Day 29.
On Monday I ride down the hill and pass the Hamburg joint, the Döner joint, and the ice cream parlor. The crooked rain slams into my face and leaves me with black streams flowing down my eyes. I am at the RIZ. I am a half hour late to Family Home Evening.
No one is there. Just the Margetts and Christoph, the regional young adult leader. I sit down. My hair is wet. I am sweaty from riding so fast. I wipe off my mascara streams, but forget about the black, wet dots under my eyebrows.
Christoph gives a lesson about a Jewish creature, called a Golem, that helps people until it has nothing else to help. Until there is no goal for him. Until his purpose is fulfilled. When this happens, the Golem destroys things. Cities, people, families. He talked about the importance of knowing your eternal purpose. So you don’t turn into Godzilla, I guess.
An hour later, Jack and Nina walk in. We talk about Elder Rückauer who has left for Dresden and how we’ll miss him. We also talk about missions. I tell them my husband went to Germany on his mission too.
“Where in Germany?” Christoph asks.
Berlin. Plauen. Potsdam. Bautzen.
“When did he go? Who was his mission president?”
I can’t remember his mission president’s names, but I say he was there three years ago.
“President B?”
“Yes!” That’s him, I say. That was his favorite mission president.
It feels good to hear that name. Why couldn’t I remember it? It’s the man that Spencer has talked about forever. The man who knows him so well. Story after story. President B. I have yet to see a picture of him, but I imagine him as a tall, confident, and humble man. Like President Uchtdorf, the second counselor of the first presidency. It feels good to hear that name in Germany, where other people know him too.
“You’ve met him then,” Christoph says.
My heart stops. “President B?” I say. There’s now way!
“Yes. You’ve met him. He teaches institute.”
I sit at the edge of the couch with a giant smile. “When did he teach?”
“Last week.”
My excited grin halts. Wait. “Last week, like, last Wednesday?”
“Yes, last week would mean last Wednesday, yes.” Christoph smiles.
“The, um,” I cough. “The guy who, uh, made me have a translator?”
“Genau,” He says. Exactly. “That was President B.”
“Oh, that’s great,” I say. “Umm, wow, yeah, I’m going to have to talk to him! That’s, wow, that’s nuts.”
So yes, people. Quite the surprise.
I rode home later that night and told Spencer on Skype. 
And from then on, I have gotten so. much. crap.
“You have dissed the man who was practically my father for two years!” he yells at me through Skype, hiding a smile. “No, it’s not that you even dissed him. You can’t stand the man! Thinking about him makes you cringe! And guess what? Your blog is proof!”
I can’t stop laughing, and I say, “He wasn’t that bad. In fact, he was quite nice.”
“Bull,” he says, smiling. I roll my eyes because he is enjoying every minute. “Check your blog and tell me that again, Ms. Anne.”
Whatever my feelings are, I WILL talk to him about Spencer the next time I see him and I WILL like him. So there. Any questions? Good.


  1. That is the funniest thing EVER!

  2. But talk about Spencer in German, Anne. Don’t even allow the man to speak English to you. Don’t even.

  3. Grandma is right, Anne. I don’t care if he’s Spencer’s godfather. Tell him you’re from Köln. Or Heidelberg. I’ve been following you, Babe. Few comments, but once in a while I have to surface and say something. Something.
    Love you, Anne. Like crazy cakes.

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