Risk and an awesome case of small-world syndrome

This morning I went over to Mounga’s house, as he and Cebola had invited me one last time to go over to their neighborhood for Risk and lunch. We did this a few Saturdays in a row when I first got back from Christmas and brought Mounga a copy of Risk (he’s loved this game since his mission—the moment when I gave it to him was beautiful, he looked like a five-year-old on Christmas morning), but we haven’t done it for a while because Institute started up on Saturdays. As a going-away chance for good times, though, we did it today, and it was mucho fun. Risk was mainly an excuse to get together—I really love Mounga and Cebola, they’re some of my favorite people here. Plus, Cebola’s wife Isaura (who I met for the first time today) made an AMAZING lunch. Just FYI, a little bit of goat makes beans about 100 times more delicious, if that’s at all possible. So today was awesome.

Tonight I had an amazing small world moment, too—I was talking to the Violins, a Brazilian missionary couple here from Florianópolis (big city in southern Brazil), and as we were talking about my mission and Manaus and the temple, Elder Violin asked me if I knew a guy named John Lennon (not the Beatle, but a member of the church named after the Beatle). I couldn’t believe it—when he mentioned that John had a sister named Patrícia, I almost yelled (though I tried to restrain a bit, I mean, we were in the church), “You know them? I baptized their mom!” It’s true, and crazy—John and Patrícia (and their mom Hariolanda), who I had known from the time I was working in São José in Manaus on my mission, had moved down to Florianópolis and now lived in the same ward as the Violins. I had known they’d moved to Florianópolis, but still that’s so crazy, and so awesome—I love the small-world syndrome you get among Mormons, and I love how it applies no matter where you are in the world. Apparently John’s married now to a really nice girl he met at church, and Patrícia married André, an awesome guy from their ward in Manaus (who I knew from my mission, too) who she had dated for forever before his mission. Man—hearing about people I care about, and hearing that they’re so happy and doing so awesomely—there aren’t many better feelings. Those are the kinds of presents we should figure out a way to be able to give on Christmas morning.