I think I forgot to mention it, but a couple weeks ago at interviews the Elders had their car jacked by the man. Technically speaking this would put us in a car share, but due to various reasons (dislike of driving, easier to meet people in the ghetto on bikes, didn't want to have to worry about media referrals to far out towns, and probably chivalry or something) the Elders decided to go full-time bike instead. Sister Creager has been in car shares her whole mission, and I spent like a whole two weeks in a car share that one time, so clearly we liked this plan :) Unforeseen consequence: our car ended up having to go to Jackson twice, Greenwood twice, and has to make the church/groceries trek twice each P-day now. The result? Two sets of essentially full time sweaty--I mean bike--missionaries until the end of the month. Dad would be so proud.
Dramatics aside, I really do like riding the old two wheeled contraption. We've been busier than ever, and being on bikes just makes it feel even more apparent. Plus, the majority of our lunch and dinner hours are now spent playing dead on the floor while we try to air out our sweat-drenched selves.
Some cool stories from the week:
-During the closing prayer to a lesson, a lady prayed for us to have no trials in life, but if we did, that we'd have the hind-feet of deer so we could jump over them. She may have also spoken in tongues. Good times.
-Taught a lesson yesterday to a chorus of "mmmmhmmm"s and "fo sho"s. When people like us, they really like us.
-Picked up another young mom as an investigator this week. Her name is JaJa, and she actually investigated the church when she was 16. It was her daughter's 6th birthday on Saturday, so we scavenged our apartment for an appropriate gift, which I carried in my bike basket. So handy that bike basket of mine (remember like a year ago, when my emails were full of pleading for my bike basket to be sent to me? This is why). Anyways her daughter's name is Peaches. Mom, if you aren't afraid by now of what your future grand-children's names will be, you best be. The South is contagious.
-On Thursday we were totally led to exactly who we needed to see. We had 20 minutes before the RS activity, so figured we'd hop in the car, and tract the apartments we had planned to the night before. When I got to our complex's exit, instead of making the needed left turn, I felt right instead. We went right, and were then faced with another left or right option of complexes. Neither stood out, so I made Sister Creager pick really fast. Left! We ended up in front of building 12, which we decided was appropriate due to the 12 Apostles and 12 tribes of Israel. First door we knock let us in right away, and we met J, who had been fired from her job just a few days previous, and was way upset. If it weren't for the need to care for her nephew, she said she might've taken her life. We testified of God's love for her, shared a message of hope from the Book of Mormon, and the Spirit was way strong. Being a tool is cool.
-Yesterday I crashed on my bike. Cool story, no? Ha psych. Un-psych to that psych because it is cool, I pinky-promise. Here's the rest of the story: So yesterday we were riding our bikes on a two lane road with no shoulder. I was pretty pooped, so wasn't going very fast and didn't have rigid control over my bike. All of a sudden in my mind I see my front wheel turn slightly and go off the road, causing my bike and I to tip over sideways and fall into the road. Less than a second later the scene unfolded exactly as I had seen it in my head. The Creagster was riding behind me, and used her super-power-biking-skills to stop in time, and then halt traffic while I dusted myself off and recollected my bike's basket/ the items that exploded out of it. The car behind us, and the car going the opposite direction both stopped to make sure I was ok, so Mississippi is still indeed the hospitality state. Sister Creager informed me that I fell rather gracefully; while I hadn't had enough time to prevent the accident, I think my forewarning super-charged my lazy reflexes into action to prevent serious damage to the self (just a baby sized cut, a little bruise, and a slightly swollen ankle to show from my tuffle with the pavement). Pretty cool; score one goes to the Holy Ghost.
Next week's project: Operation Cleveland. Be excited. Just don't be too excited, because Operation Cleveland is actually not a go yet, but this next week will involve some serious ironing out of details. More info to come.