One of the other hard parts of this week is that quite a few people fell off date for baptism. Not only did they drop their date, but they dropped US. We are no longer in contact with them, which breaks my heart. THAT has been hard for me. I only have 5 weeks left, so it's hard to think that I'm not gonna baptize every weekend like I thought I was going to. I mean, who knows? Maybe God has other people who are prepared to be baptized and it'll still happen! I'm confident that whatever happens, as long as I keep the faith and do my best to bring forth the Gospel to everyone I can, it'll be right. God has a perfect plan, even though it sometimes clashes with what I would appreciate personally. He's great that way. Gotta be humbled every once in a while!
The great part of this week was Toby's baptism. :) His dad, Charlie, got to baptize him (who was only baptized two weeks ago), so that was pretty special. Toby is adorable, and he is such a good example to those around him! His friend Dylan has been at a few of the lessons, and now he wants us to focus on teaching him! That will be great. :)
’Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile:
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar”; then, “Two!” “Only two?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three—” But no,
From the room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going, and gone!” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand
What changed its worth.” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of a master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game—and he travels on.
He’s “going” once, and “going” twice,
He’s “going” and almost “gone.”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.
Sister Nicole Guilott