The longer I think about it the more I’m convinced that God is in control of things. Things that seem like unfair trials and challenges turn out to be just the thing we needed to have happen so that we can get through a harder trial. Take, for example, our recent financial fiasco.
When someone in Florida started charging up our debit card right around Christmastime, we were frustrated.
I debated long and hard about which ward I should attend for church this morning. Rome 2 is technically the official ward for tourists and is by far the closest to my hostel, but I spent the majority of my mission (13 months) in Rome 3, further out in the poorer outskirts of the city. Rome 2 = sleep in and take a quick bus ride to church. Rome 3 = wake up early and take the long train ride up Via Casilina. Amazingly, I opted for Rome 3—seeing old friends outweighed sleep.
This morning the girls and I got up late. It took a lot of coaxing, but we did it. Miriam woke up at 3 o’clock this morning and was up until around 5:30. I had barely gotten her to sleep when Rachel woke up. Rachel had wet the bed, so I changed her and brought her into bed with me. I had barely gotten her to sleep when Miriam woke up at around 7 o’clock.
We got out of bed at 9:30. Andrew came online at 10:04.
Andrew: Oh. My. Goodness.
Nancy: What?
Andrew: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!
Nancy: No. I don't like conversations that begin this way...
I had initially planned on going to the National Library as soon as it opened at 9:30. Out of all the archives and institutes I’m seeing here it’s the only one open on Saturdays, and only for reduced hours, until 1:30. I woke up and was down in the lobby of the hostel with plenty of time to spare, until I discovered my empty wallet.
Ugh.
Today was a lot more relaxed than the past few days. Since I’d already gotten embassy approval and requested all possible documents from both the central archives and the foreign ministry, all I had left to do was go look through the documents. I was done hurriedly running around from archive to library. So I had breakfast at the local bar—a creme-filled donut and yet another cup of orzo—and got on the metro to EUR.
Until yesterday afternoon, hostel life hadn’t been all that different from hotel life. Apart from one Australian roommate who vacated the room before I even woke up the first night, I had the entire 4-person dorm room to my self, which was fantastic. Yesterday morning, though, when I paid for yet another night at the hostel, they moved me to a different room. The dynamic nature of hostels makes it so I can’t really stay in the same place, especially when I pay one night at a time.
Besides just looking at old documents, one of my goals in coming to Rome for this research trip was to talk to a few of the (very small number of) academics who know anything about Italians in Egypt. Few very Italian scholars have tackled the subject—none have done it in English.
I planned on getting up early to get a head start on the day, but like I mentioned before, it’s impossible for me to wake up. Impossible. Plus, I had an amazingly great sleep, which I chalk up to two factors: (1) I was scared to death of having someone else in my room, so my body totally shut down, and (2) the hostel is actually just one floor of a three star hotel—I guess the hotel wanted to get some extra money from cheap students. Since they still want to maintain their three star image, there’s a rather strict noise curfew from 10–8. It was deathly silent, which rocked.
One night a long, long time ago, in 2002 (last decade!), right before my second semester at BYU, I was up late with my roommate, Ross, trying to figure out my schedule for Winter 2003. I had one last class to find to take the requisite amount of credits, but had no idea what I should take. None.
