October 1, 2018 The Story of Rey

Hi all!

What a week, I'm not even sure where to begin! I'm typing this with my thumbs (I bought a keyboard but it might as well be made of cardboard for how well it works) but I hope to type fast enough to squeeze everything in! 

Monday we finally went to the Fontana indoor Swap Meet, where we found Asians selling backpacks and nail polish and baptismal dresses, and Mexicans selling bike parts and shoes and candy. We even found a tiny Indian salon. There were rosaries and keychains and acupuncture, and the whole thing was all in all quite the experience! The elders were all very impressed that we went, as they said sometimes it can be a little rough, but I think it was mostly hype. The only really sketchy thing was having to walk into a dark tunnel of piñatas just to ask how much one cost! 

Wednesday we had exchanges, and I stayed in the area with Sister Chisholm (from Monroe Utah). This meant teaching an entire Restoration lesson in Spanish by myself, but I survived it and poor Yadira was a saint and helped me along. 

We had tried to contact someone who had previously met with missionaries in one of the little apartment complexes on Juniper Avenue. As we were leaving, I had a strong feeling we should have talked to two girls who waved at us as we walked out. We were rushing to another appointment, but I knew I needed to go back and make it right. At the same time the very next day, I dragged Sister Chisholm there again. We found them sure enough, but the whole thing started with one of them swearing at me under her breath. That wasn't too encouraging, but we tried to strike up a conversation with them anyways. It was surprisingly intimidating; three nine year old girls peering down at us with from a stairway, I just tried to remember all my Beehive friends back home and took courage from that. I asked how they were, but instead we got en echoed response of how old they were. This confused all of us and we all just sat there staring at one another until one of them absolutely lost it which triggered the other two. We absolutely could not get a word out, anything we said set them off laughing again. I don't think I've been that uncomfy since 7th grade math class, and the analogy of the "great and spacious building" with all the " laughing and pointing" had never felt so real. We finally gave up and kept walking, me in a puzzle as to why I had felt so strongly I needed to talk to them. Our pride was pretty shot, but we decided to just try knocking a few doors anyway (good lopic here: nothing to boost confidence like teaching right?). I chose one with Santa stickers on the window because I figured no one with Santa stickers could be all that mean. What followed was an absolute miracle: 6/6 doors we knocked gave us a time to come back, one even inviting us in. We were absolutely floored. In the whole time I've been out, maybe two people have invited us back based on a door approach. We left the complex in stunned silence. The morale is clear: when you pass a great and spacious building, do not turn back! Also, Santa stickers DO mean nice people (Sister Chisholm stopped questioning and we picked the rest of the doors based on how cute their plants were and the presence of buckets (always means families) or pink bikes). 

The next miracle came from bad directions. We were sitting in the car, about to go up to a home, when a skinny man with a stroller passed on the passenger side. I'm not always very good at recognizing promptings, but I knew we needed to talk to him. I think I probably scared him half to death jumping out of the car the way I did, but we started a conversation with him and he was supremely nice. His name was Rey, and he was out walking little Rey who was "enfermito" and bundled up like a tamale. Rey was very interested in having us come by and share more with his family, but as they just moved here from Mexico he didn't know his address very well. All we really understood was something about "past the corner..." 

We went back a few days later to try to find Turns out there are many, many corners on Rey's street. We asked everyone, but no one knew him. In Fontana, many houses are either split or hide apartments behind, so from a street perspective you can't tell how many homes you're actually looking at. Many have fences, meaning we can't even reach many homes. It was overwhelming to stand there and wonder how on earth we'd find the right place. After the fact, Hna  Watkins told me her prayer was, "Help us find Rey, or whoever needs us most." My prayer was, "please guide us, we need to know if we're doing this right!"

 Walking down a driveway, right at dusk, we discovered a dusty lot of tiny apartments. As we walked up, a young man holding a baby waved at us. "Bingo," we thought. "It has to be Rey!" But it wasn't. Before we could say a word, he called out "Pasenle!" And ushered us into his home, introducing himself as Lorenzo and assuring us his wife was home. Dulce didn't ask a single question, she just introduced herself and her boys, invited us to sit down and grinned at us. We sat there for a second in stunned silence, while four complete strangers and a baby smiled at us like long lost friends. Turns out they've only been here from Mexico for a year, and although they've seen missionaries back home they didn't know that's who we were or really anything about the church. The moment one of them gets home from work, the other leaves, so we had caught them the one evening they have together as a family. I imagine it's lonely, and my heart went out to them. Here there are, the friendliest people I've ever met, and they really don't know anyone. They've already told us we can come back, although it's hard to catch them there together. They might be the sweetest little family I've ever met, with three dark haired boys all under 7. It doesn't end there either: we stopped by to visit them the next day and met the kindest man, Josè, who told us where to find Rey and invited us to visit his home as well. The day of miracles hasn't ceased! 

I gave my first sacrament meeting talk this week, and guilt-tripped as many people we're teaching into coming as absolutely possible. It wasn't a particularly good talk, but I loved preparing for it. I bumped into the talk "How Great is the Plan of our God" by Utchdorf, which talks about how we sometimes take for granted the precious truths of the gospel, particularly the Plan of Salvation. I shared an experience with how as I learn Spanish, I'm aware that if I'm not careful I lose my sense of awe as the words become more familiar, and how we have to realize how blessed we are to have the truth. I think my message translated into something like, "Hna Hawkes no longer appreciates Spanish, and here is a rough run through of the Plan of Salvation," but if my love for the message came through that's what counts. We have so much, so very much to have the gospel. We have to recognize what we have, and we have to share it. I think we're the luckiest people alive. 

Love you all, have the greatest week! 

Love, Hna Hawkes