Dear Humans of the World,
"Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill
cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel on a
candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light
so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father
which is in heaven." Matthew 4:14-16
There's something about Mexico City that I hate. I like to look at
the stars, but in the business of the city, in the calamitous chaos colliding and
coinciding in my brain, there are no stars to be seen. I noticed it on my
first night here. The night is chaotic, the dogs outside bark, the birds
squawk, the men in the bars sing songs of ever decaying quality, and there are
no stars in the sky.
It's so wonderful to be able to look up to a sky full of stars, to
view the cosmos from afar, barely able to comprehend just how small
we really are. It puts things in perspective, at least it does for me. Whenever
I'm overwhelmed or tired, I go outside and, instead of looking down at my
shoes, I look up towards the Heavens, and realize just how small my problems
are. Just how small my solutions are. And how incredible it is that we have a
Father who loves every single soul here on this pale blue dot. You know that
feeling, when you look over a cliff, and looking at every house, and realize
that everyone down there has a life and problems and hopes and dreams and
failures and lessons to learn? Or how about when you're surrounded by a crowd
of people, and they're all just as confused and afraid as you are? Well we have
a Heavenly Father who knows all of us, personally. It's estimated that there
have been 100 billion people who have lived on Earth throughout its
history. And that's just people who have lived on this world.
It's something that my mind just can't comprehend. Somehow in this world of
numbers and letters and hopes and dreams and eyes on shoes and eyes on the sky,
Heavenly Father always knows exactly what we need.
And that's something he's proven to me time and time again.
Especially this last week. It's been a hard week, but that's no surprise. But
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know what we need, even when we don't. Especially when
we don't. I've had to pray a lot this past week. I know that hope is the thing
with feathers, and I know that it never stops at all, but sometimes I don't
know how to find it. It's so much easier- and so much worse- to focus on the
bad, to let my thoughts go down into an ever-tightening spiral, and it's so
much harder to let myself remain happy. This isn't a new issue for me, but it's
the first time I've had to truly confront it head on. In the past whenever I
began to feel depressed, I would just go and distract myself, but I can't do
that anymore. I can't just ignore the way the natural man inside of me is
determined to work towards my own miserable isolationism. I've had to confront
that part of myself. And it hasn't been easy. But with Heavenly Father, it's
been possible.
Every time I feel that way, I pray. And Heavenly Father sends
help; as much help as I let Him.
My companion, Elder Canales, pointed something out to me the other night. In the distance, far from where my eyes were looking, was a single star in the sky; Shining alone. I'd never noticed it before. It was a sign, for me and for me alone. I love that star. Because life is hard, because sometimes we feel like the weight of the world is on our shoulders. Because the Gospel of Jesus Christ is a Gospel of Joy. Pure unfiltered joy. And it's always there, if we have the courage to look for it. The sign of Jesus' birth was a new star in the sky and- though it's unlikely- I'd like to think the star I saw in the sky was the same one.
I don't want to give the impression that I'm miserable or
massively depressed here, I'm not. Most of the time I'm happy. Most of the time
I can feel the joy that God wants me to. But sometimes I see a starless sky, a
hopeless day, and I forget all of the miracles that God has performed, I forget
how much I love this Gospel and learning of Jesus Christ. And it's in times
like those that I need hope. And it's in time like these that I find it.
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| Can you see the star? |
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| Can you see the star? |
________________________________________________________________________
People I'm thankful for (this is a new 'bit' I want to start
doing. Someone I'm thankful for this week, and why. It's not necessarily the
person I'm the most thankful for, but just someone I've been
thinking of. This week I'm going to list three people, since I haven't done it
the previous three week):
The Jensen who told me to go to Ward Choir (like literally every
time I saw him)-
Canon Jensen is a very remarkable person, and that's something
I've known ever since I first met him. I had the privilege of being in the
same Priest’s Quorum. He's the sort of person who always makes it a point
to include everyone- even if they don't want to be included. He's also the sort
of person who will type a really nice, encouraging letter, to a missionary the
night before he leaves just because he's nervous. So thanks Canon, thanks for
just being a good person, a genuine one.
And if you happen to be reading this, then guess what? I GO TO
CHOIR EVERY WEEK NOW AND IT'S AWESOME. Thanks for inviting me.
The Most Blonde Redhead I've ever met-
So there's this person that I know, and she's quite delightful.
She's also just a bit misguided. You see, she has somehow convinced herself
that her hair- clearly blonde- is red. Strawberry blond, to be specific. I have
no idea what led her to this conclusion, but you know, as we always said at my
old job, "It's okay to be wrong."
But in all seriousness, I'd like to thank this person for talking
with me and for being my friend all these years and for always trying to cheer
me up when I'm down. Because even if her words don't help, her tone does. Her
willingness to try does. So thank you. Because even if she's sometimes wrong,
about her hair colour, about what I need- she seems to understand that it's never wrong
to try. To put yourself out there and to hope that it does something. Because
we live in a world where people are afraid to be honest and open, but she
always is. With everyone, even though I'm sure it hurts to do so.
The Girl Who Loves to look at Stars-
"We never really talked much or even look at each other, but
it didn't matter because we were looking at the same sky together, which is
maybe even more intimate than eye contact anyway. I mean, anybody can look at
you. It's quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see."-
John Green, Turtles All the Way Down.
I haven't always liked looking at the stars, but I do now. Someone
taught me how to see wonder in a world that's so often afraid to look up. To
see the light in the darkness. I'm not going to list this person's name, I know
she reads my emails, and I know she knows exactly who she is. It's someone who I've
shared countless experiences with. And each of those moments is meaningful
because, somehow, she always knows what to say. She knows me, and I know her.
And it's some small comfort to know that there's someone out there who I can
talk about anything with. Someone who, when she looks up at the sky, sees the
same world that I do. So thank you.
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Here's a poem I wrote, make of it whatever you will:
Sometimes I stand, beneath a tree-
Beneath a night, beneath my fear-
It's everything, all I can't see-
And I see myself, the sky's a mirror-
And I see nothing there-
Nothing to say-
My eyes ponder the sky, and there they tarry-
For days and weeks, even years-
Wondering if my soul, can longer carry-
That which only I can see in the clear-
My life laid out starlessly-
Molding itself into clay-
It's everything I want to be-
A crack in the black, the sky's seer-
Then I know, all of it's here for me-
Even in the darkened world, it can hear-
The shining star, the sky's tear-
One star lights the way-
One always light my way-
Go out and light the world,
- Elder Brayden Hunter Monson
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