Be Strong Believe (week 2)

Subject: "be strong beleive" (weekly email)

Kinda a rough week this last one. Nothing really happened with Benjamin (Elijah). Our last lesson with him ended up with us going in circles about how the preisthood is needed. It was a wreck. Then we taught Jon in a PI. Also a wreck. And we started teaching our new TRCs and we didn't know how to help them feel the spirit, and follow through with commitments. I had no idea what I was doing wrong. And it was the worst. I'm homesick and real sick and that also stinks haha. But I'm staying optomtomistic, because this isn't about me. Hahahahahahahaahha yeah. Rip. But at the same time this is the best thing I've ever done. 

On 9/11 some elders in my residence hall decided to have a memorial service of the halocaust. I won't go too much into it, but it ended up being super disrespectful. I watched in anger from the back. I don't know how to explain it, but if I had to, I would say that it was a joke that they tried to Make serious. That's when I couldn't find my companion. Until I knocked on the door of some elders in my district. Elder Lomax, and elder Valdez were in there and they looked like they had been crying. I was like "my dudes... Elders... What's up" and they told me that they had their own moment of silence. Then everyone started to tell everyone what they had taken for granted at home. We were all a homesick mess for a second. All the elders in my district, sitting there in one residence. That's when things got happy though. I said something along the lines of "you didn't take anything for granted. Look where you are. You had to leave everything to be here'. Then it got all quiet. And elder Lomax broke the silence with " I have something to share with you guys" he left the room and came back with he tablet. He shared a story called the room. I will send it with this email. It really puts the atonement in perspective. I have never felt the spirit so strong in my entire life. And I'm not just saying that. I was sitting there, on the ground, bawling. Like a baby. And I wasn't the only one. It was what I needed to hear.

Elder Lomax shared the same story in our Tuesday devotional review. During that review my whole district shared and commented and we had a huge spiritual conversation about the speakers that had spoken just an hour before. And the spirit there was strong as well. I got a letter from the branch presidency that pretty much told us how awesome our district is... Heck yeah. I'm Essex to have this district. We are all so close. Uuuuggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh it's awesome.

OH yeah and Elder Lomax and I asked Darcie to be baptized and she said yes, so that's pretty dang cool.

I'm gonna miss Sister Knapp :(

BUT IT'S OKAY

OH yeah pics. Me and my district and other homies. Also the one with me sleeping. That's justified okay? Hahaha I got super sick this week, and my parents got me a new blanket. I payed down before excessive time and I was like. "just for a couple minutes" then I passed out from utter exhaustion and misery hahaha good times

Here is also the story elder Lomax shared. 

THE ROOM

by Joshua Harris

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found

myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features

save for the one wall covered with small index card files.

They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author

or subject in alphabetical order.

But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and

seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different

headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to

catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked".

I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I

quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the

names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog

system for my life. Here were written the actions of my

every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory

couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled

with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening

files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and

sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so

intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if

anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I

Have Betrayed". The titles ranged from the mundane to

the outright weird. "Books I Have Read", "Lies I Have

Told", "Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed

At". Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things

I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at:

"Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have

muttered Under My Breath at My Parents". I never

ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were

many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I

hoped.

I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had

lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 16

years to write each of these thousands or even millions of

cards? But each card confirmed this truth.

Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with

my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I

Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain

their contents. The cards were packed tightly,

and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of

the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of

music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file

represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a

chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch,

not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I

shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that

such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought

dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards!

No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!"

In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't

matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I

took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I

could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and

pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I

tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.

Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-

pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I

Have Shared the Gospel With".

The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,

almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not

more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could

count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep

that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me.

I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from

the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves

swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever

know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No,

please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I

watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read

the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in

the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I

saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to

intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read

every one?

Finally, He turned and looked at me from across the

room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was

a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered

my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could

have said so many things. But He didn't say a word.

He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.

Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and,

one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each

card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could

find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him.

His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was,

written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus

covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently

took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began

to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He

did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard

Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He

placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I

stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was

no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written