Many Are Called But Few Are Frozen: SNOW HAS FINALLY COME

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

SNOW HAS FINALLY COME

What's Up Everybody,

This has been if not the best, then one of the best weeks of my whole mission and quite possibly my life. It started off being really really cold that provided the perfect environment for us to re-paint the Ice Book of Mormon. It froze on almost immediately after we applied it. We finished it and I'll send pictures.

Then after many miracles N was baptized!!! His service was spiritual and uplifting and he told us that whole day after his baptism he felt indescribably happy. One of the miracles we saw teaching him was the 21st of December when we committed him to quit smoking. He would of been baptized in the past except for the fact that he just couldn't quit. On his way home after our lesson somebody asked him for a cigarette and he just gave him the whole box. From that day he hasn't smoked. We see how God prepared him becasue he said that this time it was easy to quit. Prayer and fasting really does work. Then he got the gift of the Holy Ghost on Sunday, but he scared us to death because he showed up 20 minutes late and his phone wasn't working. Everything worked out in the end though.

We finally got our first blizzard, honestly probably still less than you but the snow hasn't stopped yet and we'll see where that takes us. I have so many pictures I need to send. I hope that makes up for the shortness of this letter. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Love

Elder Wilding

BAPTISM!!!

Stages of Ice Book of Mormon

Final product!!!

BLIZZARD!

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Who are you, boy? Poem to Missionaries from Russian Convert, circa 2000

Who are you boy? For a boy you are journeyed to this land of ours, this land where I've endured my days. And felt oppression kill my soul and force me into some tight mold. And teach me that I should not hope unless I care to smell the smoke of dreams that the Red Army tamed. Who are you boy, from this land of plenty, teaching God, if there is any. You have all; we have none. Do you know what that feels like, son? And yet, you ask me to believe in something that I cannot see; some force you say will bring me joy. Do you know what that feels like, boy? Where you're from, faith is free, but it has a price for me. When I have pain, I have my bottle. Hurt dies quick when you down it with Vodka. That's enough to warm my soul. I work, I sleep, the days go by--I'm waiting for the day I die. You don't understand this place. You say believe, obey, have faith, live life well, serve and give. Here in Russia, we just live. Who are you, boy? Why did you come? To save a soul who once was numb. To teach a wretched, hateful, man who cursed your help, refused your hand. I thought that we were worlds apart. So how is it that you knew my heart? A fraction my age, you calmed my rage; mercy paid my generous wage. I should have been left behind. It is hard to love my kind. Hope in your heart, power in your hands, why did you come to this distant land? I know now, it was for me. The Red Curtain fell, but I was not free. Until a boy from nations away brought me my Lord, I bless the day. He led me to weep at my Master's feet, the American boy I met on the street--new and naive, still in his teens, with a message to bring the world to its knees. I thought that the truth would come from another--I did not know this boy was my brother.