To: Jacob Accorso
From: Bradley Accorso
Subject: RE: Getting Acclimated?
Date: January 16, 2013 - 9:45
Hey Dad! As I read your email I thought about how you’ve been
there for me in the past and how you’re continuing to be there for me. I miss
you and all of the family a lot and it’s only been THREE DAYS! I’m glad that we
can at least communicate with each other. Otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do.
What’s up with the family? Has Nathaniel complained about being all alone with
his sisters yet?
I’ve also been thinking about that General Conference
morning. I was weaving in and out of focus until I heard those words. “Now
young men who are 18 years of age can go on a mission.” Suddenly I jolted upright.
Before I knew it I was asking you and Mom to allow me to go on a mission.
I know that as much as you wanted me to go, it was tough for it
all to happen so quickly for you and Mom. When you waved goodbye to me as I
headed to the security line at the airport, I could tell you were…probably
still are…wondering in the back of your mind if I was really ready to go. To be
honest, I have wondered that a lot and sometimes worry about not being
prepared. I’ve never really been on my own. I only know how to cook pancakes
and eggs and throw stuff in a microwave. And it’s hard to think of myself as an
equal with adults. I still feel like I’m just a kid.
Don’t get me wrong, I know how to explain our beliefs and all
the Bible and Book of Mormon stories from everything I learned at home, in
church, and during our seminary classes before each day at high school. But can
I really convince someone thousands of miles away in another language that what
I was raised with is something they need and should want for themselves?
Especially those whose lives are already pretty good? It’s a little
intimidating. Can I really say that I know that these things are true? I’m not
sure.
Today in my
scripture study I was reading the part in the Book of Mosiah from the Book of
Mormon when the sons of King Mosiah wanted to go to a dangerous nation on their
border to share the gospel. Mosiah was concerned but eventually let them go when
the Lord answered his prayer with reassurance that his sons would be protected
and many would believe on their words. I think it’s very similar with how you
reacted when I told you I was going on a mission.
You asked about my daily routine. Physical discipline’s not a
problem because of experience with early, long and rigorous days with my
swimming and crew experience in high school. But it’s the intensity and the concentration
that’s the real challenge. Wake up at 6 every morning. Study the scriptures. Exercise
and work out. Shower and get ready. Have a little breakfast. Then go to my
classes. At least my Latin from high school has given me some preparation for
Italian. But it’s one thing to know a few vocabulary words. Completely another
to listen and respond in real time while doing role play as a missionary with
my instructor and classmates. I have to think hard about the right thing to say
to the person and how to say it, and then translate in my head from Italian to
English. On the street, if you can’t do that quickly, a busy person walking by
is not gonna give you the time of day. And the instructors actually do that—just
walk away—if we can’t do a good enough job keeping their attention. It helps
that they had us buy the missionary manual Predicare il mio Vangelo (Preach My
Gospel) and bring it with us. That gives us some foundation for what we’re
doing.
In some ways, without the peer pressure, it’d be a lot
harder. But everyone motivates everyone else, and it somehow gets me through.
Or at least has these first three days. The first day was pure adrenaline. The
second day was much harder not to hit the snooze button. But I have a companion
from Arizona who is super pumped and he seems like he has enough energy for
both of us. His name is Elder Johnson. His language skills are terrible but he
doesn’t care. He just wants to share the gospel with everybody. That makes me
feel like I don’t have to worry. I can push ahead even if I make a lot of
mistakes. Elder Johnson’s openness has helped me be a little less guarded.
After the morning classes, we have lunch. Even at lunch
everyone from my group tries to sit together and role play in Italian. The
sisters seem to be way ahead of us elders. Maybe they don’t know the language
any better, but they know how to use what they know with the Spirit. The food
is pretty good (chocolate milk every day!!) but we’re all really fired up about
how good the pizza and pasta and gelato are gonna be in Milano.
I think I have a little better understanding of how the Holy
Spirit works. Every now and then I feel this powerful feeling that what someone
has said must be correct, or to say something myself that just seems right. I
remember a little of that from home and church, but it seems easier to
recognize here. I don’t know if that has to do with me or this place.
Anyway, we have the same kind of language and role play
classes through the afternoon. At night, after dinner, we come together and
have some kind of fireside or inspirational speaker. Then a little time for
individual study, prepare for bed, and lights out at 10. That’s my life for the
next 6 weeks. Sundays of course are focused on church and a little break from
our daily routine. And Saturdays are our preparation-days or P-days where we do
our laundry and can take a little more time to write to family and friends,
while we can play basketball and just visit.
Brother Nassaloni is my main language instructor. He’s from
Genoa originally, and is now going to business school at BYU. He tells us
little stories about Italy’s history and culture, and says that we’re going to
have an entire day devoted to learning about these things involving several
other people who were on our mission or come from the area.
When I opened that letter from our Twelve Apostles saying
that I was called to go to Italy Milan, I was pretty amazed. The idea that I
would go to the very place where our ancestors came from is really cool. I wonder
if there’s a special reason for it happening the way it did.
How’s Mr. Cey from next door? He’s probably much less grouchy
now that I’m not there making noise and accidentally running the mower over his
flowers. I didn’t exactly have the most neighborly attitude toward him, but it
was difficult when he always seemed to find new ways to find fault with me.
Maybe if I keep him in my prayers, things will be a little easier between him
and me when I get back.
Wow, I’ve
written a lot more than I usually do. Don’t expect all of my emails to be this
long. I wish you, Mom, and the children all the best at work, school, and
taking care of everybody. I love you all, Brad
(P.S.
Don’t worry, I’m in safe hands)
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