This was an email I sent home while helping in the Spanish/Portuguese LDS ward in London. "I teach the sunbeams and help in Primary. I'm not sure what they think of us gringos coming in and helping. This last Sunday I taught my 3 darling little girls (who luckily speak English as well as Portuguese) about how we should be grateful for our eyes. In the lesson was the story about Jesus healing the blind man with the clay. I decided to have us act it out. (a prompting half developed before class, and mostly spur of the moment) I knelt on the ground (having done a few activities with them before this so they trusted me and wanted to know what was next) and narrated the story, with me as the blind man, one girl as Jesus in the corner, one as my daughter, and one as the castle. (that's what she wanted to be) I explained (with my eyes closed) that I was poor and old and blind and tired and hungry and that my daughter needed to go find "Jesus" because He could heal me. I couldn't go because I was blind, but I needed her to go because we had heard he could work miracles. --I urged her to go and get him, and in what to say-- things like "Jesus, my father needs you...only you can heal him..." and to bring "Him" over. As I sat there alone while the "daughter" was bringing "Jesus" over, I had a moment of feeling a part of what this man had felt. I felt the Spirit confirm to me that Jesus can heal us. And even if we are completely lost and alone, He will find us. "Jesus" came over and I narrated and we acted out that Jesus put mud on the mans eyes and told him to go wash in the river. The daughter led the blind man to the river and they both washed his eyes. The girls gathered around me as I came up from the "river" and I raised my face toward the light, slowly opening my eyes, fluttering and twittering my lids and smiling as I saw the world around me and was healed. They squealed in delight and wanted to do it again, but this time as different characters. We ended up running it 2 or 3 more times, every one switching off. As the last girl slowly opened her eyes in amazement and believed the miracle, kneeling beside her, I was so caught up in the moment that I (semi)shouted "Jesus healed you! He can heal you! He made you so your eyes could see!" And she was so excited she jumped into my arms, hugging and hugging me. The other girls ran over and joined in the celebration. It was such a truly wonderful learning moment."
A few weeks ago in a church meeting, I heard a story about an eagle born into a family of chickens. One day a man was visiting his friend who owned the farm where the chickens lived. When this man saw the baby bird, he saw that it was an eagle and acquainted his friend with the news. "This baby eagle can fly!" "No!" Said the farmer. "That is a chicken. He can't fly." The man picked up the eagle and whispered in it's ear: "You're an eagle--fly!" The poor little bird looked around at all his other chicken friends squawking and pecking, who didn't fly, and as the man threw the eagle up into the air, he fluttered pathetically to the ground. The farmer shrugged and "told-you-so'd" his friend. The man tried it a few more times over the next few days, with the same non-flying results. Finally, the man took the bird up to a mountain, away from the farm and chickens, and again tried to help him fly. The bird was skeptical at first, yet soon enough he started to notice other birds that looked and worked like he did. As the man lifted the bird up and whispered in his ear "You're an eagle--now fly!" and the little bird saw the other eagles, he lifted himself into the air and flew.
I was recently in my Mecca--London, theatre central--where I tried to get my fingers on tickets to every Shakespeare production in town. I was continually amazed by the caliber of acting and interpretation of the Great Bard's eternal works. My last two days in London the two shows that I ended up seeing were both Shakespeare--As You Like It at the Globe, and The Tempest at Regents Park Open Air Theatre (both of which I HIGHLY recommend). I had already seen AYLI at the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-Upon-Avon, but I know that every performance is different and every director has a different interpretation of the script, so I was interested to compare the two. The show by the RSC was fabulous, and yet I would have to give my enthusiastic applause to the Globe. I was floored. I've studied and seen the play multiple times, and was happily surprised and pleased with the interpretation.
northern california sunflower child. i grew up reading stories, writing stories, drawing stories, and then acting out stories. my parents are travel-lovers and that was passed on to me. studied lots of things at brigham young university in provo, utah. got my dream jobs right out of the shoot and am currently working with people with autism using the arts. i work on projects i'm passionate about on the side, love my family and friends, and try to LIVE this messy thing called life.