Quonelia Epa.
It's a Samoan name, the name of the young woman who walked near me last week.
Monday, to be exact. She began talking to me, which is something I do, talk to
people I don't know, and so I liked her right away. We were headed to the same
class, as it turned out, "Women and the Gospel of Luke." It's a big
campus, so we had a few minutes to talk, and when we got to the Hinckley
building, Nelia wanted us to sit together. I was glad.
She was at
BYU that week for the same reason I was, Education Week. We were two of the
23,000 who came for five days to learn. She was scouting out the place, too,
finding out that she really does want to go to school there, and because she is
a bright young woman and was nearly finished with the application process, I
thought it very likely she would soon be a BYU student.
But the
story is not so simple.
She is 26, lives
in Hawaii, has Rheumatoid Arthritis, and, even if she is accepted to BYU, must
go home to Hawaii and work to save money so she can pay for school. Clearly, she is
patient and determined. If she gets in and is a conscientious student, which,
in my brief acquaintance with her, I became convinced she would be, she will
graduate and be the first in a large Samoan family to do so.
I did not
see Nelia after the two classes we had together last Monday. I will likely
never see her again. But I love her, though we are strangers, and my hopes are
that she will be well and able to do all--and I mean all--she wants to do.
Isn't it
peculiar that such things can happen? A few minutes with someone can show you
that you share much. Nearly fifty years difference in our ages, different skin color,
hair color, cultural heritage. And we will never meet again. But no matter. We are friends.
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