Well, this week was pretty much average, except for some not so average parts... and the unusual amount of rain we've had.
We had four baptisms in our district this week, which is great! We've hit a bit of a dry spell in our zone lately, and the ones we've had may be some of the only baptisms in our zone this transfer, so I'm pretty proud of our boys for pullin it off. It was a white weekend!
One of the converts is a little girl who is eight, and I interviewed her for her baptism the week before. She just might be the cutest little girl you'll ever lay eyes on. We became fast friends by the end of the interview. After that, Elders Zarate and Carrera asked her who she wanted to do the baptism. She thought a bit, looked around, then pointed to me and said "el rubio!"... So I agreed, but then had the other missionaries that had taught her ask her again if she was sure, and of course she changed her mind, and Elder Carrera did the baptism. So funny! I was just the only white guy of anyone she knew, so her initial decision was easy!
Also, on the not so happy side of things, and rather on the macabre, I'm afraid this next little tale drifts into Edgar Allen Poe's realm of occult experiences. One dreary Tuesday, one which started just like every other Tuesday (with a prayer, a 12 degree shower, some corn flakes, contacts in the morning, and a rigorous study session of my pillow for thirty minutes in the after-noon), we had a lesson with one of our investigators, Jaime; like we always did, every Tuesday, but this time the mood was perfectly set, as it was raining profusely. We taught the Book of Mormon to him, and all was well. Then at the end of the lesson, he asked if we could go to the church to speak in private. We closed with a prayer, and hopped in his van unknowing of what was going on... Yes... I know how that sounds... We trusted him, okay?
We got to the chapel, took a little side room to ourselves, and began to talk. Now, to preface this, I must tell you that it was incrediblely hard to understand this man. Normal Dominicans are hard enough to understand... They speak fast, and the actual form of Spanish they use is a shortened, changed, slang version. The Dominican language is like Spanish´s much less sophisticated 4 yr old cousin. Jaime was also talking very quietly considering the topic of conversation. Needless to say, I understood the jest of what he was telling us, but afterwards I had to ask my companion questions like "What the heck was he saying about a monkey?" -this was a true question...
Anyway... Jaime has grown suspicious of his father, he believes he was kidnapped as a child, and that his"father" is his abductor... I know right?... Quite the bite to swallow. It's not uncommon for children to block out traumatic experiences from their memories, and then later in adulthood, have those memories come back. Jaime remembers a man in a big monkey suit taking him and his twin sister a long time ago. His sister was hit by a car and killed, and he's now starting to see some strange circumstances of her death. Every time he confronts his dad with one of these concerns, he's met with a strange deflected response. He's researching genetics, blood-types, birth certificates... The guy is seriously paranoid! He must not have a very good relationship with his dad to be able to accuse him of that. He's getting scared now, because he thinks they're trying to kill him. They left a tank of gas open underneath his bed while he was sleeping... There are plenty of other strange occurrences that he told us about. He's most likely over-reacting, but who knows. I felt like I was in a crossover episode of Law and Order and the X-Files, set in the town of Dual Spires (for those Psych fans)... Some wierd stuff. But I thought it was pretty funny, so I shared it.
Well, thanks so much for all the prayers and support you all give me. They mean more than you'll ever know.
With love, and a scary story fit for one of the Simpsons' Tree-house of Terror episodes. To be continued...