Speaking of translation, Burma is still driving me crazy. As missionaries, we pass out lots of cards telling people to check out mormon.org to ask for a free Book of Mormon and stuff. For the second time in my mission, someone actually did that. But, he requested one in Burmese or Hakhu. As far as we have been able to figure out, those translations might not yet exist. If we can't even invite them to read the Book of Mormon, the book we call the keystone of our religion, how are we even supposed to talk to them? "Oh, you are from Burma? Sorry, we don't have anything to offer you. Good luck!" Que triste.
We almost did a bit of Bible bashing. By that, I mean we were sitting in a laundromat teaching a lesson to one of our investigators because he was having a busy day, but wanted to talk to us while waiting on his laundry. When he got up to change his stuff to the dryer, some other guy came over and told us what we believe and how it is wrong. We attempted to correct some misconceptions, he attempted to prove us wrong with quoting Bible verses out of context. Not one of our most productive or even enjoyable conversations. I don't even think we reached an "agree to disagree" point. As much as we want to be antagonistic right back, it is the worst response. So we let it go.
Thinking on that, I sometimes get frustrated that the Book of Mormon and Bible are full of stories of missionaries who preach with power and authority, confounding anyone who tries to disprove them, converting their enemies with a show of incontestable logic and conviction. Sometimes I want to do the same. Then I remember, "But they were also thrown into prisons and stoned and burned."
Well, we didn't get stoned today.
In another laundromat, we got mistaken for reporters and almost got kicked out. That was pretty funny. I forget that we sometimes look official. The rest of the time, we just look out of place.
As far as appearance goes, I got a haircut last Monday! And today I am buying new boots because the sole is only about 60% attached right now. It isn't so good for puddles. I will send a picture sometime. Of the boots, I mean. My hair looks the same.
I now know two puns in Spanish! The first one is about fish doing nothing/swimming. But Hermana Pollock taught me this one.
"Que es la diferencia entre una pera y la novia de un misionero?"
"Una es pera y la otra no espera."
"What is the difference between a pear and a missionary's girlfriend?"
"One is a pear and the other doesn't wait."
A small miracle. After being bashed in the laundromat, we went over to another apartment building to hopefully teach a lesson. On the sidewalk, we found two bags of chips. One of them was unopened, so we ate it.
And it was great.
I mean, any other day, it would have been great too, but that day it was special. Like a reminder that Someone is looking out for us and knows when we need an extra show of affection. I don't believe in coincidences. Amazingly terrible things happen, as well as amazingly good things. Coincidences don't test us perfectly or leave space for miracles. A divine plan just makes sense.
Have good days every day.