Paycut, Happiness Raise

I have a job I do not like

It bores my soul to tears,

But I’ve been hired to ride a bike

So let’s all let out some cheers! 

--------------------------------

Today marks my fourth to last day at my first post-graduation job. Upon graduating last December, I  had just spent months as a Recreation Therapy Intern at an acute psychiatric hospital. It had been an amazing experience, full of an interesting array of highs and lows. The patients there are incredible individuals, who were mostly an absolute joy to know. There were some openings for full-time positions that would have allowed me to go right into the field that I had spent four years studying, which was perfect timing. You really can't ask for a better deal when graduating. But as I considered applying, I balked. I just didn't feel like it was what I wanted to do.

So what did I want to do?

Jackson and I had been married for less than two weeks, so I wanted to be able to provide for us.
I wanted to feel safe and secure in the workplace (something that wasn't always guaranteed at my internship).
We also wanted a set schedule that would allow us to see each other in the evenings when Jackson was out of class.
Most of all, I wanted job security, even if I wasn't passionate about the position.

That is why I have been so grateful that I landed the job that according to my poem, "I do not like". It's at a company that creates educational computer software for children. I sit at a desk with multiple computer monitors for eight hours a day, creating quotes, contracts, and reports. It is a bludgeonly (not a real word, but "bludgeon" was the only accurate description) boring, even to the point of literal tears (as Jackson can attest to). However, when the dull monotony would begin to sink into my bones I would remind myself, "look at your list of requirements for a job! This is what you wanted! Be grateful!"

Again. My heart is full of gratitude that I was able to get a job that provided us with our specific needs at that time. I think I needed to box myself in a cage to truly understand what I wanted to do with my life. A couple of months ago, after an especially long and unfulfilling day, I ran across this quote by T.D. Jakes, "if you can't figure out your purpose, figure out your passion. For your passion will lead you right into your purpose."

And right now, my passion has everything to do with bikes.

Photos from me and Jackson's "mock bridals", taken by DIOSELYN CRUZ!!!!!

Identifying one of my most joyous passions allowed me to envision the possibility of letting that become my purpose. This led me to start thinking about the possibility of somehow working in the biking industry. Jackson and I actually fasted and prayed that I would be given a chance to chase this somewhat ambiguous dream.

Fast forward about TWO DAYS later and an opportunity to be Program Director for a youth mountain bike camp seemed to plop right into my lap, straight from the Bike Gods themselves. So yes! I am quitting my unbearably tedious desk job to force kids to bike in the blazing hot Utah sun! It may be a pay cut, but it is the biggest HAPPINESS RAISE I have ever received, a currency that seems to be the first to go in life decisions. As this position is a temporary one, I will have even more opportunities to explore who and what I want to be when I "grow up" once the summer ends. So all in all, very exciting and unknown things are ahead of us!

The program is a new one, so if you have kids in the Provo area who want to participate then let me know! It is through the Provo Bicycle Collective, a non-profit organization that wants everybody and their Great Uncle Norris to bike, especially those who might otherwise not have those kinds of opportunities (low socioeconomic status, children, etc.).

How wonderful it is to be able to do and be different things in this life. I wouldn't take back my experience of working at a boring desk job, because now I know I can do it if I need to. Feeling trapped inside a deathtrap every day made me more proactive in finding out how I could connect my passions with a career, as well as finding joy in the little things. (I'm looking at you, plants and daily running breaks during lunch). Wow. Life lessons learned. I am so wise, I am open for free career consultations.

Everybody chant with me! BIKES BIKES BIKES BIKES BIKES BIKES BIKES BIKES BIKEEEESSSSSSSS

I'm Baaaaaaaaack! (Whether You Wanted Me Or Not)

I know this isn't going to break the Internet, but I just want everybody to know that in the words of the great philosophizing musical group, AC/DC, I'm....

"Back in black

I hit the sack 

I've been too long I'm glad to be back

Yes, I'm let loose 

From the noose...

Forget the hearse 'cause I never die."

I'm actually so tickled that I am doing this because my Mom is going to be so happy! Her and all of my other fans who have been pleading, begging, and weeping for more of my Nobel-Literature type work.

So how does one go about updating their readers (Mom) on 17 months of their life that said readers (Mom) already are fully aware of?

*cricket cricket*

I guess I'll figure that detail out as I go.

These last 17 months have been full of basically the same things that I was doing before. I still try to bike, ski, climb, and adventure more than I work (although this has become more difficult after graduating college and finally having to support myself). I still wear clashing patterns and have way too many plant babies. I'm still eating candy off the floor, much to the chagrin of everyone around me.

It's all pretty much the same....

Except now I have a BOY to do all these things with me! (Besides eating candy off the floor because he thinks that's gross.)

Are you going to make me remove this photo, Jackson? 

A BOYYYYYYYYY! 

And I can post really creepy things about him because we are legally wed and I work 40 very tedious hours a week to supply his peanut butter obsession! 

So life is really good right now. The kind of good where you're eating an incredibly scrumptious pizza and you keep turning to the person next to you and saying, mouth full of cheesy dough, "this is really good pizza" and the person keeps giving you a happy greasy pizza smile in reply and you both just know that this pizza experience is ultimately the reason why you were born. 

I hope that metaphor speaks to you like it does to me. 

Anyway, I look forward to writing a bit more often because all joking aside, I really miss it right now. It feels nice to have a platform to discuss the things I think about on a daily basis and that are important to me. For example, how can we as a society overcome the awkward tendency to whisper "hello" to people when we pass them in the hallway at work? Why is this a thing? I hate it. I hate that I do it. Also, why does my little cactus close his flower every time I water him from the top? Why isn't this information easily accessible on the interwebs? These are just some topics I feel I need to address here.

Till we meet again, my blog! Hopefully it's not after 17 months and I have to update you on having twins, or something. 

He Lives

*shivers up the spine* This video is perfect. 

Sometimes I imagine that I am a person who is not acquainted with the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. And I get it. I get why people think, "what is the big deal about a man who died 2000 years ago? who is this Jesus anyways that we should care about him and drop everything to follow him? why?"

I understand where people are coming from. From that perspective it seems absurd to dedicate a whole life to following someone who once lived in Jerusalem, spent his days as a pauper-teacher, and died by the hands of Romans on a cross.

But it's not absurd. It's not silly and ignorant because it's true. He Lives.

Jesus Christ wasn't just a normal man, He was the Son of God. He didn't just recite one-liners on love and peace, He taught the way to return to the God we came from. He didn't just die on a cross, He suffered for our sins and weaknesses and heartaches. And last of all, He wasn't gone forever after His death. He was resurrected.

Isn't that just a fable? A simple legend passed down through generations? How can someone really be made alive again and never die  anymore?

I can't answer how it works. I can't say that I have seen the Christ face to face. But one thing I know, that He lives and because of this, we too will live. What hope that gives me! The comfort I feel to know that there is ALWAYS a second chance, that unfairness and tragic losses are just  small moments in the eternal (yes, eternal) scheme. We will all be resurrected one day, meaning we will live again with perfect and immortal bodies. We will be able to see the ones we love again, death is just a gate we cross to get to something better.  In the words of a Book of Mormon prophet;

" But there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ." (Mosiah 16:8)

As a child I would often wonder; "what if I die and there is just blackness forever and ever? what is the point of even loving and playing if none of it is permanent? will I ever get to meet my grandpa or is he long gone and doesn't exist anymore?" (deeeeeeep thoughts for a youngster, haha. My mom made me read too many books.)

My friends, black nothingness is NOT what awaits us on the other side. There is joy and light and peace and it is all thanks to our Savior Jesus Christ. I love Him with my whole soul. If it sounds implausible, then I invite you to search it out for yourself. Our loving Heavenly Father wants us to have questions because it leads us to the truth. That truth is that Jesus Christ lives. He lives.

Happy Easter.
Eat some Cadbury eggs for me.

Kitchen Crumbs

My life ain't perfect. And I hope my blog never gives off that false impression. You know those people you follow on Insta that completely bombard you with pictures of their perfect spouse, perfect outfits, perfect dinners and perfect lifestyles? You don't have to delve deep into my Internet presence to see that 1) I have none of those things, 2) I am an emotional psychopath, 3) I had perfect hair pre mission but 4) I don't anymore.*sobs*

As a society we want to live up to that perfect norm characterized by spontaneity and cute sunglasses and candid laughing pictures. (My dream:to one day get a cute candid laughing picture. My belly laugh creates strange facial contortions that are anything but adorable.) It's time to be genuine with everyone. 

We all have bad days. And they can be much more regular than we like to let on. I try to fill my life with positive and fun adventures, but sadness is a thing, and I'm not going to try and shove it under the refrigerator like unseemly kitchen crumbs so no one will see it. 

About a week ago I felt like I had one too many crumbs littering the kitchen of my life. It was 8 AM and I had just spent several grueling hours trying to stay positive as my flipping vacuum kept breaking. Without any real cause at all I felt unloved, forgotten and blue. My little spirit had been weighed down with worldly cares and it was like everywhere I turned I saw my imperfections snarling back at me. 

In despair I sat down to eat away my sorrows in Cinnamon Toast Crunch (don't buy this cereal in bulk unless you want to eat it for every meal til it runs out. Addiction). As custom I began to offer a prayer to God, thanking him for the food before me. As I prayed I unburdened my soul. "Oh God. I know I have a long way to go. I know I'm self-centered and slightly inappropriate. There's no reason I should be sad, so why do I want to cry? Please help me to feel your love. Anything will help. I just need a hug from you." 

Immediately on opening my eyes I saw this pop up on my phone screen. 

Quiet tears coursed down my face as I stared at this text message. Three words I. Love. Alex. And the senders name at the top. Dad.

We have a loving Father in Heaven. He loves us more than anything we can comprehend. He doesn't mind that we're sad for no reason sometimes. He doesn't hold back his love because his children are disobedient and imperfect and slightly bruised and tattered. In the words of President Thomas S Monson, " His love is simply always there."

I am grateful that I don't have to pretend that my life is just one big ball of perfect. It's not, nor will it ever be. I'm grateful for a dad who has no qualms of sending me a three word text message in the morning to say he loves me. And most of all, I'm grateful that I can feel the Supreme Creator's love at all times. He answers prayers. It is no coincidence that I got that message right after my pleadings for a sign of His love. He lives. He loves us.

Be grateful for the kitchen crumbs.

Car Alarms And Death Threats

I've been living in fear the last couple of weeks. It's like something out of a cheaply-made horror movie. Girl parks car. Girl receives threatening notes on car about her broken car alarm. Girl ignores notes. Girl receives more notes that seem to be more and more bloodthirsty. Girl fears for her life. Girl is found and killed for not fixing her car alarm. Credits roll. 

Except in my case, I was not killed and was kind enough to pay 80 dollars to get the dang thing fixed. Although in this situation I plead ignorance as the cause of my tardiness in fixing the problem. How was I supposed to know that my car alarm goes off "night and day," not allowing anyone to sleep? PUH-LEESE. Who needs sleep anyways?

Raul at the car-fixing place completely sided with me. How unfair to threaten calling the police! How cruel to call me "annoying!" Let's find the psychopath and duke it out! Thanks Raul for always having my back. Expensive as it was, I now can breathe freely knowing that a sleep-derived maniac won't jump me at night when I walk to my car.

Death Threats Galore

"Don't let me ask the third time."

And my favorite part. The first note was signed as "Windsor Park Residents." The second was from the notoriously evil "Windsor Park PRESIDENT." I just got shivers down my spine. 

Seeing that I was probably going to be murdered for my negligence, I decided to live it up these past couple weeks by basically going from one adventure to another. That, and staring at cadaver parts for my Anatomy Lab...

Eating out at Costa Vida and Cafe Rio....3 times....in one week. Hellloooo love handles.

Waking up to this. No words.

Saturday was a dream. A eat-powder-all-day-long-laughing-your-booty-off dream. 

This beautiful bracelet is the only evidence I have that I went country dancing. That's probably a good thing because our  rendition of the Dirty Dancing lift was subpar at best. 

Date night with The Illustrious Beckstead. 

Blading is life. And so are repulsive bad table manners at Cafe Rio.

Late night temple sessions by myself. I love this place. It's  my safe spot from all care and stress and hurt. I can't say it enough; God lives and loves us. 

That is my little noggin on top of that rock. It's so warm we can climb outside!

It is, in fact, possible to have fun in the face of probable cold-blooded murder.

A 3 Girl Backpacking Adventure

Today was one of those Thursdays where you put your nose to the grindstone and do it like the pioneers...one step at a time for a long ways. Midterms are always a leetle brutal, especially after more than a year and a half of freedom. As I exited the Testing Center, slightly discouraged and exhausted, I looked up at the mountains. And this is what I saw.

Not that extremely large science building that has a delicious restaurant inside...no no. That mountain behind it. On the right side is the Y Mountain and to the left is Squaw Peak. Squaw Peak has the unjust reputation for being where all the hormone driven freshman go to suck face. I call that place Pseudo-Squaw Peak because it's just a parking lot that isn't even at the top. 

But the genuine Squaw Peak is so untainted by those smooching youth. And she was calling us this last Friday night. It was like she was whispering my name as I stared at more cadaver muscles and vacuumed more study rooms. 

And we heeded her call. Sam, Elise and I started trekking up there at around 9:30 PM on Friday night with nothing but a tent, sleeping bags, and some Pretzel M&M's. We're talking really disorganized here. We didn't even know there was going to be at least 3 feet of snow the entire way up... and we brought each just one pair of socks. Everyone but Elise forgot their water bottles in the car and we didn't have flashlights or gloves or in Sam's case, shoes that had traction. 

But oh! The mountain was still calling! Full moon! Sinking into snow banks! Muddy embankments and   munching on the Pretzel M&M's and deep deep girl talk... I would much rather be outside and dirty and fatigued than inside, spiffed up and bored. Nature is everything that a man should be. Strong, heartbreakingly good looking, wild, spontaneous and at times, perfectly calm, comforting, and tender. Nature is my main man. 

We slipped up the mountain, sometimes talking, mostly not. Just letting that frigid mountain air sink into my bones made me feel free of all social bonds and expectations. We ended up taking the wrong hill and summited about 10 "false summits". I kept glancing back and yelling "THIS here is it! The summit!" And Sam with all her Southern sassiness kept retorting, "YOU SAID THAT TWO SUMMITS AGO. LIAR." 

Eventually we arrived at.... well.... I don't think it was the actual Squaw Peak summit. But it was most definitely on top of some peak. Somewhere. We set up camp, realized that we had basically no blankets, Sam brushed her teeth with her finger, and Elise got in her Camping Captain mode. 

Midnight. All of a sudden I am awake. Which is weird, because I literally wake up to nothing. Recently I missed out on an ice-climbing trip because I slept through my friends 100 missed calls. But I was awake here, on top of some mountain, somewhere. 

And there were two men outside the tent door.

I SWEAR TO YOU I THINK I HAD A STROKE, DIED, AND CAME BACK TO LIFE IN THAT VERY INSTANT.

It was bout the freakiest occurrence. We were three, defenseless girls, on top of Squaw Peaks neighbor. No cell service. No men. Nothing. (This is when I realize that men are sometimes important to have in situations like this.) Honestly, I could understand nothing of what they said. They must have been speaking Chinese for all I got out of it. (REM cycle interrupted= loss of all cognitive functions) But they were there. Right there. 

All I remember was whispering a little, indistinguishable prayer, hoping they would go away. And not see the car keys I had carelessly flung outside the tent. WE WERE ON A MOUNTAIN TOP, WHO WOULD STEAL???

And then they were gone. Freakiest thing of my life. Hello boys, I will now date you if you promise to protect me on mountain tops and be my chauffeur and buy me food. But really, I am so grateful that nothing happened! We were fine! Elise, as usual, was in a deep deep slumber but Sam had heard the whole thing too. 

God exists. That is all I can say. Divine protection is such a real real thing. 

We then skipped all the way down at 5 AM the next morning, watched the sunrise, fell in the mud, and relished that clean, crisp mountain air. 

I love nature. Let's do it again. 

The Bike-Stairs Struggle

The Smith Field House is nestled right at the bottom of the giant hill to get to the main campus and everyday I must climb them. With my steel frame bike. On my shoulder. Sometimes those stairs look like mere child's play, nothing that could impede a fit 21 year old.

But other days, those stairs represent everything hard in my life. They represent confusion about what I want to do with my future. They represent my constant and hopeless struggle against classes that I do not excel in. They represent waking up early everyday, occasional loneliness and a constant battle against who I am and who I know I should be. 

Those stairs can be my very last straw on a hard day. 

Many people pass me on those stairs as I slowly trudge up. Most of them are probably worried and sad and busy and late, even more so than me. I assume that they too are facing a "last straw" on a gloomy day. Occasionally people stop to ask if I need help and they dutifully grab my bike and sprint up the stairs. They relieve me of a physically taxing load, but sometimes the heartache sticks; because after all, it's just a really down day. 

Today I was walking those stairs, bike on my shoulder as custom goes. It truly had been a long long day. Scrubbing the walls on my hands and knees at work, ineffectively studying Anatomy all morning and then 4 hours of Anatomy classes on campus... I was whooped emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. Negative thoughts of inadequacy and self-doubt loomed in my mind. How is it that I am the only idiotic student at this behemoth of a school? Why can't I just get it?

That is, until the most attractive and kind looking man came up to me. He had just passed me on the stairs, obviously late to something but had turned around to help me. The poor guy was going the opposite way of his trajectory. He most likely had many other things to worry about. He grabbed my bike from me, talked with me, and helped me. His act was much more than a small token of service for me. His face radiated love. Not a I-am-helping-so-I-can-get-your-number love. In his face I saw the way that my Heavenly Father sees me. 

You may think that this is a big reaction to such a insignificant thing. But what Tate the Economics major did for me was show how we can follow the Lords counsel in Doctrine and Covenants 81:5;

 "Wherefore, be faithful; stand in the office which I have appointed unto you; succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees."

Thank you Tate. I will most likely never see you again, and I'm sure you won't ever realize how much you impacted my life. Because of you, I want to be a better disciple of Jesus Christ. I want to help those whose shoulders are heavy with the weight of their own "bikes" in life. And I not only want to help with my actions, I want people to feel my sincere love for them. I want them to know that I see them as a child of God, infinitely precious and valued. I want them to feel that at the end of the day God doesn't care if you are terrible at Anatomy or slightly awkward or alone. God loves you for who you were, who you are, and who you will become. 

My hope is that I may incorporate this more fully into my life. To serve with my heart, not my conscience. To love a person like God would, not according to my impression of them. May we all carry up those figurative bikes up those figurative stairs with a deep and genuine love for others. 

Happy Monday. 

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

Chipmunk

Hermana Ostler’s Update – April 21, 2014

I am a chipmunk. This week one of our menos activos gave us cake to eat during the lesson. We were teaching about something really important and I got way excited and forgot that I had a mouthful of cake shoved into the corner of my cheek. I was sitting there expounding and expounding the scriptures. At some point I touch my cheek, and I realize I had had that cake in my mouth for the whole lesson. Only these things happen to me...

The Spirit that fills the room when Peruvian men pray - It is the most amazing thing ever. The men here live so far below their potential. They forget that they are SONS of God. Sons of That Great Being who made all things. They are His sons. He loves them so much and they forget so often. We are teaching a less active family, Hans and Yovanna. I love this family. I love the change that I am seeing in Hans especially. One day we were kneeling and praying and he said, “I don't deserve it, but thanks for changing me.” The humility of this man. He KNEW that he was talking to his Heavenly Father. That prayer really changed me. We are His children and He listens to us. We do not deserve this love but He gives it freely. I really do love it when the Peruvian men pray. 

The dino miracle. First of all. Thanks Mom for sending me a package full of dino toys! They are always in my backpack and I play with them when we are waiting for people to answer the doors. They are the bomb. Second of all, Norka sells chocolates with dinos inside! My compy and I have begun to collect them. Well, this week we were in the process of leaving Norka and Freddy. They do not want to divorce and then get married again. It really broke my heart to see that they didn't want to change. They do not come to church or read or anything anymore, but they KNOW it’s true. With this horrible sadness in my heart, I decided to buy one more dino. BUT THERE WAS ONLY ONE. And my companion snatched it first to buy it. I was so sad. First Norka and then the dino. But when my compy opened the package.... There were two dinos! I am serious. They never have two! It was one of those small miracles to see. God loves us. He doesn't want us to be sad and so he sends us the small things that get overlooked lots of times.

But the best part of the Dino Miracle...Norka came to church this week. Miracles exist People! 

Peruvians have a lot of weird traditions. One of the craziest is that if you sleep with a sore throat then your bones hurt and you get another sore throat. I never believed it. But after about 7 months of living in the jungle and sleeping with a fan... it finally caught up to me. The myth is true. 

I love you all. I love Easter. I love Jesus Christ. I thought about Him all week. We sure forget about Him sometimes, don’t we? We forget that it is because of Him that we are here, that we can be happy. I love that man more than anyone else in the world. He is my Savior and I am His representative. I am so proud to carry His Name. Let us remember Him.

Happy Easter!!!

The day calls your name! What are we going to do with another incredibly beautiful day that God has given us? I hope its something crazy, that makes us laugh, and brings us joy. This life is meant for us to be joyful!

I LOVE YOU ALL.

Sometimes we get bored during the strike. This is me surfing on a log... Hermana Ruiz is spraying the hose on me for a wave... 

My compy in mid lesson when a frog hopped under her chair. She has a phobia that controls her. Poor girl. Pueblo is full of these creatures. I LOVE them but cannot touch them because they probably are full of poison. Cons of living in the jungle. 

This is my companion not walking past that little frog.

This is Ambar and her family. They are awesome.

This little kid had a bike...with PEGS. I got way stoked and begged him to give me a ride.... But really... Dad. Put some pegs on my bike, por favor. 

Rosemery is going through a lot of problems with her marriage. She just got married and baptized but is now feeling like she wants to have her youth back. We are helping her realize that the family is the best thing ever and that the other things just do not matter anymore. I sure love this woman. 

Stacking cups. This was my fifth time trying it before I succeeded. Ronny (the teenager) is a guy that makes me STUDY when I teach him. He saw my abounding impatience with the cups and told me... "how can you preach the word if you don't have patience?" hence... studying patience this week.

Eating A Slice Of Pizza In One Bite In Peru Equals Liquid Poop

Hermana Ostler’s Update – July 29, 2013

Sorry about the title. It’s a little graphic huh?

But yes, I dared Elder Rosado (a missionary from Ecuador who loves dirt bikes and dares. We have become best friends, obviously) to eat a slice of pizza in one bite. This was our second dinner of the night (fattttttttiinesss) and so I was amped. Did it, no problem. Next day, all is well. Exhibited my awesome dance moves, taught lessons, appetite uncontrollable, as always. 

BUT THE NEXT DAY I PROBABLY POOPED 6784574875 times. TMI? Yes. But I was oh, so sick. My goodness -- apparently being in a different country changes things? We couldn’t work for the longest time. My companion was livid with me. And I was still pooping! Sometimes I would just stare into the mirror and mutter, “What is wrong with you? Why can’t you flippin’ control your bowels, woman???” So yeah, I also couldn’t eat anything for about 10 meals. BUT BEFORE YOU WORRY, (I lost some weight and now look fantastic), I am on some medicine. I have no idea what it is, and my polar bear appetite is back in force. The medicine makes my mouth taste like a cuy (guinea pig) up and died on my tongue. BUT I’M GOOD SO DON’T WORRY.

I love Peru with all my heart! The dirty children, the crazy motos everywhere, my Peruvian companion (her name is MILAGROS. Which means MIRACLES. Good sign).

I live in a little one-room apartment right next to “Discoteca Manhatten”. The patrons of the said establishment keep it very classy by waking me up every hour of the night with drunken yells and Adele remixes. 

There are no stop signs in Peru. We walk in the middle of the streets and when we hear a moto we jump onto a tiny one-foot wide sidewalk, if there is one. Accommodating the fatties, you see.

The people here are so amazing! They are always so well put together but they live in these crumbling shacks. Everyone is always so happy, and they think it is hilarious when I accidentally start speaking in English. They are fascinated with my “rizos de oro” or golden curls, and the fact that I speak Spanish like a four year old. But I have made friends! Frrriieeendss! Don’t know how, but I have. Language barriers, my butt!

I also sang about 5 solos last week for members. For some reason they thought I sang so horribly because of nerves. It’s because I can’t read music. So my dream of becoming Britney Spears?... Still lives on. 

We had our first baptism this week. His name is Michael and he loves playing soccer with us missionaries. What joy filled my heart when I saw his smiling face as he came out of the water! He is a chosen Son of God.

Each of us are so important to Him. We each have a divine nature; a spiritual hunger inside us all, which will never be appeased unless we search for the truth. Search no longer, my friends. The truth is here. I can promise you that much. It is here and it will make your life so much more full, with so much more joy, and so much more peace in times of loneliness and hardship. It is here. 

I love you all. I love Peru. I love the people. And again, I love you all!

Love, Hermana Alex

"the medicine makes my mouth taste like a cuy up and died on my tongue"
(Picture of Alex before the mish on a duck sculpture at BYU campus.)