Email received Jun 21, 2010

To start with, imagine a father's day card. There were lots of Charlie Brown/Snoopy themed ones this year that made me think of you, Dad, but as I told my companion: Not spending $5 on a greeting card shows my love for my father. And for David, the father's day card of all father's day cards: you're walking through the store, you walk past the card aisle, all the father's day cards are displayed in front, your eye is drawn to one near the top, there on the cover is...Darth Vader. It doesn't even matter what the card says, that's just awesome. Some more thoughts for father's day, Sis Knuteson and I went to visit a referral a couple weeks ago who wasn't so much interested in learning about the church as he was in telling us we were wrong, but in a very pleasant and friendly manner. His son, who is a preacher, gave him a dog named Moses who says his prayers: he puts his front paws up on a chair and lays his head down on top of them; but the best story was when they showed this off to a random black lady they met on the street one day, "Praise JE-sus!! I've just seen a Dog that says his Prayers!" We chatted for a while and most of what he said was just his interpretation of all the religious studies he's done (he's chosen a mainstream Christian religion) but the phrase that pierced our hearts and won't leave our minds was "I am not a son of God, nor will I ever be a son of God." This has literally come up in conversation at least once a day since, with many references to scriptures and hymns and "See, right there, Child of God!" The thought hit me the other day that while chatting to him about other topics was very enjoyable, that was a fleeting sort of happiness, but knowing who I am, what I really mean to my Father in Heaven, and my true potential brings a lasting joy that nothing can take away. Nothing. I was grateful yesterday when many of the talks (we do go to three Sacrament Mtgs now, don't know if I mentioned that) focused on our Father in Heaven, and one even quoted from a story by Pres. Monson, "the worth of a human soul is its capacity to become like God." If anything, run-ins with people like this only cement our testimonies and drive them deeper into our minds and hearts.

Last night at dinner our host was telling us a story about a nephew, I believe; he was sitting by her and said "I can speak Spanish!" "Really?" "Yeah," as he picked up a fork, "Fark!" He's from Utah. We all laughed ourselves silly. Another home we were in recently has a full band player piano. She turned it on and I just sat in fascination while scents of specialty candies and fancy coffees danced through my head. Only this one didn't require a quarter and there was no plexiglass barrier, I actually sat down and played a little on it, it was awesome. (Editor's note: She's referencing an old-fashioned candy store we used to go to as kids which had a plexiglass encased player piano in the back.)

I don't mean to alarm you, but there's a black widow in our fridge, it's the one we caught last week. We actually caught it outside in the driveway, but we figured it was best to catch it outside before it had a chance to find it's way inside. The only problem is now we don't know what to do with it. It sat on our table for a while in one of those small Glad containers (perfect for spider catching) but we've since built a larger spider home...no, it's not a pet, it doesn't have a name...okay, it's Thad, and we may have put one of the other dead spiders in there to see what would happen. It was like watching the Discovery channel right there on our kitchen table, the horror on our faces obviously overcome by the fascination of watching it live. Now we've put the whole thing in the fridge because that apparently slows them down so they aren't quite as lively and eventually we need to put the real lid on so we can have our object lesson baptismal font back. The exciting life of a missionary in America, oh the drama. Really though, cockroaches are the drama bug; someone from our ward came and sprayed all around our apartment and the next morning we counted 15 ginormous, ucky bugs dead or dying on the sidewalk. Everything else is content to die in their little flowerbed homes, but the cockroaches have to come out so everyone can see. Get over yourselves.

Oh, I plum (plumb?) forgot, we're without a car until Wed. Someone had to borrow it to drive north to train a new car person up there, so we walked a lot on Sat, our feet hurt and we were very tired, but we really feel like missionaries. And today we had an excuse to hang out with Sis Johnson and Sis Mack so they could give us rides to the library and shopping and stuff. Okay, my comp is done so we should head out, now we have to find a ride home and figure out what to do with the rest of our day. Fun!!

-Sis. Cloward