NYE- Sober, At Home, And With Mr Darcy

My oh my. Don't you just love New Years Eve? A time to get all glammed up, see equally attractive friends, take pretty Instagram pictures holding bubbly beverages, celebrate the old, welcome in the new. It's a time for glitter and giddiness and who knows...maybe a passionate kiss from an incredibly handsome mystery man?

I guess that is one option.

As for me, the Empress of social hermitage, I am at home, bra-less, and blogging.

But! I am re-reading my ALL TIME FAVORITE book, Pride and Prejudice. Who needs a drunken debauchery when you can have fuzzy socks on and read about a chaste, slow-paced, love affair with Mr Darcy?

Some people unacquainted with my recluse-like tendencies may say that it is natural for a recently returned missionary to shy away from youthful and lively entertainment. But these hypothetical people do not understand my New Years Eve history. People. I have NEVER gotten a NYE kiss. I have never been to a real NYE party. And it is a rare occasion that I even make it to the New Year. Let's all face the facts, you hypothetical and overly optimistic , uninformed people.... I am just not New Years Eve material.

So. Happy New Years! 2014 was the kind of year that has no equal. I went from living in the jungle to the high mountains of Cusco to rainy Oregon. There were adventures and laughter and many loserish moments. There were also times when my "soul did expand...and sing redeeming love." (Alma 5:9) It was a year of dedication and consecration and pure bliss as I preached the gospel of Jesus Christ. 2014 was the best year I've had yet.

Welcome 2015! You won't be starting off with an ardent kiss or a festive social gathering, but you're with Mr Darcy and in pajamas... Great things await you Alex! School, skiing, climbing, Netflix Instant Play... And practicing for spinsterhood.

Bring it 2015.

Pita Pit Madness. NYE with The Ostler Family.

The Game Of Sweet Revenge

Have you ever wondered how Beyonce feels whenever she enters a room? What would it be like to always be walking into a light and sultry wind or to have people bow down as she coos, "all hail Queen B"?

I really don't know the answer to that very abstract question, but I do know what its like to win a cut throat game of Sorry, which is basically the same thing.

Evidence my friend. Evidence.

My family is not really of the board game stock. In fact I literally thought that it was "bored" game for years because that is what my father always told me. I don't even know how to shuffle cards and we have an "abbreviated" Ostler version that condenses Clue down to a mere 7 minutes.

But there is always an exception. And the game Sorry is our Achilles heel. We get into it. I am sure that if a family feud begins it will have been the spawn of a heated battle of Sorry. My mother, the sweetest and most gentle woman on the face of this planet turns into a blood ravenous heathen during this so called "family diversion".

As for me, I don't consider myself a competitive person. I would make daisy chains in the middle of my soccer games and was always the last one picked. (True story to this day.) I would consider myself a Bronze personality, I just don't have a winners heart.

Except for tonight. Victory was mine and it felt oh so gratifying. I testify that it truthfully is a game of sweet sweet revenge. The looks of my lowly and base opponents as I threw my cards in the air, triumphant war shriek jubilantly echoing through the house... There just aren't words to describe such emotion.  Life is better as a winner, and even better as a gloating one. I dare you to challenge me, if you want a smack down to the mud!

So I not one to boast, but you may all bow down to Queen A. I am the Beyonce of Sorry, hear me roar.

Korean Pedicures And An Existential Crisis

You know those discreet comments that in reality are not all that sly at all and usually insinuate or indicate that something needs to happen? The typical beat-around-the-bush-to-scare-the-rabbit-out kind? You didn't understand that poorly constructed sentence? Example time.

Comment: ''My oh my, those brownies smell DELICIOUS. Wow. I have been craving brownies for w e e k s."
Insinuation: Give me the brownies.

Comment: "Have you ever thought about the benefits of getting a job? I mean, they're pretty great! Let's talk about jobs."
Insinuation: You're a lazy idiot and I am tired of paying your credit card bill.

Comment: "You have the cutest style. So many clothes. You probably give them away to poor people who can't afford such attire. You are the sweetest. Seriously, I just want to be you."
Insinuation: I am poor and you are not. Be charitable and give me hand-me-downs.


So when your very own MOTHER comes up to you and says, "Such a rainy day. I think we m.u.s.t. go get a pedicure. The car is started, no other options, we are going."
Insinuation: You have nasty feet from endless walking in dirty streets for 18 months. It is time we get those things polished up.

aaaannnndddddd. She had a point. I think I spent my first two weeks at home in socks. Constantly. Like, I went out with the sister missionaries and gave a post-mission presentation in socks and sandals kind of problem. I mean, I had fungus and in-grown toenails and callous' the thickness of double stuffed Oreos. I was in desperate need for a pedicure.

So! Off to Studio Spa! Sounds like the end of the story, right? Wrong.

We are forgetting that this is the same person who ate week old bread and took bucket showers for an overly long period of time on her mission because money is money and who has that anyways? In other words, I was not ready for a pedicure and Studio Spa. We walk in, I have muddy mountain biking shorts on and of course, the socks and sandals combo. My hair has not been washed for several days, flaky and crusty poison oak blisters on the face....the usual. A tiny Korean man comes swooping out of the crimson curtain in the back and yells, "Pedikerr? Peek yur cula." (That is an extremely bad attempt at writing in a Korean accent. Mark Twain and Huckleberry Finn are way out of my writing forte.)

I sit down in the plastic massage chair that rattles my spinal cord as the man starts rolling up my dirty pant legs. BRO. BACK OFF. He attacks my blistered little foot with his sharp toe tools, leaving little trickles of blood to taint the peppermint water (over-exaggeration). My mother tries to start a conversation, ''my daughter just finished her mission in Peru. Cool, right? That's why her feet look like ostrich talons." The Korean man nods and says, "nice weter. not much rain. nice weter."

And then it happened. My Existential Crisis at a Korean Pedicure. It was like my whole world crashed down and I am choking back sobs. SOBS I TELL YOU. What am I doing here? How can I spend money for a man to touch my feet? People are starving. Why do we live with such unneeded and silly little luxuries when millions of people walk around worrying about what they are going to take home for their kids to eat? What is the point of it all? What is the purpose to live so fancy when others have nothing at all? Why??

That is when I realized how much of a culture shock it is for me to be in The States again. We have so much. So much excess and abundance in all things. So much commercialism and this greedy need to have and buy everything. Like, come on Google! The whole, "how much time do you have to buy presents count-down? Is that so necessary? How lucky we are and yet, how blinded we live, thinking that everything should be easy and comfortable. Badly done America! Badly done! (Emma reference..Jane Austen <3)

My mother, the kind, wise, and angelic person that she is, took me home, comforted me in my existential crisis and lovingly rubbed and filed my rough feet. I didn't need to pay her a single dime to feel that she truly loved and cared for me. It made me think of the Savior and His infinite love for His Apostles when He too washed and anointed their rough and dirty feet. Life is so much more than indulgence and pleasure; my little melt down at Studio Spa taught me what really is important. It's service and love and modesty in all things. Also, not reading too into small things like pedicures and stuff. Deep thoughts are so dangerous my friends.

And a Merry Christmas to YOU.

P.S. My feet are now fabulous. Sock free indeed!

To simpler times, before I had the mental capacity to have freak outs during post-mission pedicures.

The Passionate Rise And Fall Of My Downton Abbey Obsession

I said I wouldn't. It was too long. Too old fashioned. Too over rated and dramatic and sad. I was too young and free to get hooked on something so addictive. I would rather watch all of Taylor Swifts music videos or look at wedding blogs. Productive things, mind you.

But my mother was insistent. I was to watch just one episode. Just one meesly hour long episode. I think she even wanted to do a blood oath to promise that I would get hooked.

Oh Downton Abbey.

Within the first five minutes I began to think it was kind of cute. "Oh! How quaint! Servant drama!" But little by little the cuteness transformed into a raging, wild, passionate love. The clothes, the love triangles, the smoldering look of forbidden love. One episode after another, I had no control. Bloodshot eyes, sweaty hands (from the suspense, don't judge), feverish emotions; all I could keep doing was press the next button time after time. It was like I had closed my heart to everything on my mission. Men, hundreds of frantic butterflies in my stomach, entertainment in general. My heart was opened and I could finally FEEL.

Oh Downton Abbey.

But alas, passion is like a cheap sparkler, it always dies. I played the role of suspicious girlfriend and smelt a dead rat in the whole affair. Rumors began to swirl. It just all seemed too good to be true. The love, lack of real problems....something bad was bound to happen . So I did what all true cinema fanatics consider to be the unpardonable sin.

I looked up the ending on google.

WHO DOES THAT KIND OF THING? Well, I do. On a regular basis. I read the last page of Harry Potter The Deathly Hallows to see if it was worth reading. (Let's be real, what's the point reading 607 pages if Harry dies?)  I am the biggest hater on sad endings. Indie films need to go rot in a dank and musty hole. I am flat-out at the end of  my patience with tragic twists.

And that blasted Downton Abbey had to go all Indie Hog-Wild on me. You're going to kill WHO? Nuh uh. Crossed the line on that one.

So now I am the burnt lover, nursing old scars and yearning over what might have been. Oh Downton Abbey! I can never watch you because all the passion and fire is a lie! Oh Downton Abbey! How I would have kept losing sleep watching hour upon hour of witty banter and almost-kisses, if you hadn't killed Matthew Crawley!

Oh Downton Abbey.

This was before I found out that the main character dies in Season 3. Such a waste.

HE Is The Gift

Christmastime means picking a tree, decorating it, and watching it slowly die. It means presents and stockings and full refrigerators and braggy Christmas cards and ugly sweater parties and plates on plates of cookies. It means thinking, ''when will it ever snow?" and ''where did those new gloves go?" and "do I really have to pay that much for postage?"

Or so we sometimes begin to think. There are times when I am so focused in on if I forgot to buy enough things and I start to forget the why of it all. Why am I even worrying about which wrapping paper has cuter reindeer on it? Why am I fighting with Pandora, trying to make a radio station of PURE Micheal Buble songs and not tainted by wannabes?

Why do I celebrate Christmas?

I remember my last Christmas. I was living in the deep, wild jungle of Puerto Maldonado. It was hot. About 95 or 100 degrees. We had a 6 inch plastic tree with about 7 ornaments. We had bought one present each, about 2 dollars value, and we had seen our companion buy it already. We sang all the Christmas songs in the hymnbook, every single verse, with such joy and happiness. I remember I had a thin Santa hat on and trickles of sweat were running into my eyes. We read the story of Christs birth in the scriptures and prayed, thanking God for such a wonderful day to celebrate the birth of our Savior. That was it. We then went out and started to preach the gospel, and it was like a normal day. There were no lights or decorations or parties or self-indulgent pleasures. It was the most simple of days, but it was filled with a special awe and wonder.

Christmas in Puerto Maldonado with the most beautiful Lidu.

 Over 2000 years ago my Savior was born. And 2000 years just isn't enough time to thank Him for it. I will spend eternity after eternity at the kneels of my Redeemer and my Rock, with tears of gratitude on my cheeks, because He came to save me. He not only came to save me, but to save every one of us, whether we believe or follow Him or not.

He gave us everything. What will we give Him in return?

This Christmas I am giving Christ;
~ The gift of my time. Time to stop and talk to people. Time to make the effort to be friendly. Time to serve.
~ Reading the Book of Mormon in one month. Every verse in that book testifies that Jesus is truly the Christ.
~Going out to lessons with the Hermanas here in Hood River. Really trying to help those people feel my love and feel welcome at church.
~Throw out a little pride and take in a little more humility.
~ Trying to do my stupid family history. I WILL CONQUER AT THIS I DON'T CARE HOW LONG IT TAKES ME.
~Go to the temple every week.
~Invite others to learn more about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

What will be your gift to the Christ Child this season?

Merrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy CHRISTmas!

Social Ineptitude

These last couple of days have resulted in a plethora of awkward social encounters that made me realize that just like before and during my mission, I will always suffer from the all too familiar Loserish Syndrome. Let's just talk about phone conversations to start.

Looking like this does not help in any way, mind you.

 I don't remember the name of the man who invented the phone.... But I AM NOT A FAN. We already have to struggle through uncomfortable encounters with old high school classmates in Walgreens when you haven't washed your hair in two or three days and you have oversized crocs on.

It's already enough to tell your little brothers friend that he looks like a woman with long hair... 

It is sufficient for me to try and kiss everyone on the face.. All is just plenty without adding phone conversations as well!! 

So, in reality, this blog post is more an open apology to a few friends who went so far as to call me my first couple of days home. I am sorry for the formal tightness, the lifeless chuckles and the overly long, silent, pauses. Sorry that I probably wasn't listening all to well and that my mouth was more occupied chewing frantically on my knuckles than responding. I AM SORRY OK?? It's just that I am not used to phone calls that involve more than me calling to schedule appointments or pick up sick sisters to go to the hospital. I will not promise to be cutesy or charming, it seems that is not my fate, but I DO promise to be a little more socially refined. After all, being a return missionary does not require one to be a full out cave woman.

Although the adjustment to normal life has been far from smooth, there are various things that do not involve me being completely socially inept. Mountain biking and backcountry skiing do not ask us to be witty or pretty or even poison oak free, and I really can say that these outdoor adventures, along with a lot of cuddling with my mom, have saved me. Life is good, but it's even better when it's an adventure. 

Apparently I don't have a neck but who cares?! Backcountry skiing means that I can count to a 100 a million times without talking to acquaintances or strangers.

"My name is Hermana...I mean Alex... and I can't talk on the phone but I CAN enjoy an outing on my new mountain bike."

Who needs friends when you can run around in a Panai costume and antagonize little brothers in the comfort of a cell phone-free, social gathering-free home?

To end this I would like to point out that after my very own MOTHER read this she told me;
"Alex. It WILL get better. You will become normal. It won't be like this forever.''

Thanks Mom. That's the only hope we have.

The Life Of A Return Missionary

Coming home from a mission is strange. Just take a socially deficient loser, put her in a third world country for 18 months without TV or dating or speaking English and than make her come back and try to be normal....it just isn't going to work.
You ask for examples? A few to satisfy your curiosity.

- Not knowing what to do when my parents asked me to sit down and eat a pancake breakfast. I don't have appointments? I am wasting time! Isn't there something I should be doing? Relaxing is a sin!
- Wanting to kiss and greet everyone I see. Its always a little strange to go in for the kiss when the other person doesn't want it. Post-mission dating scenario?
-Me: ''Who left this soggy lettuce in the sink? We need to put that in the garbage, okay?''
 Shannon: We have a garbage disposal.
Me: What is that?
 -They tell you that once you learn to ride a bike, you will never forget. LIES. ALL LIES.
-''Wait....Who got married? How did that happen?"
-Getting so shocked when people say that there is food in the house. ''What are you talking about?? I have eaten hard bread for breakfast for the past 2 weeks.''
-Chattering in Spanish unless I really think about speaking in English. My brother has gotten many a sassy response in Spanish and my mother doesn't understand why I always say ''Que rico. No hay pulgas en mi cama.''
-Taking my little brother to school sounds like a simple task. That is, if you know how to back up in the driveway. My Dad watched me from the window for about 15 minutes as Bruce impatiently gave me indications. "You're good. You're good. You're good. I SAID YOUR GOOD. JUST GO."
-SHOWER PRESSURE. SHOWERS. GROCERY STORES. HEATING. CELL PHONES. STOVE TOPS. GREEN GRASS. GARBAGE FREE STREETS. MORE THAN ONE POWER OUTLET EACH HOUSE. HOT WATER. CLEAN WATER.  Its just too much to handle.

And the loserish adventures have begun again.

The main problem with being a return missionary is that it is hard to know what to do with ones day. Where are my appointments and  contacting cards and Joseph Smith pamphlets? Where does one fit in when one is just too awkward to function?

Of course the nice perk is that we supposedly look more attractive after the mission. Because who needs social skills when you have a nice face? But we all know that my life is just not conducive to being normal or polished in any of its forms. Heme aqui.
-My hair is falling out in giant clumps.CLUMPS I TELL YOU. Buy me a cute little headband with a big flower on it and you can put me in a stroller to go have a nice afternoon and the park.
-Jungle fungus. There is no need for details on this one. Let us just say that it is DISGUSTING.
-Very very very white

And the worst one of all is a result of our little hike to Mitchell Point yesterday. This place is notorious for its abundant poison oak. But lets be honest, who expects that to be a problem on a rainy day in Oregon? Every little plant was covered in 2 inches of solid ice! But ti's a shame, I woke up like the Grimm Reaper with a pollen allergy on a Spring day. Eyes swollen shut, puffy face, and oozing itchy oil running down my face. Because having poison oak face wasn't enough every first day of Middle school. Which so happens to by my most loserish phase after coming back from a mission. Coincidence? I think not! 

Thin hair but poison oak free. Before the tragedy. 

The results. I love being an RM!

My Salvation Happened In Peru

Hermana Ostler’s Update – November 25, 2014

How do you start an email like this one? How do you try to explain your love for a country, people, culture, language, church, gospel, God, and Savior that you have come to know and care about for so long and with so much energy? How do you really explain what it means to you to be a representative of Jesus Christ every single day? To live to make others feel happy and learn the path of true joy? How do you do it? 

The truth is, you can’t. I can’t explain to you how much I love my mission. It is what I live and breathe. And then you realize that those beautiful days of little moments of heavenly bliss are coming to an end, that a new life is coming your way and you can’t stop it, you just have to learn to embrace it. 

I love Peru. It is where I came to love God, to want to do His will always. It’s where I learned what a true disciple of Christ is, and it is where I realized how far away I am from being one, and it is where I learned that it will take me a lifetime to walk the discipleship road. 

I love the people I have come to know and love. They are my brothers and sisters, they are the people I was called to help. I love them with all that I have. It makes me so happy to know that many of them have come a little bit closer to God by hearing His words through me. I will never stop loving them because it was when I gave them my whole attention and forgot myself that I came to really know who I was. I love the way they talk, the way they feel so deeply, and the way they recognize the Spirit. I want to be like these people in so many ways. I came to change them and they changed me. 

I love my companions. ALL OF THEM. They taught me so much. Hermanas Hansen, Masquez, Warner, Luque, Sanchez, Tamariz, and Valverde. What amazingly beautiful and marvelous people I have had the chance to teach, laugh, and learn with. 

I love the gospel of Jesus Christ. Why did I “kick against the pricks” for so long? Why is it that I couldn’t understand that obedience brings freedom? How is it that I thought that being “different” from my parents was only being the same as everyone else in the world? 

I am free. I am free because I came to know that Christ lives, that He loves me. That he loved me so much that he suffered for every single idiotic and cruel thing I have done in my life. How many drops of blood did He shed for me? How many tears fell from that perfect man’s face thanks to my own rebellious habits? I will never know, but one thing I DO know. 

That He lives. He lives and loves us. He is a real person. I do not represent an elaborate fable that has been passed down and distorted over the years. I represent The Son of God. I testify that of His church and gospel every day, and though doing so, I have come to know that it really is true. His word is what I live by, and I hope I can live and die living and worshiping the God I love. 

My mission has not been perfect. Far from it. I have not done what I should have done many times. I have cried and cried over my weaknesses and I have begged God to make me strong so that I could bring His children to Him. I know He lives and I will be eternally grateful for this beautiful year and a half I have had to serve him with all my heart. 

I love you all. 

Hermana Alex

You Can Call Me, "Ask Amy"

Hermana Ostler’s Update – November 18, 2014

We went to Quillabamba this week. I worked with two brand new sisters and let me tell you, they were not expecting a work visit like this one. Me fighting with a pit bull with my water bottle, running for my life screaming, losing my name tag and walking around with Hermana Frame’s name tag for a week, and a drunk man trying to steal my water bottle... But we had so much fun and I learned so much from them. I love being with new missionaries because they are so wise and full of energy and teach me so much. Some of the advice I gave, just call me Amy now and get me a newspaper column. But really, all of it are things that are helping me to become the best missionary I can be, because we ALWAYS have time. 

• Pick your battles verrrryyyy wisely. If you can live with an annoying habit, do it. It is so not worth it to nitpick. 
• Decide that every companion will be your best friend. No exceptions. They are all lovable.
• Do not go a single day or moment without doing something that makes you laugh and is just a tad bit mischievous. 
• Take all your love for your mom, your moto, your boyfriend, your dog, and give it to the people. All those things will be waiting for you. LOVE THE PEOPLE. They should be your very air, the reason you live. 
• Give God everything. Do not hold back anything. Love Him and talk with Him always. My favorite part of the day is when I can communicate all that I feel. He is there. He exists. And we can feel His love. 
• EXERCISE every morning. Just do it. There is no need to roll off the plane like greased up popcorn chicken. 
• Every so called “bump in the road” can be transformed into a super rad jump that you can fly off and enjoy. Perspective and attitude is everything. 
• Read The Book of Mormon in your mission language every day. Read that book. Love it. Help others to love it. 
• Decide to love the food, the people, the culture, the area, the language.
• The way to get over your fear to share the gospel or contact...is to do it. Do it and you will see miracles. We are God’s messengers. If we do not share what we know, no one will ever find the truth. 
• Lose your weaknesses but don’t lose your personality. 
• Obedience brings happiness. Don’t try to find out for yourself by being DISobedient. Just stick with the rules. 
• Be your own convert every day. 
• Don’t forget to pray. 
• Learn how to fast BEFORE the mission. Fasting is hard, but it brings strength. And my typical 8 hour fast I did before does NOT count. Its 24 hours, people. If Christ could do it for 40 days, we can do it for one. 
• Never wait for a reason to love people. If you wait, you will lose precious time with that amazing child of God. If people don’t like them, make sure that YOU do. If they are different, accept them and learn. Do not wait to love. The opportunity will never come if we stall. 

I also woke up this week with a hickey on my lip. FROM A SPIDER: Bad news bears. But I did get to look like a very ugly version of Angelina Jolie that day, so hey, it’s all good. 

Yesterday we spent all day contacting. It happens sometimes. But I loved it. I get so much joy to talk to people about why I am here, why I want to share this message with them. It’s even fun when we get rejected. I always tell my companion that it’s my preparation for post-mission dating life. The best part of it all was that we were able to meet Herbert. We were waiting outside a house, but our appointment wasn’t there. Herbert walked past and it looked like he wanted to talk to us so we said hello.....and I have no time but I will finish the story next week! 

I love you all!

Hermana ALEX

Nightmares Up The Waheezy

Hermana Ostler’s Update – November 11, 2014

It seems like something that happens to everyone at this time of the mission...but the daily nightmares are upon me. A couple examples:

-- It’s the day to go home. Everyone is excited to go home and see their families, boyfriends, skis...everyone but me. I literally try escaping from the airport and President Harbertson has to kick me into the plane and scream GO HOME. I cry the whole way home. As we get off the plane everyone starts to see their families and boyfriends and skis and start to hug and cry and scream. In this moment I realize that I AM excited to see my family, very non-existent boyfriend and skis....and then.....NO ONE COMES TO PICK ME UP FROM THE AIRPORT. 

-- Going home pregnant. 

--  And the mother of them all. We are traveling in a bus and I stand up to go to the bathroom. I look in the mirror and give a sassy smile to the glass, only to realize that my front tooth is loose. Don’t panic, I say, I am going home to my dentist, Dr. Burton, he will help me. I sit down in the seat, and ALL of my teeth start to fall out. ALL OF THEM. I start putting them in my pockets, don’t panic. I am going home to Dr. Burton, he will fix them. And then they start turning to dust! NOOOOO. Then I get home, I am standing on the porch and knock on the door, my mother sticks her head out of her bathroom window... Alex! Welcome Home! AND SHE DOESNT HAVE TEETH EITHER. 

Interpretations of the dreams are warmly welcome. 

I am a clothes scavenger. Always have been. That’s why I can always be found in Provo’s DI on a weekly basis. God loves me so much that he has put me in the main apartment for the sisters in the mission. We always have abandoned clothes here. My favorites for this change? Pilgrim shoes and an oversized black turtleneck. Fashion with Hermana Ostler in Cusco. 

Peru is killing me. The taxi man told me to put my seatbelt on when we traveling to Valle. And I got OFFENDED. What am I going to do in the states??

This week Jefferson was baptized. He of course had pínk eye and his baptism was complete chaos...we are talking about the parrot family, mind you. But how beautiful it was to see that little boy make such a sacred covenant with God. He came up out of the water with the biggest smile on his face and he later told us that it was the most beautiful day ever. Better than the baptism was seeing the gradual change in the life of this family. To see a single and very poor mother fight to have her children in the church, to give them a better life. To see them make the decision to pay tithing even though they make about 20 dollars a week, to witness their desire to go to the temple one day. That was the best part for me. 

We went and visited the sisters in Valle this week. Hermana Solar and I went to visit a family that they had contacted the day before. His name was Americo with his wife and baby. They live in a greasy little shack where they fix car tires. We spoke of The Restoration, of the love that God has for us, for the truth that he invites us to search for. The spirit filled that little shack with such power. Americo told us that he had never heard such a story, that it made him want to find an answer, that he wanted to know if there really existed divine truth. God invites us to search for that which we lack. He beckons to us, hoping that we will take a step toward His out stretched hand, to receive all that He has. 

Valle trips also mean walking in fields of choclo and picking off prickly pears from cactus’ and hearing donkeys braying and rivers gurgling...it’s so beautiful. And prickly pears are the best! So so so so so delicious! Hermana Tuione was so kind and threw one on my leg when she thought she saw a yellow spider so I ended up walking around with prickles in my leg the whole day. 

Giovanni is a recent convert from earlier this year. He has recently gone inactive because he does not have a testimony of The Book of Mormon. He relies on reason more than faith. We had a lesson where we shared our testimonies of this sacred book. Hermana Condie went, than Hermana Valverde. He then turned to me and asked, “And you? How do YOU know?” I had to sit and ponder for a moment, I could say a lot of things that are typical to this question, I could rely on others people’s words, I could say it quickly to end the lesson on time. But I felt that I should wait. How did I know? The infinite and everlasting love of God filled me so quietly, so softly, but with a surety. I know the Book of Mormon is true because thanks to it, I know God lives. I am a doubter. I am a person full of my own ideas and opinions. But thanks to that Book I know that God lives, that He knows me, He knows I am a doubter, He knows I lack faith, and yet He still has a plan for me. He wants me to be happy, he wants me to feel sure in a world that is always telling us to change. I love that book because I know that this life is something more than a few moments randomly stitched together.  It’s not anything more than that. Don’t give up. If you read it the first time and feel nothing, read it again. If you hate going to church, keep going. Plead with God to know if it’s true and He will answer you. I wanted so badly to feel a love that comes from someone who never changed, never changes, and never will change. And it took me years, a lot of falling down, and reading that book that helped me know my divine purpose as a daughter of God. 

That is my testimony. It may be small and weak and obscure. But it is what I stand for every day. It is how I keep walking into the darkness, knowing that the light always unfolds before us when we walk by faith. 

I love you all! 

Hermana Alex

Jefferson's baptism

Angels In Hospitals

Hermana Ostler’s Update – November 3, 2014

On Tuesday Hermana Condie and I had our Pday. (¿Remember the lady part doctors?) We decided to go out to the countryside...again. Every time we go, I feel like a Great Dane that has finally escaped his cage and doesn’t know what to do with its limbs. Sniffing everything, barking at donkeys and sheep, peeing on all the plants, splashing in little streams, climbing up rocks....I mean, I didn’t do ALL of that. The point is that I was thrilled to be out of the city. We went to this cave that is called the Devil’s Balcony, it has a waterfall inside. And a TON of bouldering options. I stemmed right up the waterfall to the top, leaving Hermana Condie to ask, “On a scale of one to ten, how hard is it?” I responded “a four.” The last thing I saw was Hermana Condie attempting to stem and falling, Mufasah-like, arms out-stretched, mouth open, into the water. I have never laughed so hard. So great. (Side Note: The waterfall wasn’t that big, the water too deep, or dangerous in anyway. Although it looked like Mufasah falling to his death by wildebeests, there were no Mufasah consequences.) 

We were blessed to have Elder Waddel of the Area Presidency come to our Concilio of Mission Leaders this week. He asked us, “Why do you eat? Why do you sleep? Why do you shower? Why do you breathe? Why do you exist?” The questions were then followed up by this powerful statement, “You do all these things to preach the gospel and help these people make covenants though baptism and the temple. THAT is why you exist. That is why you live.” He then asked us what we were going to do now. Some said work hard harder, or find new people or work with members. Something told me to raise my hand and I said, “The first thing I am going to do is go home, get on my knees, and beg Heavenly Father to help me do what I came here to do.”

I so badly need God. I can do nothing without Him. In moments when I want to lose my patience, say something negative, or when I just want to rest, I pray for strength and He gives it to me. I came to the mission because I knew that God loved me, that He exists, and that He wants me to be happy. And in the mission I learned how to love HIM. Before, I felt his infinite understanding and compassion for me. Leaving, I know how I can love him back. How often we focus in on how much He loves us, and forget if we really love Him enough to follow Him, to keep His commandments, and humble ourselves to His will when we mess up. That is the purpose of life, learning to love God and change what we want for what He wants. 

This week we continued to see miracles. I worked with Hermana Guajardo one day. I love that woman. She is a recent convert who came on a mission from Mexico. I LOVE HER SO MUCH. We had the opportunity to visit a young woman who was baptized on Tuesday and was going to get confirmed on Sunday, and she fell in the law of chastity. What pain she had in her heart! Our lesson with her was so so heartbreakingly beautiful. The Atonement is real. I felt that as I testified to her that we can change, that we can repent. It hurts, but it works. 

Another miracle. There is an inactive family that has not come to church for years. I have been knocking on their door almost every day for more than 6 months. One day we passed by his house, we hadn’t knocked in a while, we had given up, we had other plans, but we felt that we needed to knock on that door. Just one more time. And Walter Hererra answered the door. He is an ex bishop and was such a strong member. He told us, “Thanks for coming sisters, please come in.” I think everyone could see my innards, my mouth was so big. We went in and taught about the sacrament and atonement. During the whole thing I had this nagging little feeling telling me to ask him to bear his testimony. How can I ask him? Maybe he doesn’t have one. Maybe that is why he hasn’t come to church and never answers the door. ASK HIM. I did. The spirit that filled that entire house is something I cannot describe fully. We were all in tears. As we left he told us, “Sisters, I am coming back to church. I am going to do it.´´ 

Rufina has a daughter that has been living in the hospital for months. She is 12 and has cysts in her lungs. She was recently operated and we went to see her in the hospital. We walked into the UGLIEST hospital, not counting the one from Puerto, ever. I was terrified. We accidently walked down to the basement, the morgue. I swear I saw blood on the walls. The lights were flickering and there were so many false exits. Haunted house on Halloween status.  We went up to the second floor and walk into a room filled with about 6 tiny children, all with cysts in the lungs. We taught the plan of salvation, played games, gave out toys and pictures of Christ. They were so beautiful. They hugged their Jesus pictures, hung them on the wall, and put their pamphlets under their pillows. They had the biggest sweetest souls I had ever felt. I cried as I left that ugly ugly place with such precious souls inside. As we drove home I pleaded in my heart to God to bless those little angels. The thought then came to my mind with such clarity and power. “They are MY angels. I know them. I know what they feel, I know what they need.”

We also found a new investigator Rosa. She is 19 and lovingly laminated the pamphlet we had given her. She cried as we told her the story of Joseph Smith and the First Vision. We are seeing miracles. People are being prepared to receive this message. 

I love being here. I love God’s children. I love laughing and water fights in the apartment and running to go eat quinoa with an old lady on the street corner. I love everything about this beautiful place. 

Nos vemos. 

Hermana Alex

Consecration

Hermana Ostler’s Update – October 28, 2014

Well. I am going to fess up. This last Monday were the changes. I woke up, did my Insanity, and as I was taking a sip of chlorine water...my neck seized up. And I mean, it was SEIZED. I had my head cocked to one side like a confused robin bird looking at a gummy worm. It was sooooooo painful. And then I of course think, “but at least I won’t be here for the change week to lift heavy suitcases, I am OUT OF HERE and this calling.” 

LIES.

I stayed here. And let me tell you, I was not a happy camper. I wanted so desperately to leave this calling, the apartment with 6 other hermanas, to leave the unsuccessful area when it comes to baptisms and just go somewhere else. My hope was to see the Lake Titicaca, to fight over evil dogs and forget about picking up people at terminals or having a cell phone that never stops ringing... I wanted peace. 

But how foolish we are to tell the Lord, “I’ll go where you want me to go, Dear Lord” and then be disappointed when His perfect wishes are not the same as our own selfish ones. I have prayed for weeks to understand the law of consecration, to really have a chance to understand it. The law of consecration means doing something because the Lord asks, and then to make his desires our own. It means that Nephi had to kill Laban, even when he didn’t want to. It means that Peter had to leave his fishing boats behind to preach the gospel the rest of his days, even though he really liked to fish. It means that Moroni had to watch everyone he loved and his whole people be alienated in front of his eyes so he could write a powerful testimony in The Book of Mormon. It means that Jesus Christ himself, the son of the Living and Most Powerful God, suffered for every stupid and malicious and evil thing we have ever done or experienced, when He really really really didn’t want to. That is the law of consecration and I have made the decision this week that I will do what the Lord requires of me, may it be small or big, I will do my best to do it because that is what God wants... a consecrated soul. 

This week we had the chance to live with my real life twin. Aliseea. President Harbertson’s daughter. Man. I love that woman. Instant teasing with her. I was the innocent victim, but I still enjoyed it. Her biggest dream is to go to New Zealand to live for a year and marry a beautiful Island Man. Twins. She loves skiing and climbing. Twins. She makes the Gilly double chin smile on a regular basis. Twins. She reads a lot of books. Twins. She loves the gospel. Twins. 

It was a good couple of days with her. She was also there to witness a typical lesson with our investigators, Rufina and Jefferson. The babies were crying, the little girl was clawing my legs like a rabid cat and the pet parrot was opening his prison door of a wooden shelf with his beak and all in all there was complete chaos. In the end the parrot escaped, bit me on the arm, pooped on Aliseea and the baby scratched my companion ferociously with her un-humanlike talons. We also taught about the Priesthood during that time.  

But as you can see, teaching Rufina and Jefferson is always an adventure. One day we go to the house and the woman is serving us SOUP. After lunch. Peruvians are stubborn when it comes to giving food. They offer it and you eat it. There is no choice in the matter. But let me tell you, this turned into the battle of the stubborn heads. She set the soup on my lap, I refused, she told me to eat it, I didn’t, she told me I was not going to leave until I ate....But who do you think won in the end?? CHAMPION I AM. I have no idea how, but she loves me more after rejecting her soup. I love that woman so much. 

Today we were asked to sacrifice our P-day to help some LDS gynecologists do some presentation. I was a translator. Just for your info, women part doctors are as strange as you can imagine. A lot of unnecessary detail today, but they are passionate for their work and really do love helping others. They were telling me, “Now I am POSITIVE that you are going to want to be a lady part doctor now, huh?” Nope. Not at all. But one doctor was straight up Dwight from the office and I got to eat free chicken. What’s up. Life is awesome.

I love you all! I am really so excited to be here in Cusco. What a blessing it is to keep working where God wants me. 

Also, Pet Peeves of the Week: 

-       Meetings that go over the hour. Zone meetings are long at two hours. Don’t make them be 6 hour torture sessions. PLEASE. 

-       Heavy suitcases of Sister Missionaries. Do you want to break my back? Do you want to make me look and act like Quasimodo? 

-       When people put my jello in the freezer. That jello time I have with Hermana Condie every night is SACRED. Do not ruin it by freezing it. 

Love, hermana alex

Baby Miracles in Quillabamba

Hermana Ostler’s Update – October 20, 2014

This week we were in Quillabamba the entire week. I have come to the conclusion that I WILL have my own house there. A jungle paradise with swimming pools on every corner and exotic flowers and parks and fruit markets and chakras full of fresh mango, pineapple, and cocoa. I need to go there to live one day. 

This week I worked with Hermana Tamariz, Hermana Irvine, and Hermana Routson. They ALL happen to be going home tomorrow. What a weird experience to be with people who are ending the mission experience so soon. But it really was an amazing week because I could see the diligence of these wonderful sisters to work until the very end. God blessed us will miracles, as a little thank you to these dedicated servants of the Lord. 

As we were walking through one of the exotic parks we saw a couple sitting down on a bench, enjoying the shade. I remembered the invitation from President Harbertson to talk to every family we see in the street. We went up and began to speak to them and the father told us that he was an inactive member who got baptized in Lima. We told him that we had received a prompting to come and speak to them and that was maybe a sign from God that he wanted him to return to him. He told us that he felt God was telling him something. How easy it would have been to pass that couple, look the other way, pretend that we had not seen them... how easy it would be! But luckily we had been obedient before, and all the rejection in the world did not deter us from at least trying. 

We also had a lesson with a less active man Isidrio. He used to be branch president but now is living with someone and has left his wife. I of course do not know the man. But when we arrived at his house we began teaching of the Atonement and repentance. As I finished speaking he told me that he had had a dream about me the night before, where I came and told him the same exact things. He even told me, “your little pony tail was the same too!” He told us that he takes it as a sign that he needs to change his life. God is just so aware of his children. We forget it so often. 

I do not have a change. Last transfer in Cusco. 

Hermana Alex

Valle Sagrado

Hermana Ostler’s Update – October 14, 2014

Valle Sagrado is a giant valley full of choclo (giant corns) and kitchens full of guinea pigs, and people who pretend they only speak Quechua when we contact them. It means walking for days on end, climbing mountains to get to investigators who basically live in Incan ruins. It also means a pleasant heat, talking to sisters about our awkwardness, and coming back to Cusco with fleas. I love visiting the sisters in Valle. Life is slower than it is in the city. It takes time to drink some chicha and get drunk in the middle of the day, and it takes time to wander around with herds of sheep and giant oxen and stop to look at little wildflowers. It is magical! 

Living in the country also means some interesting conversations in lessons. 

Me: How can we be good examples to our friends and share the gospel with them?

Country girl: I always talk to my friends about the church. We even talk about the bones they are finding in the catholic cathedral they are constructing. It’s always good to find bones. 

Me: silence followed by uncontrollable giggling.....Let’s end with a prayer! 

I loved conference! We just were able to watch it this week. I am obsessed! I loved every single little word. Just made me want to be better. 

We are still working with Jefferson and his mom Rufina. She is a less active member and he is her nonmember son. What love I have come to have for them! They only understand when we play a lot of games. I love games! More than the actual games, I love screaming without control. My father always told me to use my “inside voice” for years until he finally just gave up and realized that I only have one volume...very loud. But they are progressing very well. I love to see that it doesn’t matter who we are, or what we understand, we are important to God. He doesn't care if we are super intelligent, He cares about happiness and peace, something that all His children can find. 

Off to the jungle tomorrow! Wish me luck! 

hermana alex 

besos besos besos

The Heart Attack Scare

Hermana Ostler’s Update – October 6, 2014

Being a Sister Leader usually means we get about 10 panicked phone calls from people every day. Sometimes it’s about throw up, sometimes it’s about bugs, or a lack of blankets. It’s always a crisis for them but is usually resolved very quickly. But this past week I received a call from a sister who told me, “my companion is having serious chest pain and now she cannot feel her left arm... is that bad?” I about pooped my pants. HEART ATTACK SYMPTOMS. I call Elder Nicholls, the nurse of the mission, and I think he about had his own heart attack. He called Sister Harbertson... the same. This resulted in thousands of breathless phone calls (the breathlessness can be attributed to my stress eating that was taking place) and butterflies (another sickness I suffer from) and running around like a chipmunk that lost its acorns. 

Let’s just say that the day was one of hospital visits and anxiety attacks. Because after all, she was having a HEART ATTACK. At the end of the day it wasn’t anything serious and the doctor sent her home with fungus medicine (not related to the heart attack) and I went home late at night to spend the entire night vomiting up all of my stress eating. Point of the story. Don’t call me with heart attack scares. 

This week I have thought about the Atonement of Jesus Christ in almost every moment. It cannot leave my head. I thought of His pain and His hurt that He suffered for all of us. I thought of the exquisite pain of our Heavenly Father who literally allowed His most beloved son to be murdered before his eyes. He did it for all of us, even if we do not believe in Him or follow Him. He did it for us and yet many times we live out lives without even thinking about that great and infinite sacrifice. Oh how my heart hurt for God this week. Oh how I suffered to think of what He did for me, a very undeserving little creature. 

My increased testimony of the Atonement was put to work during a couple of lessons. One was with the young girl that we are visiting who had been sexually abused recently. We explained to her the power of the Atonement to heal us of all our wounds and help us be whole again. I have no idea what I said during that lesson, but I will never forget the tears that we both shed to remember how much God loves us as His daughters. This teenager looked at me with such trust, because what I said was the truth. Christ lives and because He lives we may live in a happy manner. 

We also had the chance to teach the Ceballos Family. They are very active and Ghina is the hottest mom I have ever seen in my whole life. Her nails and hair and face are always perfect. I love her so much that I can’t help but love her despite her perfection. AND SHE SMELLS SO GOOD AND ONLY WEARS BLACK AND HIGH HEELS. But enough about Ghina. We taught them the plan of salvation and the two of them began to cry as they spoke of the two babies they had recently lost and their hope in seeing them again one day, thanks to their temple covenants. Hno Ceballos told us through his tears, “We live this gospel despite all the challenges because we want our daughter (the one that is living) to return to where she came from, the presence of God.” The plan of salvation is here to give us comfort in the darkest moments in life and give us the energy to keep pressing forward. 

I finally was able to meet my twin! Her name is Alicia Harbertson and she is the President’s daughter. President has spent my whole mission talking about how we HAVE to meet and how we are the same person. I don’t know if we are the same, but she is RAD. She says she wants to spend her whole life skiing, climbing and being a mom. HELLO. Same life dreams! President wants us to work together for a couple of days, super exciting stuff! 

We didn’t get to see conference this week. The mayor elections were going on and there is a law in Peru that we cannot have meetings of any kind, or proselyte. This meant that there was a rule for yesterday that we needed to work in jeans and not wear our nametag! Weird stuff. I prefer the missionary look. But it did mean that my companion and I could have a full on cracker war in the street without people judging the church. There are always perks with everything. 

I LOVE PERU. I love PISAC. I love that every little ruin reminds me of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. I love that book and I love this mission and this people and this life. I love you all! 

Hermana ALEX

Happiness

Hermana Ostler’s Update – September 29, 2014

This week I really understood what true happiness is. It’s preaching the gospel with every single ounce of energy I have. In the scriptures it describes missionaries as going out and preaching to every soul and every creature. I feel like I am really spreading some seeds in this time. If God doesn’t want me to reap, he will have me sow. I have always liked the process of planting and weeding sunflowers and strawberries. Of course, I love to see the towering flowers and eating the sweet strawberries, but I can’t help but think that the most rewarding part is the stuff that comes before. That is my life as a missionary. 

President invited all of us to take the time to say hello to everyone that we see. He told us that we would bless lives and change people’s perspective on missionaries.  I was on splits with Hermana Ponce and I saw a very old lady walking down the street. She was stooped over and looked like she was born in Noah’s time. I stopped, looked her in the eyes, and said hello. The biggest smile broke out on her face. Her name is Joauqina and is very Catholic and has a huge love for God and Jesus Christ. She even kissed the pamphlet we gave her about 6 times. She told us that she had been waiting and praying for someone to say hello to her the entire day. We helped her walk to her house and shared a short message with her. She was so happy. She even prayed to Saint Mary and sent the souls from purgatory to lead and guide us, her little angels. Such a beautiful soul. I know that we are here to brighten up the lives of the people who live in darkness. We are to be a light on a hill that cannot be hid. 

I live with 5 other latinas in our house. This means that almost everyday people are coming into my room to ask for medicine or lotions or moleskin. They come in to ask me if I could sing at a baptism, or play the piano or braid their hair. Much to their utter dismay, they have learned that all of these things that define “gringos” do not apply to me. They tell me I am not a “normal gringa” and leave with their noses in the air, to talk to Hermana Condie, that meets the requirements much better than I do. 

My companion has an obsession with chili peppers. She eats about 7 of them on a daily basis. She eats them like I eat sugar; quickly and without control. The other day she was on her “cycle,” as my mother says, and happened to put in a tampon two minutes after lunch. The bloody murder scream that emanated from the bathroom was horrendous. You can imagine the pain, the sting, the agony. Chili pepper hurts when it gets on your face… the other one? Forget about it. Hahaha. 

One of the hardest things about being a missionary is controlling natural feelings like heartache and anger and replacing them with a calm demeanor. This Sunday a less active teenager we are visiting came to the church sobbing. She told us of the sexual abuse she had experienced, he is her sister’s friend, and showed up to her house the other day. Her pain was so evident. I hate seeing people suffer. I hate that ugly things like abuse exist in this world. I had to pray to ask God for me to give her the right words. All I could think of was the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Because He suffered the most horrid abuse, we too may be healed with His love. She will be okay because she has a lot of support in the church and from her Heavenly Father who loves her more than we can understand. It takes time to heal, but it comes to all those who trust in Christ. 

I love you all! 

Hermana Alex