10/26/15: ¿Tiene las llaves?

Howdy!

So this week I want to share a little story with you all, that really has nothing to do with missionary work, but also everything to do with life..,

So on our lovely Sunday yesterday, we were leaving our piso after lunch.  I grabbed the phone, Hermana Spencer grabbed the keys (I thought), we say a prayer, and head out.  We made it to the elevator when we realized neither of our backpacks had keys in them.  Oh no!  We run back to the door.  Push.  Pray.  Push again.  Now Spaniard doors aren’t like American.  The doorknobs don’t twist, you have to have a key to open it.  And the doors are heavy, much much heavier!  We tried every trick in the book to get this door opened.  We knocked on all the neighbors’ doors to see if they could help.  We tried to come up with some elaborate plan to get in through a window.  Living on the 3rd floor, we would need a ladder.  And who has a ladder in Spain?  We called the landlord, once, twice, or 11 times.  Never answered.  I was getting discouraged, and worst of all, I just hated wasting this time to work because of a thoughtless mistake.  Anyone that knows me knows this isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten something, so it wasn’t anything new, but I hated wasting time!  And with neighbors telling me that it would cost between 200-300€ to pay someone to open the door, I wasn’t happy about that either.  With all that though, this situation seemed like much more for me.  When we prayed the 10 times within that first hour of being locked out, I was asking for a miracle.  I thought, God wants me to go do His work, so it makes sense that He would help us get this door open so we knew we would have somewhere to go home that night.  But the door wasn’t just magically opening.  Did I not have sufficient faith?  Or were miracles like that beyond my reach?  I knew in that moment it was silly to think that, but my doubt was clouding my mind.  However, there was one thing I knew for sure.  We had 2 lessons to teach that night, and I wasn’t getting anything done by trying to open the door with my insurance card.  So I pulled all the faith I had in me left, and we went back to work.  We had 2 lessons, and once again my testimony was strengthened that when we are serving others, we forget about our own problems and we are happier.  The night was coming to an end, and Isolina, came to our rescue.  We finally got ahold of the landlord.  Turns out she has no spare key.  Great!  But then Isolina calls up another member in the branch, Patricio.  I guess he is the handyman of the branch.  We show back up to our piso, and with every tool he had, he tried to open that door.  Once again, my faith just pushing through little by little.  And after every tool he had, he pulls out this broken water bottle and slid it in the gap of the door.  I thought, how is that supposed to work?!  I look down at the floor, begging Heavenly Father to open this door.  I look up, and there we were, staring into the hallway of our piso.  Finally, the door was open!

Now, this story might seem insignificant.  It might seem silly.  It might make no sense to anyone other than me.  But in that moment, every miracle that I had read about in the scriptures, the stories I have been told about Jesus, the little miracles I have seen throughout my life and on my mission, passed through my mind and testified in my heart that they were true.  They happened.  And God is a God of miracles.  The scripture in Ether 12:6,12 came to my mind:  “I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith… For if there be no faith among the children of men God can do no miracle among them; wherefore, he showed not himself until after their faith.

The door finally opened up for us at 9:50 at night, 10 minutes before we had to be in our piso.  We had been locked out for nearly 6 hours.  If the door had opened in that first hour, would my faith have been tried?  Probably not.  Would I have learned as much from this experience?  Definitely not.  I’m grateful to be given little experiences like this to be stretched and molded.  And now, I will always remember the tender mercies God gives me.  And will never forget the keys because we now have a sign on our door in bright yellow that reads “tiene las llaves?”

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As always, there is a thousand more things I would like to share!  Like that a crosswalk in Spanish is called “paso de sebra”, or literally a “step of zebra”, which makes complete sense since it’s black and white stripes.  Or how awesome our recent convert’s lesson was at church yesterday, and she was only baptized 2 months ago!  Or how incredible all the people are in Spain and how much I’ve grown to love them.  Or how grateful I am for this little bit of time to serve the Lord.  I hope y’all all have a great week, and are safe from the hurricane that hit Mexico!

Love,

Hermana Devereaux

——

Realize that I don’t take pictures normally of us doing missionary work, but mostly just on Mondays (Pdays) when we get most of the day off to do a few fun things, as well as laundry, grocery shopping, etc.

Today we went again to the cathedral in Santiago and to play futbol with the other missionaries there.

Me and my companion, Sis. Spencer.
Me and my companion, Sis. Spencer.
The missionaries in my district and some YSAs
The missionaries in my district and some YSAs

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Today we also got to “participate” in a Catholic mass because we just so happened to walk in right as it started.
Hermana Spencer playing the piano with Estrella.
Hermana Spencer playing the piano with Estrella.

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Yes, Hermana Spencer is tall! (Or I’m short.)

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Hope everyone has a happy Halloween!

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