My Home Sweet Home of Virginia

Blessed loves,Please forgive this short email. I am utterly exhausted and it'salmost midnight. I planned a weekend trip to my blessed hometown ofFt. Monroe, plus Williamsburg, Jamestown, Yorktown, Monticello andCharlottesville for this weekend. We just got home. I was theplanner and the navigator for the entire 36 hour trip--my head isstill spinning. I ended up sleeping on a little chair at our hotelroom last night. I think everyone had fun (there were seven of us,all in a rented minivan) but I was just stressed trying to geteverywhere in the limited amount of time we had for each allottedactivity. Imagine a school teacher organizing and carrying out afield trip--that's what it was like.Anyway, I just can't tell you what it did for my soul to be at Ft.Monroe, a place full of so many memories and milestones. I walkedalong the sea wall, with the sun gleaming across the Chesapeake Bay,the wind spraying sea salted water and my hair everywhere. Tearswelled up and stained my happy, grateful cheeks. So much of who I amcomes from living on the blessed little peninsula of "Old PointComfort," an Army base that dates back to 1802. Besides 22 TidballRoad (the tiny house across from the marina where my family lived),the gazebo (where my dad would play concerts with the US ContinentalArmy Band while we sat on the green grass and picnicked), and therocky beaches (where I used to sing to the ocean at the top of mylungs and no one could ever hear me), the Fort is full of Civil Warand Army history. I found out on this trip that Harriet Tubman workedat the hospital for several months during the Civil War and that thefirst militia of black soldiers was organized for fighting there. Isthis one reason why I have so much love in my heart for blackAmericans? Being in Africa as a missionary made my love grow likefire. I don't know what my future holds--maybe I'll adopt Africanbabies some day--but it does not feel like coincidence that I haveopened my heart and mind to "black soul."I keep thinking about home....My heavenly home, my home in Orem, myhome in South Africa, my home at the Barlow Center, my home at Ft.Monroe. "Home I'll be" whenever I feel that deep sense of belongingand comfort. Words from a song I sang with the BYU choirs have beenfloating through my head this whole weekend, and I guess I share itwith you as my testimony of the role our Savior plays in getting usback to our Heavenly Father's many mansions..." 'Rise up, follow me,come away' is the call, 'with a love in your heart as the only song.There is no greater beauty than where you belong. Rise up. Followme. I will lead you home.'" He leads me. I love Him. Love, Sundy

Boston!

Hi all,I am running to work right now, but I needed to let the whole worldknow that I went to a blessed, blessed single adult educationconference in Boston and Cambridge this weekend! I ended up travelingfor 18+ hours total, but it was well worth the trip. Elder Jeffrey R.Holland "stayed with us." He didn't just speak to us--he was a partof us. For two days, I sat at the feet of a modern witness for JesusChrist. I felt so strongly of the compassion and mercy and kindnessthe Lord must have for me just by being with Elder Holland. When itwas my turn to meet him, he grabbed my hand and said, "Well, aren'tyou a cheerful soul!" I nodded and smiled even wider, not knowingwhat else to do. I told him how the last chapter of his book "HoweverLong and Hard the Road" saved me from coming home from a mission. Hissmile and warmth were so real, so personal.I drank freely of living waters this weekend. The Spirit boiled upand spilled over many, many times. I wish each one of you could havebeen there with me. It was a time to rejoice. Of all the doctrinestaught, I will hold on to these truths for the rest of my days:Being God's child in Jesus Christ's church TRUMPS every othercircumstance in my life.Faith is a gift bestowed upon us because of our personal righteousness.When there are things that I don't know or don't understand, I mustCLING more desperately to the things I DO know and DO understand.One who doesn't bear WITNESS is not a part of the kingdom of heaven.Keep crossing the Sweetwater as long as the Sweetwater crops up.The church of the Lamb is to prepare the world to meet the Lamb.The things we need are usually the things we fear."Any sister missionary is worth four elders. Any where across theworld." (that's a direct quote from the sister's Q&A session :)We meet the Savior in the flames of adversity. Don't resist sufferingtoo much. More than anything in this world, God loves a broken heart,particularly when it leads to a contrite spirit. A true disciple ismarked by that which she suffers."Embrace the breaking of your heart as central to your salvation."Waiting is not an indication of unworthiness, but the Lord's trust andfaith in us that WE will be faithful.Even apostles feel unworthy of their calling.Mercy always overpowers justice. ALWAYS.The last words he spoke to us were in the form of an Apostlicblessing, "as if I am laying my hands on your head individually." Hepromised us answers to our prayers and the desires of our hearts to begranted. He told us that we MUST know that we are loved, adored,cherished, revered, and needed. He promised that those who are ill,who may become ill, or are currently suffering that they will havetheir personal prayers answered and that hope will spring in useternally.He commanded us, in the most power I have personally been in thepresence of, to begin to magnify the greatest gift God has ever givenHis church and yet we don't take enough advantage of--the Gift of theHoly Ghost.The fall leaves were deep scarlet and pumpkin orange. Boston streetsare chaos the its winds are CHILLY right now. But the Charles riverglistened in autumn sun, and I was so happy to be in New England.Love you forever! Sundy

I am Christian

Hello my "most important audience" (according to Douglas L. Callisterfrom Conference yesterday, talking about bearing testimony to friendsand families, the most important of audiences).Before I tell you of some of the Lord's miracles with His children,might I share some of the personal revelation I received from thisconference? What will I do differently because of my experience withapostles and prophets speaking for the Lord? Well, here are some ofmy insights:Pay my tithing with more faith in the promised blessings.Give up sins of pride to receive meekness and humility.Put others' needs first.Be more honest, especially in the little things.Be more generous—forget about what I've given others.Be more grateful—never forget what others are constantly doing for me.Spend more time with the Lord- study and reflect on His life.Use "Preach My Gospel" when studying the scriptures.Think as a missionary thinks.Come to know my ancestors.Compile a Family Home Evening lesson plan book for my future family.Continue working on being organized (you'd be proud of my clean room,Lacey Jean).Prepare for Sacrament Meeting as the most holy meeting of the week.Purify my inner most heart and secret desires.Give, give, and give some more.Ask more specific questions in prayer, be more fervent in scripturestudy and be patient in listening to the Lord's answers.Plead with the Lord daily that I will never lose my testimony.Love, instead of judge, the people whom are closest to me.Granted, this list is quite long and cannot be accomplished overnight,but I am grateful that when I ask the Lord what I can do to becomebetter, He answers me.On a sad note, my sweet angel of a dog died this week. She was almost17 years old and nearly totally blind and deaf. Her little body wasfound by my dad, still warm on her bed.I grieved for MY loss that night more than HER departure from thismortal world. Sobs escaped and just coming for my little four-leggedfriend who always listened, loved, and sensed my heart. Muffin is nowburied in our backyard under 4 rocks shaped like a paw print. I'vebeen praying that Heavenly Father will allow her spirit will remainaround our house. It was, after all, her house before it was ours.I made my way to Sister Adams' house on Tuesday. She's the sweetinvestigator with a walker who got out of the hospital a week agofrom heart problems. I had never made a go of the DC bus system, andshe lived far away from my office. When I finally got to herneighborhood, I realized that I wasn't going to be extremely safe toleave after dark. But there I was, right in inner city DC, ready tosing my testimony for Sister Adams. The whole experience was so muchlike my mission. The only thing missing was a name tag and acompanion. I helped Sister Adams clean up the living area, talked toher about her children, and sang of forever families and JesusChrist's eternal love. Singing, staring straight into her eyes, theSpirit locked and a force stronger than anything visible passedbetween us. The phone kept ringing, interrupting, but as soon as shewas off, the Spirit came right back. She asked me to sing for anon-denominational women's group on Thursday morning. I accepted theinvite on condition that my boss would allow me to come to work late.Sis. Adams prayed for me with great faith that I would make it thereon Thursday, and that I would make it home safely….I needed both prayers. Walking to the bus stop and waiting there fora half an hour in the dark was not comforting, especially as peopledrove by starring curiously at the little white girl in a businesssuit. But Sister Adam's prayers, and mine, were heard. My bosskindly consented for me to attend the Women Aglow Society. Iattempted to take the bus again. Two hours after boarding, I wasSTILL riding. I met an "Ex-Mormon" who I talked to for quite a whileand had to convince an older gentleman that I probably would not beinterested in dating an older man (i.e., him).The meeting turned out to be a gathering of over 50 devoted Christianswho were already there praising and singing when I arrived. SisterAdams called the leaders over and told them I wanted to sing. Theyraised their eyebrows inquisitively. I looked towards Sister Adams,who looked right back at me with a "don't you want to?" look. "Yes,"I replied. "I am here to sing." Feeling uncomfortable, I was usheredto a table. I would sing after the speaker and the luncheon.The speaker was an Egyptian woman, born into an Orthodox Christianfamily and later switched back and forth between Islam andChristianity. Now she is on a mission to save the Muslim people andconvert them to Jesus Christ. Towards the beginning of her speech,the Spirit touched me several times as I saw the sincerity of herbelief in Christ. Later, she began to mock principles of Islam andtold her audience that if a Mormon should every come their way, shoothem away because they did not worship the true Jesus. The Spiritleft. I looked around the room and realized that the Lord hadanswered my prayer for missionary moments. When it was finally myturn to sing, I went to the front and from deep inside myself began todeclare my testimony in song…"Jesus love is like a lighthouse, when the storms of life appear; likea beacon in the distance, always steady, always clear. And those whowill go where the lighthouse glows will feel of His Spirit and findrepose…" The Spirit moved me and the group as well.I finished, took a deep breath, and said something like the following: Thank you for allowing me to be here today and praise with you. Ialso love and worship Jesus Christ. I have worshipped Him my wholelife. I served Him for a year and a half in Africa, preaching of Him.The "Mormons" are a nickname for The Church of Jesus Christ ofLatter-day Saints. I am a member of that church. Part of theproblems we face as Christians can be miscommunication of ourbeliefs. I thank you for the Spirit I have felt here, and hope thatmy witness has also testified of Christ…"It wasn't exactly like that, but you get the idea. As I sat down, Ilooked at the speaker. Her face was frozen. I don't think she wasexpecting a Mormon to show up to a nondenominational Christianmeeting. I hope now she and all the other 50+ individuals know, likeElder Holland so boldly announced on Saturday, that we are Christians.On my way home, a boy smiled at me by the metro. I was reading theBook of Mormon, the blue one with the pictures. I smiled back andasked if he had ever seen this book….We had a wonderful mini firstlesson on the metro. I explained that this book made me happier thanany other book, along with the Bible, that it was given to us as agift, in countries all over the world, in over 150 languages, fromHeavenly Father. The boy really listened. Cedric Shaw is 19, works atMcDonalds, lives with his father and three brothers, is trying tofinish up his high school credits, and loves poetry, writing, andrapping. By the end of it all, we decided it would be good for him toget to know some of my friends at the Barlow Center. I saw a light inhim. I hope it grows. He's going to take me and several others intothe depths of Anacostia, a place that I would never dare to go bymyself.Sister Adams called me on Saturday morning to warn me that she knowshow it is to feel like God is with me, but that I need to be safe. Ifyou're thinking the same thing, please realize that I learned fromfortunately harmless experience this week that I really shouldn't begoing out to do missionary work by myself anymore. I will take acompanion ☺Every day my desire deepens to serve a mission here on earth. TheSpirit articulated that mission to me in Conference. He whispered,"Come home, Sundy Lynn. Bring as many with you as you can." That'swhat I intend to do. Love you always, Sundy

A New Birth of Freedom

Blessed friends,I memorized the Gettysburg Address this week. The whole of it. "Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continenta new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the propositionthat all men are created equal…." I won't quote the whole thing foryou, I promise, but I have gained such a love for Abraham Lincoln and"this nation, under God."On Monday, my Home and Family Living professor from BYU called and hadan internship interview with me. I unloaded on her that it had beendifficult thus far in finding substantial work to do each hour of theday while at work. By the end of our conversation, I felt relievedand a whole lot better about why I am in DC, trying to promote thetraditional family. She committed me to memorize The Family: AProclamation to the World. So, just know that every time I get on theMetro from now until December 14th, I will have the words of prophets,seers, and revelators flowing through my mind and mouth.My boss told me to come to work on Monday in less dressy clothes—Iwould get the lovely task of organizing the supplies closet. Theentire day, people kept walking by, asking me why I was doing such amenial task. Isn't this what interns do, I thought. David, a youngerspecialist in the agency, sits right by the door where I was sortingand lifting boxes. I mentioned to him that if he needed any help onany type of project, I would be more than happy to help. He sat medown and reamed into me for the next 20 minutes on how I had wastedthe first three weeks of my internship. "You should have been askingme for work three weeks ago, along with approaching every other personin this office for work." I swallowed my hurt and told him "betterlate than never."Heavenly Father teaches me, though. Because I got the laborious taskof the supplies closet, I was able to talk to David. Because I showedup at work on Monday and found my entire cubicle taken apart (picturespulled of the walls, etc) and moved to a smaller, more cramped space,I now sit directly across from the Branch Chief of the HealthyMarriage/Responsible Fatherhood Initiatives. Because I sit here, Ican overhear all that goes on in that office. Three ladies weremeeting to discuss the overall goals of the initiatives on Tuesdaymorning. I poked my head in and asked if it was all right that Ilistened to the conversation from my desk. Right away I was told topull up a chair and start giving input. Later, I was asked to edittheir 230 page report to congress on what has happened in the programthis past year. Even later, they asked me to attend a corporatestrategy meeting at the end of the week to help the 11 differentagencies that deal with Healthy Marriage/Responsible Fatherhood cometo a consensus as to what their next 5 years of outcomes will looklike. Wow. My internship has changed forever.I figured out why the garbage men are outside of my window all morninglong, every single day. The recycling team brings all of the binshere, and they smash the trash from around this entire neighborhoodunder MY window. How blessed I am!I love the song of the heart. I have heard more people singing fromtheir deepest souls in the last week than I can remember hearing in mylifetime altogether previously. Three men get together at the MetroCenter stop and sing praise songs in the tightest, happiest harmony.When they sing, no one can help but start tapping their feet. All ofthe hundreds of people trying to dash home from work slow down andsmile. Two people sang their testimonies at church today. I loveblack soul music. Sitting during the sacrament, music flowed up frombelow us. The heavenly tones of "Teach me to Walk in the Light"melted over me—in Spanish. "Now therefore, ye are no more strangersand foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of thehousehold of God."The more specific my prayers become in regards to missionary work, themore directly I am watching Heavenly Father answer those prayers. Ireally desire people to see me and recognize me as a member of theChurch, and then ask me about the gospel. That's the best way for meto start teaching the doctrines of the church. So that's what Ifocused on asking for this week. A Jewish man noticed my "big Bible"on the Metro, and we discussed the Mormon church. When I went to thebig corporate meeting on Thursday, a lady noticed me sitting along andinvited me to sit by her. She kept talking about how she needed somecoffee. I never agreed that I also needed coffee, so she finallyasked if one, I drank coffee, and two, was LDS. I answered no to thefirst and yes to the second. The rest of the day, including our lunchtogether, was spent in deep gospel conversation. She is aUniversalist and feels that our churches are similar in many respects. The Spirit burned within as I explained that so many people inSouthern America have joined the church because the Book of Mormon isthe history of their forefathers, men and women who knew of JesusChrist and waited for His coming.The missionaries had me sit by Denise today. She has tried to commitsuicide in the past and has just gotten out of drug rehab. She's abeautiful, shy black woman with only a few teeth left. I love her. Ibore testimony from the pulpit that I know this church is a hospitalfor sick people—all of us are sick, and need healing, lifting,andlove. I asked the members of the ward to allow me to assist inlifting and loving and serving.Sister Adams, a 70 year old investigator with a walker, just got outof the hospital after cardiac arrest. I told her I wanted to comesing to her this week. She happily agreed—I'll go on Tuesday night,just the two of us.I didn't want the General Relief Society meeting to end. The ReliefSociety is the most powerful, empowering organization for women onthis earth. How grateful I am that the 1st counselor is a firstgeneration, Spanish-speaking member—so many people I know here canrelate to her. The meeting felt like what I know our heavenly homemust feel like—warm, serene, complete love that will flow on througheternity.Our tour of Gettysburg was too hurried and quick—we weren't given anyalone time to reflect. Phrases from Lincoln's address kept coming tomy mind, however, and the Spirit confirmed that I really am supposedto "here be dedicated to the great task remaining before" me—thisnation receives a new birth of freedom every time another soulreceives the peace of the gospel of Jesus Christ. How I love Him. Ilove you, too.

City Fever

Salutations!I am catching the DC fever. So many people who come out here asinterns end up coming back to stay for good. I might be one of thosepeople someday. It's either that or the Peace Core in Botswana.Sickness pulled me down this week, in health and a little bit inenthusiasm, but I am back on the up and up. Monday had me sick inbed. Tuesday I got up but wasn't in the mood to go to work. Too bad.That's the city way of life—you just keep going. My treat for makingit through the day was a trip to the Washington, DC temple. Thesingle's ward organized for us to do baptisms for the dead. I didn'tknow about it because I go to the inner city ward. How grateful I wasthat I happened to have a skirt on and my temple recommend handy whenI got the phone call to take the Metro for a ride to the temple.I was 12 years old when I went to do baptisms at The DC temple for thefirst time. 12 years later, with so many more experiences that havestrengthened my knowledge of the Plan of Salvation, the evening put mylife into perspective. We arrived so late that we actually didn't getto be baptized, but I felt the baptism of fire as I was confirmed and
received the Holy Ghost for some few of my deceased sisters. Peaceflowed through me as a sat in a room full of white light with thehands of the priesthood on my head. The power of godliness ismanifest through the ordinances of the priesthood. Goodness grows inthe temple.Whenever I feel lonely in the city, I hold the scriptures. It seemsso silly that just holding the book brings me comfort, but the word ismy sword. I thrashed through the crowded Metro station on Wednesday,trying to get on my train. I opened up to the words of Abinadi when hewas preaching to the wicked priests of King Noah. His words gripedme, filling me with the Spirit. At the same time, my physical senseswere surrounded by hoards of people, all fighting for a seat. None ofthem had any idea that I was communing with deity. My love for theBook of Mormon grows each time I read, even in the dungy chambers ofthe DC underground.On Thursday I got pulled into a protest in front of the Capitol—2500black Americans were protesting the "Jena 6" charges against 6 blackyoung men from the South. A lady approached me and asked if I wasthere to protest as well. I told her I had no idea what was going on,but that I believe in racial equality. She pulled me up to the frontof the group, displaying me to the protestors. As I was standing nearthe front, getting my picture taken, someone called out, "Get out ofhere, white girl!" I tried to get out, but realized my purse wasstill on the ground in the middle of all the protestors. A manreached out to me—I thought he wanted a hug, so I tried to hug himback. "Girl, I'm not huggin' you," he exclaimed. "You gotta stepback." Another lady came up and apologized for the woman who yelledat me. I finally got my purse and got out. What a rush!
That same day I received a tour of the Capitol and was present for arole call vote in the Senate Gallery. I saw 98 of our 100 U.S.Senators, including Hillary Clinton and Senator Obama . What a rush!They were voting on an amendment to the Iraqi bill that would havecalled for all the US troops to be out by January. The vote was 70"no" and 28 "aye." I rode the tram back to the Hart building withSenator Libermann.Prayer works. I prayed that someone would ask me about the Restoredgospel, not just Christianity in general. Betty, the security guardat the US Postal Museum, had questions about the temple—yes, faithprecedes the miracle.Last night we went to free Baltic dancing outside the Kennedy Center,just by the Potomac River. A cute, young Bulgarian man lead us incircle dancing, where we all held hands and hopped around together.We were sweating and laughing and smiling; people of all ages andraces and backgrounds. Praise the Lord through dance—it was SOjoyful. There was a live band, complete with accordion, drums,trumpet and vocalist. Later on, when a boy and a girl from the BarlowCenter were dancing with me, an old man came up and told the boy heneeded to stop being greedy, and pulled me aside to dance with HIM.We left right after that.I was spotlighted in Relief Society today and set apart for my callingas a ward missionary. My blessing was full of commandment to bear mytestimony, that my testimony would be heard by members andnon-members, plus those were trying to know if this gospel is real. Ican't tell you how wonderful it felt to know that Heavenly Fatherreally does want me to proclaim His gospel with my testimony.I have one—a testimony, that is. It is the greatest miracle in mylife—my living, growing testimony, like a fire that's burning.I love you, and wish I could talk with you in person, and hear of yourexperiences. Please let me know how life is going. Thanks for lovingme enough to read my flittering thoughts.Love, Sister Peterson (oops, Sundy)

I'm Falling in Love

Dumelang! (Setswana for Hello)I write to you with a box of tissues nearby. The Barlow Center (thebuilding that houses all of the BYU interns) is a breeding ground forinfectious germs. I am one of several who have a nasty cold. Despitemy ailments, I am enjoying day after day of the East Coast life. Maybe I'm sick because of my run to the White House in the rain. Or maybe it's because I get woken up every morning at 6 a.m. due to thetrash collector who comes with beating "drums" just below our window.Who knew that it took 30 minutes to collect the trash? No, I bet it'sthe second-hand smoke that I pass frequently on my way to the Metro.I'm not complaining. No, on the contrary, being sick has reallyhelped my gratitude of health to grow. Elder Maxell said, "The meekare simply more free, more peaceful, and more cheerful." The meek donot complain.There's something about being away from home that makes my prayersmore sincere—I guess it makes me feel closer to family, at least to myheavenly home. As I talk to my Father, I tell him how I long to bebetter, to be more like His Son. When I really connect with Him, mywhole soul is consumed by that desire to "try to be like Jesus." To
my "weakness He is no stranger," but never do I feel harsh judgmentfor my inadequacies when I commune with Him in prayer.And prayers like those seem to lead me places. On Tuesday, I was directed in prayer to sing to someone—just a simple thought, butdefinitely from the Spirit. I went to my internship and picked thesecretary, thinking she might be one who needed a song. She seemed toappreciate the gesture, but I felt empty about it. It wasn't until later that night, while on the phone with a rape victim from Colorado,that I felt the confirmation that I had finished the task. Summer isa girl I've met only once, but who has continued to call me since thatday 6 years ago. As I sang "Where Can I Turn for Peace," I was gladfor the prompting that morning.I'm still expecting miracles—My Uncle Glen shared my last email with awoman at his work. After reading about my desire to share the gospel,Betty emailed me. I have been commissioned to try to help a younggirl named Adoration, 17 years old and kicked out of her house, livinghere in DC. I haven't talked to her yet, but I know all your prayerswould be appreciatedBetty asked me to give a pass-along card to the first grey-hairedwoman I saw, saying that "I am a gray-haired lady, too, and sometimesI need to be reminded that Jesus loves me." I found a lady on theMetro. My approach was, "Excuse me, ma'm, but do you believe in JesusChrist?" We rejoiced together and I gave her the card for the free"Finding Faith in Christ" dvd.You can learn a lot of life lessons on the Metro. In one day, I sawthree blind people, all at different stations, feeling their waytowards the elevators. A young child continued to ask his dadquestions after question, and the father never lost patience or squash
the boy's curiosity. A Muslim man was trying to get his friend toanswer some of life's greatest questions. I was nervous because Iknew he DIDN"T believe in Jesus Christ, but how could I just sit therewhen I have the answers to those very questions…."Excuse me, sir. CanI give you this?" "What's that?" he asked, skeptical. "It's apass-along card from my church." How profound of me, but at least hetook it on his way off the tram.I still can't really tell you what I'm doing at my internship. Rightnow, it's a lot of updating lists on Excel. Working in an office is anadjustment from teaching at the MTC, where the Spirit came when Icalled. A letter came a few days ago from a first time applicant ofTANF. She wrote, "I am a single parent of 2 children pendingforeclosure." As I looked at her neat, slanted handwriting, I picturedher discouragement….And her desire to provide hope for her children."Small and simple things" include working in a cubicle.Our excursion to Philadelphia brought me to tears, especiallyIndependence Hall. I had prayed before that the experience would feelreal to me. Standing in "the most sacred room in US history"(according to our tour guide), I knew I was in hallowed space. Ouron-site professor asked me to sing the National Anthem –I did sofreely, gratitude swelling with each note.While the cheese steaks were yummy, it was nice to come back "home" toDC. As we neared the monuments, it hit me that those are nowlandmarks for me, telling me that I am almost home. I'm falling inlove with the place whose license plate reads "taxation withoutrepresentation."I am in a special ward. The man who was asked to give the closingprayer in Sacrament meeting wheeled up to the front of the chapel, and
after several attempts of getting out of his chair by himself, someonecalled out to just remain seated. He kept trying, so a dear eldercame and lifted him up, and continued to hold him up throughout theprayer; truly, bearing one another's burdens is a sweet honor.Brother Kamosi, a big, happy Nigerian, called me to be a wardmissionary. He told me that the best work in the world was to workfor Heavenly Father. I whole-heartedly agreed.I love you all, and have more stories but no time to tell them. Iheard a quote once that "there's not a person you wouldn't love—onceyou know their story." Thank you for your stories and yourexperiences--I love you so much because of them. Cheers, Sundy

East Coast Adventures #1

I am rejoicing right now! Coming back from a weekend in up-state NewYork has given me time to reflect on the glorious gospel blessings inmy life. I got to Virginia on Tuesday and was whisked away from thehumid Dullus airport to Glen and Karen Peterson's house (my dad'syoungest brother and wife with their 4 fabulous boys). The Petersonhome is a sweet and loving haven, one that I would like to recreate inmy own family some day. I felt utterly spoiled getting so muchone-on-one time with Aunt Karen and Uncle Glen, pouring out my heartto them about the Provo life I just left--the MTC, the temple service,the beautiful roommates and ward, and of course, there was plenty ofreminiscing about mission days in South Africa and Botswana. Ibrought my newly updated scrap book with me to show off the people Ilove so much from that part of the world. It's amazing to me that myheart keeps getting split into more and more pieces with every newexperience I have and with every soul I meet.Karen took me to get a pedicure and manicure. We shopped in herfavorite health food store, thrift store (The Resourceful Woman), andbakery. Hamilton is lush green right now and I couldn't stop admiringthe green wonderland that curled above and around the Virginia byway.After Karen dropped me off at the Barlow Center (I am REALLY inWashington, DC--the city is below my window), three new friends and Iheaded up to New York. I'd never been to the headquarters of theRestoration before this trip. Going there made me ponder how manymembers of the Church today will ever get to go to Palmayra, or theWhitmer farm, the Book of Mormon printing press, the Hill Cumorah, the
Smith farm house, the Sacred Grove....Not many, I suppose.The Lord taught me on this trip that it is the testimonies of themembers of His kingdom that make any place a sacred place. I felt theSpirit bear more powerful witness of the truthfulness of the gospel ina new convert's home than at the printing press, probably because Icould see how the Book of Mormon had influenced their every decisionsince leaving the world behind and living gospel standards. Icouldn't stop shaking in the Pittsford, NY fast and testimony meetingas saint after saint stood and shared their love for missionary workand the simple truths that beat in my heart, too. The sites of theRestoration are sacred because of the people who go there withconviction of what happened before. Is this making sense? It's likewhen the Lord says to Thomas, "because thou hast seen, thou hastbelieved. Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe." I just love the saints of this church. It is a happy thing to be outhere in the field that is full of curious folk. Every where I go Iget to talk to people about the Mormons. I love that I am one whocan be called a Latter-day Saint. So far I have talked to a woman onthe plane, a man at Trader Joe's Market, a Mennonite woman who sold mean Amish quilt--basically anyone who looks my way.My internship starts on Wednesday. I'm currently dealing with a caseof flutter bugs in my stomach due to nerves. Hopefully they fly awaywhen confidence and faith replace fear. 4 months will go by soquickly--every moment counts.Love you all. Sweet dreams, Sundy Lynn