Hello! I hope everyone is enjoying their sunny spring in Utah! I
HATE YOU ALL. It appears that winter is never ending here in the North Pole, so
count your blessings, you selfish sunlight hoarders. ;) Out of the goodness of
your hearts you are welcome to send me pictures of the beautiful spring I hear
you're having. I'm starting to forget what color the sky is supposed to be, so
send me warm thoughts please! Also, SHOUT OUT to Lauren Stookey for getting her
mission call! I'm SO PROUD OF YOU! You will be the most incredible missionary.
Seriously, you will LOVE the mission! Congrats!
In case you are all wondering, my greenie and I are alive and
well! Oh my, what a week! It was quite a traumatic delivery for my sweet new
baby, but she is an amazing missionary and has transitioned into mission life
beautifully. So where to begin? I can't believe a week ago I was still
with my mommy Sister Cantu. We really partied it up on our last P-day together.
We went and saw the dregs of the "world-famous" ice village, as well
as the ever popular Biodome. Cool stuff right here in Montreal, let me tell ya!
Ha ha but no, we know how to make things fun. On Tuesday we had a farewell
poutine together with the other sisters in our apartment, dinner with my
favorite Parisian family in the evening, and then I had to face the fact that I
was about to go from greenie to trainer in a matter of hours. Wow. Can you say
waterworks?
Wednesday morning I moped and paced around the house as Sister
Cantu prepared to abandon me. We listened to the mission song on repeat as we
made the solemn drive to the parking lot where transfers take place. It was
like this... my palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heave, I'm nervous.
But on the surface I looked calm and ready to drop BoMs. #loseyourself. It was
almost as hard as the day I left for the MTC. ...Mmm, no. JPLAY. Nothing will
rival that day, but becoming the trainer of someone who has been a missionary
as long as you have is a TERRIFYING experience. Fast forward to transfers
though and my greenie is FABULOUS! Her name is Sister Foniciello, she's my age,
about as sweet as can be, and she's from Belgium! How perfect is that?! I love
her so much already.
We went and got her first poutine with Sister Cantu's new
district (in case you were wondering, yes, all we do over here is eat poutine)
and after that she was allll mine! The airport lost her luggage, so for the
first three days she felt homeless. I can't imagine a better start! Also, our
toilet broke for the third time this month. So we take our new greenies home no
clothes to call their own, no toilets to call their own. Ha ha the PERFECT
orientation to the mission field!
Luckily I'm a great mama bear and have learned how to handle
catastrophes like an adult since I got here. I've also learned more about
plumbing than I ever wanted to know, which leads me to the drama of the week.
Okay. When I first got here I soon had to become the official plumber of the
house. Don't ask me why the greenie was apparently the only one capable of this
task, but I'm a problem solver, so quite frequently I would hear,
"FLUUUUUSH... AAAAAH! NOOOO," and then, "SISTER CUTLER!
HELP!" And I could always fix the problem. Then the day of transfers
comes, and I suddenly could no longer work my plumbress magic. I call the
landlord, who already hated us after waking up to the sound of us hefting our
Nutella-laden bodies around to Jillian Michaels one morning. She gives me some
shady promise that she'll send a plumber over that afternoon, scolds me one
more time about the Jillian Michaels incident, then hangs up. I think the
problem is solved until that night when we return home and it indeed has NOT
been solved. I won't go into details, but being toiletless was the darkest
night of my life. ANYWAY, the next morning I decided to just let it flood all
over the floor, and for two days that actually solved the problem. Fast forward
to Saturday and it's taking on the characteristics of Mount Vesuvius again.
Ugh. I call the landlord. She doesn't answer. SURPRISE! Fast forward to that
evening when we return home for dinner. I'm thinking, "Is it too much to
ask that I NOT get kidney stones on my mission?" when FINALLY the landlord
comes over. She the takes one look at the toilet, accuses me of flushing all
manner of feminine hygiene products down there, makes me empty out the tank by
hand, says she can't find a plumber until Monday, and then leaves. And I'm just
like, "Ohhh no she didn't! Girlfriend is about to get it." So I do
the mature thing and call Sister Cannon and cry to her about how we haven't had
a functioning toilet in days and that I've been doing more plumbing than
missionary work since I got here and that the landlord wasn't going to fix it
until Monday. SHE WAS LIVID. She calls the landlord, and MIRACULOUSLY the
landlord is able to find a plumber on the weekend. In a city as big as
Montreal, it is nigh unto impossible to accomplish something like this. The
landlord was all kindness after the phone call from the mission president. She
even offered to let us use her bathroom. What an incredibly kind solution! It
turns out the entire toilet needed to be replaced, but the landlord didn't want
to admit it. But hey, at least we got a sleep over at the mission home out of
it! Such an adventure. It was the perfect ending to an insane week. My new
companion probably thinks I'm a neurotic toilet queen, but I am seriously
wearing the new toilet in the apartment like a badge of honor.
I hope everyone has an incredible week! This week should go much
better than the last. Enjoy the spring and have a wonderful Easter Sunday! I
love you all and miss you soooo much!
Love,
Sister Cutler
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