Last week
after we emailed, we went to get haircuts. BAD IDEA. My hair has been
growing to Rapunzel-esque lengths thus far on the mish, so I figured it
was time for a solid trim. I was aiming for like 2-3 inches. The lady
who cut our hair took off like 4. I was in haircut shock, but I took it
like a champ and figured I would get used to it in a few days. The next
morning, Sister Bailey let out of a shriek of alarm whilst straightening
her hair - her haircut was uneven. And I'm not talking like a barely
noticeable uneven, but like an inch or more off uneven. I took my hair
out of the bun it is usually exiled to and mine was uneven too!!! So
that night, one of our lovely members fixed it for us ... at the
sacrifice of a couple more inches. So now, 6 inches later, my hair is
finally even. My hair hasn't been this short since like 6th grade! But
whatever. I feel like getting your hair butchered is kind of like a
missionary right of passage, so at least it happened relatively early on
in my mission. We figured that by the time we get home our hair will be
back to normal! So in the mean time, my hair will be in it's normal
state of disheveledness. #bunlife
And then a few days later I turned 20! It was great.
Well, basically it was like a normal day in the life of a missionary
except we had cupcakes at district meeting. And I got some packages and
letters! Thanks to everyone who sent me something, it's nice to know
that I haven't been completely erased from the pages of your memories :)
Any who, I am now officially a not-teenager. But I still feel like I
won't be an official adult for another year. I guess twenty is the year
of being unclassified.
Saturday night the ward had a Trunk-or-Treat at the
church, which was fun fun fun. We had a pretty good showing of
non-members AND there was a pie-eating contest. Which really is just an
excuse for people to laugh at you while you rub your face in messy food,
but whatevs. For the actual Trunk-or-Treating part, I came up with the
idea to fill our trunk with suitcases and make a sign that said "Get
Trunky". (For those of you who aren't in tune with the missionary lingo,
trunky is the term used to describe missionaries who think about
home and all the stuff they want to do there.) Get it? TRUNKY?
TRUNK-or-Treat? I mean hello, this is hilarious stuff. But I think maybe
2 people in the ward understood the joke. Yeesh.
Then yesterday, one of our investigators got
baptized. As Alyssa was sitting there absolutely beaming, I had one of
those almost out-of-body experiences where you just look around and
realize how good life is. I love being a missionary! I just get to watch
people find the gospel and change their lives and find happiness 24/7.
Sister Bailey and I were talking about how little we actually do. It
feels like people are just handed to us who have been waiting their
whole lives to accept the gospel. I mean, it's kind of hard to find
these people, but once we do, our role is so tiny! It's the best.
I love you guys! Have an incredible week!
Love,
Sister Gledhill
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