I just figured I should start this with an eye roll to set the mood.
So, I've been feeling these strange stirrings of compassion in my soul recently. It wasn't my idea to get them, and I've been trying to figure out what to do with this excess love ever since.
Obviously, a way to release some of this pent up love is to serve.
Our branch did this cool thing this year where they bought Christmas for two families in the Stake.
Tonight for FHE, we were suppose to bring everything we bought and wrap it up.
I got there a little late (because of last week's Soviet Union struggle) and things were already under way.
As soon as I walked in, someone was already freaking out. And they were exploding all over me.
Something was missing. Then we had to figure out who was suppose to bring it, so the google doc had to be consulted, and did that person give those items to anyone else, and where was that person, and do they really have it, and will it get to the family in time? Now, this was not done in a calm, rational manner. No, it was going down with too much excitement and a heightened sense of possible immediate destruction. Seriously, it was too much drama.
Too much drama!!!!!!
I felt like I needed to get out immediately.
So, while this person was freaking out all over me, I started freaking out, and someone said, "Don't let Myriah have scissors."
I started wrapping presents. And did you know, when I got home, I found that I had cut myself?
(I contemplated not posting this picture because it isn't very pretty, but, it was so sweetly ironic that I decided it would be an injustice not to post it.)
That guy was right. I was dangerous with scissors.
Just another reason why I'm bad at service.