Week 36 - This is Halloween, This is Halloween, Halloween, Halloween! 🎃🎃

Happy Halloween y'all! If you didn't already know!

I just want to start off by saying how much I love all of you! Thank you for being the amazing group of family and friends that you are! I am so fortunate to have such great examples in my life! I hope all you know just how important you are to me! 😊💜

This week a lot happened and not a lot happened. I have come to know just how fortunate I have been to be raised up in such a loving family and in the Gospel! Shout out to my amazing Papa, Mama, and Butter! Thank you! 😊💜

We have met a few people this week that we have been trying to get into contact for like 8 or 9 weeks. However long I've been here in Crossville. Definitely some tender mercies this week. Lots of return appointments and for missionaries, return appointments are gold! I am so pumped for this week to happen! I am definitely soooo excited and soooo grateful to a Father in Heaven, who has a plan for us. 😊

I had a great talk with my Mission President last Monday which set the mood for the rest of the week. 😊😳😬😜😂 Lots of mixed feelings about future transfers in this area, but I know that as I rely on my Savior and my Father in Heaven then I will definitely be able to accomplish my purpose in this area. 

This week I have thought a lot about baptism and repentance. My district the great, patient Elders that are in it that have to deal with me. Hahahaha bless their hearts!! 😂😜😊 They have opened my eyes again to the importance of baptism. I am grateful for the leaders that I have in my life, especially at this time to push me and keep me on track. Not gonna lie that it has been a hard few transfers, but totally worth it. Sorry got side tracked, but they have reopened my eyes to my goal when I first came out on my mission. I learned in the MTC how important baptism was and why I wanted to bring people to the waters of baptism. Most people think, "the missionaries just want to baptize you, they don't care, they just want the number." Yes we do want to baptize, but the number is not the reason. Atleast not for me. I love every single person I come into contact with whether they are nice or not. I want to baptize people to bring them so much closer to their Savior. When I left the MTC I told myself I was gonna ask as many people as possible to be baptized whether they accepted it or not. You'll never know unless you try. I seemed to have forgotten that goal until my District Leader and Zone Leaders told us what we were role playing (practicing). It is definitely amazing how my Heavenly Father works. 😊

The other thing I've been thinking of is repentance. It made me think of some people that I am very close to in my life and how they have used the Atonement in their lives and how they have strengthened me by doing so. I want to share a story that one of my former companions shared with me. I think it sums up quite nicely what the Atonement is. Well there is two stories that sum it up very well, but I will only share one due to the length of this email already and this story is pretty lengtheny anyway.

The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the

room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall

covered with small index-card files. They were like the ones in

libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.

But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly

endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew

near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that

read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the

cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the

names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless

room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here

were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a

detail my memory couldn't match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within

me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some

brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so

intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was

watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I

Have Betrayed."

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I

Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Jokes I Have

Laughed At." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things

I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I

Have Done in My Anger," "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My

Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there

were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.

I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could

it be possible that I had the time in all my  years to write each of

these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed

this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with

my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To," I

realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were

packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the

end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of

music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file

represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run

through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to

test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed

content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No

one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have

to destroy them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size

didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took

it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge

a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find

it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.

Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying

sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the

Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,

almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than

three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it

contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt

started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and

cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all.

The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must

ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him.

Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.

I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards.

I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could

bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to

read every one?

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at

me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I

dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many

things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one

end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His

name over mine on each card.

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no,"

as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards.

But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name

of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign

the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so

quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last

file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and

said, "It is finished."

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its

door. There were still cards to be written.

I love this story. It's like a sad, but sweet story of what our Savior went through for every single one of us. I am grateful for Him. I could pretty much do nothing without Him. He is everything! 💜

Well I hope you all have a stellar week! Remember that the church is true, the book is blue, and I love you! 😊💜

P.s. Sorry about the different sizing of font..... Worst thing ever!

Love,

Sister Jacob

Serving in Crossville

1. Tennessee Knoxville Mission pumpkin! 🎃

2. Maw, Charlie, and ME! 😊😂😜
3. I'm an Elder now! 😊😂😜
4. We're pretty cool! 😎
5. We had a Ward Trunk or Treat! We dressed up as Elders!!! 😂😜😊