Monday, April 13, 2015

All You Have To Do To Win, Is Rise Each Time You Fall

Oh my goodness gracious this week has been totally nuts!!! So much humbling. So much potential! So much missionary work!!!

We went to K & C's house and the member who came with us brought some conference Ensigns to give them to read!! It was super cool! Then on Wednesday we had our first official "Super Fun Mega Exciting Scripture Study Night". It was pretty much the greatest. We made a super cool arch to show how the Book of Mormon is the keystone of our religion. :) So that was cool..

We had ZTM in Edmonton which is pretty much the greatest. (except for how many klicks it takes up...) It was super fun to get mail!!! p.s. Emma you totally made me cry my eyes out. Thanks :) #FeelinTheLove But mostly it was stellar cause the stake presidency bought a super nice leather scriptures for C. :) It's nice to know they're united with us trying to help others come unto Christ. #WeAreAllEnlisted

It has been sooo nice out lately (except for the tornado status wind lol) and so the K's asked us to come and do a bit of service in their yard on Friday. In return they let us stay for a Weiner roast and told us about a bunch of their friends we could start teaching. It was sooooo fun! I cuddled with their baby mini chihuahua Apollo for like 45 minutes while we talked. :)

The only sketchy thing about it was that when C came she brought her pit bulls and one of them got into a SUPER INTENSE TOTALLY SKETCHY dog fight with the neighbor's dog. It was totally freaky!! Like teeth, blood, growling, etc. G, M and C all had to run after them and try to separate them whilst trying not to get totally chewed up. Meanwhile, the sister missionaries and everyone's kids were standing by the fire totally freaking out. We had to console them so they wouldn't freak out about their dogs potentially dying. :/

It was totally freaky. But no one died and it's all good now. Mostly I think it just increased my love for Rocko and Pebbles (the pit bulls). I'm glad they didn't die. :)

The other day we went to Country Style trailer park to do some tracting. Tracting is pretty ok. But this day it was soo nice. The sun was shining, everyone was pretty nice. It was great. But became EVEN GREATER!!! A lady who we will call H totally let us in right then, we taught a lesson, and she invited us back for Wednesday! #TeachWhenYouFind

Speaking of good tracting stories, this week is FULL of them!

We went tracting the other day and we met a man who was super nice. The only problem is that after I was done saying my part, neither of my companions jumped in. And this guy didn't say anything either. And I got kinda nervous so I didn't say anything else. So literally we just stood there in silence looking at each other for like a good solid 35 seconds. hahaha oh so awkward!!!!

Then later on, we were contacting a potential investigator, and when the man answered the door, I totally forgot the ladies name who we were there to visit. So he just looked at me and I was like "HI!!.........." It was so awkward. Oh man. *severe blushing*

We actually had a couple times this week that were a bit of a gong show in terms of being unified as companions. With three people it's a lot harder, that's for sure. But sometimes it's funny like these tracting stories, and sometimes it's more like a tearful meltdown after an unsuccessful teaching experience. Either way I often wish I were a better companion.

But our branch mission leader gave us a poem this week that really helped me with this. It's called "The Race". It's too long for me to include in my email. But basically it's about a little boy who is running in a race and wants to win to make his dad proud.
He starts out ahead, but slips and falls. The only thing that gets him to stand up is the look on his dad's face in the crowd. He runs again and slips again. But he gets up. It happens 3 times. At that point he's far behind and feels like a total failure. But his dad calls to him "You're not meant for failure. Get up and win the race." So he gets up and runs to the end of the race, getting last place.
His dad says to him at the end:

"Our lives at times are like this race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win, is rise each time you fall."

I totally FAIL as a missionary sometimes. More so now that I'm training in a tripan than other times on my mission. This week especially I've felt like this runner. And for me at least, I feel my biggest stumbling block is my own pride. I know with so much pride, I will NOT win first place in the race.

But I am working on rising each time I fall. Each time my pride gets the better of me, I pray for humility (or Heavenly Father dishes it out to me before I can ask). I may not win first place but I want to make sure I still win by finishing the race!! And my wish for you all is that you'll do the same thing. This poem isn't just for missionaries. Everyone can rise each time they trip over their own pride, or doubts or sins. GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!!!

I know you can do it. :)

Love you all!!!
Sister Whiting

Our visual aid showing the Book of Mormon as the keystone as our religion

Little Apollo loves snuggling the sisters.

Me and Apollo

Love Conference Quotes at a member's business

Whiting #represent

Driving to service (fortunately, the K's still love me with my derpy hair)

Note from the editor: Here is the poem she mentioned in her letter. I have heard it before and it is a good one.
The Race by D.H. Groberg

“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten!” they shout at me and plead,
“There’s just too much against you now, this time you can’t succeed.”
And as I started to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene.
For just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; now I remember well.
Excitement, sure, but also fear; it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope. Each thought to win the race
Or tie for first, if not that, at least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son,
And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they sped, as if they were on fire
To win, to be the hero there, was each boy’s desire.
And one boy in particular, his dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought, “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field, across the shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arm flew out to brace,
And ‘mid the laughter of the crowd, he fell flat on his face.
So, down he fell, and with him, hope. He couldn’t win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished he’d disappear somehow.
But, as he fell, his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win the race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit, that’s all.
And ran with all his mind and might to make up for the fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
His mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face.
That steady look that said again, “Get up and win the race!”
So, he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last;
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running more. Three strikes, I’m out…why try?”
The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away.
So far behind, so error-prone, a loser all the way.
“I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought, “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But, then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “Get up and take your place.
You weren’t meant for failure here; get up and win the race.”
With borrowed will, “Get up,” it said, “You haven’t lost at all,
For winning is no more than this–to rise each time you fall.”
So up he rose to win once more. And with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been.
Still, he gave it all he had, and ran as though to win.
Three times he fallen, stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner, as he crossed the line, first place,
Head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen crossed the finish line, last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad, he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me you won,” his father said, “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy helps me in my race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten!” They still shout in my face,
But another voice within me says, “Get up and win the race!”

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