It's Tuesday. It looks like a slow motion scene from the beginning of a movie. There I am, sprinting in the pouring rain, completely drenched and exhausted, carrying only a Dutch copy of the Book of Mormon and a one liter carton of soymilk. My classic missionary shirt is almost as purple and orange as it is white and smells like cigarette smoke. And my socks are soaked.
It's times like these that make you take a step back and ask yourself how you got to where you are. Maybe it would be best to start at the beginning.
That day, we'd gone on exchanges with the Heerlen elders. As far as the weather goes, I had high hopes, which I needed to have -- I was the one going to Heerlen, and Heerlen is known for the "Heerlen hills." It has the worst hills in the country as far as missionary cities go. They aren't too awful (it's still the Netherlands, so even the worst hills aren't too bad)...as long as the weather is nice. Unfortunately, as Elder Abankie (my Surinamer companion for the day) and I got off the train in Heerlen, I knew -- it was going to be a wet day.
I have a confession to make -- I didn't bring a coat/jacket on my mission, and I've never bothered to buy one. But, I have inherited a few coats from missionaries who went home. I have a pretty nice and warm winter jacket, for example. The raincoat I happened to be wearing that fateful day was the one good old Elder Nelson left behind when he went home. It's the kind of jacket that keeps you dry until the rain gets bad enough, then it's like you aren't wearing a jacket at all. Yeah. At first, things were good. It was raining, but I was staying dry. Elder Abankie and I had just left an appointment with some cool recent converts from Africa, and we were about halfway through our fifteen minute bike ride (I was still pretty dry inside that jacket), when we stopped at a crosswalk. It was another slow motion scene, this time to Carl Orff's "O Fortuna..." I saw the semi-truck coming, but it was too late... It cruised through the puddle (read: small lake) right in front of me, and I watched (still in slow motion) as a tsunami of water descended upon me. Even my thermal socks were soaked. Needless to say, I was not as dry as before.
The rest of the day was just as interesting. At one appointment, when I took off my jacket, I realized that Elder Nelson's jacket, when soaked, leaked purple and orange on the shirt underneath. (So that's why his shirts always looked like that whenever he got home from a rainy day...) It looked like I'd vomited on myself. Wonderful. We taught a few smokers, then dropped by a member's home to get a ride somewhere, leaving our bikes at the member's house. While we were there, the member asked us if we wanted something to drink (we'd been conquering some pretty crazy Heerlen hills). Of course, we'd love something. He asks me, "so, how do you feel about soymilk?" Now, that's kind of a strange thing to drink when you're thirsty, but I don't mind soymilk and was really thirsty. "Uh, sure, I guess I like it." He removes a big carton of soymilk from his fridge and hands it to me -- "take it, then. I don't like it." Then pours us some orange juice to drink. So, I ended up lugging a thing of soymilk around for the rest of the day.
After our last appointment, we had to sprint all the way from the church building to the bus station to catch our bus. I thought I was going to die. We made it in half the usual time, though, right before the bus rolled out.
Just another day in the life of a Mormon missionary. Making memories. (This story may or may not have been dramaticized).
The next day, we met up with Elder Rudolph and Elder Bean (Elder Abankie's real companion) in Venlo, went to an appointment together in that area, then started to drive them down to Heerlen. We were planning on working a little with the sisters in Maastricht, so it wasn't a big deal to drive them down. However, the maps on our GPS are a little out of date, and it doesn't always give us accurate information. We're driving down the highway, and it splits -- one way toward Maastricht and some other cities, the other way to three cities with names I don't recognize. Elder Rudolph puts the car on the side going to those three cities. "Hey, we need to get in the other lane." "No, the GPS is telling us to go this way." "Yeah, I know, but the maps on there are lying. We need to go that way." "Nah dude, trust me -- this is the way we need to go!" "That's the way we need...needed to go." Elder Rudolph made the mistake of putting his trust in the GPS (instead of me, because I obviously always know what to do <--sarcasm). We soon saw a sign that welcomed us to Duitsland (Germany), and we realized that, yes, this was the wrong way -- we were on the way to Dusseldorf. And our GPS didn't have any maps of Germany. That was an adventure.
On Saturday, we had an Antwerpen stake (which includes the north half of Belgium and the southernmost part of the Netherlands) barbecue in Herentals, a little city in Belgium. For the first time in almost a year, I saw some members from Kortrijk -- members I love. It was good (and interesting) to see them a year later. I could understand their Kortrijk dialect a lot better, that's for sure. A lot of good memories from time spent with those members came back. I really have been blessed with the experiences I've had in the places I've served.
I won't take up too much more of your time, but one last thing. At the stake barbecue, there was a small collection of fun things that people could try out. There, I saw it -- a unicycle. When I was ten years old, I didn't have very many friends, and I didn't have much to do. So, I decided to try and learn how to ride a unicycle. After a year or so, I gave up. When I saw this unicycle, I decided it was time to try again. My good friend Elder Blackhurst was at this barbecue, and I asked him to help me get on the unicycle. He did, and.. I failed. A few times. It's all for fun, though, and all us missionaries and the members were all getting a good laugh. Then, I saw a ways away Sister van de Riet, from here in Eindhoven. She is a sassy older woman, she feeds us lunch every Friday, and I adore her. She was sitting on her the front of her walker, and I could tell she'd been watching. I look at her with a grin on my face, determined. I point at her, saying, "ik doe dit voor jou!" Then, I got on that unicycle, and I rode it halfway to her...and then fell off. I've never seen her laugh so hard. Worth it? Totally.
Well, guys, I gotta run. Keep it real until next week. I never know how to end these emails. Happy September!
-Elder Bonney
 |
| Found this cutie while walking around Venlo with Elder Abankie. I know missionaries aren't supposed to show such romantic emotions, but I couldn't control myself. |
 |
| Candid photo from a role play at zone conference on Thursday. I stole it from the mission blog, yes. |
No comments:
Post a Comment