December 20, 2009

A good memory

Yesterday I went to the temple to do an endowement session with my mom, sister and grandmother. It had been awhile since I last went. It was such a nice way to start the day. I need to do it more often. I am going to make it a new goal for this coming year to make it to the temple once a week. I love to go to the temple. I love the feelings of peace, love and joy that surrounds me everytime I go.
As I was sitting in the chapel waiting for our session to start, the organ was playing some christmas hymns and there were bells playing in the background. As I was sitting there listening to the music I was focusing on a picture of Christ that was hanging on the wall right in front of me. It was titled "Fishers of Men." I was really touched by this picture. I can't say specifically why but I felt love. I felt the spirit whisper to me, that I was loved. That no matter how hard things are right now for us, I could feel love surround me. It felt good! I felt a sweet peace fill my soul. I was happy.
Then I started to thinking about Christmas and all the things I needed to do last minute before the big day comes and I got caught up in all the material things, when I had to stop and laugh for a moment. Here I was sitting in the temple, the most peaceful place on earth, thinking about shopping and what gifts I had left to buy. As I sat there listening to the bells play, I was carried back to a memory of Christmas, that was years ago, while serving my mission in the Santiago West, Chile mission. I loved my mission! I loved everyone I served with, well almost everyone. I loved the people, the culture, the customs and grew to love what the Savior taught me. Even though it was not easy, it was worth every minute of it. I sometimes tell my husband that I would give anything to relive those days and go back and remember the good times when times are tough.
I had about 3 months left on my mission. I was serving in one of my most favorite areas ~ Ochagavia. I was with my second native companion from Colombia. I was confident with myself, the language and just knew the routine inside and out. I was loving life and dreading the day when it would all end. It was December, and our mission president had us put together a christmas box to give to someone we knew in need. He told us to pray and think about someone to give this box to as a zone. In my area where we lived just right around the corner from our little pnesion, there was a big market called La Panadoria. Behind this warehouse was a man who lived by himself and I remember he had no shoes. He lived with just his wagon of collected cardboard boxes, his stray dog and a few other belongings he had in his wagon(it was more like a hand cart).
My companion and I prayed adn prayed about it and then we took the idea to our Zone leader and it was agreed upon that this man needed it more than anyone else. So on the evening of Christmas day we met up as a zone and delieved it to this man together. I had been praying that he would be there, because he was always gone until late in the evening. Every night on our way home from tracting, teaching or whatever it was we were doing, we would see him arrive at this little spot around the same time.
To our suprise he was there. He was sitting by himself on the edge of his wagon when we came around the corner. He was watching us and was surprised when we came to a stop at his little corner. We told him we were missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that we had a speical Christmas package just for him. His eyes teared up and he was very grateful. We asked him if we could share a message about Christ with him and sing some christmas songs for him. He was so happy we would do that.

He didn't say much and we all had other appointments to get  to, but I remember leaving with my heart full of love and compassion for all of God's children.
As I read in my missionary journal, my prayer that night was very humble. I thanked the Lord for letting me serve one of His children who was in desperate need. I was thankful that the Lord led us to him. I hope that the small box of simple pleasures brought him happiness. I know it did to all of us who were present that night. This man's name was Sergio. A simple man, who taught me a great lesson of love.
I also remember just singing to an older woman named Clemantina. She was 87 yrs. old when she joined the church. I was privelaged to be a witness to it all. When the first set of sisters found her she was sitting on the road leaning up against her little barb wire fence "waiting for an angel to come," she told us. She was baptized and she was the most faithful church goer I had ever met in Chile. She would wait every Sunday outside her home for us, for her ride on the little school bus  to the church, because she couldn't walk that far. Even though she would fall asleep on my shoulder every Sunday she still went. She paid 100% tithe and offerings on whatever she had to give.  One Christmas Eve word had finally found us that she was pretty sick and all she wanted was to hear us sing. The patriach of the stake found us in his little car and drove us over to her home. There inside her humble home, by a christmas tree no taller than a herself was Clemantina. When we came in she started to cry and told us that all she wanted for Christmas was to hear some Christmas songs out of the hymn book. Her favorite one was "O Little Town of Bethlehem." So we sang songs to her. She fell asleep but the one thing I remembered was sitting there with companion watching her sleep. She was so sweet and peaceful. We had to make sure she was still breathing before we left, which she was, but just singing those songs, what a great way to feel the Love of the Lord. I remember my last Sunday on my mission, my family was with me. I was ending my mission and there was a baptism I wanted to see of a family we taught. Little Clemantina was so happy to see me. She sat right by me and never let me go. When it was all over with I told her it was time for me to go. She asked me "But you are coming over tonight right to visit?" I told her that it was time for me to go back to my home with my family. Those sweet little eyes filled up with tears and she wouldn't let go. I had to literally pry her off of me. That was a really sad day for me. One of the hardest in my mission. She died shortly after I went home. She was 89 yrs. old. I am almost postive she has found her spot in the Lord's presence.
It is the sweet experiences like these I have shared that make those tender feelings so close this time of year. I am creating new and good memories with my children. I want them to feel and understand the true meaning of Christmas as should all of us.
I just wanted to write all of this down while it was still fresh in my mind. I have been really blessed. I have a heart full of gratitude tonight.

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