With my current position, jobs seem to come in at a feast or famine rate. To my utter gratitude, mostly feast ... and the last little while it has been the epitome of that. As I write, I have not had a day off since April 20, and won't be getting one until May 4. While I'm very grateful for the opportunity that I've had to work, last night was a draining night. The children weren't bad - nothing horrible happened ... I was just having to deal with a teenage boy ... who acts and talks more like a vindictive teenage girl suffering from PMS, I'm sure everyone can surmise how much fun that combination is! ;)
I had had enough, my patience was drained, so when my superior said that I could shove off about fifteen minutes early, I eagerly accepted instead of my usual offering to stay a little later. I got in my car, and slowly drove up the hill to get on my way home. My car (knock on wood) is another incredible blessing in my life, to say that it has been a hero of sorts would not be an over exaggeration, but if my car is my hero, then any small hill is it's kryptonite.
With pats and encouragement from me, my car inched it's way to the top of a hill that begins just outside of the house I was working at, and as the car reached the summit, I found myself staring straight into the eyes of two large kangaroos directly in front of me and the car. It was cold, and dark outside, and it was just the kangaroos, my humble little car, and me. I just sat and stared, my headlights framing their large forms. Music was playing from the radio in my car, but the cold night air made everything feel more quiet as I watched on, astounded by the beauty of the wild kangaroos.
They soon grew tired of staring at me, and gently sloped their necks towards the grass of house I was facing to continue their nibbling. I might be a boring specimen ... but I found them infinitely more enchanting than they did me. My engine quietly hummed beneath me ... as I watched them graze, feet from my car.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some movement to my right, and when I turned, there was a third kangaroo nibbling on the grass next to my car. I just sat in the cold, enjoying their company ... as they lazily nibbled on the grassy bits around me.
Finally, after the kangaroos and I had finished enjoying a couple "easy listening" songs from the radio, I decided that I had better head home. I began to turn my car, and the kangaroo to my right hopped away in utter silence, back into the forest that must be it's home.
Every experience has it's highs and it's lows, and I would have to admit that hanging out with wild kangaroos at 11pm ... is a high for me.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
¡Felices Pascuas
I had a bit of moment today at church. The YSA Sunday School teacher asked us, "Who had been raised in the church?" Five out of the six of us raised our hands.
In Gilbert ... or Utah ... this would be pretty common, I'm used to adults being raised in the church ... but there was something different about this scene.
The teacher of the class, Juan, from Chile, was raised in the church. Sariah, sitting next to me, from Hong Kong, was raised in the church. Erin, my Aussie roommate, raised in the church. Simin, German/Australian, raised in the church. The only convert there was my good friend Yina, from China.
A room of ADULTS from several different corners of the planet (only one from America). Adults, who were all once in nursery, primary, the youth program, took institute classes, a few even serving missions ... all of us raised within the warm arms of the gospel.
The sheer "international-ness" of the church has never hit me so deeply.
Juan sometimes struggles with English, as do Sariah and Yina sometimes ... but the language of the church is our common language. It is the common thread that connects our presumably completely divergent lives.
This Easter, my mind turns to the beautiful message of the gospel, and the opportunity that we have for eternal life because of an almost incomprehensible sacrifice that was performed on our behalf nearly two thousand years ago, by a loving Elder Brother. And for the bravery, and faith of a young boy in New York nearly two hundred years ago, that has made it possible, for six people ... from six different countries ... to jointly partake in the good news of the gospel, and for five of us, to have had the good fortune to be taught such beautiful truths, in different corners of the world, since infancy.
To all nations, kindred, and tongues, indeed.
In Gilbert ... or Utah ... this would be pretty common, I'm used to adults being raised in the church ... but there was something different about this scene.
The teacher of the class, Juan, from Chile, was raised in the church. Sariah, sitting next to me, from Hong Kong, was raised in the church. Erin, my Aussie roommate, raised in the church. Simin, German/Australian, raised in the church. The only convert there was my good friend Yina, from China.
A room of ADULTS from several different corners of the planet (only one from America). Adults, who were all once in nursery, primary, the youth program, took institute classes, a few even serving missions ... all of us raised within the warm arms of the gospel.
The sheer "international-ness" of the church has never hit me so deeply.
Juan sometimes struggles with English, as do Sariah and Yina sometimes ... but the language of the church is our common language. It is the common thread that connects our presumably completely divergent lives.
This Easter, my mind turns to the beautiful message of the gospel, and the opportunity that we have for eternal life because of an almost incomprehensible sacrifice that was performed on our behalf nearly two thousand years ago, by a loving Elder Brother. And for the bravery, and faith of a young boy in New York nearly two hundred years ago, that has made it possible, for six people ... from six different countries ... to jointly partake in the good news of the gospel, and for five of us, to have had the good fortune to be taught such beautiful truths, in different corners of the world, since infancy.
To all nations, kindred, and tongues, indeed.
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