Three in One

I've learned a ton this week! I just wrote a whole three pages in my foot-length journal and I'm only half way done. Maybe I'm just wordy...either way, some of it is going to spill into this post. I can just feel it.

First off, it was Founder's Day! I just love Founder's day! Maybe it's because I love my hometown. Scratch that, I love my hometown!!

It's the one of the few places your highschool teacher can be your sunday school teacher as well and the woods class makes award-plaques for the only pizza place in town. It's one of the few places where the principal can call a student over the intercom by their first name, if not their nickname. It's the only place you can get away with driving an old, hoodless car in a town parade with at least twenty tractors and twice as many horses. It's one of the few places where, if someone's cow, sheep, horse, dog, or even llama gets out, you know who's it is. And if a school event consistently lands on a Sunday, Monday evening, or Wednesday night, we always seem to have a hidden militia of parents fighting back in the name of church attendence, family home evening, and mutual.

If someone's basement is flooded, everyone digs out there irrigation boots. If the school's lacking a coach, they hire the band teacher. If something's broken, someone grabs the duct tape.
What's more? It has the heritage of champions! Boy am I honored, and humbled, to be the descendent of that--something I became a little more aware of this weekend.

I also became a little more aware of the Lord's awareness. It seems like I've written about this topic before...I probably have. Like I said, a reminder of the Lord's awareness--he's aware that I need a lot of reminders.

There was a youth fireside with one of the general authorities the night before all this fun and I decided to go. But as I plopped down in my lovely Buick, the thing my Mom had been slightly concerned about finally sunk in--I would be alone on this drive to Holbrook. I know, I'm seventeen. I should be almost pro at this. But I live in a place that's about a mile long both ways, where intersections don't exist and people politely wait at stop signs or even drive around you if your on the wrong side of the road. (I would know.)

So driving in a city, even a small one, had me a bit nervous. Who would point out the right exit on the freeway? Who would remind me to watch my speed? Who would tell me exactly when to go at an intersection?
Oh yeah, I was seventeen. I should be almost pro at this. I relaxed, muttered a prayer, and started the car.

The beginning actually wasn't as hard as I thought. I hit a bird in flight, which was a bit disconcerting, but I cruised that freeway and even was able to sing along to my music a little. Then came the exits. I was just about to go into panic mode when something my friend, who had gone with me the last time I had come here, said, "I remember it because all the lights."
Sure enough, not two minutes later, a familiar string of streetlights appeared. And, despite my second-guessing, it was the right one.
The next obstacle was the intersection. I gripped the steering wheel just a tad tighter before realizing that there was a grey car in front of me. Maybe,just maybe...Yes! Its blinker turned the same direction I was going! I gleefully followed that lovely grey car and made it safely through the intersection with flying colors.

I finally got to the church and, after reassuring my mom that her daughter was still in one piece, walked in. The opening hymn had already began, so I hugged my notebook and pen to me and hurried to the next empty bench, quickly grabbing the hymn book and finding the right page.

The verse wasn't even done yet before I heard the familiar voice of a classmate beside me.
"Hey," he whispered, "You wanna come sit by us?"
I looked up gratefully and nodded. He quietly led me to their bench where I saw the welcome faces of a track teammate, a good friend, the exchange student, and a soon-to-be-missionary. We sat down and finished the hymn.

The fireside was AMAZING (as they usually are). It was about avoiding temptation and how it relates to cookies.
Heheh, I obviously can't do it justice, but just take my word for it--it was good! Afterwards, I found my grandpa, who's on the stake presidency, and gave him a hug. But he immediatly gestured towards the general authority (a member of the 70, for which I feel reaaaly bad for not remembering his name) and said, "You should go shake his hand."
I couldn't have agreed more. So I walked over and thanked him, shaking his hand. But what he did surprised me.
First he just said something along the lines of, "Oh, your welcome. I'm glad you came." Then he kinda looked at me for a moment and muttered, in a softer tone, "Well, God bless you."

I left that night knowing that someone up there must really care. After another wild week, he knew what I needed. What I could be to someone else as well: A guide, A friend, A blessing.