Sunday morning. My last Sabbath in Germany forever. It's been a taxing week, so I'm really eager to take the sacrament. I wake up and get ready, then walk outside. Amelia is also coming out of her building, so we begin to cross the Bruecke to the bus stop together. Mike runs past us yelling "That's the bus we want!" We look off into the distance and, indeed, there is a bus. However, there is no chance of us catching it, so we remain at a stately pace. We are surprised when we reach the bottom of the stairs and it is still there. Realizing that we have a chance which hitherto seemed too fantastical to be true we take off running. We get about 10 yards and it pulls away, leaving us busless. Lamesauce. We read the electronic signs and determine that the next bus doesn't come for 32 minutes and takes 23 minutes to get from WHO Ahornweg (our stop) to Hauptbahnhof. Our connection bus leaves in 28 minutes, making everything not fit together in a way that gets us to church within the next hour. I did NOT wake up to not go to church. I WILL go and I WILL take the sacrament. My resolve is firm. I decide that what takes a bus 23 minutes can be done on foot by two girls in Sunday dress in about 25 minutes. We take off at a sprint. There are no sidewalks along the path that we are familiar with, so we run with traffic down a 4-lane highway. We even make a protected left turn with outstretched arms, like airplanes, when the signal comes. We get passed often, but only honked at once. I sprain my left foot somewhere around Wilhelmstrasse and Amelia's shoes are especially unsuited for such activity. Best part? We make it! We are at Hauptbahnhof about 3 minutes before the 19 bus comes. We nearly asphyxiate, pass out and throw up. (All at the same time.)
We get to church. I started the day clean, but I am now sweaty, bushy-haired and disgusting. I am still trying to breathe normally when the bishop comes and greets the few of us sitting in the back of the chapel. He says something to me which I don't properly hear because of the boisterous greetings taking place around me. It seems socially acceptable to smile back and nod as if I understand. "Sehr gut." He asks me my name, writes it on a paper in his hand which appears to be the program and leaves. I am exceedingly confused and nervous at this point. The bishop just wrote my name in the program and I don't know why. I am frightened. I turn to those by me and question them about what just happened. "The bishop just asked you to speak in Sacrament Meeting and you agreed." Oh, no. oh. no. I DON'T SPEAK GERMAN!!!! I only have a few minutes to pull myself together. I manage to do it, and I speak in a foreign sacrament meeting. It was awesome! Good thing I was on time to church....
