Saplings

                 I took myself by surprise this morning. I had been fasting; we all fast on the first Sunday of every month, the entire LDS world wide church, two meals.  We do this because it reminds us that we, having two meals’ worth of food to fast from, should live in gratitude, and because it’s an exercise in self-discipline and character.  Also for the spiritual benefits you tend to get when you are not full, and your brain wakes up.  We take the money we would have eaten up and we make a fast offering with it, which is used to benefit those who do not have two meals’ worth of food, and whose fasting is not voluntary.

                 I was coming home from feeding the horses this morning (horses do not fast, and those who feed them don’t rest on the Sabbath until after the horses are fed), driving down our street and came across these people:

                 And that’s what took me by surprise.  Not because this is an unusual gathering in this place at this time, but because I suddenly realized that it was, in fact, usual.  And I ran for the camera.  They were still there when I’d got it, busily discussing which fast offering collection routes would go to which team.  They were mightily amused by my fervent image capturing.

                 In the end, I had to speak.  Here were four fourteen to fifteen year old boys, not in bed on a rainy Sunday morning, not watching TV—up and dressed like men, conferring together unselfconsciously and pleasantly, organizing a fund-raising event voluntarily and responsibly—two in white shirts and ties, two in sweaters and slacks (one with tie), out to collect money to help people who need the help.  These guys do this every month.  And their older brothers did it before them, and their younger brothers will do it in years to come.  I told them: do you not get how profound this is?  And they laughed at me.

                 I am thinking of M now,  M and Kyle and Jeff and Luke, and Thomas and Alex and Chris and about thirty thousand other nineteen to twenty one year old guys from all over the world who have left their cars and  jobs and their girls and their educations and dreams on hold—to leave the safety of familiar places and simply serve.  Not all are successful in their attempt to mature, but so very many are.  So very many, just like my M and my Cam before him, go and work because they believe they can bring joy and comfort and hope to people who are hoping for these things.  Because these guys believe they can do good in the world.

                 These are boys-to-men who are silly and brilliant, stupid and sweet,  hardworking and lazy, hopeful and short-sighted and determined—wild and tame at the same time.  Their struggles to grow through their self-centered and ornery youths have been amazing, disastrous, funny, horrible, wonderful and not cheap—the stuff of comic books and epic poetry.

                 I’m not sure I’m as good as they have turned out to be.  But I love them. I am blown away by them.  I am awestruck by them.  And these silly, wonderful things, standing in my dear friends’ driveway on a drizzly day, are close on their heels.

Yes, Virginia – there is hope for the world.