I don’t know if it’s all the excitement of the
past 72 hours being jam packed with activities or if it’s the the “one day
left” syndrome kicking in. Either way I am hoping that by charging up in the
sun right now (I am after all, a solar powered unit) I can rid myself of the
flu that has thrust itself upon me. Are these my locusts? Come on, a last
minute attempt to get me to stay? I don’t need that much encouragement. Dad
said it would be a terrible shame if I was too sick to fly home tomorrow. No, of
course not, he has no personal agenda in that sincere request (?)
It has been 72 hours of a little bit of anything.
I have had no time to think about leaving because I have only had time to be
with them. Every day, every moment. One of my favorite things was when Serene
and I got home last night and my Dad was waiting up for us, asleep in the
lounge with the T.V on. There was no need to creep past the door hoping to slip
into our room unnoticed. I felt so young saying that just then. Dad wasn’t on “watch
dog duty” I smile at that thought. I have lived out of home for so long that I had
forgotten there was such a thing as waiting up parents. Side note: I wonder how
I can work this so he can Skype wait up for me in Salt Lake City? Thoughts? My
Dad woke up and hugged me and his sleepy smile was a genuinely so happy to see
me smile. I sat on the couch and put my sore feet (wretched high heels) onto
his lap for him to rub them a little “Tell me about your night daughter”. I
loved him so much in that moment.
I will never die wondering whether all of my
parents love me.
The other night I lay in bed in the early
hours of the morning with my thoughts as company. I like those quiet hours – no
one or nothing to disturb you. My sister had been snuggled next to me sleeping
soundly, she had thoughtfully tried to wait up for me as I wrote a little but
her heavy eyelids had battled and won. I am really going to miss this sharing a
room thing when I go home.
I was thinking about a lot – firstly, how the
kitchen and house had been restored to their pre party states – *sparkle
sparkle* you could have seen your face in that kitchen floor. All the apologies
for too much “noise” and loud music (loud is the only volume music has right?)
had not been made at that point... I added that to the mental “to do” list. Right
then, I just rested, feeling fed in every way, feeling full in every way.
We had partied authentic this week, my
sister is building her His YSA empire “One soul at a time”. Last week
had been a Mexican Fiesta of immense sorts and this week we had decided to add
some authentic flavor - we had gone in true Japanese style… with some pizza
thrown in… so pretty authentic you know (?). I don’t really do sushi. I would
eat pizza over sushi any day so I had gladly voted in that addition. Wow. It’s
true isn’t it, I just sounded more and more American.
There are some images that are still stuck
in my mind from that day. Snapshots of important doctrine being taught in raw, real
life application kind of ways. “Think of your brethren like unto yourselves,
and be familiar with all and free with your substance, that they may be rich
like unto you” (Jacob 2:17) I had seen my interpretation of that scripture
personified. My sister had bought enough food that day to feed the state of
Utah. I wish you could have seen the joy in her face as she did it. It was a
beauty that looks like, well, what I imagine charity looks like in the flesh to
an outsider. It was humbling. We had
been on a food expedition all that day– I had tagged along, pushing the trolley
(*cart) around the supermarket for her, watching her, taking mental notes, you
know the ones that commit you to being better and more than you are. Did I mention the 102 piece sushi platter
assortment? Our family doesn’t mess around. You would have been proud. We don’t
do bite size dinners – we prefer the leaving our house feeling so full (full in
every way) that you have to roll out the door with your take home bag kind of style. And when I say “take home bag” I mean
literally a bag – look, we ran out of plastic plates and I was working with
what I had. Zip lock bags, although somewhat ghetto (ok, really ghetto) had to
be the go to. If only you had seen people’s faces as I spooned rice and
teriyaki chicken into zip lock bags for them to take home. I know, even as I
write that now I can’t believe I did that, I am laughing at how uncouth it was.
It was definitely shock value. Once the public got wind of it, it was renamed
“chicken in a bag.” Sounds like a business venture?
As I lay in bed after it was all over I had
thought about how each of us has a responsibility to be free with our substance.
Just as I had seen the examples of others that day. I am not just talking about money, because I
don’t have any. I am talking about a “tell me what you’re made of” version of substance.
Actually don’t tell me, show me. Show me your substance. Show me how you use
everything that He, He who we owe
all that we have and are and all that we can ever hope to be to.
Actually don’t show me, show Him.
That night we ate Japanese, some of us
pizza, we took home chicken Teriyaki in zip lock bags (can we please overlook
that now?) but more importantly we all desired for each to “be rich like unto
us”. I guess that depends how you define “rich” though. We don’t need money to
be “free with our substance”. We
don’t need money to freely share His
love with others. We don’t need money to free
others as they become “rich like unto us”.
Be free.
