Honest Abe's birthday has additional significance for me. I remember what I was doing on his 188th birthday, 20 years ago today. It was the end of an era as I returned home to the United States after two years of missionary service in Peru.
My older brother and my new sister-in-law took me out to eat at Boston Market, which is now a Wendy's, in Bountiful. (What did I care what it was? It was American food at long last.) That night, I met with my new stake president up at the stake center and was officially released to return to pursuing new goals in the lone and dreary world that lay ahead.
Five days later, the girl who waited for me, as I like to say, was born (my second cousin Meikayla). A few years later, my last companion, that pesky parasite, was finally cleansed from my system.
My, how the time flies. Yes, this is one of those "Back in My Day" moments.
I think back on the many people I was blessed to associate with, to both laugh and cry with, to serve, and by whom to be served in so very many ways. I also think of those who hit the baptismal waters and then "drowned," so to speak, or who wandered into other paths, or those who for whatever reason, be it time or distance or a number of other factors, fell off the radar. Nevertheless, I hold out hope for one and all.
The other day, this photo came up in my social media feeds, which I have borrowed (yoink!) for this post:
This is the Lazarte family, one of many families I had the opportunity to teach. My companions and I taught their father, José; he was baptized; he was ordained a priest; he baptized his sons Erick and Yamil; and he went on to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, all in the few months we were stationed in that ward only to be interrupted by the aforementioned day of twenty years ago today.
I glance again at this photo, and I see how far they've come. Erick and Yamil went on to serve missions of their own and are raising families of their own now, too. I look at them all and observe also how far they are going. And all of the blood, sweat, and tears spent in the service of such people vanish away. They are nothing. These people, these memories, are everything. It is the gift that keeps on giving, and its dividends know no bounds.
Where am I going with this? Other than feeling old, old?
The simple answer, as I sat in stake conference today, two stake presidencies later (somehow, through a series of fortunate events, I'm back in that very same stake) and pondered on the time gone by, is that time is abundant. Thanks to the gospel plan, we have all of the time in the world.
When it comes to missionary service, I've heard it said that there are those anyone could teach, there are those only a few select individuals could teach, and there are also those only you could teach. When all is said and done, I feel like I've been the one to be taught. I've learned that completely changing your life, turning it nearly upside down in many cases, is worth the sacrifice that brings forth the blessings of heaven.
My older brother and my new sister-in-law took me out to eat at Boston Market, which is now a Wendy's, in Bountiful. (What did I care what it was? It was American food at long last.) That night, I met with my new stake president up at the stake center and was officially released to return to pursuing new goals in the lone and dreary world that lay ahead.
Five days later, the girl who waited for me, as I like to say, was born (my second cousin Meikayla). A few years later, my last companion, that pesky parasite, was finally cleansed from my system.
My, how the time flies. Yes, this is one of those "Back in My Day" moments.
I think back on the many people I was blessed to associate with, to both laugh and cry with, to serve, and by whom to be served in so very many ways. I also think of those who hit the baptismal waters and then "drowned," so to speak, or who wandered into other paths, or those who for whatever reason, be it time or distance or a number of other factors, fell off the radar. Nevertheless, I hold out hope for one and all.
The other day, this photo came up in my social media feeds, which I have borrowed (yoink!) for this post:
This is the Lazarte family, one of many families I had the opportunity to teach. My companions and I taught their father, José; he was baptized; he was ordained a priest; he baptized his sons Erick and Yamil; and he went on to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, all in the few months we were stationed in that ward only to be interrupted by the aforementioned day of twenty years ago today.
I glance again at this photo, and I see how far they've come. Erick and Yamil went on to serve missions of their own and are raising families of their own now, too. I look at them all and observe also how far they are going. And all of the blood, sweat, and tears spent in the service of such people vanish away. They are nothing. These people, these memories, are everything. It is the gift that keeps on giving, and its dividends know no bounds.
Where am I going with this? Other than feeling old, old?
The simple answer, as I sat in stake conference today, two stake presidencies later (somehow, through a series of fortunate events, I'm back in that very same stake) and pondered on the time gone by, is that time is abundant. Thanks to the gospel plan, we have all of the time in the world.
When it comes to missionary service, I've heard it said that there are those anyone could teach, there are those only a few select individuals could teach, and there are also those only you could teach. When all is said and done, I feel like I've been the one to be taught. I've learned that completely changing your life, turning it nearly upside down in many cases, is worth the sacrifice that brings forth the blessings of heaven.
