the in between parts‏

Dear Everyone, 

It was great to get to talk to most of you this past week! Sorry we never got to say goodbye, my phone card must have run out of minutes!

Last P-Day we went to the Taiwan World Trade Center because we had an investigator who works there, and we had a lesson with her. It was such a cool place! They had this organic foods convention going on with samples of mildly sweet bean drinks, hand-made breads, vegetarian fake-meat, healthy noodles, etc. For about an hour, we winded through aisle after aisle with the crowds as people shoved samples cups in our hands, yelled out to us special deals, and excitedly, nervously practiced explaining their products to me in English. It was like being a celebrity at Costco!

On the way home, as we were walking to the bus stop, we saw this place where a shop was totally under construction, and a guy was digging up the floor. We thought it was pretty lovely, and took a picture. I love to see the in between and before and after parts of life that aren't really supposed to be seen. 

So, lately I have been thinking a lot about communication. 

My Companion, Sister Sun--there is no one in the whole world like her. When you first meet her, to call her shy is a huge understatement. She has this extremely quiet, stoney-faced, will-not-say-a-word demeanor in public, much of the time.I will look her in the eyes and there is something so guarded about them. She said she struggled a lot after joining the church feeling like she didn't have the outgoing, warm personality that seemed required of her, and sometimes wondered if going on a mission would even be possible for her, because she so seldom likes to talk. 

And yet that isn't really true. With me, alone in our apartment, while cooking red bean soup or fried-egg sandwiches together, she is a chatterbox. She is so funny--one of the most sarcastic people I have ever met. And she loves science. Lately our lunch conversations have thoroughly covered to what extent what we are eating is the process of physical or chemical reactions. She loves to tell me stories about the people she knew in college, or her family, or her favorite professors. 

Talking to her about her feelings? That is another story. 

I come from a Western background that totally believes in self-expression, in speaking your mind, with the assumption that to repress your thoughts and feelings is to be oppressed. Sister Sun will share with me her thoughts on investigators, and is often quick to correct me if she thinks I am misjudging others or forgetting certain things. But when it comes to herself, she is largely a closed book. She says, "I'm fine," whenever I ask her how she feels about things. The couple times I have seen her cry, she has gotten so embarrassed that she would quickly change the subject and refuse to talk about it more. I try to pry her open, but to say things like, "Tell me the truth; tell me what you really think," sometimes cuts me off from her rather than bringing me closer.  

I've found that sometimes in these moments, even though it is obviously her who is hurting, I get irritated about my own hurts. It is really painful to feel like I am perhaps her oppressor, but don't know how because she won't talk to me about it. I want to accuse her of not communicating the way she should, as if we could easily solve all the problems if she would only open her mouth. 

I never realized before how much self-expression through language is a moral good I am very committed to. I think a lot of us are very committed to it. You all are probably all thinking right now that you feel very bad for my companion, and thinking of how I need to get her to trust me more so that she will feel comfortable sharing her feelings, etc. To us, self-expression is politically correct, it is culturally required, and to self-express and encourage other's self-expression is supposedly the moral thing to do. But Sometimes the most politically correct, culturally appropriate, supposedly moral things to say and do in order to express love are exactly the opposite of what we need to do to really show love. Sometimes we use what is culturally appropriate to shove our hurts on other people, or to accuse them, evidenced every time I get irritated because she won't open up to me. Am I really loving her then, or am I annoyed at my lack of control? I think the latter.

What does it really mean to communicate? It isn't about words; it isn't about the details at all. It should be about love, about meaning. 

To really communicate with my companion, I am learning, means to learn her own methods of communicating meaning. Language is certainly not the only one. Loving her means to spend those lunch times together cooking together and talking about science, and laughing, even though I sometimes want to spend that time reading. It means learning her facial expressions, her mannerisms, what seems to make her happy and why and when, and trying to do whatever increases the frequency of her happy moments. It means not making her cry in front of me if she really doesn't want to! It means encouraging her in her own talents. She plays guitar, and recently an investigator gave her an extra guitar they had lying around. We now bring her guitar and my violin with us to visit people, probably about two or three times a week, and we use music as a way to bring us and them together. In missionary work, too, I encourage her to be herself in how she expresses love. She isn't one for small talk or warm emotional hugs, but she writes cards, she remembers small details of people's lives, and when she isn't feeling too shy, she cracks jokes. She is great the way she is. 

There are so many ways to communicate love and meaning other than language. Sometimes language just gets in the way. I shared all this with you because I think it is very interesting, not because Sister Sun and I are having problems. I actually think my companionship with her, while the most absent of verbal communication of our feelings, is the happiest I have had. 

I have to go, but I love you all! Thanks for all your love and support!

Diana