I have a confession to make. Back in High School, sometimes I would skip class. (We always called it "sluffing," but since then I've learned the term is not widely known. "Ditched" would also be appropriate.)
Anyway, I did this by myself. Alone. I had a specific park I'd drive to. It was nestled safely among the houses of the rich and famous. Ok, the somewhat famous. Someone told me that Marie Osmond lived in one of the houses. But no one could ever be specific which one.
I've often wondered if I was technically allowed to be there. The park was so enclosed, you'd have thought it was private. But no ever chased me off, so I returned. Not often, just when I needed some time to myself because, ya know, high school is rough.
I went there to read. There was a river that circled one side of the park and it was easy to find fairly secluded spots. It always seemed perfect. The sound of the river. The sun. Me. And my scriptures.
Sometimes I'd think more about seminary lessons. Sometimes I'd think about people. Sometimes I'd think about life. Sometimes I'd just read.
Sometimes I'd feel guilty for sluffing. . . but not often. Because when I got back to school for my next class, I felt so rejuvenated. I felt friendlier and happier.
The other day I read my scriptures outside, just for fun. All of these memories came flooding back, plus a few others. Waiting and reading on the temple lawn. Stopping on a rock in the middle of a hike. A thousand times and places at Girls' Camp. Always, I feel like things come into focus when I read outside. Its as though just being in God's creations makes it easier to see what He's seeing.
And do you suppose that, since I was reading my scriptures, my sluffing gets cancelled out?