ΦΩΝΙΣΤΕ ΤΟΝ ΚΟΣΜΟ

I love this time of year.

Quite frankly, it's difficult to find someone who doesn't. It's alright if they don't, but this season has a particular ability to touch the hearts of people around the world. Currently, we are up in Thessalonki doing exchanges and there are lights everywhere. I am always worried someone is going to steal them or ruin them, but yet it seems everyone has a common respect.

Unfortunately I got sick this week, and I could explain in a monologue tone of what has occurred, but I felt that I should share a particular story. I don't have a lot of time tonight --exchanges always throw a wrench into things in a good way-- but we'll see if I can share it in a way that makes sense.

I know this is a 'missionary email' and you read them to get 'missionary' stories or experiences, but not this time I guess.

There are two things that I was not a fan of as a kid. Wrapping presents and doing service during Christmas. So you can imagine my feelings when the youth of my ward we asked to wrap presents as a service project.

Not knowing the details, my young grugging-self dragged myself into our van to head to an activity that I had probably zoned out during the explaination 20 minutes before.

We pull up to this, I think, school and there are tables and people everywhere. All of them wrapping basic toys, house commonities, children clothes, and sleeping bags. All of which, being stuffed into huge black bags.

We were guided to a table and basically told, "Get to work!" At first, my fat thumbs could not figure out how to wrap things. But over time, I honestly I started having fun wrapping these gifts with everyone. At this point I had gathered that these were for those that were struggling, but as a young teen, this doesn't really click.

After about an hour, and it being 9pm at night, we begin loading the bags into vehicles.

Wait, we're dropping them off too? I realized last moment, as our group began to get into the cars. At this point I had done a number of service projects as a young kid, but honestly never really saw the receiving end of these things. What are you even supposed to do? Like you just give to them, shake their hand, and wish them best of luck?

We arrived at a local church, it's lights lit the lot as we pulled in.

At this point, I don't seem to remember a lot, other than a lot of talking. We popped open the trunks and took each of large sacks into the foyer, with who I could only assume was the parents of famlies that needed these supplies.

The sound of voices continued as my mind wandered trying to make sense of everything, until a woman walked up to our awkward line of young men after having been given a bag.

"Are you-- did you help with this?" she asks.

"Well, I... guess so..." I seem to remember someone saying.

"Thank you so much..." she uttered as she hugged each and every one of us. Her face of graditude that she could give her children Christmas presents is burned into my mind each and every year.

These are real people, I remember thinking. It never clicked.

And about just as fast as we pulled up, we were on our way home.

I remember sitting in the back of our family van. I leaned up against the window trying to hide from my family as I shead tears down my face. I think my crackly voice when my mom asked how it went revealed my attempt to hide my strong emotions.

It wasn't the biggest thing in the world --we didn't solve world hunger or peace-- but this was a moment that changed my life.

"They are real!" I exclaimed to myself as I sobbed in my bed that night. How did I not realize that before? How could I ever let my selfishness to keep Christmas to myself be an indulgent in my character? It simply changed my perspective. 'Christmas is the season of giving' but how much is that taken for granted? I had the chance to help with massive gift giving and yet I could not break even with the gift that experience gave me.

Every single time I hear the Light the World theme, I think of this moment and nearly begin to cry. To me, that is the meaning of Light the World. That moment has created a "core memory", so to speak.

My favorite picture book I read as a kid was "The Quiltmakers Gift". I highly recommend giving it a read, and I'll try to include a digital copy that I have if you would like to give it a read. It is a beautiful story that explains this feeling that a sincere heart could never break even with. https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/14aJYiJ-zx7uc0cevxXRVQ8aFM129kLtZ

They are real! I promise!

I love you all, and hope the weather treats you kindly!

Elder Dylan Hansen