Dear Sand Raiders of
Tatooine,
“I
don't like sand, it's coarse and rough and gets all over.” - Anakin Skywalker. What a wise guy. I'd be remiss if I didn't include that quote.
Helaman 5:12 And now, my sons, remember, remember that it
is upon the rock of our
Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his
mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his
mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power
over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the
rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon
if men build they cannot fall.
Welp...
I’m in Concepcion now. So that’s cool. It's a nice place, more or less.
Like Salt Lake City but... you know... interesting. I`m serving in the city,
Andelién is the name of my area. My companion is Elder Groll. So that's enough
of the status report stuff, I mean I don’t know. I don’t know how to write a
normal letter. I mean I guess the plane ride kind of sucked, but it was overall
just normal. I mean what else do people want to know-
...
So anyways let's talk about SAND. I bet all
of you in Utah miss sand right now- or more specifically I bet you all miss the
sun, and the beach, and all of that other warm stuff. And what do you get in
return? Snow, presumably. Personally, I’d say it`s a fair trade, I’ve always
liked the nasty, ear-biting, cold that comes when the world is as white as a
canvas. It means I have a suitable excuse to stay inside and pretend like I
have better things to do than... whatever it is that people do during the
winter.
But I digress.
A particularly wise woman once told me to
``never base yourself on something that can change.” It should come as no
surprise that these words- though I felt I understood them at the time- mean
more to me each and every time I think of them, as most things do. Because
there`s an inherent wisdom in these words that, I think, surpasses their
originally intended meaning. Because there are two types of people in the
world, when it comes down to it, and Jesus perfectly describes them in 3 Nephi
chapter 14.
“Therefore, whoso heareth these sayings of
mine and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, who built his house upon
a rock—
And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds
blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock.
And every one that heareth these sayings of mine and
doeth them not shall be likened unto a foolish man, who built his house upon the sand—
And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the
winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell, and great was the fall of
it.”
Besides just being the inspiration for the objectively best
primary song, I find these verses to be quite interesting. Because Jesus Christ
has not talked about sand a lot, off the top of my head I can only think of one
other time when the scriptures have: Genesis 22, when God promises Abraham
that his children will number more than all the grains of sand in the
sea. Genesis 22:17-18
“That in blessing I will bless thee,
and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea
shore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his
enemies; And in thy seed shall all
the nations of the earth be blessed; because
thou hast obeyed my voice.”
I feel like that lends a new context to
Jesus` parable. Because so many of us let others define who we are, by their
philosophies and labels. But every time you step foot into that sand, you leave
a mark. Sand changes, it shifts with the tides, it breaks and clumps together,
and is never quite sure what- or, rather, whom- it wants to be, let alone what
it's doing here. All it knows are the things of sand, the things that are
familiar to is. It's not an evil thing, not really. It's not even really a thing,
but rather many things. Grains, all acting separately against each
other for their own goals, goals which will inevitably fall flat when next
the waves of affliction come crashing down. We, humans on an Earth plagued by
justice and discrimination and hate, an Earth where ignorance is preferable to
scientific and religious fact, an Earth that our bodies will decompose into
someday. Because we're just grains of sand on the universe`s beach, we`re
visitors, we don`t know what it is we`re doing here. And, though we are
together, we`re alone.
But we weren't always that way. I don't know
where or when, but at some point, we all must have been stone, or part of a
stone. Unified and unchanging. Because sand is just stone, shredded and
destroyed by years of unbearable weather and unceasing storms. For though
stone doesn't change, it can, will, shrink each time one of us decides that we
can`t hold on anymore.
I`ve seen a lot of sand here in Chile. Not
literal sand, my area is in the city. But something worth far more- infinitely
more- than something so trivial as a beach of sand. Human beings. People.
Children of God. The Seed of Abraham. And each and every one of them is
confused, and afraid, and lost, and searching for some meaning in their lives.
Whether or not they`ll admit it.
Whether it be the two woman who slowly closed
the door because they were too afraid to talk to us Devil worshipers because of
something her Pastor said, more afraid of us than- I imagine- the Devil
himself. The man who was convinced that `God` was just an alien and that the
angel Moroni who appeared to Joseph Smith was an extraterrestrial, because he
couldn't comprehend a God who would let his children suffer, so he turned to
the next best thing. The family who gave us tamales because 130 was just too
much for them to eat themselves. Every single person who has given us water
when we've asked. Ruben, who accepted our baptismal invitation with all the
hesitation of a child who knows how hot the stove can be- afraid that this
might not be right for him.
They`re children of God, all of them.
But they, like all of us to some extent, have
built themselves on the sand and there they wish to stay for they know not of
the great stone island that lays beyond the sea, nor of goals greater than
themselves. All they know is that here they are safe- until the next storm
comes, anyways. And that's why I'm here, in Chile because these people need
help. They need someone to take them to the island and begin the long, pressure
intensive process, of smelting themselves back into the stone. They need help,
to being that eternal journey. And I know that it`s not easy for them. But once
we`re set I know that there we will stay, unified in our love for God and our
desire to learn, forever.
My whole life I`ve been defined by things
that, while good, are changeable. People tell me I`m intelligent, but here in
Chile I`m not, not when everything I say comes out in broken Spanish. I`m a
great writer, but here in Chile I`m not. I play video games, but on a mission,
I don`t. I`ve been defined by those I`ve grown up with, but my friends aren't
here anymore. And I`ve defined myself by the little games I
play, the ideas I have, my hopes, my stories, more. The only game I can still
play begins each time I knock on a stranger`s door and invite them to come with
me into the sea, and become a fisher of men.
And it's great. It's hard, it's discouraging,
but I've already seen miracles here. So many extraordinary miracles. And here I
stand, on the beach, not worried for the day when the waves come because, when
you're part of the rock of our salvation, you become unmovable.
-Elder Brayden H. Monson
I really like this poem and it goes with my letter this week. Enjoy.
`Paper People`
by Harry
Baker
I
like people.
I’d
like some paper people.
They’d
be purple paper people. Maybe pop-up purple
paper people.
Proper
pop-up purple paper people.
“How
do you prop up pop-up purple paper people?”
I
hear you cry. Well I …
I’d
probably prop up proper pop-up purple paper people
With
a proper pop-up purple people paperclip,
But
I’d pre-prepare appropriate adhesives as alternatives,
A
cheeky pack of Blu Tack just in case the paper slipped.
Because
I could build a pop-up metropolis.
But
I wouldn’t wanna deal with all the paper people politics.
Paper
politicians with their paper-thin policies,
Broken
promises without appropriate apologies.
There’d
be a little paper me. And a little paper you.
And
we could watch paper TV and it would all be pay-per-view.
We’d
see the poppy paper rappers rap about their paper package
Or
watch paper people carriers get stuck in
paper traffic on the A4. Paper.
There’d
be a paper princess Kate but we’d all stare at paper Pippa,
And
then we’d all live in fear of killer Jack the Paper-Ripper,
Because
the paper propaganda propagates the people’s
prejudices,
Papers
printing pictures of the photogenic terrorists.
A
little paper me. And a little paper you.
And
in a pop-up population people’s problems pop
up too.
There’d
be a pompous paper parliament who remained out of touch,
And
who ignored the people’s protests about all
the paper cuts,
Then
the peaceful paper protests would get blown to paper pieces,
By
the confetti cannons manned by pre-emptive police.
And
yes there’d still be paper money, so there’d still be paper greed,
And
the paper piggy bankers pocketing more than they need,
Purchasing
the potpourri to pepper their paper properties,
Others
live in poverty and ain’t acknowledged properly.
A
proper poor economy where so many are proper poor,
But
while their needs are ignored the money goes to big wars.
Origami
armies unfold plans for paper planes
And
we remain imprisoned in our own paper chains,
But
the greater shame is that it always seems to stay the same,
What
changes is who’s in power choosing how to lay the blame,
They’re
naming names, forgetting these are names of people,
Because
in the end it all comes down to people.
I
like people.
’Cause
even when the situation’s dire,
It
is only ever people who are able to
inspire,
And
on paper, it’s hard to see how we all cope.
But
in the bottom of Pandora’s box there’s still hope,
And
I still hope ’cause I believe in people.
People like my grandparents.
Who
every single day since I was born, have taken time out of their morning to pray
for me.
That’s
7892 days straight of someone checking I’m okay, and that’s amazing.
People like my aunt who puts on plays with prisoners.
People who are capable of genuine forgiveness.
People like the persecuted Palestinians.
People who go out of their way to make your life better, and expect
nothing in return.
You
see, people have potential to be
powerful.
Just
because the people in power tend to pretend
to be victims
We
don’t need to succumb to that system.
And
a paper population is no different.
There’s
a little paper me. And a little paper you.
And
in a pop-up population people’s problems pop
up too,
But
even if the whole world fell apart then we’d still make it through.
Because
we’re people.
If there's one thing that I appreciate more than almost
anything about the Gospel of Jesus Christ is just how inherently fair it
is. Everyone receives the same opportunities, everyone receives glory
proportional to how 'good' they were on Earth. And everyone- to a certain
extent- knows what it means to be good, and what it means to
be evil. 
