Can someone please get me a tissue?

There's got to be a box around here somewhere. Can someone please get me a tissue? I'm a blubbering mess.

First of all, I've become friends with a mother from G's soccer team. She goes to a spanish branch in the LDS church. I asked her if she had grown up in the church or if she was a convert. She then went on to tell me this most amazing story. She grew up in Mexico City. From the time she was eleven she started doubting her church's beliefs. She talked of how she questioned a lot of things. How she was building a relationship with the Lord. How she read and loved her Bible. As a teenager she went to live with a relative and secretly studied all kinds of religions hoping to find the "true" church. She remembers driving by the Mexico City LDS temple several times and thinking how beautiful it was and that you must be rich to go in there. She loved seeing the men in their dark suits and the women in their beautiful wedding dresses out on the temple grounds. She secretly had a wish that she could go in someday.

When she was twenty she left for the United States where she had been told that she could live with her brother and his wife in their apartment that had a swimming pool. Eager to study english and her search for the "true" church, she headed north and crossed the border. There she found a one bedroom and one bathroom apartment shared by her brother, his wife, another brother and a friend. She then wondered where in the world she would sleep and keep her stuff. She was told that she would lay in the hall next to her brother at night while the friend would have the couch. She would sleep with one eye open knowing that the friend was a stranger to her. She wondered why she left her large home in Mexico. Her brother told her that she needed to go get a job. She was shocked and scared. She only knew a few english words such as jello and a handful of other words. She was scared out of her mind to go out and ask for an application. She could hardly say the word. Her brother told her to go to McDonalds. She was offended at that because that would be a step back from where she had been working, but her brother explained that that's how it works here. You have to start somewhere and then build from there. Every where she went she carried her Bible next to her chest. It was the only "friend" that she had in her new life in the U.S. Five days after arriving in the U.S. she met two white men in white shirts that could speak spanish. She couldn't believe it and wondered how they had learned spanish so well. Well, they were the LDS missionaries and she took the discussions at McDonalds after her work shifts so that her brothers wouldn't know what she was doing.

She told her mother back in Mexico that she had decided to be baptized. Her mother told her that she would no longer be a member of the family, along with her brothers that she was living with. As she stood in the baptismal font, she was sobbing saying, "sorry mama, sorry mama". She knew she was doing the right thing.

Not long after that she met her huband. He had arrived from Peru the same year she had. They made an agreement to take turns going to each other's churches. After awhile, he didn't want to go to his anymore. He liked hers. The time came that they became engaged. While they were out one day, he asked her if they were going to go to the baptism of someone in their singles branch. She said, "yes". They arrived at the church and she got busy talking to the other people there and then wondered where her fiance had gone. She turned around and he stood there in his white outfit ready to be baptized. She began crying when she realized whos baptism it was. Her friends had kept this secret for over a month and she had no idea that any of this had even gone on. He told her that he wanted to take her to the temple some day. A year later they were married in the Los Angeles Temple.

I hear of pioneer stories all the time. You know the ones. My great great great grandfather...I love those stories. I cherish my own family's stories. But it was inspiring to hear her conversion and all the things that she had to go through because of something she knew for herself. Her mother eventually was accepting of her daughter's decision and told her to stay in the states. She was better off there. It was beautiful. I told her that.

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I tucked B in bed tonight. I mean I really tucked her in, not just the kiss and saying, "I love you B, good night". We knelt down and said her first night time prayer. It was adorable. She repeated everything I said until we got thanking for mom, dad,....she was able to rattle them off all by herself. As I tucked her in, I told her a story.

Once upon a time there was a mommy and a daddy and they had five boys. The mommy and the daddy and the five brothers all wanted a baby girl in their family. After waiting a long time for a baby girl, they got a phone call. The daddy answered the phone and the man said, "We have a baby girl for you". The mommy and the daddy and the five brothers were so excited to finally have a baby girl in their family. Three days later the mommy went to the hospital and the nurses asked, "Can we help you?" The mommy said, "I'm here to get my baby". When the mommy saw the baby girl she picked her up and held her. She told her that her name was B and that she was her mommy. She told the baby that she had a daddy and five brothers. The mommy dressed her baby girl in a cute pink tutu, put her in her carseat and went to visit her daddy at work. After she saw her daddy she went home and was greeted by her brothers. It wasn't long before her big brother C said, "B, I love you so much". B, I'm so glad that I'm your mommy. I love your birth momma. I love that she gave you to me. I love you B.

I was sobbing as I held my cheek next to hers. I've thought about this story for months. I've stressed out about it wanting it to be perfect, wondering how many details to put in it, waiting for the right Shutterfly sale, and so on. But tonight, it was perfect. It was beautiful. I can't wait to tell it to her tomorrow night.

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I just got back from helping set up a wedding reception for tomorrow night. Funny thing is, I don't have a clue who the people are that are getting married. My soccer friend invited me to the wedding tomorrow night to experience their culture. It was the least I could do was go and help. After all, everyone can use help setting up a reception. I stand corrected. Not in her culture. It was so neat. I counted thiry one, yes THIRTY ONE people setting up chairs, tables, cutting ribbons, filling vases and tying up boxes. Not just women either. I thought, okay, this is definately a different culture. That's thirty people from a branch helping each other out for a wedding. It was such a foreign concept.

One of my friends is married to a Hawaiian and they go back regularly to visit. Every time she comes back she speaks of being the "howli" (I know that's probably not how you spell it, that's just how I spell it in my head) at all the famliy parties. I felt like that tonight. I was the only white person (as my friend calls me) there. It was kind of funny.

While at soccer today my friend was telling me about a wedding she went to in Bountiful. She said that they walked in ready for the celebration and were greeted at the door with a long line of people. They sat down at a table and were brought a small plate with a piece of cake and a tiny cup of nuts to eat. I wish you could have seen her face as she was telling me this. I fell back on the lawn laughing my head off knowing she was right about the "white people's" culture. She and her family sat there wondering where everyone was headed and why they were leaving. Didn't anyone want to stay to dance and celebrate with them?

So, I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. A night where I'll only understand numbers, and any words I may have heard on Sesame Street or Dora the Explorer. I'm excited for the dancing and the celebrating. I'm excited to learn and witness another culture. It's going to be great. Isn't it a beautiful thing that we're all so different?