glare.

8:45. Sunday night. We're in the apartment weekly planning. The Elders ask us to give them a ride home. It's pouring rain. So we head out. I was in the process of doing laundry. I know I know. All the dryers are full. So I bring my wet clothes with me, hoping there'll be an opening when we get back. We head out. There's about a kajillion helicopters flying overhead. Oh no. What's going on this time..

By the time we get back to our apartment our building is blocked off with police tape. Cop cars are everywhere. "I'm sorry ma'am but it's gonna be a while. Some kid just got shot and killed." 9:30. Sunday night. I remember my wet clothes. "Laundromat!" I exclaim. Forgetting it's Sunday. Hey, when you wear a skirt everyday it's easy to forget. My greenie just goes right along with it. Doesn't even occur to me until I'm already putting the quarters in the machine. We watch some novelas and listen to spanish music.

Head home, still can't get in. Drive around endlessly looking for a parking spot. I pull the most unreal parallel parking job of my life and we walk  home a few blocks in the pouring rain of the most ghetto ghetto in the San Fernando valley.

This is my life, people.

On a lighter note.. I love my mission with every beat of my heart. It fills me. It brings me the greatest of joys I've yet to experience. I love serving in the church. I am looking forward to a lifetime of dedicated service.

I love my Savior Jesus Christ and thank the Lord God for his atoning sacrifice everyday. I've been redeemed. I continue to be everyday. I have internalized the gospel in my life. I'm grateful for the knowledge I have. As well as the testimony. They're not the same thing. You can't learn a testimony. And as a missionary, I can't teach a testimony. That's a gift of the Spirit.

Man, this blog is so outdated. I need some help. It's ok. I'M A MISSIONARY. What do you expect? Someday maybe I'll be cool again. Was I ever? Ha. no.

Love.

L.