So, I don't think I could have made a bigger change. The loop is nothing like Carpentersville.
First off, the members here are great: They're magnifying their callings, and are not only supportive, but uplifting. It's nice to walk into a member home and be thanked and built up, and be able to relax, instead of feeling wary.
We’ve got a large teaching pool, and contacting is so much easier. I feel really good about most of these people.
Unexpectedly, I've met a lot of families that have members with autism, ranging from borderline to severe. One young man in particular has surprised me. Very quickly I've realized in practice what I knew intellectually: that autism has nothing to do with intelligence, or maturity, but rather an inability to completely comprehend human communication. Ivan is very smart, and unlike most autistics, is very good at reading facial expressions. He is very chill, and likes to draw. What catches my attention is that he likes to learn: unlike other autistics, or anyone his age, he's eager to try new things, and tries very hard to listen and understand instructions. He likes to meet new people, who he greets with a wink and a smile. He can talk, but he speaks almost in similes and metaphor, making understanding hard. He speaks both English and Spanish, and frequently mixes the two. I was pleasantly surprised the other day when I asked him, "Como esta?" and he replied, very clearly, "Bien, y usted?" It was a normal response, but more than that, it was using a polite form that most Hispanics don't even know. He is a sweet young man, who enjoys playing with children, yet clearly understands that they are smaller than he is, and he must be careful. I wish there were more adults as understanding as this young man.
His mother is who we're teaching. She also is a sweet lady, who is excited about everything in the gospel. Catholic by tradition, Christian by preference, and most recently going to a protestant church, she's been looking for a church for a long time. She's come to church twice, and actively participates in all her classes. She says that Ivan used to hate going to all the different churches, but that he loves coming to our church. We hope to get her baptized soon.
I hate the bike. I mean, I don't mind bikes, and I'm doing fairly well, but the bike I've inherited is a "girls bike," which means the seat is uncomfortably close to the handles; I can't really stand up and peddle. My arms are sore because they're not straight out, and when I need to exert some extra force, I can't just lean forward and apply my whole weight to the work. I hope that lifting the seat will help, but the rain guard for the rear tire is duct taped to the pole that the seat is attached to. And when push comes to shove, I don't really like biking to and from appointments. It's hot, and I’m having problems staying hydrated. I'm pretty sure I’ve overheated once or twice trying to keep up with Hermana Goodman: my new companion.
Hemana Goodman was a marine, ground support of some kind. She's small, blonde, and scotian in descent. Her parents are Vegans, and she doesn't eat much meat herself. But she loves her family, and all her brothers and sisters have served in the armed forces. She's not stern, exactly, but neither is she merry. She's almost done with her mission: she and her boyfriend are dying the exact same day, and plan to go all the way.
I’m very tired, but trying to be enthusiastic.
Patiently and happily yours,
Maren
