The Pulga

Saturday morning we went to the pulga, which is the spanish flea market. I had told the sister missionaries that I would come and visit them there sometime. We tried to visit them in January when Pete was here but we never found their booth. (There are over 2,000 vendors, we were told) I decided we better do it before it gets any hotter here in Houston! It was an interesting experience because it really does feel like you are in a different country. Most of the people who walk by the missionary's booth ignore them or even turn them down flat on wanting to hear anything about the church. Some want to buy the posters that they have, which are not for sale but they do offer the pamphlets and of course a visit from the missionaries to teach them the gospel. As we wandered the aisles I didn't see one thing I wanted to buy, it was pretty much just "stuff". I thought to myself how the very thing that would bring true joy and happiness, not only in this life but throughout all eternity, was waved off as a thing of "nought". Oh if only we could all remember what it was like when we lived with God and Jesus, when we wanted so much to follow them, when we couldn't wait to get to this world to show them just how much we loved them and we would remember them. Isn't that so weird that that's what the pulga reminded me of? I wish I could remember what I said to make Hermana Ang laugh! Hermana Donkin and Rodriguez. I felt so bad for Hermana Donkin because someone had just told her she spoke Spanish horribly and that she shouldn't even try to speak it!

Hermana Maylett is right behind me, she goes home in just a few weeks, I have come to love these sisters so much. You know everyone of them, everyone of us, has a story! When you think you don't like someone, it's probably only because you don't know their story.