Letters to Chile

I want to write more on this blasted blog but never know what. I've decided to post the letters I write to my missionary sister Adele each week, just to get in the mode of posting. Hopefully more enlightened posts will be inspired by this practice. Or something.

Dear Adele,

Happy Birthday! Or I hope it was. For me it was SURPRISINGLY happy considering how overwhelmingly downcast I’ve been feeling. Birthday morning I woke after 4 hours at around 6:30 in the morning. I lay strewn in bed for about half-an-hour, pitying myself as usual, then rose and wiped off the dirty kitchen table. Back in my room, I read an author named John Updike for another half-hour, then rose and ate a bowel of cereal. After a few minutes of sleep I was gathered up by Anna for opening presents, which I really was excited for and roused myself with amazing speed. My gifts were as follows:

- “Inkheart”, an adventurous movie about the magic of books and stories.
- “Fellowship of the Ring”, the first installment of the Lord of the Rings movie series, replacing our older, scratched copy.
- A book by John Steinbeck, my current Favorite Author Ever, called “Travels With Charlie”, detailing the author’s cross-country trip from Rhode Island to his birthplace in California and his many mini adventures and thoughts that came to him along the way (Charlie is his French poodle). It’s the one I’m reading currently, and it’s so fun! The man is always so articulate and visual in his language. I envy and aspire to be like him.
- A set of three books, each a collection of American short stories and/or essays written in a particular year: one book covering 2004, another 2007, and the third covering 2008. Haven’t started them yet, but am anxious to.
- Some pants and shirts that look amazing on me.
- No cds! I was shocked and almost hurt, until I opened my final present…
- A bookcase. It’s hugely wide. We had to assemble it. The paneled and pressed wood is incredibly real-looking, very wide, and just under 5 feet tall. There are three long shelves—it’s the LENGTH of it that’s give it it’s bulky air, though it’s not a huge space-cruncher. Really beautiful piece of furniture. The top shelf I placed the British-authored books, the second shelf is Gospel books and poetry (as well as one book on literary criticism—didn’t know where else it should go), and the bottom shelf American literature. Dunno why I arranged it as such, but I do like the look of it. It’s like the piece that was missing from my room—it’s never felt as complete as it does now. Can you tell I love it?

We went to Mesa Falls, where we picnicked on hot dogs and witnessed falling water—lots of it. I read “Travels With Charlie” aloud to the general contents of the vehicle, which delighted myself, Dad, and even Camilla to a point, though everyone else seemed indifferent. The part of the world we drove through to get to Mesa Falls was a blanket of soft, drifting hills, all sectioned off into farmland, each it’s own shade of green. It was so beautiful that I wanted to dance in it, wanted to kiss the grass if you can believe it, but the car was fast-moving and I want to live more than I want to kiss grass…. here I still am. I napped and blew out all 22 of our candles in one deft heave that would have left you and your opera lungs proud. How did our birthday go for you? I assume Mom will inform you about Laura's b-day, which I wasn't as involved in.

Thanks for your brief but good words last week. They were well received. There are so many times where I feel on fire with frustration and a constant sense of loss, like there’s something important I need to be doing RIGHT NOW… but what? But as the days stretch into weeks my acute pain in Michelle’s absence dims little by little, and I’m beginning to move on. She’s forever changed me for the monumental better. I try not to think too much about her, but I won’t even try to forget her—so I allow myself a little monologue about her now and then, mostly in writing, so forgive me if I repetitively mention her every week for the remainder of your mission. It’s my weak way of dealing with what I deem immense feelings. You understand, I’m sure. Thanks for that.

I love you and I’ll keep praying for you. Is there anything in particular you’d like me to pray for you? For me, please pray that I’ll expand my view again to all I should be thinking of and praying for; of late my prayers have all been entirely about myself, and though I may rack my brain, the dark of night muddles my disposition to care about others' needs. I need to snap out of it!—it’s fine to grieve, but not to “dwell on dreams and forget to live”, as Dumbledore says. The new HP movie is, by the way, delightfully glorious. ;)

forgetting something as usual,

your loving brother,
Jacob

ps....remind me to tell you about my visit to Playmill. It was simple but fun!