NINJA

This morning, my bed is not a bed. It's a boat.

My nephew Trevor and I are sailing the high seas on the USS Aero Bed, blankie as our flag, adventure as our compass. His Little People are riding in their "alligator," aka elevator. And Trevor is in hog heaven, tucked and hazy from warmth and his beloved baba.

I don't think you could find a sweeter kid. I can't wait to have kids.

We're currently in a fighting match of who loves the other more. "I love you!" "No, I love you!" I think he's winning.

The longer I stay in Utah, the longer I feel the malaise of mediocrity and its effects on me and on others. I never excelled here. Personal choice, I'm sure. I love Utah, I really do. It's a gorgeous state. But each day I want to leave sooner than the last. So I will, as soon as I'm done playing with Trevor.

I've learned a lot about myself the past few weeks here. I am impatient with flakiness. I despise insincerity. I crave love as much as I desire to give it. I handle tribulation much better than I used to. I am frustrated when people say one thing, but act contrary to what they said.

Also, it's as hard as everyone says it is to keep up mission habits.

My dad has an acronym he likes to use to describe segments of the current LDS young single adult demographic: NINJA. No Income, No Job or Ambition. I fit that profile rather well right now.

Potential is something I thought extensively about as a missionary. What is my potential? How can I reach my potential? Most importantly, how can I help others recognize their own potential and help them reach it? I can't help but be sad when people I love, when I, don't do my best. I'm happiest when I do my best. I am not doing my best.

Happy Fast Sunday, everyone.