Title: Transfer #2 (So Far)

I apologize for not writing a blog sooner! I'm into my second six weeks in the mission field, and it's really starting to feel like home. A lot of the people here have truly become my family. One great thing about being a missionary is that you talk to practically everybody you come into contact with, so you meet the most amazing people you never would have otherwise. One thing I've learned is that everybody really does have a story, and if you take the time to actually care enough to find out as much as you can about each individual, you find out how incredible each one of us is. A few weeks ago a new friend of mine named David cut off his finger with a table saw. He was hilarious as he excitedly showed us the pictures that he made sure to snap with his phone just minutes after it had happened. He loves to show us all the bloody details. As we continued to talk about it, I found out that David is pretty familiar with stitches and operations. Almost his whole torso is covered in scars. He's been pronounced dead three times on the operating table. Despite all of that, he's still living happily and loves to tell his stories with a smile. He knows that God is watching out for him.
Speaking of blood, I've slaughtered chickens for the last three Mondays! (I apologize: this blog is probably not the best for the squeamish.) We love helping any way we can as missionaries, and that help can often come in...interesting ways. I have to admit there were some times when I was really grossed out, but I really think I'm getting the hang of everything! I have great respect for the good farmers of the world. It's a lot harder than it looks, and some of those people are amazing at these things. I suppose I won't gross the poor readers too much more. But yeah, it was really bloody.
It's still pretty warm up here. At least warmer than North Dakota usually is. I love telling people where I'm from, because they will inevitably reply with one of the two following responses: "North Dakota...is that the one with Mount Rushmore?" or "Boy, you come from Cold Country! I bet you're roasting down here!" It's either one of those, or the person has actually served a mission in North Dakota. It's been cool to run into so many people that are familiar with home. I've also heard that lots of people down here are moving up to work on the Bakken.
My Navajo is still coming along pretty well. I know the words for lots of farm animals (there's a lot of opportunities for practicing those words) and I can count from one to ten. Patty and Bennie have been testing me just about every time I go over so that I stay on top of everything. I also have been able to meet with Laura and Emerson, a mother an d son who also speak Navajo. Laura is great...she's older and pretty much only speaks Navajo. She makes fun of me every time I attempt to say something. It's hilarious watching her crack up as this little half white/half Latino kid mispronounces words all over the place.
I'm loving being a missionary. As I've said time and time again, it's the hardest thing I've ever done, but the best thing I've ever done. There's nothing better than sharing the message that means the most to you, and helping people find faith in Jesus Christ. God loves everybody...I know it. I've come to see how much He wants people to be happy, and how much happiness we are missing out on if we don't love everybody like He does. I know that He lives and is mindful of every one of us. Only He understands perfectly what we're going through and he knows why we need to go through it in the long run. I know that Jesus Christ really did die for us. I hope people don't think that I'm just saying this to say it or that it's just a nice idea that's been pounded into my head. I really mean it. I know that Jesus Christ is the Savior because I've seen Him in every person I've met, every good thing that's happened to me, and every friend that I've made. He's carried me through the hard times and laughed with me in the good times. He's real. I know it.

Ayoninshneh! (I love you!)

- Elder Ammon Miller