Dear Mom (And everyone else),
(some personal things then,)
Also, I take missionary work very seriously. So I hope that my letters home don't make it seem otherwise. Please correct me if that is something that I need to improve on immediately rather then gradually.
This week has really been a tough one on me. I am calling it a "Missionary Meltdown" and have likened it unto a candle. I started out really strong, and slowly melted into a puddle at the bottom of the candle holder, and struggled to keep the light strong and steady.
I am saying that I really was burned out, and I probably cried for reals for the first time since we sold the puppy in March (you know mom). It was a huge blessing, and actually an amazingly spiritual experience to kneel down and pray feeling so completely discouraged and ask Heavenly Father if he really cared about me, and if he was still there.
I needed to be reassured that he was aware of me, and the feeling of comfort that I received was something that I can't ever really express adequately.
I know that if Heavenly Father is that aware of me, then he must be that aware of all of his other struggling children. From this understanding, my love for the people that we are working with, searching for, my companion, and myself has grown even greater.
Ending on a slightly more adventurous note, this is what happened this week..........
We were helping to unload a storage unit full of really big trash, such as broken box springs, desks, and shelves. We have a dumpster. There is only one way to get big things in that dumpster, and I am happy to say that missionaries such as Sister J. and myself, were that way. We climbed into a dumpster. Don't worry, we were wearing service clothes, we were being supervised, and we took showers very promptly afterward.
Thus is the life of a missionary. Surprise!
You are my best friends, and I am glad that we are an eternal family.
Your Sister Garvin