Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Looking in the mirror, a pensive short essay

When I shared this with you before, I called it "Scars." After writing on it (finishing it?) more today, the title didn't suit anymore. Here's the most recent version complete with a new title. Skip to the new part.

In the Mirror, (c) J.M. Henrie

Kate stared at the back of her hand, looking at a long red scrape in particular which led toward the bandage on her thumb - the aftermath of accidentally brushing against a piece of broken glass. When she tired of tracing the thin bloody line, she turned her attention to the skin around it. It was pale and dry. If she looked closely, she imagined she could see every pore. She flexed her fingers and watched the muscles and sinew move underneath the skin. Her veins were very, very blue.

Her eyes moved to her right forearm, to a pale white scab that came of scratching a mosquito bite one too many times. She had scars on her back, shoulders, and torso from various accidents throughout her life, permanent reminders of painful experiences.

The human body was a marvelous thing, Kate thought, continuing to wave her fingers but watching the inside of her wrists now, in fascination. Its ability to recover from injury - even its very existence - was nothing short of miraculous.

Finished playing with the muscles in her hands, Kate’s hand strayed to her lower back where the largest scar was located. It was left over from a painful lancing when she contracted a staph infection when she was sixteen. The details of the memory had faded, but Kate could still remember how she cursed and cried and gritted her teeth when the nurse had lanced it. Just touching the scar reminded her how scared she’d been to show anyone the sore, and of the day when the pain of hiding it became greater than the fear of lancing and she had finally succumbed.

The scar didn’t pain her anymore. The wound had healed oddly, leaving a slight lump in the skin, but causing no further problems. Kate had moved on to other bumps and bruises, occasionally adding another scar to her collection. They were all memories of pain, of lessons learned or simple misfortunes. Though the pain of the experience was gone, the memories - and their physical representations - would never be.

It was part of life to have misfortunes, Kate thought. It was certainly part of life to make and hopefully learn from mistakes. And there were plenty of other wounds that left no physical trace but an occasional ache inside. There were things she would carry to her grave.

But an occasional ache didn’t mean unhealed. The difference was how often she ached, and how severely. The memory of pain was different from real hurt. Sometimes it was even a benefit, reminding her of past lessons she had no desire to relearn.

She was a new university freshman and excited about riding her bicycle to school for the first time. She thought she knew the way, but a turn taken too soon led her to the lower part of campus, from which the only routes to upper campus were a long series of stairs and a winding ramp she was too new to know about yet.

When she realized what had happened, she had simply picked up her bike and carried it up the six long flights of stairs. People kept stopping her to ask if she needed help, but each time she replied in the negative, determined to make it to the top by herself. When she finally reached the crest of the hill, she put down the bike and took a moment to breathe. And in the following moment of pride that she had overcome what had seemed a great challenge, she forgot how sweaty and undignified she must have looked.

It was interesting to note, Kate reflected now, thinking about similar athletic accomplishments, how often pride in a challenge well met correlated with some indignity. Getting her hands dirty, so to speak. Working hard, sometimes harder than she had planned for or expected.

That was her favorite kind of challenge: one she felt she could accomplish on her own merits, where she didn’t have to accept help from others. There was no way around it: Kate was an independent soul. She learned a lot about her own capabilities from such challenges, and for the most part, she enjoyed it. It was the challenges that taught her about her limits and weaknesses she didn’t like so much.

There was the summer when she had felt abandoned by someone she loved; the day her friends surprised her with a birthday party in the morning and she took her dog to be euthanized that afternoon. There were the stories behind almost every scar she had on her body, and the day a dear childhood friend called her from prison.

In each of those situations, and many others, there had been no easy way out, and no way to work through her complicated feelings alone. She had poured out her soul to God, and close friends, repeatedly. Some days were harder than others. Sometimes her emotions were so mixed up, whole days passed where she didn’t feel the same from one moment to the next, and she wondered if this was how it felt to go insane.

And yet. She had made it through each challenge, and although the scars on her soul still hurt, sometimes so badly she questioned whether they had really scabbed over at all, she knew. An occasional ache didn’t mean unhealed. The memory of pain was different from real hurt.

In the perspective that hindsight provided, Kate could even see a theme in each of those scars: that no matter how badly she wanted to be able to do everything herself, overcome everything herself, it was not on her own merits that she survived as well as she had. It was on another’s, one whose merits and goodness were perfect, who knew many sorrows and was acquainted with grief but in the very act of overcoming his own life challenges, he reached a non-exclusive hand behind to help pull others through theirs. It was his purpose, and he accomplished it well and willingly. Because of him, Kate knew she could handle future challenges - if only she could learn to ask for his help when she first needed it, because things always felt so much smoother that way. Not necessarily peaceful, but also not alone in grief.

Friday, March 22, 2013

Javascript experimentation

Try the buttons! You know you want to.











I played around with the onclick function at work today, just in case I might need to know it sometime in the near future... I had no idea how much of our website uses Adobe Flash until Flash started having problems.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

The great passport adventure

After much trial and tribulation, Graig and I turned in our passport applications yesterday! Here's the story...


I don't know why Ridge Publishing shows up way in the boonies; I typed in the address three times and it still didn't fix it. It should be MUCH closer to the other green points, just west of the Provo post office.

Monday. 2 p.m. Graig calls me wanting to go to the travel office in the basement of the administration building and get passport pictures. I tell him I'm busy studying and I'd rather do it all after we get out of class at 4. He argues a little but not very hard. I see him in Mission Prep at 3, and as soon as class lets out we walk to the building and get our photos.

Graig filling out some last-minute details on his passport application

After we pay for our pictures, we gather our things and head to the post office in the basement of the Wilkinson Student Center. The lady at the desk says, "I'm sorry, we don't accept passport applications here. You'll have to go to the Provo post office on 95 West 100 South." We thank the lady and step outside.

I check my watch. It's about 4:10. I know that most government offices close at 5 and start trying to calculate whether Graig and I could get to the Provo post office before it closes.

"Isn't 100 South near the library?" Graig asks, apparently thinking along the same lines. "How far away is the Provo Library?"

"Not too far. It's only a few blocks away from campus," I tell him. "We might as well try to make it to the post office."

... Long story short, the Provo Library is NOT "only a few blocks away from campus," it's about THIRTEEN blocks away from campus. (Or, at least, it was via the route we took that day.) And the Provo Post Office is about seven blocks beyond that, right by the construction on the Provo Tabernacle. By the time we made it to the post office, it was around 5:10. I told Graig to pray that the post office would close late that day as we walked up to the door.

OPEN UNTIL 5:30 MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY, the sign on the door read. Graig and I high-fived and went in. A second sign said, PASSPORTS: GO TO ROOM 2. We found Room 2, but on the door was yet another sign: PASSPORT APPLICATIONS NOT ACCEPTED AFTER 4:00.

Well. I hadn't just dragged my brother one hour and twenty city blocks to take "no" for an answer. I decided to see how serious the post office was about this rule, so I opened the door to Room 2. Immediately, the woman behind the desk yelled at me, "We closed an hour ago!" so I quickly shut the door and turned around with Graig on my heels.

We became more and more hungry as we began the long walk home. I remembered there was a Denny's Diner right next to Wyview on Freedom Boulevard, and we determined to stop and eat when we got there. Graigry had been doing all this walking in the hot sun in his black suit (we had to be in missionary attire for our photos), and he got really tired about three quarters of the way home. Whenever he thought he couldn't take another step, he would say aloud, "There are unlimited pancakes at Denny's. Think of Denny's. We're going to Denny's."

By the time we got to Denny's at 5:50ish, Graig was so happy he paid for both of our meals. I paid for dessert. The delicious food restored our good humor and we decided to go back to the post office the next morning when neither of us had class. Then we returned to our respective apartment complexes for the night.

Tuesday. 10 a.m. Graig and I meet on campus and begin walking to the Provo post office again. (This time, we left campus via the BYU tennis courts and Brick Oven, which was MUCH faster than the way we went before.) We make it to the post office at 10:50ish, well before the 4:00 deadline, and get in line. We then proceed to amuse ourselves for the next 20 minutes by playing games on our phones. When we're second and third in line, we stop that and start looking around, reading the posters on the walls. One poster happens to be a list of required materials for a passport application, and Graig and I realize...

We forgot to bring photocopies of our IDs! We have everything else: proof of U.S. citizenship, our filled-out applications, our original IDs, money - everything! Everything EXCEPT the PHOTOCOPIES of our IDs. Graig glances around the room and says, "I don't see a copy machine in here. Maybe there's one in the main area."

So we leave the line and wander out into the small lobby, looking for any indication that we might be able to get photocopies at the post office. There is none, so Graig pulls out his phone and Googles copy places.

"I've got one. Ridge Printing. It's only two blocks away," he said, and we left the post office, expecting to be back with our photocopies in 30 minutes tops. Unfortunately, when we got to Ridge Printing, we realized that's all it was - a print publishing shop. No photocopies. Graig got back on his phone.

"I found another one. We ought to be able to get photocopies from it. It's about three blocks from here."

Again, Graig led the way. We followed his Google Maps app to a slew of different auto shops, where we discovered that the copy place listed on Google didn't actually exist anymore. Again, Graig turned to his phone.

"Finally, here's a good one! There's an OfficeMax about five blocks from here. We can be 99 percent sure it exists and we can get copies from it!"

So we walked until we reached the freeway overpass, where a sign reading SIDEWALK CLOSED prompted me to stop. "I'm going to ask the people in one of these auto places where the nearest copy place is. I don't want to go over that," I said. So we stopped at one of the three auto places on that street corner and asked a man for directions.

"There's an OfficeMax and a Staples just over the overpass. You can't miss it," he said. I don't think he realized we were walking.

SO. It seemed there was nothing for it. Graig and I ignored the SIDEWALK CLOSED sign and hurried across that bridge, walking as close to the railing as we could while cars whizzed by us at 40 miles per hour. I've never been so happy to see an OfficeMax in my life. We went in, got our copies, walked out and decided we were NOT going to cross that overpass again if we could help it. Luckily, an alternative in the form of a UTA bus appeared in the distance and we spotted a stop right across the street. Graig paid for us both (I don't carry cash) and we got transfer tickets so we could catch the bus back to campus after we turned in our applications.

Five minutes later, we got off the bus and walked back to the Provo post office. It was about 11:40 at this point, and I said to Graig as we neared the front doors, "You know, it'd be just our luck if the passport guy took his lunch break right now."

I should have found some wood to knock on before we walked back to Room 2, because as soon as we opened the door to Room 2, the passport guy called to us, "Sorry, I'm about to go on lunch break. I'm only going to help the rest of the people that are in line right now. Come back at 1:30."

I don't think either of us even replied. We just turned and walked away. I started verbally complaining. "I can't believe this. We can't come back at 1:30; I have work and you have class. I guess we're going to have to come back here again, and I really don't want to."

The good thing about this public rant is one of the post people working at the main desk overheard me and called to us, "You know you can turn in passport applications at the county building on 100 East Center Street, right?"

No. No, we had not known that. I saw a faint glimmer of hope. "Thank you!"

The county building was only about three blocks from the post office. We quickly found the place we needed to go and the person we needed to talk to. We didn't even have to wait in line! Graig gave her all his application materials first, and the county lady said it looked good.

"That'll be $170 with the expedite fee," she said, but as Graig pulled out his card, she added, "I'm sorry, I can only accept checks."

IT'S A DANG GOOD THING I HAD BROUGHT MY CHECKBOOK, OR WE WOULD HAVE HAD TO COME BACK FOR PASSPORTS: TAKE THREE! (Thank you, still small voice that told me I might need it!)

I paid for Graig just as Graig's phone rang. He answered. "Hi Mom. No, we haven't turned in our applications yet. Long story. We're actually turning them in right now. Can I call you back?"

I turned in my application and fee and we left, feeling accomplished. Graig called Mom back just as we walked out into the sunshine. "Hi Mom - Oh! We're running!"

(I had just spotted the bus bearing down on a nearby stop and was booking it. I really wanted to be on this bus; by now it was 12:30ish and I was late for work.) We made it onto the bus and rode it back to campus. Graig called Mom again on the bus and told her the whole story.

I sure hope turning in my visa application won't be this crazy, although looking back on it, it was fun to wander the streets of Provo for hours with my brother and everything worked out. I think the buses in particular was God's way of cutting us a bit of a break. :)


Graig and I saw these fun signs while on our walking tour of Provo.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Mission call!

Well, folks, it finally came. I got my mission call today! This time next year, I will be in the beautiful country of El Salvador!

It was the deepest desire of my heart to be called to a Spanish speaking mission, but I really had no idea where I would be called to serve or even if my wish to speak Spanish would come true. I tried really hard not to boss the Lord while I was waiting those three excruciating weeks for my call... I only specifically told Him how much I wanted to go Spanish speaking one time... but I was thinking it pretty much all the time. I feel so lucky to not only have an opportunity to serve God but to do it in a language I LOVE and want to learn better.

My family wanted me to read the whole first paragraph of the call's cover letter, starting from "Dear Sister Henrie" to "It is anticipated that you will serve for a period of 18 months," but I couldn't help it, I only read aloud the salutation before skipping to "You are assigned to labor in..." At the moment I read it, I knew it was right. It was a feeling of, "Duh, of course you'd be called to El Salvador." Because of that immediate confirmation, I wasn't surprised. But I was... and still am... freaking HAPPY!

Graig's mission call came today too. We opened his first, then mine. He's going to Honduras Tegucigalpa, and get this- we both report to the Mexico MTC on the same day! I'm so excited for him! And me!

The streamers block your view a bit, but this is a REAL hug between me and my brother caught on video. Aw... it's good to be reminded our relationship goes deeper than teasing and wrestling.

El Salvador San Salvador East Mission
Report Date: July 24, 2013

Hermana. Sister.

My roommate Sara, who gets home before I do on Thursdays, sent me a picture similar to this to inform me that my call came. It was sure hard to focus at work after that. :)

Thanks to all the family and friends that showed up to support me as I opened my call today. I love you!

Monday, March 11, 2013

My church talk

Every week, the local leaders of each congregation of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints ask a few members of the congregation to prepare a five- or ten-minute "talk" they'll share in sacrament meeting on Sunday. Last week, the first counselor to the bishop asked me. "Hello Jessica, the sister missionaries assigned to our ward are coming to speak this Sunday," he said, "and the bishop thought you might give a talk about what you can do now to prepare to serve a mission."

I hadn't been asked to give a talk in three years, ever since I came to college. Sometimes you're just lucky like that. But then again, it had been three years; it was probably past my turn to speak again, and how often in a 'singles' ward do you get a chance to speak with sister missionaries? I said yes. My family even made a special trip to attend my ward sacrament meeting so they could hear me speak. And as promised, here is a copy of my talk on this blog:

Sacrament Meeting Talk 3/10/13
Topic: What I can do now to prepare to serve a mission

When Brother Whitaker asked me to speak about things you can do now to prepare to serve a mission, I panicked a little bit. I know what I think and what the bishop thinks is important, but since I don’t really know what it’s like to serve a mission, I’m sort of taking a leap of faith in assuming that reading my scriptures and the words of the prophets, trying to be more social and looking for opportunities to share my testimony are the best things to help me to prepare to serve. One of the things I love about this gospel is how personal it is – but that’s frustrating too, because there is no perfect formula for preparing to be a full-time missionary.

I’ve never been a very patient person. I turned in my mission papers three Wednesdays ago, so I was really hoping my call would come last week, but it didn’t. When I finally asked the bishop to check my status online he said I was “ready to be assigned,” so last I’ve heard, I haven’t even been assigned yet. As I’ve been waiting, I’ve also learned my parents aren’t very good at waiting either. Starting Wednesday of this past week, I’ve gotten one or two texts from my dad every day. “Has it come yet?” “Have you checked the mail today?” And I’ve received lots of emails from my mom with links to articles or blogs she’s found about missionaries or missionary work. Sometimes I wonder who’s more excited for me to get my call, me or them. But then again, it makes sense that they’re so excited, because they’re the ones that brought me up in the Church. They’re the ones that taught me to be this way.

In fact, I called my dad yesterday to ask him about what he did to prepare for his mission to Bogotá, Colombia, and the last thing he told me after we’d talked for a little while was about the wait for my mission call. He said, “I kind of like the idea of the twelve apostles passing your application back and forth and asking each other, ‘Where in the world are we going to send this girl?’”

I know missionaries are divinely called to the place they need to be, and I actually don’t mind waiting because of that. In a talk during the April 2010 General Conference, Elder Ronald A. Rasband* described how he felt when he was a mission president in New York City about the missionaries assigned to his mission. “As I interviewed them on their first day in the mission, I had a profound sense of gratitude for each missionary,” he said. “I felt that their call to our mission was divinely designed for them and for me as their mission president.”

As strongly as I feel about the divine call of full-time missionaries, I don’t want any of you to tune out because you don’t have or aren’t expecting a full-time call. Maybe you’ve already served, or maybe you don’t feel a full-time mission is right for you right now. In either case, I think (I hope) what I have to say is as relevant to you as it is to anyone who is currently preparing to serve a mission.

In October 1997, Elder Richard G. Scott said, “There are few things in life that bring as much joy as the joy that comes from assisting another improve his or her life. That joy is increased when those efforts help someone understand the teachings of the Savior and that person decides to obey them, is converted, and joins His Church. There follows great happiness as that new convert is strengthened during the transition to a new life, is solidly grounded in truth, and obtains all of the ordinances of the temple with the promise of all the blessings of eternal life. President McKay showed us how to obtain such joy with his profound clarification of our responsibility to share the gospel: ‘Every member a missionary.’”

The January visiting teaching message puts it this way: “We don’t need a formal mission call to share the gospel. Others whose lives will be blessed by the gospel surround us, and as we prepare ourselves, the Lord will use us.

In my research for this talk, I found lots of suggestions for how to prepare ourselves to share the gospel. I’ll only focus on four:

First, convert yourself to the gospel. Second, look for opportunities to share your testimony now. Third, practice listening to the Holy Ghost. Fourth, learn to love people.

In one of the introductory videos to the new youth program, one of the girls being interviewed says, “If we’re going to become converted, we can’t just listen. We have to act on what we’re learning.” I think the same goes for teaching. If we’re going to share the gospel, we have to know and live what we teach. As the saying goes, preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary use words.

Be an example of what we believe. Pray and read the scriptures consistently. It’s by remembering to do the “little things” that we invite the Holy Ghost into our lives and start building our relationship with the Savior.

When I moved away from home for the first time, I was a little unprepared for how easy it was to slip out of the scripture-reading habits I’d established at home with my family. It was hard to get myself to read consistently when I lived at home, but when I left the shadows of my parents and had to metaphorically stand on my own two feet, it got ten times harder. Even attending church could be a struggle. I remember several Sundays of my freshman year when getting up and going to church was a very conscious choice. I forced myself go because I knew it was good for me – kind of like what going to school feels like sometimes.

Even though it is hard, I wouldn’t trade the experience of choosing to build my own testimony for anything. I love the fact that in this church, we are encouraged not to follow the doctrines blindly. We are encouraged to seek our own confirmation from God whether it is true, and God has promised us, “Ask, and ye shall receive.” If we sincerely pray to know something, he will answer us. I think true conversion is a process; it doesn’t happen overnight, it happens as we slowly improve ourselves each day. As one of the young men in the “We Become” youth video says, “I think conversion is when you change your heart.”

In addition to studying the gospel, following the doctrines Christ has taught helps build your testimony – just like taking opportunities to share your beliefs does. As we learn to share with others and learn to share our feelings with the Savior during the conversion process, our relationship with him becomes closer.

When he spoke at the prospective missionary meeting, Elder Kopischke challenged us to open our mouths and start acting like missionaries now. The night I turned my mission papers in, President Lewis gave me the same challenge. I put a lot of thought into how I could act like a missionary now, even though I wasn’t on a full-time mission, and two words came into my head: “share or serve.” Every day, look for opportunities to share your testimony or to serve. Stand as witnesses of God at all times, in all things, and in all places you may be in.

It actually isn’t anything more than we were challenged to do in my Young Women’s classes, but I needed the reminder. It helps that I want to serve a full-time mission, and I want to be as prepared as I can before I get there. As another girl in the “We Become” youth video says: “As we become converted, we realize what the gospel is doing for us, and we want to share it with others.”

It’s not always easy to vocally share your testimony with someone else. Sometimes it’s really scary. I have a friend who’s going through a really difficult time right now. She’s grieving for one of her friends who died suddenly in February, she’s homesick, and she’s feeling alone. Last weekend, she opened up about some of her feelings in a blog post that broke my heart. I really wanted to say something to comfort my friend, but everything I could think to say felt really inadequate. I don’t know what it’s like to have a close friend die. I don’t know what it’s like not to have my family living twenty minutes away if I need something. (I do know what it’s like to feel alone, but not to the degree which she seemed to be feeling.) I did know the Savior knew exactly how she was feeling, and even though I was nervous about finding the right thing to say, I decided to try to talk to her. It was late at night when I read her blog post, so I couldn’t call her, but I could text her a message she might read when she awoke. Even though I wasn’t sure exactly the best thing to say, I was able to think about it carefully and then bear a brief testimony of the Atonement, that the Savior intimately knew the pain she felt, and that He loves her and won’t leave her to suffer alone.

I hope my testimony brought her some comfort. At least it made me feel better, because I know what I said is true, and the Lord will take care of her.

My dad has a strong testimony of opening up your mouth and sharing your beliefs. D&C 100, verses 4-6, says, “Therefore I, the Lord, have suffered you to come unto this place for thus it was expedient in me for the salvation of souls. Therefore, verily I say unto you, lift up your voices unto this people; speak the thoughts that I shall put into your hearts, and you shall not be confounded before men; For it shall be given you in the very hour, yea, in the very moment, what ye shall say.”

In the past, I’d always understood these verses to mean God would remind us of things we’ve studied in our scriptures and in church. That is definitely true, but my dad sort of takes it a step further, to a level I hadn’t ever thought about. When I talked to him yesterday, he said, “I believe the spirit we came to earth with has so much knowledge in it that if can use the Holy Ghost to help us tune into our own spirit, it will help us know what we know already… [I learned that] from feelings I’d had through the Holy Ghost that told me Heavenly Father knew me better than I knew myself and I had to trust the Holy Ghost to realize who I was.”

Having the Holy Ghost with you is so important. The Holy Ghost can be such a powerful force. He may act as a comforter, a teacher, a messenger with inspiration from God, or even just a constant source of strength we each can draw on. It’s important to learn how the Spirit speaks to you individually and practice listening and obeying. Matthew 10:20 says, “For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you.”

The fourth and final suggestion I found to prepare to share the gospel is simply to learn to love people. My dad said he learned to suspend his judgment of other people from growing up in a big family. “I learned early on most of the assumptions you make about others are wrong,” he said, “and you need to pause just long enough to understand what somebody is telling you before you assume you know their story and jump in and try to help. So I guess my capacity to love others was just by giving them the benefit of the doubt, listening and putting myself in their shoes. … Once you’ve listened, you’ve got to hesitate a second or half a second before you open your mouth because those are the moments when you gain words that aren’t your own; when the Spirit jumps in to help you help them.”

Practicing loving other people can sometimes be the hardest suggestion to follow of all. But even when people aren’t being very lovable and you can’t quite bring yourself to love them, remember Christ loves them unconditionally, just like he loves you unconditionally. You can still love someone even if you don’t love their actions, just like you can feel God’s love for someone even if you don’t think you can love them yourself. **

(Testimony; power of missionary work, four things: 1. convert yourself to the gospel, 2. look for opportunities to share your testimony now, 3. practice listening to the Holy Ghost, 4. learn to love people.)

Extras if I have time:

*Elder Rasband told a fascinating personal experience where President Eyring invited him to sit in with the members of the Twelve Apostles as they assigned missionaries to their individual missions, and he bore testimony of how they acted completely on the Lord’s direction. He said, “First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know ‘perfectly’ where the missionaries should be assigned. The word ‘perfectly’ said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.”

**There’s a book that has made a deep impression on me called “The Hiding Place.” It’s written by Corrie Ten Boom, a woman from Holland whose family helped hide Jews from the Nazis during World War Two. The book is a detailed account of how her family helped the Jews, and what happened to them when they got caught. Corrie’s father died in prison and her sister died in a women’s concentration camp, but despite this family’s terrible trials, their faith in God stayed strong and sustained them through the hardest times. At the end of the book, Corrie describes how she felt when she met a man who had been a guard at her concentration camp:

“His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side. Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him. I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness. As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me. And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.”

For us, learning to love people may not be so dramatic, but the principle is the same. The worth of every soul is great in the sight of God, and as easy as it is to automatically judge someone, it’s not up to us to judge. It’s God’s job to be the perfect judge.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Making salsa and paper cranes

This was pretty much Jen and I's weekend, with the addition of cleaning the chapel with our church group and attending an AWESOME Korean Festival on Friday night.