THANKFUL

Wonderful thing for the last umpteen days:  Here’s what it’s like to be here:  You live in this charming apartment on the first floor, behind Central Station (but the trains aren’t loud).  The furnishings are sparse but homey.  You get up every morning, pray, write in your journal, eat breakfast, pray together, plan the day, study, maybe do some around-the-house stuff or some repair or other.  Sometimes there’s a district meeting to go to, where you watch and learn, as 18-20 year olds teach and train each other, talk of things of eternal worth, express their love for the people they’re working with, and sing their hearts out.  Sometime around mid-day, you go out to visit some young adults who maybe haven’t been heard from in awhile.  Usually, this takes several hours, means following your GPS in very circuitous routes, sometimes having to find alternate routes…and finding very few actually at home, or actually living at that address.  In Florence last week, we went through that routine; Blaine said, “That’s okay, because the next place we go to we’re going to be in luck.”  He was right, of course; the fifth address we tried, on the very outskirts of Florence, in the hills where the streets are narrow and the view is so charming it takes your breath away, we found Bruno and his mom.  She is Russian, but has lived in Italy since she was young, a delightful, charming, wistful woman.   Her son is very tall and very gracious.  He plays basketball on a local team (in Italy, schools do not front teams), on Sundays.  We spent the time getting to know him, finding out who he is a little.  Great visit.  When we left, her face was at the window.  We were all glad we came.  Sometimes there’s someone who has invited us for dinner; sometimes we have Institute to attend (in Florence) or to teach.  Sometimes we eat dinner at 9:00, maybe some salad or some yogurt.  Sometimes we drop by the church to get on the internet and send some emails; the other day, it just so happened that the bishop needed someone else in the building while he interviewed one of our young women.  Sometimes we go with the home teachers to help teach a young man about the responsibilities of the Melchizedek priesthood.  Sometimes, like last night, a visit draws at our very heartstrings and makes us “sorrow for the sins of the world.”  Every night before we go to bed, we study the Book of Mormon together, and we pray, and our hearts are full, with a fullness that is hardly containable, of gladness.

Fun thing:  All us Americans in the Prato Ward are getting together tomorrow.  I’m stuffing and roasting two chickens (turkeys aren’t available till closer to Christmas); I found some real US sweet potatoes and some marshmallows (only because Sorella Reni requested them, mind you); I’m making zucca pie (tastes like pumpkin) in the closest thing to a pie pan I could find, an aluminum cake pan that I sttrreettched out a bit.  Happy Thanksgiving y’all.  We are sooo happy to be here…but we miss you.