As Time Goes By

Good heavens, it's Thursday morning already. Where the Sam Hill did the last four days go? Let me try to remember.

Sunday afternoon I sang with the choir in our ward's Christmas service. The theme of the service was "Have Miracles Ceased?" Our singing went so well, I'd have to say that the answer to that question is no. Seriously, though, the highlight of the service was our concluding speaker. She's a younger woman in the ward who had a child a couple of months ago. No big surprise there, but soon after delivery, her body began to shut down. She went into a coma, and it looked very much like she'd never come out of it. But she received several priesthood blessings, and the ward fasted for her recovery. To the amazement of her doctors, she eventually awoke and recovered her strength. She stood before the congregation looking none the worse for the experience and told us this story, not from her own recollection, but from entries in her sister's journal. It was a very moving, faith-building moment for everyone who was there. Yes, Virginia, there are still miracles out there to be found.

Sunday evening my roommate James and I watched a documentary on the History Channel about the civil war and resulting genocide in Rwanda in the mid-90's. They had both victims and perpetrators talking about what happened. It was disturbing. The whole thing revolved around ethnic differences between the Hutu and Tutsi groups in Rwanda. These differences dated back to colonial European preferences for one of the two groups. When control of the government was turned over in the 50's, the ruling elite become an oppressed minority almost overnight. Inflammatory rhetoric ignited violence on the grounds of 'racial superiority'. That's when the massacres started. As we watched, we commented to each other that we had heard all of this before - in Germany, circa 1935. As strange as it sounds, I know that there are people out there who wonder why we still talk about the Holocaust. This is why. The horrifying scenes from Nazi Europe played out again in Rwanda, just over half a century later. Learning from history, indeed.

Monday was uneventful until about 6:30 pm, when I went with James to his singles ward's family home evening. The ward had been working on Sub for Santa for several weeks, and Monday night was delivery night. I was amazed to see how much the ward had accomplished. There were gifts for at least a dozen families, probably more. James and I took three bags of gifts and three new youth bikes to Sudanese refugee family living in northwestern Salt Lake City. We spent about 45 minutes there, talking to the mother and her sister and keeping the seven young children there entertained. Mary, the mother, told us that she had left the Sudan and moved to Kenya, Uganda, and Memphis before arriving in Utah. As she talked about the difficulties she and her family had faced, I couldn't help but be reminded of what I had watched the night before.

Tuesday was very busy. I spent part of the day on campus, taking care of a few errands and meeting with my academic advisor. I needed to talk to him about the appeal process for continuing financial aid. He said he'd seen this sort of thing all the time and called it "a no-brainer". I spent about half an hour with him and we discussed everything I needed to do in the next year to graduate. I came away from the meeting feeling guardedly optimistic about the financial aid situation.

Then I went to work and presided over a shift that ran longer than I had anticipated. I was figuring that it would go until 8:00 pm, as has been the case the last couple of times. No, this job was calling nationwide, so the shift was going until 10:00. This shift was a lot harder than previous shifts I'd managed because there was a job that had to get done that night, and I had to keep checking to make sure we were getting enough - but not too many - respondents from each quota group (men and women; 18-30, 31-50, 51 and older; that sort of thing). The project manager had set it up to get five more surveys that were actually needed. At the end of the night, we were four short of that total. Success. By the time everyone left and I ran the necessary reports, it was 10:35. I waited for literally the last train downtown at 11:05, from which I transferred to the last bus home at 11:20. I got home a bit before midnight.

Wednesday was mostly a day of preparation for the trip. I did laundry and packed. I also arranged to meet Tiffany (of The Bitter Villager fame) to pick up a gift to deliver to Derek. While talking to Derek to set up a time to meet in Colorado, I managed to spill a large quantity of molten candle wax on the carpet. So I also spent a couple of hours getting it out with an iron and some paper towels. (Thanks for the tip, old friend.) In between all of that, I spent a good deal of the day reading and responding to Cindy's blog (neurotic_one). If you haven't made your way over to her place, I would recommend that you go over, introduce yourself, and take a look. It's well worth the time.

I made my way to the South Towne Mall to meet Tiffany and her family that evening. I had difficulty finding the rendezvous point; not having been there in a while, I forgot where the store in question was. But we did finally manage to connect, and she made the necessary introductions. Nice family, and she's very sharp, friendly, and well-read. I can see why Derek respects her.

Then I came home and finished my preparations. I got to talk to Celeste, a friend with whom I enjoy talking but have yet to meet in person. James and I then shared a spaghetti dinner and a long talk about our respective situations in life. All in all, a good night.

And that brings us to this morning. In just a bit I will catch a bus to catch a train to board a bus to Colorado for the holiday weekend. I hope that Christmas treats all of you well this year. I hope each of you will all be able to spend the holiday with those you love. May we all find peace in our hearts and show good will toward those around us.

Merry Christmas, everyone!