"On a Wednesday in a café, I watched it begin again..."

Eight months out.

To all, whether good, bad, or ugly,

        The Lord likes to troll missionaries, okay? He's like, "Oh, you think
you're not getting blessings? Watch me bless you in more miraculous
ways than you had ever imagined and you'll sit and wonder how you came
to deserve that. Ha! Nerd." Yeah, that's pretty much what this week
has felt like. Here we go.

        That dude that approached us on the street? We went to the family
history center to brush up on our skills and get the information, and
he is super excited to visit! I'm pretty sure we'll do that tomorrow.
That'll be awesome.

        We've spent many, many hours walking around, trying former
investigators and whoever else the Spirit tells us to visit. It's been
rough. I'm an incredibly sentimental person, and so rejection is
tough. People trying to tell me I'm wrong is rough. I just generally
have a hard time with things like that.

        I was involved in the first Bible bash of my mission, which was
actually quite mild. We knocked on the door of a woman of another
missionary-center Christian faith (which will remain nameless because
ragging on other religions is lame), and I asked a little about what
she believed since she wasn't too interested in what we had. She said
we could come back on Tuesday, and we did only to find that she had
brought a friend along, who wasted no time in trying to use the Bible
to "prove" certain aspects of our faith wrong. Of course, the spirit
of contention is not of God, and another missionary just the other
week had enlightened my mind to the reality that bashing back in a
scriptural "contest" is only a show of arrogance, so I didn't contend
back. Instead, I informed her that I'd love to learn more about their
faith and to share some information about ours so we could come to a
mutual understanding, but that I wasn't super interested in listening
to her try to tell me why Michael the Archangel is actually Christ.
(Why is that pertinent to salvation, anyway?) So, we wrapped that up,
and left feeling spiritually drained. However, we read Alma 26 to get
our spirits back up and continued knocking on the doors. Sometimes,
days just don't go how you want them to.

        We get yelled at a lot in Zootown Missoula. There's this one guy,
actually, who has yelled at us like three times in his car going by.
It's a white Ford Explorer, and he says something different every time.
It's almost funny, actually. It's a good thing I'm a missionary,
because otherwise I would have some great comebacks to yell back.
Instead, I just notate them in my journal.

        In spite of all that, sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven,
and the Lord has made good on that promise.

        On Saturday, we got a call from the zone leaders:
        "Hey, is this address in your area?"
        "Lemme check... yeah, it is."
        "We have a referral for you."
        "Oh?"
        "It's a family we were referred to, and we taught them the first
lesson. It's a dad, mom, and three kids, and they're from the
Democratic Republic of the Congo. They want to be baptized. Also, they
want a French Book of Mormon."

        (Side note: Isn't it funny how when a country has "Democratic
Republic" in its name, it almost always means communism? Democratic
Republic of China? Communist. Republic of Cuba? Communist.)

        Like, what even? We went to contact the family, and learned that they
had already attended church back in Africa, and had attended at the
stake center last week. They are eager to be baptized, and wonder why
they have to wait so long. THEY ARE WONDERING WHY THEY HAVE TO WAIT SO
LONG TO BE BAPTIZED. They have a date for freaking April 1st! I feel
the need to sing the song of redeeming love. What's more, we got them
a ride to church yesterday, and they came, and we found a member in
the ward who speaks French to help us teach!

        God is awesome. He knows what we're capable of, and He knows when to
help out. I am so deeply indebted to Him, and I'm grateful for his
bounteous blessings upon us. Here's to continuing to raise His banner
high and proclaiming the good news to all who cross our way!

        There are a great many other events that could be written about, but
this email is already long. I'll list a few to tickle your
imagination.

        - Zone Training
        - Getting a slinky from a slightly intoxicated Jew
        - Make out tactics
        - Helicopter crashes and miracles
        - Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping
        - Electric guitar man neighbor (a.k.a. All Elder Burch's Go To Heaven)
        - Non-members stepping up to the lunch plate

        Man, this week was packed. Cool! Rock and roll, everyone ~

-Elder Burch π

        "I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does
is break and burn and end. But on a Wednesday in a café, I watched it
begin again."

My parents sent me a pie on Pi Day!
Are they not the greatest people on the Earth today?

"I've got a blank space, baby, and I'll write your name."

 

The Zone

On another note, I have had a team name with each of my companions.
With Elder Ferrara, we were the "On-Point Kings," and with Elder
Campbell, we were "Dangeresque." With Elder Ray, we are "Sons of
Moroni." There is a story associated with that. Ask my mom, she might
know. Once I tell her, anyway.


******
(The email to the family with more details about the week)

Family,

So, the missionary schedule tells us to keep a journal. As part of my recommittal to live as close to the missionary schedule as possible, I have begun to keep a nightly journal. It's been a good experience thus far, and I think it will prove to be a valuable endeavor to maintain. After all, think of all the laughs I'll get rereading it in the future! Worth it for the story. 

I'm pretty much going to tell you about all the things I listed in the main email and then didn't elaborate on. Here goes!

Zone training was sweet. Probably my favorite thus far. I still remember my first zone training, which was my third day in the field. Elder Hatch was one of the zone leaders at the time, and his intense spirituality combined with his inhumanly deep voice and his godlike organ playing intimidated the dickens out of me. (Why were the dickens ever inside of me? I feel violated.) Anyway, this most recent one was awesome, and I gave a discussion on sacrifice. Yes, I cried, and it sucked. Nevertheless, I learned something from it, and I hope everyone else did, too. 

Ah, yes, my Jewish slinky. We were walking down the street one evening, probably around 7:30, and a man is sitting on his porch smoking a cigarette and drinking a cold one. He calls out to us, "Sons of Moroni, right?" ... Well, not exactly. We asked him how he knew who we were (kind of), and it led to him exclaiming, "I'm a Jew, and you have no chance of converting me. If cattle prods and machine guns and gas chambers couldn't change me, neither can you!" Well, fair enough. Not really, considering that he was only forty at most and therefore could not have possibly endured World War II, but that's alright. We began chatting with him about religion, and he said, "Look, assuming that Jesus of Nazareth was who he said he was, I'm totally on board with what you guys teach - why wouldn't he visit the Americas? And, hey, even though I think you're totally wrong, I respect you for being out here and doing what you do." (These excerpts were said between long political tangents that he would go on.) He invited us inside for a drink of water ("But if you wanted a Co-cola or a coffee, I wouldn't tell nobody!" *wink*), so we went in and continued to visit with him. Through the conversation, I began playing with the metal slinky on the coffee table. As we were leaving, and he invited us to visit any time, I realized I still had the slinky in my hand. I tried to give it back, but he refused, insisting that, "You've had more fun with it than I ever have had. Keep it, man." And that is how I got a slinky from a slightly intoxicated Jew.

Saturday, as we were walking to visit the family I mentioned in the main email, a couple pulled up in front of their home which we were walking by. They waved at us enthusiastically, so we waved back, and then they proceeded to make out. A lot. Elder Ray and I laughed as we walked away, noting that this is the first time someone has tried to avoid talking with us by snogging. The best part of the story, though, occurs on the way back from our appointment. As we're walking back on the same street, we see the girl come out and get her mail. I'm the master of awkward, so...

"Hey, thanks for the laugh!"

"What?"

"You waved at us, and then started, you know, making out. It was funny because we don't get to do that for a long time."

"Oh... You guys doing the year thing?"

"Two years, yep."

"Ah. Long distance is hard."

"Tell me about it. Have a great night!"

Some things worth it for the story. Most things worth it for the story.

I was getting a few minutes of shut-eye after dinner at our apartment one day, when suddenly I begin to hear tones of music coming from the apartment beneath us. In my still-drowsy state, I begin thinking things such as "That kid has some good tone on his trombone..." And then I leap off of the couch as awake as anything, and exclaim to my companion, "That is an electric guitar. We must meet this person immediately." And, so, we head downstairs and knock on the door below us. A confused 30-year-old answers, and and he lets us in! We talk about music for a while and I try to make something decent come out of his guitar, and it was a good experience. He isn't super interested in the gospel at this time, but he said he'd be down for us to visit and hang out! Through small and simple things...

Okay, lightning round. A non-member payed for our lunch today! It was super awesome. I fell asleep at a member's house after eating an enormous meal. We met a dude who was a commercial helicopter pilot who crashed and survived seven days in Alaska before being rescued. 

There you go!

Caught napping