The Beginning of the End

Sunday, April 13, 2008
Kadri, Kennet, Piibe Jogi

I found myself looking into the faces of the people in the congre- gation – so many that we’ve grown to know and love – the Chans, the Koivs, the Lepps, Marika, Luda and her baby, the Jogis, the Timokovs – and I was hit strongly with a deep sense of sadness that once we left the mission, we might never have the chance to see these people again. I was struggling with the emotion of this thought when they announced the closing song, “God Be with You ‘Til We Meet Again.” Not fair. The nose turned red, the tears came, and all I could do was bite my lip and try not to sob out loud. More nose blowing and eye wiping during the closing prayer, trying not to look too smeared and swollen for greeting people after the meeting was over. Marianne Timokov, who’s about 7, danced up to me after the prayer, handed me a chocolate candy bar, said “I love you” in her sweet little Estonian-soaked English, and hugged me. That completely dissolved by composure. I think it’s going to be a long 2 ½ months with way too many good-byes.

I Get No Respect Around Here

Journal Entry - April 1

This morning Elder Thompson called me with the following information: “Sister Watterson, Elder Wallace and I were out morning contacting this morning, and he was attacked and bitten by a German Shepherd.” My heart dropped to the floor and I started asking questions: “Is it a bad bite?”
“Yeah, it’s really bad.”
“Where was he bitten?”
“On the leg.”
“Where on the leg? Thigh, calf, front, back. . . .”
“He was bitten on the front of his thigh.”
“Will he need stitches? Are you at the hospital?”
“Yeah, we’re at the hospital and I’m filling out all these forms, and I can’t remember what day it is. Do you know?”
“What DAY IT IS? No, let me try to find a calendar . . . .”
“Oh, wait, Sister Watterson. Someone here just told me that it’s April 1. That would make it April Fool’s Day, wouldn’t it?”

Can anyone spell “gullible?”