transfers, fish, strings, sanitation, physics, etc.

Dear Family,

I just got the phone call for transfers a couple of hours ago. We used to get that phone call on Friday night, but President decided that too many missionaries used the remaining days of the transfer to say their goodbyes to everybody and, in so doing, wasted precious time. Monday becomes, as it should be, packing day for the out-goers. It's going to be my first time ever staying in an area more than 2 transfers - Elder Cavazos and I are both staying. Everyone else in the zone, however, is having some kind of transfer. The two companionships of sisters are just trading companions. I would designate that a very healthy adjustment. I'm grateful for the patience of some very tolerant sisters.

We're opening one area and closing another, so the next few days may be a little busy with moving furniture, sending off missionaries, and picking up new missionaries. I love transfers. President Monson talked about changes. In Spanish, the word we use for transfers is "cambios" or, in English, "changes." This last week, I fasted and prayed to be able to accept the Lord's will in the transfers. President Mora said that making the transfers was a spiritual experience for him - I decided that it would be for me, too.

It was a very busy week. The weather hasn't changed much - "eternal springtime" has that trend. But summer threatens to be hot and smelly. Chimbote is widely known as one of Peru's fishing capitols. However, if the whole wharf only reeked of dying fish, I wouldn't be too disgusted - the penguins at the zoo often have such a smell, but the delight of penguins makes it all better. (Side thought: word has it that my pensionista had a pet penguin back in the day. If you're considering it, be wise: she says they're rather mischievous little things, and it turns out that when they couldn't keep it around any more, they were forced to eat it. As we say here, "que pena" - I should have liked to see a pet penguin waddling around and pulling practical jokes on one and all.) Nevertheless, Chimbote's one-of-a-kind aroma comes from the production of fish flour. I once thought that this product was used in cooking or making some sort of soup, but my error was corrected. The good parts of the fish are cut up, cleaned, canned, or otherwise sent out to be consumed by the hungry multitudes. What remains, like the head, fins, bones, innards and everything else you'd rather not mention or see, is processed into fish flour, which is (even exported) to be used as fertilizer. Chimbote does not smell like fish. The wharf smells like fish. Chimbote smells like everything evil, unclean and undesireable about dead, processed, and burnt fish remains. Luckily, the fish aren't being fished at the moment: their reproduction window lasts until November or December. Then the factories will fire up again and we'll enjoy a fulness of Chimbote's glory.

Speaking of things less than sanitary, we had a training meeting with the Area Doctor this week. He showed us some nice pictures and some scriptures to aid in our obedience to his advice. I was converted. I've been washing my hands while reciting D&C 4 for the last few days now. But the best part was highly spiritual and had to do with stress. Elder Drake, the Area Doctor, talked about how stress can have negative or positive effects. As part of his solution, he put up a slide (in his powerpoint presentation) of Gordon B. Hinckley's famous missionary experience and the correspondence between him and his father. I volunteered to read before knowing what it was, and as I read it out loud for the benefit of the group, I read some lines that had reflected some of my own personal feelings as of late. It was powerful. I almost didn't finish reading.

I have felt that, like the strings of a piano, we all have a sort of chord inside of us. The piano strings can resonate without touching the keys - in fact, the right pitch is contagious with its analagous string. Sound waves come off a moving string, and those same waves can come and move another string. Alright, I may be losing my ability to speak physics, but you can get the idea if you know how to use a tuning fork. I think that the strings inside of us - when pulled just tight enough - can resonate when the truth is spoken. It touches our hearts and rings loud and clear. Even after the words are said and heard, the little string keeps vibrating, producing a new and wonderful feeling.

I felt that many times in conference this weekend. Instead of jotting down as much as I could of every talk (as my study journal reveals in times past, with up to 20 pages of notes), I focused a little more on writing those things that rang true inside me. I paid special attention and hi-lighted the specific things I needed to do when conference was over. Almost every talk seemed directed to me. And one of my favorite parts was singing hymns in English together with the choir and congregation.

All in all, I'm happy and hopeful. Elder Uchtdorf's talk about hope got to me. I'm looking forward with faith and leaving tomorrow to take care of itself, making the most of today and leaving the past in the Lord's hands. Einstein said that the past and the future are more or less off limits for human intervention. That's why I'm glad we're not in a human work. It's God's!

Love,
Elder Withers