Doujiang (Soy Milk)‏

This letter was long and full of a lot of personal things that Diana probably wouldn't want on the internet. I have taken a lot out but still included enough for you all to know how she's doing.

. . .

This week was really interesting. I think I need to start off with a confession. You all might think I'm a very proper and naturally rule-abiding person, but sometimes I don't think I am, at heart. I think for much of my life what I have wanted to do has just happened to parallel with what other people think I should be doing. But things haven't worked out as seamlessly at the MTC. I don't think I've had any trouble really from the MTC/mission institution itself, but most of the pressure comes from missionaries themselves. My companion seems to think that everything that most missionaries do must be a rule, and that if we do something different we are breaking the rule--whether it's sitting kitty-corner to each other during meals instead of across from each other, or not taking off our nametags and putting them in the little slots during gym time, or not being able to sit next to each other at computers, because sometimes the labs are too full. It is frustrating--I feel like I'm a good person. I am here for solid reasons, I have a testimony of the gospel, I am happy to be here. So is she, I think. So why do we need to spend every minute second guessing whether we're being acceptable missionaries or not?
. . .

Rachel told me in a letter a couple weeks ago that she remembers hymns being especially powerful to her, when she was on her mission. I am having the same experience.
. . .

This week I discovered the Gluten-Free/Organic/Hipster corner of the MTC cafeteria. Do any of you realize how superior in taste soymilk is to normal milk? I have gained a testimony of this for myself, and I will continue to seek out the normally-over-priced-but-temporarily-free substance each morning to complement my raisen bran until the end of my MTC days. Sometimes I feel a little guilty for taking of it because there is a sign on the fridge that says, "For missionaries with health needs." But I quickly remind myself that I was in a band called, "Searching for Celia", which was often mistaken as a support group for those suffering from Celiac disease. I figure that makes me at least a little more gluten-intolerant than the average missionary, and it serves to quell my shame.

 

Have a great week! Keep sending letters! All you people who have written me but I haven't been able to write back, I am really sorry, but don't think I don't appreciate you.

I love you all!

 

Sister Cow