This week we experienced the second half of olive processing, the messy crushing part! It was sooo fun and such hard work! The log that was attached to the crushing stone was so heavy, especially when there was a lot of olive mush in it. The oil we processed won’t be distributed as culinary oil because this oil press is in the sunlight, which makes the oil bitter.     

     Wednesday was the highlight of my week. We met one of the most amazing men I have ever met. Pretty much from our first hello to when we said goodbye, everything was spiritual. His shop was the only one open when we walked through the “artist district.” He said he was staying late and was a father of four with a 5th child due any day. He had the handsome, trendy, and typical middle-age artist look on the outside with a surprisingly deep, faith-based core of values that just poured fluently into his everyday conversation. For example, at one point he pulled out a certain print and exclaimed, “Now this one is my miracle photos.” It was beautiful, a black and white print of a blurry, rushing stream beside an ancient rock sidewalk. Then he pointed to something I hadn’t noticed. “See these?” he asked, pointing to two white doves that were perfectly positioned in the frame. They were beautiful, still, and seemed almost posed for the picture. “They weren’t there when I pushed the shutter. Next thing I knew they were in the picture, and I didn’t even know it. Then they flew away.” His image captured the perfect moment, caught forever and now edited, enlarged, and prized by its maker. It was so beautiful to get that kind of a personal, behind the scenes view, from the artist. It made the print mean so much more. I loved how he used the word miracle because it was. And it’s how I like to refer to a lot of things that happen to me. I know there are constant miracles all around us. It’s just a matter of appreciating them. I guess that’s what I loved most about this man, the way he appreciated his work, and the way he appreciated what he was able to capture. For example, there is a beautiful image he has taken of the old city looking west. The Jerusalem Center on the Mount of Olives is practically centered in the print. I know it was taken last Fall because there is snow on the ground. It was beautiful. He pointed to it saying something to the effect of, “Oh I’ve taken this shot hundreds of times, but the lighting was just perfect that day. It turned out really well. I’ve waited a long time for this one.” Appreciation. There was also a series of prints portraying the landscape of the Holy Land with captions from the Old Testament or from revered Rabbis. My personal favorite was a print of the stone stairs leading to the temple mount. He pointed to the stairs giving further explanation. “They’re uneven on purpose,” he said. “They give us reason to look down as we approach the temple, lowering ourselves, humbling ourselves, in portrayal of the submissive respectful manner in which we should approach a holy temple of God.” It was those kinds of insights, those simple acknowledgments, reminders, and praises of God that I found so inspiring in this man’s work and, therefore, in this man. To appreciate the beauties of this life enough to want to take pictures is important and good, but to appreciate the Creator while doing so immeasurably deepens the experience. I couldn’t stop talking to my friends about how inspired I was by this man! Whatever my future path is in life, I want it to be dedicated to acknowledging and reminding people of God. 

     Today is Sabbath. It feels weird to say and hear that word, but it has actually become quite catchy for me. Sabbath is so sacred here in the Holy Land! I love taking the sacrament while overlooking the city. 

     Today was testimony meeting. I fasted for courage to get up to bear my testimony. You’d think that after a mission and two years of experience teaching at the MTC that I would get over my fear and be more like the apostle Paul who said, “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ!” Sigh . . . step by step I proceed. I finally did have the courage, and it went pretty well. I’m really working on being as sincere as I can as I testify to others. I am glad I have “sealed my witness with my words” here in the Holy Land amongst so many incredible others: Peter, Paul, Christ . . . That’s a cool thought, right?! 

     I’m the pianist in primary. Words cannot express how incredible that hour of church is with those precious angels. As they read scriptures, give talks, and sing, my soul soars. “By small and simple things great things are brought to pass.” It is beyond my words to express how sacred the space is when I am with those children. I can’t wait to be a mother and teach my children the gospel of Jesus Christ. I get giddy thinking about it. 

     After church we visited the Garden of Gethsemene again. Places like this and the garden tomb will never get old to me. There is so much devotion and so much reverence and love I feel in these places. People come from the four corners of the earth to remember and worship their Savior here. 

     I had an incredibly special moment as I was sitting in the Church of all Nations, beside the garden of olive trees. Tradition holds that this is the place where Christ atoned for our sins. Silence is mandatory in this dark, stained glass windowed church. A group of European tourists came inside. Every woman in the group had her head gently covered with a veil, each tied uniquely, but nevertheless, respectfully. They approached the front of the nave in reverence, following their guide who was a Holy Father I’m assuming because he was wearing dark, brown robes. I watched from a distance for a while and then decided to join the group up front where a large flat rock was located. This is where Christ was supposed to have performed the Atonement. With my close-up view, I watched as each woman stooped to kneel before the rock, reverently placing her hand on the stone, bowing to touch her forehead, or even kissing the smooth, yellow limestone surface. I watched over and over. Then, moved by the moment, I went even closer into the midst of the group and sat down among them. I kept watching. Then the words of the apostle, Paul, and the Old Testament prophet, Isaiah came to me, “. . . every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God.”