today was rough.
regardless of this beautifully-crafted dessert concocted [and consumed] by yours truly saturday night.
a civil war reenactment [aka a reenactment of my high school early-morning seminary days] occurred this morning.
add to that going to church with wet hair, and sitting next to a high-pitched, screaming baby resulted in the worst bad mood i've had in months.
YEARS, even.
everything annoyed me.
i was the grinch, scrooge, and oscar the grouch all rolled into one.
even after partaking of the sacrament, i was seething.
but then i listened to the first talk.
even though it's only been a matter of hours since i heard it, i still don't remember exactly what it was about. i remember him relating an experience with getting his eyes checked to having the right perspective in life and that softened me a little.
what really changed me, however, was a short conversation with an older lady who visit-teaches my mom.
i've only met her a couple times, and i, sadly, don't even know her name, but she knew all about me and what i have experienced this past year. she expressed how proud she was of me for sticking it out in rexburg for the summer even though it was extremely difficult at times. she asked me, genuinely, how i felt about going to ecuador and even though i usually just gave the same "i'm so excited" spiel to everyone else, i felt strongly to tell her how i had really been feeling. i told her how scared i was to go and how overwhelming this whole experience was getting to be.
and she looked at me with her kind, wise, electric-blue eyes and said, "you are going to learn so much and come out of this experience a better person."
i can't count how many times i've heard that since i decided to go to ecuador, but her words pierced me in a way that i can't explain.
i sat and pondered those words during the announcements and opening and practice hymns and felt a little sliver of peace.
then the lesson started. it was given by a woman from rwanda who lost everything, even members of her immediate family, and moved far away from her homeland to belgium, joined the church, got married, moved to new orleans, lost everything again in hurricane katrina, and ended up in orem for educational purposes only to pack up and move again [tomorrow] back to belgium.
she has known true heartbreak and indescribable pain. she has suffered through nightmarish trials, yet she is strong, steadfast, and faithful. her example and lesson about enduring trials with faith filled me with so much joy and peace that i felt like i could float out of the building.
and then, my mom's visiting teacher said something to me right before i left the room. she pointed to yvonne, the RS teacher, looked at me, and said "when you get back, if you use that time well and immerse yourself in service, you will be as strong as yvonne. good luck."
tears stung my eyes as i thanked her and i walked out of church that day feeling like the person who had entered the building a few hours earlier was a complete stranger [and isn't that what church should always be like?].
i am strong.
i can do hard things [as my mom always tells me].
there is joy in service.
have the right perspective.
there is love all around us.
we are known by name, watched over, love and protected by a higher power.
and, maybe most importantly, we are never alone.
these things i know to be true, and these things i know i will gain a greater knowledge of in ecuador.
add to that going to church with wet hair, and sitting next to a high-pitched, screaming baby resulted in the worst bad mood i've had in months.
YEARS, even.
everything annoyed me.
i was the grinch, scrooge, and oscar the grouch all rolled into one.
even after partaking of the sacrament, i was seething.
but then i listened to the first talk.
even though it's only been a matter of hours since i heard it, i still don't remember exactly what it was about. i remember him relating an experience with getting his eyes checked to having the right perspective in life and that softened me a little.
what really changed me, however, was a short conversation with an older lady who visit-teaches my mom.
i've only met her a couple times, and i, sadly, don't even know her name, but she knew all about me and what i have experienced this past year. she expressed how proud she was of me for sticking it out in rexburg for the summer even though it was extremely difficult at times. she asked me, genuinely, how i felt about going to ecuador and even though i usually just gave the same "i'm so excited" spiel to everyone else, i felt strongly to tell her how i had really been feeling. i told her how scared i was to go and how overwhelming this whole experience was getting to be.
and she looked at me with her kind, wise, electric-blue eyes and said, "you are going to learn so much and come out of this experience a better person."
i can't count how many times i've heard that since i decided to go to ecuador, but her words pierced me in a way that i can't explain.
i sat and pondered those words during the announcements and opening and practice hymns and felt a little sliver of peace.
then the lesson started. it was given by a woman from rwanda who lost everything, even members of her immediate family, and moved far away from her homeland to belgium, joined the church, got married, moved to new orleans, lost everything again in hurricane katrina, and ended up in orem for educational purposes only to pack up and move again [tomorrow] back to belgium.
she has known true heartbreak and indescribable pain. she has suffered through nightmarish trials, yet she is strong, steadfast, and faithful. her example and lesson about enduring trials with faith filled me with so much joy and peace that i felt like i could float out of the building.
and then, my mom's visiting teacher said something to me right before i left the room. she pointed to yvonne, the RS teacher, looked at me, and said "when you get back, if you use that time well and immerse yourself in service, you will be as strong as yvonne. good luck."
tears stung my eyes as i thanked her and i walked out of church that day feeling like the person who had entered the building a few hours earlier was a complete stranger [and isn't that what church should always be like?].
i am strong.
i can do hard things [as my mom always tells me].
there is joy in service.
have the right perspective.
there is love all around us.
we are known by name, watched over, love and protected by a higher power.
and, maybe most importantly, we are never alone.
these things i know to be true, and these things i know i will gain a greater knowledge of in ecuador.
"when through the deep waters I call thee to go,
the rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow,
for I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
and sanctify to thee thy deepest distress"
hymn #85, "how firm a foundation", 4th verse
the rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow,
for I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
and sanctify to thee thy deepest distress"
hymn #85, "how firm a foundation", 4th verse
1 comment:
Ay Kellie, esta hermana lo tiene correcto: las cosas mas valiosas de la vida siempre son las mas dificiles. El servicio es asi. Lo haces porque tienes que hacerlo, no? Porque tienes el sentimiento que tienes que dar a los que no tienen. Y es cierto, el Senor no pidio servir. Vas a dar mucho a estos ninos y otros, vas a llorar mucho, vas a ver mucho sufrimiento, pero tambien vas a crecer y ser mas sabia por la experiencia. Sentirse nerviosa es normal porque no es facil lo que vas a hacer. No es una vacacion, es trabajo. Oramos por ti y espero que aprendas y crezcas mucho. Buen viaje! Que te vaya bien!
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