St. Michaelis Kirche
Monday, January 11, 2016
Light in the Wilderness
This week I want to write you about Farshid.
It's Tuesday night and we are riding the M21 bus back from German class with the Hansens. The robotic German voice announces the next stop: "Grubenstieg," and the Deutsche Rotes Kreuz (German Red Cross) refugee camp slips into view through my bus window.
I cannot even imagine what it must be like to live in a place like this.... A world where the only concept of any sort of privacy is found in a thin sheet hung between 'living spaces', where you have to wait hours and hours in a line for laundry or a shower, and where the massive fluorescent lights never ever turn off. No darkness to hide in or find solitude. The bus rumbles on and I see the flash of ambulance lights in the front lot. My heart skips a beat at the simultaneously irrational and rational fear that Farshid is somehow in the middle of it - that he's hurt or got involved in something. The memory of Farshid's face two days prior as he stared out of the Altona church building window and told us that he didn't read in his scriptures the night before because he got in a fight defending a woman that was being harassed was still fresh in my mind. The reality is that the only thing protecting him in his newfound faith is the thick white paper covering the cover of his Persian Book of Mormon; keeping his involvement with the church a secret is essential. The ambulance drives off and our bus moves on in the opposite direction. A skinny boy has climbed halfway up the fence and his brightly-light silhouette is the last thing I see before our bus turns onto the next street. In my head, I pray for Farshid and I pray for this little boy.
I gleaned some understanding of Farshid's life before he came to Germany from flipping through the pictures on his iPod as we sat in the mall food court the next day. I zoomed in on the faces of all of his family members. His voice changed when I zoomed in on one in particular:"That is my big sister." Using trusty old google translate, I asked him if they were close. His huge eyes crinkled a little bit as he smiled and he did his classic Persian extra-long blink. Over these past weeks, I have learned that the the longer the blink, the stronger the affirmative. He lit up showing us pictures of his nieces and nephews, brothers, and parents. A picture of him in a hard hat brought to light that he was an architect. Our lesson with our translator Hadi later that week gave Farshid the opportunity to give us even more background. At the end, he explained how now that he knows about Jesus Christ and he has found the church, his family means even more to him. He said that as he has come closer to God, he has learned how to be happier and more grateful, in spite of everything that he and his family have had to go through. I am still in awe of his humility, spiritual maturity, and his gratitude.
The Lord told Nephi: "I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you..."
Farshid knows who his light in the wilderness is. He knows that the Savior had been preparing him his whole life to hear and accept the good news of the gospel. He begins each prayer with "Father" - in full confidence that he is communicating directly with his Heavenly Father. I am so grateful for Farshid's example, testimony, sacrifices, and strength. I am grateful to know that God is intimately involved in the life of this Iranian refugee and for the opportunity I have had these past few months to watch and be involved in Farshid recognizing that too.
Liebe Grüße,
Sister Grace
It's Tuesday night and we are riding the M21 bus back from German class with the Hansens. The robotic German voice announces the next stop: "Grubenstieg," and the Deutsche Rotes Kreuz (German Red Cross) refugee camp slips into view through my bus window.
I cannot even imagine what it must be like to live in a place like this.... A world where the only concept of any sort of privacy is found in a thin sheet hung between 'living spaces', where you have to wait hours and hours in a line for laundry or a shower, and where the massive fluorescent lights never ever turn off. No darkness to hide in or find solitude. The bus rumbles on and I see the flash of ambulance lights in the front lot. My heart skips a beat at the simultaneously irrational and rational fear that Farshid is somehow in the middle of it - that he's hurt or got involved in something. The memory of Farshid's face two days prior as he stared out of the Altona church building window and told us that he didn't read in his scriptures the night before because he got in a fight defending a woman that was being harassed was still fresh in my mind. The reality is that the only thing protecting him in his newfound faith is the thick white paper covering the cover of his Persian Book of Mormon; keeping his involvement with the church a secret is essential. The ambulance drives off and our bus moves on in the opposite direction. A skinny boy has climbed halfway up the fence and his brightly-light silhouette is the last thing I see before our bus turns onto the next street. In my head, I pray for Farshid and I pray for this little boy.
I gleaned some understanding of Farshid's life before he came to Germany from flipping through the pictures on his iPod as we sat in the mall food court the next day. I zoomed in on the faces of all of his family members. His voice changed when I zoomed in on one in particular:"That is my big sister." Using trusty old google translate, I asked him if they were close. His huge eyes crinkled a little bit as he smiled and he did his classic Persian extra-long blink. Over these past weeks, I have learned that the the longer the blink, the stronger the affirmative. He lit up showing us pictures of his nieces and nephews, brothers, and parents. A picture of him in a hard hat brought to light that he was an architect. Our lesson with our translator Hadi later that week gave Farshid the opportunity to give us even more background. At the end, he explained how now that he knows about Jesus Christ and he has found the church, his family means even more to him. He said that as he has come closer to God, he has learned how to be happier and more grateful, in spite of everything that he and his family have had to go through. I am still in awe of his humility, spiritual maturity, and his gratitude.
The Lord told Nephi: "I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you..."
Farshid knows who his light in the wilderness is. He knows that the Savior had been preparing him his whole life to hear and accept the good news of the gospel. He begins each prayer with "Father" - in full confidence that he is communicating directly with his Heavenly Father. I am so grateful for Farshid's example, testimony, sacrifices, and strength. I am grateful to know that God is intimately involved in the life of this Iranian refugee and for the opportunity I have had these past few months to watch and be involved in Farshid recognizing that too.
Liebe Grüße,
Sister Grace
Monday, January 4, 2016
Right Place, Right Time
Well, gang, I've been kind of staring at my iPad for the past 5 minutes not really sure what to say. I could write to you about our New Years 5k run as a zone which turned into a service project cleaning up a park from all of the fireworks trash. I could write to you about the dozens of fallen out appointments that occasionally
turned into situations where we were in just the right place at just the right time ... to help a mom carry her stroller up the stairs, to have a great conversation about the role of prayer with some engineering students
on a bus, or to help an elderly couple move out of their 4th story apartment. I could write about Friday evening with Jannina as she told us that her testimony of Joseph Smith is slowly getting stronger and stronger as we sipped vanilla tea and read "Safety for the Soul" by the light of the colored Christmas lights still lining her window. I could write about personal study, setting New Years goals, or lessons learned in District Meeting.
But somehow my thoughts just keep getting drawn back one simple thought: Faith.
President Packer once said "Faith, to be faith, must center around something that is not known. Faith, to be faith, must go beyond that for which there is confirming evidence. Faith, to be faith, must go into the unknown. Faith, to be faith, must walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness. If everything has to be known, if everything has to be explained, if everything has to be certified, then there is no need for faith. Indeed, there is no room for it. …"
I somehow have the feeling that this coming year will lead me to the edge of the light - my testimony that I have spent the last year+ working so hard to expand and deepen - and I will be asked to take a few steps into the dark.
But that's a good thing. I am so grateful to know of a Father in Heaven who loves me enough to stretch me and who cares about me enough to give me opportunities to make room for faith.
I welcome in this new year with open arms and a grateful heart.
Love,
Your Sister Grace Hendricks
turned into situations where we were in just the right place at just the right time ... to help a mom carry her stroller up the stairs, to have a great conversation about the role of prayer with some engineering students
on a bus, or to help an elderly couple move out of their 4th story apartment. I could write about Friday evening with Jannina as she told us that her testimony of Joseph Smith is slowly getting stronger and stronger as we sipped vanilla tea and read "Safety for the Soul" by the light of the colored Christmas lights still lining her window. I could write about personal study, setting New Years goals, or lessons learned in District Meeting.
But somehow my thoughts just keep getting drawn back one simple thought: Faith.
President Packer once said "Faith, to be faith, must center around something that is not known. Faith, to be faith, must go beyond that for which there is confirming evidence. Faith, to be faith, must go into the unknown. Faith, to be faith, must walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness. If everything has to be known, if everything has to be explained, if everything has to be certified, then there is no need for faith. Indeed, there is no room for it. …"
I somehow have the feeling that this coming year will lead me to the edge of the light - my testimony that I have spent the last year+ working so hard to expand and deepen - and I will be asked to take a few steps into the dark.
But that's a good thing. I am so grateful to know of a Father in Heaven who loves me enough to stretch me and who cares about me enough to give me opportunities to make room for faith.
I welcome in this new year with open arms and a grateful heart.
Love,
Your Sister Grace Hendricks
Last Skype!
Skyping with you, my dear family, was awesome - weird, but awesome! This was the last of my calls home. Those calls are kind of like peanut M&Ms in a ziplock bag tucked in your ski jacket. In the middle of a long day of skiing, when you can't really feel all of your toes, those little nuggets of chocolatey goodness give you just enough energy to motivate you and remind you how much fun you're having. It's crazy to think that I will be able to hug you in a few short months.
I love you all,
Sister Grace Hendricks
I love you all,
Sister Grace Hendricks
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)