District Conference

 Today we spent all day in Takamatsu at District Conference.  Because people have to come from as far as two hours away for the meetings, the church holds two general meetings on Sunday rather than an adult session on Saturday and a general session on Sunday like was done in our Utah stake. 
 
I translated the first session, which I enjoy for the most part, because it means I pay extra attention to not only what the person is saying, but what they are trying to say and what they are trying to teach.  Because I can't translate as well as I would like to I often do a lot of summarizing and abridging.   When I have to translate like this it makes me want to improve my language abilities more so that I can do justice to those who are speaking.
 
One speaker that sticks out in my mind was a young Chinese man about missionary age who spoke in amazing Japanese about his conversion and his subsequent activity in the church.  Six months ago he met the missionaries in Tokushima and heard the gospel.  Because he grew up in China he never had the opportunity for religion, and he said that when he met the missionaries he ate it up.  He was baptized, soon received the Aaronic Priesthood and got to work helping the branch.  This conference he was sustained as one of the newest members of the Melchizedek priesthood in the district and bore a strong personal testimony of how the Savior and the testimony of him contained in the Book of Mormon was changing his life.  Who knows but he will be a leader in the Church as it heads into china.
 
During the second session of conference I got someone else to translate so I could be on Callan duty and let Melissa focus more on the speakers.  We lasted the first half-hour of the second session before we decided I should take Callan out in the cultural hall where several other parents of young children had retreated to let their kids get the wiggles out.  There were two other children about Callan's age there and the three of them became instant friends.  The took turns walking up and down the stage stairs, drawing on the  whiteboard, and running in large circles around the carpeted cultural hall.
 
One of the children was a three year old girl not much bigger than Callan named Julie Tandberg.  She is the Daughter of Jeff and Ayumi (I think that's her name) Tandberg who just moved back to Tokushima from Colorado where they had been living for the past five years.  I knew Ayumi when I was a missionary and was surprised to see her and her family at district conference.  Ayumi was still single when I was in Tokushima, but left to America to get married.  I remember seeing a picture of her and her fiancé once at Church and thinking little of them.  How bizarre it was today then to be sitting on the edge of the stage watching my son play with this couples three year old daughter.   I have always remembered their engagement picture, and I recognized them immediately when I saw them come into the chapel, but I never would have guessed that our paths would ever cross again. 
 
Tonight we watched Mr. Krueger’s Christmas for family home evening.  The movie seems so dated, but the message is still great, and it was nice to see a bit of Christmas in America.  Watching James Stewart pray in a dream to baby Jesus made me think about my own prayers, about my own humility before that Baby who grew up to be the Savior of the World, and I was grateful for the reminder to be more prayerful and more thankful.
 
I think that is why the movie works, not because it is a touchy feely sentimental story about an old man who finds a little bit of Christmas joy, but because it is a touchy feely sentimental story about an old man who offers a humble pray to his Savior.  I don't take quiet moments to kneel down and thank God for His Son enough. 
 
After the movie Callan and I took a bath together and then read some stories and he was off to bed.  Or at least I thought he was off to bed.  About five minutes after I left his room we heard his bedroom door open followed by the sound of his little footsteps in the hall.  He burst open the kitchen door and said, "Eat! Eat potatoes! Eat!" 
 
On the Kitchen table was the baked potato that Callan had hardly touched and as usual, now that it was time to go to bed, he decided he wanted it.  So I put him in his chair, put a bib on him, and cut his potato into smaller pieces.  In addition to most of the potato, he ate some sliced tomato, some broccoli and a few apple slices.  He then demanded that we read scriptures with him before he went to bed, which I did, and then with a short story about Thomas the Tank Engine he was finally sound asleep.
 
Now I am off to bed, but before I do I will go into Callan's room and turn on the electric halogen heater we have for his room that does a good job of keeping him comfortable, but produces so much light that it appears that Callan is having nightly bedside visions from heavenly messengers.  So far though, he sleeps well, and seems to be staying warm enough.