Apparently she'd been on her way to church that morning. You should know that Saratov is a beautiful post-winter-depression mess in
terms of weather conditions:) The sun is shining, the skies are blue,
and the streets, sidwalks, and roads are mud mud dirt water and more
mud. Along with washed up ice patches of snow still trying to melt.
Anyway. Boots not the shiniest they've ever been. In fact, never more
atrocious:) But Mom doesn't have to know! Haha--SO this woman. She took a
spill on her way to the church, tired, frail, old as she is. Banged up
her poor knee. She showed me her coats, skirt, explained they were wet.as.could.be!!!
And how, in a jumble, managed to brush herself off and rise to her
feet. A woman, hurrying past, gave her one look and threw in her
insensitive 2 cents with the words, "you forget wherever you are going
and head straight home, clean yourself off!"
Well, my
nameless Russian friend knows better than to consent to the verbalized
opinions of inferiority from irrelevant passerby's-- and called back "I
most certainly will not!! I have the sacrament to take this morning!!"
And continued on her hastened way. Hahaha, what a hero she was to me.
Even moreso when she again recapped this woman's attempts to deter her
from her righteous goal, with the resolute, "of course I'd never heed
that devilish girl." Hahaha. Heehee, my smile seemed to say. On that
note--"Scatter Sunshine," sister Clyde's smile seemed to sing as I
curtsied and ran out of the bathroom. Best behind-the-scenes pick me up I
ever got.
Companionships
and the quality thereof come in alls hapes and sizes--but each and every
pair shares one underlying characterisitc---there are two of us.
Understandable, the anxiety was of a distant district leader upon the
recepit of SIster Clyde's 'just tryin' to spice things up/we are home
safe and on time text. Every single night, I send the commonplace,
flavorless singular Russian word, pronounced "Doma," which means "at
home." Thursday, in a rhyming panic, the addendum my fingers came up with was
"Doma, Doma, home alone-uh!"
Hahah--the
prose part giv ing a somewhat Dr. Seuss-like falre of whimsical apathy,
regarding the fact that I was seemingly Sis. Hancock-less. Elder Wall,
just beacuse someone cites beloved Christmas babylon doesn't mean you
need to call in the big dogs. Zone Leaders-- we're hooommmmeeee!! :)
There was
nothing like making our way around the outback apartment buildings, away
from town center one a crisp sunny Mid march afternoon. All Russian
retirees began to creep out of winter's fast-fading shadow in order to
pich a lawn chair and enjoy eachother's company. A few elderly folks
stopped us in our tracks, and we had the most pleasant street chat, as
we asked if they'd been athletes--and other ears perked up, joined the
conversation, at the desire to tell a little of his or her glory days.
Some threw in some Ukraine comments that we didn't address, and then we
were able to talk about what we were doing there. It was rather
charming. I won't ever forget 79 year old Genaddi, with his blue eyes
and nice gray trench coat. At first a tease, who didn't take the two
american girls seriously. Whose thoughts and opinions softened, and
wound up welcoming us back next time he was out to play stickball with
the neighbor kids.
We then caught a
glimpse of an upclose Russian wedding!! As guys in tuxes hopped out of
decked-out hummers where bridesmaids awaited them outside an apartment
building. Thus began the bag of tricks and obstacles that the groom is
required to pass through in order to advance up the stairwell and snag
his prize of a bride. We saw her, Rapunzel, wave and giggle outisde the
window on the stop story, and couldn't help but sign up to be flower
girls. Story for next week.
Favorite
moments of the week--- the sunshine filling Gallina's kitchen, as we
thought two women in Relief Society about the miracle of the
Resurreciton--a theme that we so often take for granted--at least I
do--since I've heard about it since primary days. We shared Abidadia's
glorious take on it in Mos 16--- how Christ is the light and life of the
world. It is my favorite. The spirit ever present, as we together sang a
colorful version of "He is Risen," and lonely Lioba loved every second,
seeing as how her beloved son as fallen ill and passed on at the age of
30.
Bogdon brought
his bud to church a week ago. Meet Danielle, or Daniel is Russian. Um.
This kid is due for baptism in a month. 14 years old. Already committed
to read the Book of Mormon. Mom already signed his permission sheet. He
prayed, although nervous, at the end of yesterday's lesson. Miracles,
Moroni 7: 26.
I just keep having this feeling, that life is a
whole lot simpler, when we simply aim to make our will line up with
God's. Until there is little to no overlap. No margin for error. I love
this gospel so so much.
Have a great week. Call me!!
Love,
Sister Clyde
No comments:
Post a Comment