The Gift (Ch 48)

Hi there everyone!

It's been a minute since I last typed out an update! I wish I had decent excuses to offer, like maybe some epic P-Day excursions or responsibly preparing to make the transition home. Quite honestly, I've gotten a little lazy. 

But don't worry--I haven't forgotten my duties! Transfers have come and gone, and this update is complete with a big reveal. So without further adieu: Since I last wrote, I've been transferred to...

Asoke!

Meaning, of course, that I'm right where I was before--only this time things are a little different. 

I am an International Ward sister! 

What? 

After seventeen months of learning the Thai language, fifteen months of living among the Thai people, and finally reaching a level of spice tolerance that is--well, still probably not too far above wimpy (but a marked improvement for one who couldn't eat mild salsa from Fresh Market without significant tear flow), I felt a little deflated as I thought about about my new assignment.

That's an understatement. I was really, really bummed out.

Suddenly I wasn't really supposed to teach the people I'd laughed with and cried with and loved for so many months. Suddenly I had to re-learn missionary work, in a sense--at a time when I really wanted to just enjoy being at the top of my game. I mean, it's my last transfer! 

Well, I won't lie to you. This transfer has had its challenges. We've had endless broken appointments, a small investigator pool, and so much unscheduled time it feels like we're actually a couple of those hippies who come to Thailand to find themselves. Okay, not really--but it's a lot.

But you know what else this transfer has had? 

This is the transfer I met Sister Shaheen, a resilient Pakistani woman who fled the country when her husband was killed by the government--but whose faces her difficult circumstances without any bitterness. She goes to the IDC (a detaiment center for people who don't have visas. Most of them are refugees.) every single day. She cooks up gigantic servings of food and bags it all up, and brings it to these people. Every day. "Are you related to any of the detainees?" my companion once asked her. "Of course," Shaheen replied, "They're my brothers and sisters in Christ."

Without this transfer, I would have never met Mojgan, a tall, softspoken refugee woman from Iran. "I know you miss your mothers," she told us the first time we came to her house, "I'll be your mother while you're here." That night, she showed us piles and piles of baby clothes she had stored in her house. "They're for my neighbors," she explained to us, "I noticed that they have a young baby and so I took these things from the church donation bin to give to them." Her eyes lit up as she showed us all the things she had brought home from the donation bin, and told us about each person she hoped to deliver them to. "But the church donation bin is for YOU," I felt like crying. "YOU legally cannot work, you barely have enough to put food on your own table, you ride the bus two hours to church... how can you be concerned about the neighbor's baby when YOU lack so many material things?" It was that night that I realized what a true disciple of Jesus Christ looked like. I saw the glow in her eyes as she talked about how pleased she was that she could serve the Savior in such a small way. "Maybe someday they'll ask me why I did it," she told us, "And then I'll give them what's most important." We left that generous, wonderful woman's house laden with gifts--tomatoes, cucumbers, and spices that she probably couldn't spare, but did anyway. And we left knowing a little bit more about the character of Jesus Christ.

I'm nearly out of time to write, but I want to express my love for the people of the International Ward. They are remarkable. They come from different backgrounds, nationalities, and socio-economic standings. But they are alike in their love for Christ. And because they love Christ, they love each other. I have been repeatedly humbled as I've watched their generosity towards one another and their deep devotion towards God.

I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father for giving me the gift of this transfer. It was a gift that I accepted slowly, pridefully, and with a healthy dose of, "my will be done." But the Lord did not restrain His love--only gently encouraged me to open my heart until I was ready to accept the gift. And now I can't imagine my mission without my time in the International Ward. I'm ready to embrace where I'm at, come what may!

The Lord knows what we need!Here's hoping that next time I'll be a little faster in turning myself over to the design of the Great Creator, because it is far better than mine.

I love you all and I gotta go!

Love always,

Sister Harris