Monday, March 28, 2016

My Easter was fantastic!!! It rained a lot, but it was still pretty great! I did get my package from you guys and the Zwahlens, so thanks to both of you!!! 

Elder Duran and I 
My new companion is Elder Duran, like "Duran Duran" like "Hungry Like the Wolf"... haha! We lived together when I was with Elder Godinez in Beaufort, he's pretty chill! He is from Coolidge, Arizona I honestly don't know where that is... somewhere near Tuscon... I think... 

Today we are going to play some soccer!

 I'M GETTING PUMPED FOR CONFERENCE!!!! I'm not trunky or anything, but this is the last one of my mission.... haha!

Going along with that video here is a thought from a man who went through Navy SEAL traning, the whole talk is called "Life Lessons From Navy SEAL Training" , it's really good!

"The ninth week of SEAL training is referred to as Hell Week. It is six days of no sleep, constant physical and mental harassment and one special day at the Mud Flats. The Mud Flats are an area between San Diego and Tijuana where the water runs off and creates the Tijuana slues—a swampy patch of terrain where the mud will engulf you.

It is on Wednesday of Hell Week that you paddle down to the mud flats and spend the next 15 hours trying to survive the freezing-cold mud, the howling wind and the incessant pressure from the instructors to quit.
As the sun began to set that Wednesday evening, my training class, having committed some "egregious infraction of the rules" was ordered into the mud. The mud consumed each man till there was nothing visible but our heads. The instructors told us we could leave the mud if only five men would quit—just five men and we could get out of the oppressive cold.
Looking around the mud flat, it was apparent that some students were about to give up. It was still over eight hours till the sun came up—eight more hours of bone-chilling cold. The chattering teeth and shivering moans of the trainees were so loud it was hard to hear anything. And then, one voice began to echo through the night—one voice raised in song.
The song was terribly out of tune, but sung with great enthusiasm. One voice became two, and two became three, and before long everyone in the class was singing.
We knew that if one man could rise above the misery then others could as well. The instructors threatened us with more time in the mud if we kept up the singing—but the singing persisted. And somehow, the mud seemed a little warmer, the wind a little tamer and the dawn not so far away.
If I have learned anything in my time traveling the world, it is the power of hope. The power of one person—Washington, Lincoln, King, Mandela and even a young girl from Pakistan named Malala—can change the world by giving people hope.
So, if you want to change the world, start singing when you're up to your neck in mud."
That is my spiritual thought this time because I'm to lazy to write anything else.... But for reals when hard times come, and we are neck deep in mud, all we can do is embrace it and SING!!! #KeepSinging

I love you all a bunch!!!

Elder Allen
Flash back to Beaufort!! These are pictures that I got from elder Duran that I never got before I left







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