Growing Up, A Little Too Fast!

Hola Hola Hola! First and foremost, muchisisisisimas gracias to everyone for the outpouring of love manifested in email. However, out in the real world now, I´m only going to be emailing my family. So please contact my mother about a legal adoption, but until then, pray really hard for the mail system here. (and remember that the more you send, the more likely they are to make it to me ;) ) But really, it's supposed to work better out here. Entonces, out here in the huge real-live world--which is really a relatively small world, in a small part of the city of Santo Domingo--I've had to grow up a lot overnight. Laundry is an adventure, cooking is an adventure. I've taken a step up and now my milk comes from powder, which actually tastes better. One of the strictest and also least-followed rules of the mission is that we can't eat in anyone's home, or off the street. After seeing both the homes, and the street, I wasn't really tempted, but just in case I was, one of the Hermana's that we live with has an amoeba living in her intestines. And it's not fun. (She claims it was a bad water bottle but I also know for a fact she eats with members.) The blessings that come from obedience. Of course, I've also heard of a million other missionaries with parasites that have been obedient, so I guess it's just one of the many risks here. I don't remember if I told you about Alex's oatmeal in the CCM (Alex was the cook). I'm sure I did because I'm obsessed with it. But we tried to recreate it the other night. We got pretty close, but not quite. Which is good, because my trainer has been trying for 9 months to do it, and she said that when she gets it she can go home. I might have to keep sabotaging it, because I definitely need her. Speaking of the wonderful Hermana Frye. She had her 9 month mark on Wednesday. She is pretty awesome. Literally the best way I can think to describe her is cool, calm, and always collected. She is kind of quiet, but very powerful. I don't really know how to describe it. But she takes good care of me. She doesn't always tell me what to do, so I have to watch her closely. My Spanish is coming slowly and surely. I didn't really worry about it the first 2 days, but after that I felt like I was pulling the new card for too long and it was time to be fluent! Disappointingly, I'm still not. But it comes. So, a day in the life: Get up early, stretch, shower, eat, study, comp study, 12 weeks training program study, language study. Then we have lunch from 12-2. It's 2 hours for lunch, but we don't have a dinner break. Then we get ready to go out. I put on sunscreen because I'm a good girl. I put some repellant on my ankles because I hate blood-sucking insects. We take turns, whoever carries the Bible carries the keys, and the other has the triple and the phone. And we are supposed to always always always carry a Book of Mormon in our hands. And then we step out into the world. This week has been crazy because it's Semana Santa (holy week). And I am not a fan. Everybody leaves the city for the playa (beach) or campo (country) so there's no one to contact or teach, and everybody that stays just gets drunk. Slight exaggerations, but only very slight. Hopefully tomorrow it'll get into the normal swing of things again. Everybody is always in the streets, which makes sense after you see the houses. Back at home in church, if you're referring to temporal things or sin or such, you'd say "things of the world". Here, they say, "things of the calle" (calle means street for you gringos.And remember the ll makes a y sound) So literally, quote: "You can't just be a member of the church one day and go do the things of the calle the next." It's kind of a rough kind of life. We have one investigator. She lives in one of the calle-homes. (You can't imagine it unless you've seen something like it, but I'll try to describe). There's tiny tiny alleyways curving anywhich way. Doors in the walls open to tiny cement homes on either side, or colmados (hole in the wall little stores; think gas station, but not). This particular home of this 22 year old mother of 2, is in a particularly dark, narrow calle. Little rivulets of water (and sewage) run down the middle of each alleyway. A few cement steps set in the side of the wall allow you to jump into a open rectangle with a curtain that is the doorway to...a room. Just one. Smaller than my bedroom at home (much much smaller). There is a bed, a tiny stove, a tiny tv, and one tiny chair. We sit on the edge of the bed. By the door is a bucket where the two-year-old boy goes to the bathroom. She is from Haiti, so I have a very hard time understanding her street-spanish with Creole accent. Before I came, she had a baptism date, but it fell for a lot of reasons. She isn't married, nor is she likely to be, because the man that comes around often enough to pay for some things and keep the family growing isn't really into that kind of thing. Especially since who knows how many other calle-homes he has. I'll have to tell you more about her and her little family, because I'm almost out of time. But sitting in that room I've had the hardest emotional experience of my mission. But sneak-preview: she came to church miraculously!! Stay tuned for next week I guess. I'm sorry I didn't have time to respond to everyone's letters, but know that I did read and appreciate them all. (I can't print them off anymore) :( I love to hear about it all, so keep it coming! I love this gospel. I love my Savior. Thanks for all the support, I can feel your prayers. I love you all. Love, Hna Sarah Peck P.S. Sorry I couldn't figure out how to send pictures :(