I still have three tests and one paper to write, but I don’t really care about them.
I had a less-than-ideal visit to church today, leaving rather early in response to some girl’s sniffly, quavering display at the lectern. I don’t mind fear of speaking, but I intensely dislike teariness masking as sincerity.
I slept at home, drowning out the thud and buzz of next door’s too-loud music with some classical radio, a delightful medieval recreation of some Christmas chanting. Some very tall man came by from the local ward to wake me up and try to get me to get "my ward" (I have none) to request my records, which had mistakenly been sent to his ward. He wasn’t happy to have needed to come here, and I wasn’t really excited for his coming, either. He left. It’s kind of interesting to be tracked by the Church, although I don’t want to be increasing anybody’s workload.
My mom sent me an e-mail today (I was on my roommate Ezra’s computer checking the Ensign) telling me that Anne-Marie Smith had finally escaped this prison of a world… That’s kind of sad. I deeply and consistently enjoyed talking with her; I don’t know anybody else whom I could relate with in just such a way as I did with her. She had been ill; I met her third daughter Camille at BYU some months ago, who told me her mother had left the country for treatment. Then, just two or three days ago, I met her oldest son Alden in the library. I realized just after leaving that I’d failed to ask about his mother… It was nice to talk to him, though.
Poor us, and blessed Anne-Marie… She was faithful. She was a constant friend to my father’s family.