Tati Time!
(Natascha is now a junior at Brigham Young University)
Random thoughts. Brooding ruminations. Contemplative notions fired up by my muse. Reactive purgings. Serendipitously brilliant ideas. And sometimes, even tender moments carefully articulated.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
SEMINARY GEEKNESSI am now a certifiable seminary geek. I am supposed to be in Hawaii tomorrow to attend the installation/inauguration of BYU-Hawaii's new president, Steve Wheelwright. We had a fabulous lunch at a friend's house and sat on the same table with him and his lovely wife as well as the Camps, who are a wonderful couple we have known for over 15 years. Margaret Wheelwright graciously encouraged us to attend tomorrow's festivities and as members of the President's Leadership Council, we are supposed to join all the campus events this week...and look all important. But I just couldn't leave my seminary class. My friends are all aghast and agog. So am I.
My seminary class is your average teenaged class. I mean, as a group, they are so challenging---nearly nil participation, blank looks, much talking in the back, habitually late, do not bring nor read their scriptures and are basically, just...there. Individually, however, they are the sweetest bunch of young people and I happen to just LOVE each one and sorely miss them when they don't show up. What I have noticed is that they suffer from a lack of vision. I mean, they have no inkling at all nor vision of what they can accomplish. It's like, no one told them they can. Get it? They can. They are just spectacular when they decide to deliver! I wish they would be more consistent and really "see" how fantastic they are.
All of them come from great families. Good parents. Sometimes though, when I least expect it, my class transforms and suddenly, everything gels and I see their spirits soaring and I see flickers of light dancing in their eyes. That's when I know they "get" what I am trying to make them "see" through the scriptures. Those days are so precious, few and far in between. And this is why I have a photo of me on my mission. The people above comprise the ENTIRE branch of Logrono, Spain in 1979. Yeah, small congregation. But they are the best.
My mission was very challenging because for the most part, no, make that ALL of its parts, we knocked doors. I mean, we knocked doors every single day from morning, noon and night. If we weren't knocking doors, we were walking the streets looking for more doors to knock. Sixteen months. That's all we did. And what would compel me to knock doors? The almost obsessive need for me to teach. Yeah, teach. I just wanted to find someone to teach. And I wasn't going to teach if I don't knock doors. Every door knocked is a potential teaching experience. So that's what I did. And that's exactly what seminary is like. You just never know what each day is going to bring. So you take each day like you treat each door--you just never know if this is the day that the kids will let you in. You prepare like each day is the most important teaching day. And you keep on showing up with hope and the expectation that today is the day that will mean more than they ever expected. Then, when you least expect it, the joy suddenly happens and you have a brilliant day! And when that happens, it's just sheer joy. I just have to expect that each day will be just that. And if it doesn't, you look forward and do it all over again with the same expectations and hopes. As the months roll by, the spaces between lackluster days and joyful days become shorter and shorter.
Yesterday was a miracle. I had only one absence. And 3 students who never arrived early, actually arrived early. Wow. And I was supposed to be in Hawaii.
And today was a particularly spiritual and effective session.
I am missing two trips that I usually do not miss over seminary. I don't know if I can do this next year. But for now, I am certifiably, a seminary geek.
My seminary class is your average teenaged class. I mean, as a group, they are so challenging---nearly nil participation, blank looks, much talking in the back, habitually late, do not bring nor read their scriptures and are basically, just...there. Individually, however, they are the sweetest bunch of young people and I happen to just LOVE each one and sorely miss them when they don't show up. What I have noticed is that they suffer from a lack of vision. I mean, they have no inkling at all nor vision of what they can accomplish. It's like, no one told them they can. Get it? They can. They are just spectacular when they decide to deliver! I wish they would be more consistent and really "see" how fantastic they are.
All of them come from great families. Good parents. Sometimes though, when I least expect it, my class transforms and suddenly, everything gels and I see their spirits soaring and I see flickers of light dancing in their eyes. That's when I know they "get" what I am trying to make them "see" through the scriptures. Those days are so precious, few and far in between. And this is why I have a photo of me on my mission. The people above comprise the ENTIRE branch of Logrono, Spain in 1979. Yeah, small congregation. But they are the best.
My mission was very challenging because for the most part, no, make that ALL of its parts, we knocked doors. I mean, we knocked doors every single day from morning, noon and night. If we weren't knocking doors, we were walking the streets looking for more doors to knock. Sixteen months. That's all we did. And what would compel me to knock doors? The almost obsessive need for me to teach. Yeah, teach. I just wanted to find someone to teach. And I wasn't going to teach if I don't knock doors. Every door knocked is a potential teaching experience. So that's what I did. And that's exactly what seminary is like. You just never know what each day is going to bring. So you take each day like you treat each door--you just never know if this is the day that the kids will let you in. You prepare like each day is the most important teaching day. And you keep on showing up with hope and the expectation that today is the day that will mean more than they ever expected. Then, when you least expect it, the joy suddenly happens and you have a brilliant day! And when that happens, it's just sheer joy. I just have to expect that each day will be just that. And if it doesn't, you look forward and do it all over again with the same expectations and hopes. As the months roll by, the spaces between lackluster days and joyful days become shorter and shorter.
Yesterday was a miracle. I had only one absence. And 3 students who never arrived early, actually arrived early. Wow. And I was supposed to be in Hawaii.
And today was a particularly spiritual and effective session.
I am missing two trips that I usually do not miss over seminary. I don't know if I can do this next year. But for now, I am certifiably, a seminary geek.
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