Papier Mâchéte

The sun beat down upon the jungle of thick blackberry vines. Bees were swarming in the heat, busily gathering a 1-year supply of pollen. Suddenly this scene of diligent tranquility was thrown into chaos as bar of steel sliced through the humid air, splitting pestiferous and spiky stalks and cleaving leaves with a brutal force unfamiliar to the previously docile habitat. Who was this new and unprecedented Obliterator of Foliage? Herein is the answer: Elder Gideon Benge, wielding a machete, and gritting his teeth in determination, his bronze-toned skin sticky with the sweat and exhaustion only thick humidity and scorching heat can bring. It was without a doubt one of the coolest moments of my life. I felt like the protagonist in some ridiculously exaggerated action/adventure movie called "Operation: Jungle Skirmisher". Well, it was either that or some intense drama called "Elder Jacob Jackson Shaving". In case you are wondering why I had a machete, I will inform you that we were doing a service project which included clearing a huge 

lot infested with voluptuous brambles by using pruning shears, other unfamiliar tools, and 

machetes.

Anyway, this week was the first week of transfers, and I love Elder MacQueen. He has a great appreciation for things that uncultured people refer to as "nerdy". We have some great fun. This morning, actually, we had somewhat of an incident in which he hermetically sliced his hands open on a glass cup that unexpectedly shattered within the precincts of the sink. The gash was bloody and large, but we fixed it up quicker than you could say "Oh my gauze!", which is exactly what we fixed it up with: my gauze. Alright, I may have stretched the truth a little. We didn't fix it up very quickly. In fact, we spent a few intrepid and seemingly eternal moments running around the apartment like truncated baboons trying to discover if either one of us had had the foresight to pack a first-aid kit when we came on our missions. Fortunately, I had one (although I'm going to give the credit to God for helping me remember it) and everything was taken care of.

As for a thought, I would like to quickly talk about Alma 31. In this chapter, Alma heads a mission to some spiritually delinquent people known as the Zoramites. Alma and his brethren are astonished at their corrupted measure of worship in which they go up on to a high tower (called the Rameumptom, for you Book of Mormon buffs) and recite an incredibly prideful prayer that builds up their already inflated egos while simultaneously condemning everyone else in the world as reprobates. Now, I am going to say something, and I hope nobody out there is as astonished as Alma was when I say this: There are a lot of people in the world that struggle with that exact same problem. I know, because I've met a few of them. Our world is teeming with apostate Ammonihahites, Zoramites, Individuals After the Order of Nehor (or IAONs for short), Misled Lamanites, etc. However, there are also many Moroni's, Righeous Nephites, Anti-Nephi-Lehis, True Christians, etc out there. I know, because I have met and am friends with many of them. My friends, I love you. Be a light in this world of darkness. Help those who are burdened and struggling under the weight of the false traditions they have been taught. Above all, have charity for everyone. They are your brothers and sisters, and no matter how lost or wicked they may seem, they all have a divine spark within them.

Elder Benge