Monday, November 4, 2013


What do two do when making their quiet way home down a vacant Russian neighborhood road---when a russian car pulls a sharp right out of nowhere, windows down, and something so foreign and far from any Motab our spirituals ears have become inclined to expect??

Ie, the far too familiar 'round the world sound of The BG's, "Stayin' Alive." 
Oh ho ho, the battle we fought and lost to immediately start grooving to the disco beat heard the entire way down the dark street. 

Hope life is well! Yesterday we went Chacnee Dome knocking--instead of apartment building. We live in the heart of our city--but just a ten minute walk back, where the earth knows no sophistication, and concrete is a mystery of the future. Dirt roads, rolling hills, real land--and a far off scene of the gray clouded sky that fools me in to thinking I'm approaching the Californian coast. 
The internet man just place Sunbeam Seven teacher and asked all of the gaming russian preteens to be quieter. But now the wayward boys are announcing their scores across the room again. If I didn't have a name badge, I'd take them out and teach them about a little pastime we like to call baseball to help them make more of their lives. haha 

Continuing--I can't get enough of the scenes. The old wooden, and rarely brick houses that line the streets, and seem all to colonial to have something as modern as doorbell posted on the fence. Often the Russian houses are painted bright, fantastic colors like reds, greens, blues--and throw in the splashes of bright yellow and orange leaves from the surrounding bushes and trees, as well as teh holly berry bunches every now and then, and you have a very content Sister Clyde. I feel like I'm in the middle of Fiddler on the Roof, or Indiana where "A Christmas Story" takes places, with the exact same 40's like circumstances of Ralphie's and Randy's world. 

It is with highest hopes that you one day have the chance to understand and know татьяна или мои любимы слушательница. Tatyana. She's a mixture of Rose Filoramo's rendition of Adelaide, and still Aunt Rinda. Yesterday we were giving wonderful new Nina a small tour of the church before sacrament meeting started-when out of nowhere pops member Aleckzandra and her--in an elegant wig, flashy bebop glasses, bright red lips, and a leopard print scarf against her cashmere white turtleneck. We showed her the paintings of Christ ont eh walls, explaining that we don't have/worship through icons like all Provoslavnees do; basically spiritual trinkets in picture form of Saints which they use to pray to God. She stopped all chatting to just take them in with her wide eyes and cutest sense of reverance.

Next in the chapel, people quietly filed in while we explained to her sacrament details. She looked at me with her wide moon eyes and whispered that she couldnt' take the sacrament, not having been batpized-then leaned in to whisper so innocently, "I even smoked this morning. And had coffee." Haha, she doesn't even know about the Word of Wisdom, and I could've hugged her right then. We encouraged her to take it if she felt comfortable. 
The prayer on the bread was offered, and we were eventually served. I knew she would do as I do (follow follow me) after I took a piece. Eager to see her reaction after eating, but well aware the 90 degree angle headturn from an 8 inch distance would be socially frowned upon, I stared down at my lap. A few seconds later, my periferol catches her ruffling through her bag to pull out a hankerchief. I then hear sniffling, and look over to find tears streaming down Tatyana's cheeks. It was the sweetest experience that made me reflect more on how spiritual an ordinance it really is. She told me that she had wanted to take the sacrament her entire life, but had always been told my priests that she wasn't worthy. She told Sister Young that there had been a "rock" in her heart--that disappeared when she got to participate. Haha, how great.

Everyone is still surprised when finding out where we're from. Ha, I'll never forget the shock as we seemingly "graced" a 16 year old girl with a hug, as she fanned her face in jaw-dropped awe to have physical contact with AMERICANS. You think she'd just seen One Direction.

For dinner, Sister Young adepty skins and dices a variety of vegetables and potatoes. Breakfast is usually rushed cereal and bananas with 2.5% milk-blah-- haha, I've chosen to accept it and promised an instant return to skim someday) before studies--jam and granola or tuna toast equals lunch for me-but we've agreed to BBQ chicken pizza for next to last meal on Friday since Sister Young is going home!!!!!!! SO WEIRD. Halvah is crushed sunflower seed mixed with sugar, a popular treat for russians here. Plenty of beer/chips stores, which we steer clear of:)

Sis Young is leaving, how fast time flies. Lots of funny stories. Like when she accidentally challenged intimidating friend bachelor Anton to pray about the Law of Chastity after successfully closing our Word of Wisdom lesson. (Difference in Russian is minor heh heh) In the same lesson I made the inconvenient mistake of of teasing him, intending to call him "shy/sheepish," but really ended up telling him he was "slimey." Not nicest thing for a chap to hear from a sister missionary. Hahah. But maybe it's a little true, ok? Who knows where that B&W came from. Hahah, no comment.

Love the mission, keep sharing the gospel. Have a great great week
Love ,
Sister Clyde!
Ray roomies dana
Next week I have a new companion weird!! Sis Young is from Sandy Utah, dad!

Olivia and Bogdan

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