An Instrument in the Master's Hands

Hello Darling Family and Friends!

I feel like I just typed one of these out, and at the same time I feel as if it has been weeks. The baptism and temples trip feel like they happened decades ago!

Me and my lovely companion!

One thing I loved about this week was a Zone Training Meeting we had in Jamaica. One of our Zone Leaders (Elder Parkinson) gave us all a beautiful painting of Christ (which his mother sent to him - many thanks to his dedicated mother!) , which I have included in the pictures for this week. In seeing the picture of our Savior, I started to consider how He is our shepherd, how He looks after each of us, and I began to wonder what sort of instrument I was in His hands.

I thought of previous cellos I have played, and the quality of each. I remember my first cello. It was squeaky, the wood cracked easily, the strings were bad quality, and overall it wasn't amazing for the reason that I couldn't play the cello very well. In time, I would increase in skill and would need a cello that reflected my skill level. My teacher had let me play his cello occasionally and I remember being in awe at how amazing this cello was. The sound was rich, the wood was beautiful and strong, the bow was flexible, the strings were made of metals that vibrated with ease at the slightest touch of the bow hair.

In my comparing this situation to our Savior, He is the one who is using us as instruments. And He being the perfect player, the Master of all, needs well-constructed instruments through which to touch the hearts of the children on earth. Luckily, we are constantly able to be repaired, perfected, improved. With the divine help that comes from Christ, we can become instruments beyond compare. Better than the Stradivarius' of the world; better even than the Guarneris' and Amatis' of the world! We can become conduits through which our Master can gather His sheep into His fold.

All of us with our darling picture!

My Zone! Elder Parkinson, the one who gave us the Jesus picture, is

on the far left.

But just as instruments change with time - just as a violin which has sat in an attic for ninety years will sound different from its original quality, we must mature, change, grow, develop, and tune ourselves to the key of our Savior. We must let Him work through us constantly so that we know where our flaws are, and can fix them. And one day we will realize what lovely instruments we are. After much growth, after many mistakes, and after more trials than we can imagine, we will see we have been touched by the hand of the master luthier. The Touch of The Master's Hand, I suppose one could say! ;) (That's a good poem - please read it!)

Or, at least, that's what I imagine would happen! I suppose I've yet to see. :) One day I'll know for sure.

9+10=21. Apparently it's a vine or something...

I look way too excited and definitely not scandalized enough in

this picture!

Valentines Day this week was splendid. Mostly because my companions always have birthdays on holidays, which is exciting because it means that every holiday is extra-special. It was Sister Fa'ulao's 21st, so we bought some Martinellis, made a cake, ate some ice cream, and chowed down on some excellent birthday cake-flavored oreos. We also heart-attacked some of our members' houses! It was a fun excuse to cut out hearts and make our Valentine's Day more festive. Why have a holiday if there aren't any festivities to go along with it? In the spirit of the day, one of the Elder's Recent Converts tried to hug me that morning. It took me for surprise and I kind of scrunched my arms into my chest, leaned away, and made a noise something akin to, "arguhgh!" It made my district laugh, at least!

I went hiking at Welwyn preserve - which is also home to the Nassau County holocaust memorial!

It was lovely!

In other exciting news, we knocked in what we weren't anticipating to be a Jewish neighborhood. I feel like we encounter every type of extreme in these sort of neighborhoods! There were Jews who invited us in to have a drink, asked if we needed a bathroom, and if they could do anything for us. On the flip-side of the coin there was a lady who heard Christ's name, said, "I'm not just going to close the door - I'm going to slam it!" And henceforth did exactly that. One of my favorite things, though, is seeing the gorgeous prayer scrolls. It is a lovely thing to see others dedicated in their beliefs, and following them to the best of their abilities. I do wish they perchance preferred mormonism, but most of them were kind.

And, as a final story, I will provide background information. I have often prayed that a member might give me cereal for dinner. In answer to that prayer, a member gave me cereal this week!

Sister Fa'ulao, who is of the Tongan culture, encouraged me this week to try to go outside of my comfort zone and eat everything the members give me. [In Tongan culture it is fairly similar to Hispanic culture where they feed you and you are expected to eat everything put in front of you and accept more when it is offered.] Recently, in an effort to perhaps offend the members less, I have just been saying I am full and have not tried to eat that food which I know I won't enjoy. However, I promised Sister Fa'ulao I would try to eat what was placed in front of me.

We arrived to the smell of salmon at our member's home. I've never tried salmon, though I hear that it is enjoyable from those who enjoy seafood. I, however, have never much enjoyed seafood so the thought of salmon scared me a bit. However, when the fish (bones and all) was laid in front of me I picked at the salad a bit, took the fork like a javelin in my hand, and stabbed a small piece of salmon. I put it in my mouth, picked up my cranberry juice, and swallowed it like a pill. The next bite, I had decided, I would truly conquer. I would eat it like a man. Chew, and swallow. So I did that. And it worked for about two small bites. When I say small, perhaps you don't all know what I mean. They were about the size of slivers of wood. So I ate those three bites and decided the fish was too scary. I picked at the salad a bit more. Twenty minutes went by in which time I ate maybe two more small slivers. The member had taken notice by this point. Though I had warned her it was my first time eating salmon, she had still given me a rather large fish, and sadly I hadn't enjoyed it quite like she wished. Like most Hispanics, she wanted me to love her food.

She asked me what my favorite food was, and I said I liked cereal and pupusas. She stood up, walked over to the kitchen, and brought back none other but my beloved Cheerios. And milk, of course! It was excellent. I felt bad for not eating the fish, but my prayer of eating cereal at a member's home was at long last answered.

Thus I have a testimony that our prayers are answered - not in our time, but in that of the Lord!

At the risk of being any more wearisome and drawn-out, I end here. My love, prayers, and happy thoughts for all of you! May your dreams be sweet and your troubles few.

Fondly,

Hermana Ally Voss