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As promised, I deliver the flakiest blog known to man.

Hillbilly is wrapping up her 12th week in the field. That’s 1% of her life to date! Luckily she isn’t nearly as nerdy as her mom.

There is a long, confusing, epic and inspirational story regarding the MTC group’s exodus from the MTC, across the Atlantic, and their safe arrival in Oslo. It’s really quite amazing. If I try to recount it here I will just get it all messed up. But trust me; it is a really cool story.

The first email I received after the group arrived in Norway was from Hillary’s friend Karolina. Karolina was in Hillary’s ward in New York during their nannyhood days. Now, I’m not clear on the exact story (and it’s one of those things that I should have listened better but my ADD got the best of me), but Karolina is from Sweden, yet seems to live in Oslo and was waiting for Hillary at the mission home when the MTC group arrived! That was really amazing. Karolina knew Hillary’s first area was to be Bergen before Hillary knew.

Karolina sent me some pictures the next day—I’m not 100% sure which of the girls in the pictures is Karolina, but the thrashed looking one is Hillary.

Off to Bergen she went, and into her first companionship. Sister Engebretsen has been out just a little longer than Hillary has. She’s been a lifesaver—Hillary tells me she is much more fluent in Norwegian.

Sister Engebretsen (my goal is to spell her name without looking…) is a die hard cross country runner, and the two faithfully cross the country together almost every day.

Back in the day, I had a few companions who were runners. I was decidedly NOT a runner. My third companion would run around the block a couple of times every morning at about 5:00am. Then she would jump rope in the parking lot across the street. I felt horrible that she went off by herself like that, so one morning I got up determined to accompany her.

It was inspiration, guilt, or disgust that changed her mind about going outside to exercise. She never mentioned it again!

Hillary's emails are positively ecstatic. I’m chagrined that she’s happier now than she was at her 4th birthday party. Not that it wasn’t a joy for me turning the house into a pink palace and throwing together that ballerina-pixy-princess-tinkerbell-fairy costume. (I only have one girl, and she is a VERY girly girl, which I never was.)

Chagriness aside—I love getting her crazy happy letters. Her first one was over 3,000 words long. I will now attempt to paraphrase it:

“Everything is wonderful!”

Her next email was a mere 312 words, and can be summarized thusly:
“I love you mom!”

Letter # 3:
“Mom, I’m FINE, I promise!”

She’s growing by leaps and bounds, exponentially faster than she could ever have done at home. The one theme that permeates every letter is:
“The church is true! I love my mission! I love the gospel!”

I figure that’s a pretty good message from this 1% of her life.