Today was a good day. Forecasts have been saying that we are supposed to get three feet of snow. When we awoke in the morning to find hardly even rain drizzling, we laughed. However, the weather wasn't finished. Thick snow flakes began to fall at 11 and they haven't stopped. They won't stop until monday morning. I had to dig through a few suitcases to pull out my well-worn winter boots. They saw their glory days in Casper; I wore them almost every day. This may be my last big snow storm before I come home. Home has been on my mind a little bit as well. I have a tiny excitement within that is magnified when I think about home. However, the other part of me realizes I will miss this so much. I have structure, I know what I'm doing and feel confident, I have a routine every six weeks, every week, and every day. Time is no longer measured in months but by transfers. "NP, PWI, CC, @S, OD, B/C, DC, ZoCo, DL, ZL, STL," and many other abbreviations will mean nothing. The jokes about obscure old testament stories and church history won't kill a crowd. I won't have a singular purpose in mind. I'll have to deal with social situations and rediscover my role as a disciple in regular life. I will have the insecurities of dating, jobs, and friends. Here, I don't pick my friends, my responsibilities, my car, my house, my city, my downtime, my roommate, my coworkers, my clothes, or where I shop. I know these places, I know what to do. I've experienced this place and call it home. I saw a quote from Dr. Seuss that read, "sometimes you don't know the value of a moment until it's a memory." In part, I feel I am living a memory. Today was Zone Conference and I conducted. I made a few mistakes and was boisterous at times, but I corrected myself and didn't beat myself up. The best part, however, was that I saw Elder Lyman -- a missionary I knew in Casper. He has high-functioning autism and is incredibly kind. He is so enthusiastic and positive. He also has this amazing talent of memorizing birthdays. You tell him your birthday once and he can remember it forever. He went through the two zones today and named every single person's birthday without error. He can also play the piano incredibly. When I say incredibly, I mean it. There are people who play the instrument, and there are people who live through it—it's an extension of who they are. He is one of those special cases. He, without practice, combined and added onto Come Thou Fount, How Great Thou Art, and He Calls. Then, to finish off, he played a song he wrote on the spot a few days earlier. A comp of his asked him what he'd play if the Savior walked in the room. It was beautiful. I pulled him aside to ask if I could record him playing a few songs. I recorded a song he made for Elder Conrad and another for Elder Delgado. I then asked him if he could play a spiced-up version of How Great Thou Art. He killed it. Chord progressions, key changes, transitions, melodies, and a feeling of electric emotion. He'd get off the piano after a fun song and be so pumped up and giving us high fives. After a somber song, he'd be soberly exhilarated. While playing, however, he wasn't any of those things. All of his emotion—everything—was in that piano. I only had time for one more song (or so I thought), and I was tempted to ask him what song he thought of when he thought of me. Instead, I thought a more meaningful question was what song he'd play for himself. I asked him and he said, "that's a good one." He thought for a few moments. Then, without sign or warning, began to play. It was incredible to watch. It's one of the most interesting, powerful, and divine moments of my mission. It was a pure expression of love and happiness. With time, I asked if he had a song he could play for me. He told me, typically he had to think, but he already had thought of one for me. He said, "it may sound a little weird, but it really reminds me of your personality." I laughed. He repeated himself, a little nervous. I said, "I'm so excited to see what you have for me." Comforted, he turned and played a beautiful piece. I felt it. I felt his gift. I was thankful. As a photographer or filmmaker, we see the world, these stories, and these people, and we organize it. Angles, editing, and shooting simply organize unorganized matter. That helps me be happy. God's purpose is to take our unorganized, natural selves, and organize it. There is no creation, but organization. I remember walking away from my graduation. I had my graduation hat on with my racing flats tied to the top. I remembered looking around, standing at the far end of the 3,2,1 field, looking at the many faces of people walking to their cars. This was no winter or summer break; they weren't coming back. I would never be in the same room as all of these people again. Every day for four years I always left, and then came back to see familiar faces. Then, on a day like any other, it just stopped. I remember that feeling. Point Loma was my world, those four years were my forever. The mission is my world, these two years are my forever. We forget that this is a season of testing. It may feel like our forever, but there is a next step. There is a leaving behind something good for something better. I desire to use each part of this forever to the fullest. That is my nature and desire. I have a call from within the deepest part of my soul -- from the part of the foundation that carries much of my reasoning and beliefs -- that draws me to experience and fall in love with the world I'm given, the people I'm gifted, and the opportunities of this forever I have been placed in. One day, I'll get into the transfer van, the Colorado State bus will drive away, and I'll be left driving with the APs to the mission office. I'll walk to a terminal alone—no companion—and have time to sit and think about what I did and who I am. It will be this revealing transition period. An expert of one world, a newborn to the next. I will be exiting the woods, thinking about how I've changed, and whether it was worth it. Did I do my best while in the woods? One year ago tomorrow we received the instruction to buy a two- week food supply as the COVID scare began. I was spending my last few days with Elder Laudie. I still had seventeen months left. I had yet to leave the city of Casper or my companion for more than 24 hours. I've had twelve companions, six emergency transfers, eight wards, three areas, and a lot of learning experiences since. It will be my birthday tomorrow. Kinda strange. This is my very last day being a teenager.
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