The snow it melts, the sun it stays.

I'm sorry that all I ever talk about is my mission, how I feel after coming home, etc. Most of the time I do fine. Just like any adjustment, I hit crests of waves and depths of troughs. I only feel the need to speak while in the troughs. I don't know why this is.

Being off a mission is hard, only at times. Being off a mission and at my parents' house is hard all the time. I realized today, after finishing a conversation with one of my companions, that it's hard because largely, my family ignores the fact I was a missionary. Not deliberately. But it doesn't compute as part of their life. Their lives continued in the same pattern while I was gone; having me back is merely part of their pattern.

Today I got a card from my last companion. I found the card at Nice Twice, the train depot-turned-thrift store we volunteered at. It was printed in 1983. It pictures a cartoon girl riding a bicycle, though only the front half of the bicycle is visible. It says: "If there's one thing I need in Waterloo...", open it, pictured is the girl, alone on a tandem bicycle, "It's you."

I loved this card when I saw it. I mean LOVED. I was more obsessed with it than I was the "Smile: This card was sent to you by someone who thinks you're special!" card that some of you may have received. But I never had anyone to send it to, and I loved it so much I wanted to keep it, so I made Mo send it to me. And it just made me cry to read it. Because Waterloo represents a lot. Feelings are so complicated.

She sent me pictures of Jeremy and David, wearing white for their baptisms. I taught these guys. I love these guys.

I have known no greater joy. Lasting, spiritually sanctifying joy doesn't come as often as I'd like it to.

Just so you know, Sting's new Christmas/winter album is pretty great. Let's be honest though, it's Sting. Everything he touches turns to gold. Fields of gold.

Anyway, I am going to the gun store now. And then maybe here.