Today marks the second anniversary of coming home from my mission. I can't believe how fast time goes. It seems like just yesterday I was riding my bike in a skirt, eating rice two meals each day, and preaching the Word in Taiwan.
I miss it. A lot. I miss the smell of stinky tofu and the smell of the even stinkier stinky fruit permeating the air from blocks away. I miss the cute kids with their black hair and ponytails and squeaky shoes. I miss the traffic and scooters and the buses that you would lean against at stop lights. I miss eating with two hands--a bowl in one, chopsticks in the other, drinking my soup, and using toilet paper for napkins and Kleenex for toilet paper. I miss the 7's and convenience stores on every corner, the Buddhist and Daoist temples on every other corner, and the noise of the night markets. I miss the food, the rice, the noodles, the chicken bones and pigs feet. I miss the paddies, the pineapple fields, the banana tress, and more kinds of fruit than you ever knew existed. I even miss the rain, the sun, the humidity, and that feeling of having every square inch of your body covered in sweat while knowing that you did a glorious work that day.
Mostly, I miss the people. I miss conversing with people on their scooters, on the street, in their shops and in their homes. I miss the way they talk, their clashing tones often intermixed with Taiyu, and their sometimes funny attempts at speaking English. I miss their sense of respect, their family pride and reverence, and their kindness and hospitality toward strangers and each other. I miss seeing the light and joy in their eyes as they come to understand the Gospel and know of
Christ. I miss hearing them
pray for the first time; I miss hearing them haltingly read the
Book of Mormon for the first time; and I miss hearing them share their
testimony, with dripping hair and shining faces, for the first time.
I miss Wu Mama, who fed us lunch after every weekly appointment, even though we told her not to, because of her
love and gratitude. I miss Li Jiemei, who not only paid her
tithing before she got baptized but told us she'd need longer skirts to wear to church because she wanted to
keep the commandments. And Jian Jiemei, with whom I truly saw the
power of the Atonement, repentance, and experienced the
power of fasting. I miss Chen Zhujiao, who had the
greatest smile, who felt every note and sang with his
soul; and Huang Zhujiao, who taught me what it was to
love those you serve. I miss Wang Ba, who fixed my bike for free, all because the missionaries brought him the
precious truths of eternal families years ago. I miss Chen Wei, who was a bit crazy but
shared the Gospel with everyone she met. I miss Zhan Yin Shu and Wu Jia Yin, who, by their
example, taught the Gospel to their families and saw them baptized. I miss Li Dixiong and Wei Han, my first baptisms; and Zhong Hui Ru, my last baptism. I miss all of them, and everyone in between, for each has their own story, and yet, each of them is a wondrous
miracle.
In just those short 18 months I
learned,
lived, and
loved. How truly amazing the
Gospel of Jesus Christ is!
From left to right: S. Yang, S. Jensen, S. Vardeman
