Pray for the Taets family.

How I so love the Opera. And, getting called Strippling Warrioress. Nice. And a midsummer night’s dream. All my memories of home are glossed in sparkly rose-glass-osity. And your letters always make me sigh. It sounds idyllic. So perfect in all it's craziness and glamor. Thanks for updating me on everybody’s comings and goings. That’s cool you could recognize that she was trying to say Urdu. The couple of times I’ve run into people on my mission who don’t speak English or Spanish as always kind of fun. I like trying to communicate without language. It’s an interesting experience.

Before Friday, I suppose this letter might have just focused on the fact that we’ve got these eleven awesome people who want to get baptized and how utterly exhausted I am all the time… but the vitamins are helping. Silly expensive little things. I got the Flintstones ones because they’re classic and were the same ridiculously expensive price as the other ones. I’ve started running in the morning again, which I should probably keep up since I’ve been feeling a lot better physically than I have in a long time. As Hermana Taets says, “We need to get rid of the tortilla weight.”

I only have one story this week.

Friday after district meeting we were giving the Elder’s a ride to their next appointment when the phone rang. It was our Zone leaders, letting us know that President Hansen had been trying to call us for hours and that he needed to speak with Hermana Taets immediately. We had been having some problems with our phone (we got a new one on Tuesday and I still haven’t figured out why it rings sometimes and doesn’t other times). We switched seats so I could drive and she could talk on the phone. President Hansen let her know that her father had just had a stroke and was in the hospital in Arizona dying.

Hna’s parents are divorced, and her other sister in a minor which meant that legally, she is the only person who can make any medical decisions for him. The first words I heard her speak after she was on the phone where, “…So… I have to go back to Arizona?” Yes, she did. The church had already made all the arrangements; they’d purchased her ticket for that afternoon and had been trying to frantically get in contact with her so that she could make the flight. We went home right away and she packed a carry-on bag of clothing, got a blessing from the Elders and then I drove my companion to the airport to send her home. She tried to stay positive and cheerful. At one point she laughed bitterly and said, “I’ve been telling him to quit drinking since I could talk.” And again later, “Should I give him instructions on what to do in the spirit world? Find the glowy people with nametags like this, and listen to them this time!” She also insisted on talking to president about the arrangements for the area, “Listen President, you need to be VERY careful about who you send over here to take my place while I’m in Arizona, we have eleven investigators with baptismal dates!” she was trying so hard to seem alright, and it turns out that she’s one of those people with this amazing ability to sound absolutely fine and in control of her voice even when tears are streaming down her face.

We must have looked pretty interesting at the airport. We went with her as far as we could, but had to leave when we reached security. The Elders teased me a bit; “You’ll be back here in ten weeks Hermana.” Then we left and I was companions with two Elders for a bit, while we reenacted an episode of Seinfeld and tried to remember where we’d parked in our frantic hurry to get my companion on the plane.

Honestly, it all happened so fast that it didn’t seem real. I don’t think it set in that she was really leaving until she called me from Arizona the next day to let me know that her father had made it through the night and that she was still hopeful, and a little weirded-out while playing Apples to Apples with her mother and sister and Arizonian companion in the hospital waiting room. Her family wasn’t handling it well. Her mother is a wreck. “She still loves him.”

My temporary companions (because President Hansen maintains that Hermana Taets should be home in a week) are Hermana Hastings and Hermana Wardle. They have nobody they’re really teaching right now so are required to momentarily abandon their area and be my companions in Fairbanks since the work-load here is considerably heavier. They are both wonderful sisters who are being a big help to me. Saturday was when everything sank in. It was a hard day. I think Saturdays always are. You always have a ton of appointments set up for Saturday, but you notoriously get stood up more than any other day of the week.

Sunday was stressful because I knew that Hermana Taets wouldn’t call until after church so she could find out how many of our investigators and recent converts came. I was anxious for the call all day. On our way to go eat dinner at a member’s house (as a family/the whole district, all seven missionaries in the ward) she finally called. Her voice sounded very cheerful when she asked me who had come and we discussed that for a moment, then I finally demanded “Pues, como esta?” (How is he?) and she said, “Mi padre fallacio este manana.” (My father died this morning) “A lo mejor, voy a regressar en una semana. Premiramente nessecito ir al Illinois para el funeral.” (I’m probably going to be back in a week. I need to go to Illinois for the funeral first.) then she told me she was fine and that she needed to go.

We all have a lot of questions right now. Our district leader is wondering if she’ll come back at all. Elder Porter and Elder Kerr are wondering if it’ll really be a week. I think she will come back and I’m wracking my brains trying to figure out what I can say or what I can do to try and help her when she comes back.

Because of how rushed we were, Hermana Taets and I only got to have one thirty second conversation alone during the walk to and from the mailbox before we jumped in the car with the Elders and raced to the airport.

“I’m fine.”

“Estas segura? I would not be fine.”

“…I will be fine.”

“He’s-”

“He’s in God’s hands. Whatever happens… I’ll be alright, eventually. What’s important is that I get this taken care of fast and come back here quickly.”

I think she means it. She’ll be back. I’m trying to think of what I could do for her.

Elder McGary and I only got the chance to talk for a second, but his big question is, “When she comes back… is she going to hate me?”

I told him absolutely not. The dream he had can still be prophetical. She has a choice here just like with everything else. She can either be bitter about it and look at the dream he had as a string dangling in front of a cat or it can be a hope and a great strength that keeps her tied to the truth and the love she has for her family for the rest of her life and into the next world. Because she’s Hermana Taets, and she’s amazing, she’s going to be hopeful. She’s going to look at the dream that he had just a couple of weeks ago as a great comfort, another tender mercy of the Lord that he offered to her to give her the strength to get through her earthy father’s death.

Ultimately, what she told me is true. She will be fine. She might even be normal. Elder Kerr has a theory that she’s the type of person who probably won’t even emotionally deal with his passing until after she’s completely her mission and has to really go home. And by then, we’ll all be there and her family will hopefully be better equipped to offer comfort as well, since as of right now, they are not in such good shape.

I hope she’s doing alright. It’s hard to be away from her. But she’s where she’s supposed to be right now. And so is her father, and I think she recognizes that.

I love you all very much, and I miss you. Thank you for your prayers and your letters, I got some great ones lately, and I’m sorry I haven’t had time to write everyone back yet. I’m slowly working my way through the list for the couple of hours I get on P-day to do it.

BIG hug and kisses all around, Hermana Lillywhite