Blake is at the computer. It's 10:24 in the morning. He is wiping away the sleep from his eyes as he haphazardly places his newly-purchased Guatemalan bananas next to the computer, on top of his dusty Quiche Dictionary book. He organizes checks and wonders if he is doing his job well enough. Then he is called to go pick up the Toyota from the dealer. He agrees and drives with his companion across the Guatemalan suburb. He muses in his head about how funny it is that Guatemala is the United States but in the 1980s and in Spanish. He drives in spite of his musing. He pulls into McDonalds. His companion invites him to a McMuffin. Miracles do exist. He pulls away leaving tire streaks across the half paved road. Dogs have been here. He drives, hits the roundabout and is about to go around when he realized the Toyota dealership is straight. He goes straight. He arrives. Understanding Spanish, he fills out paperwork. He takes the keys. Understanding how Latinos work he lets his companion drive. They arrive at the cleaners. They pick up the Assistants. They drive to McDonalds again. The speaker gives us bad news. There are no McGrills. All four of us still believe in God, but less so. They streak into the two-lane traffic. Elder Young hits the speed bumps to test them out. They drive through a tunnel, emerging victorious on the other side. He gets a call from President. President tells him that a missionary is going home early and needs a ticket. He returns to the office.
His office is locked with the keys inside. He picks up two paperclips, Googles how to unlock the lock and is thankful for the time he played Fallout. He tries. Wiggles the paperclip, wiggles it again. Does a wiggle dance. Then he gives up after 45 minutes of trying. He then looks at his name tag. He is a missionary. He prays and tires again. Nothing happens. he believes in God and calls upon experiences to give him faith. He gets more faith. Picks up a broom and wipes his desk clean from a distance and through the glass. No success. Messy room now. No keys. He does it again. Nothing.
His office is locked with the keys inside. He picks up two paperclips, Googles how to unlock the lock and is thankful for the time he played Fallout. He tries. Wiggles the paperclip, wiggles it again. Does a wiggle dance. Then he gives up after 45 minutes of trying. He then looks at his name tag. He is a missionary. He prays and tires again. Nothing happens. he believes in God and calls upon experiences to give him faith. He gets more faith. Picks up a broom and wipes his desk clean from a distance and through the glass. No success. Messy room now. No keys. He does it again. Nothing.
He then sticks his hand through the glass. He magically finds the keys, they appear in his hand. He opens the door and finishes writing in third person. What has he learned in this three-hour excursion. He realizes for every McGrill not available at McDonalds there is a hidden miracle waiting for us as compensation.
We found an old member lady and she gave me a free doctrine and covenants book and we helped with her yard.
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