became more me than ever. in the process, i left all fear behind. because fear can never hold me back. because. after ukraine. i can do anything.

and. in the end. after all that time and all those attempts,

the closest we ever came to getting a photo with everyone synchronized

was in our soviet serious family photo.

because getting everyone on board with taking a good photo, turns out. is. impossible.

(or maybe that was just our experience as hooligans?)

there's something in that, i think.

that discovering of the soviet family awaiting us and within us--here is where it all began.

in the family we made as one.

all the love, first mission family. to you.

(and to the elders both already home and soon-to-be: welcome hoommmeeee!)

 с любовью,

сестра нэвэрс.