Did You See

Last week, on August 20, my grandfather passed away at age 92. He was a WWII veteran, hard worker, role model, organ player, and last but not least an amazing grandpa. He leaves a legacy of 8 children, 35 grandchildren, and 75 great-grandchildren. His funeral is tomorrow and I will not be able to attend but I wanted to show my respect. This is the poem for my grandpa, the least I could do.

Did You See

Did you see that little brown eyes
watched you while you lived your days?
They saw the light in your eyes
and looked up to all your ways.

Did you see that little brown eyes
observed you as you'd pull out Grandma's chair?
From what they saw Grandma was a queen
and she was always treated fair.

Did you see that little brown eyes
lit up when you'd let us climb on your back?
Mom would beg us to stop before
you'd have a heart-attack.

Did you see those little brown eyes
search for coins that fell in your favorite seat?
Unaware that the night before
You'd place them there for me.

Did you see those little brown eyes
squint in laughter as you'd draw on my hand?
A picture of a a kitty cat
would tickle more than I could stand.

Did you see those little brown eyes
watch intently as you told stories of before?
They imagined all the places you've been
and envisioned you a hero of war.

Now, did you know those little brown eyes
blinked and you were gone?
Clueless of what they should do
because you've been here all along.

Did you know those little brown eyes
are now filled with tears?
They miss seeing the Grandpa
they loved through all the years.

Do you see these little brown eyes
looking to heaven above?
Praying for comfort and peace,
pleading for God's love.

Did you know these little brown eyes
look now to the future ahead?
They belong to a young man now
who remembers your example, the things that you said.

I can make you proud, I promise.
Keep watching and you'll see.
By following your example
you're still alive through me.

I will share the wonderful news
until the very end.
That because of Him, these little brown eyes
will see your face again.

Because of Him 

death has no sting 

the grave has no victory

What Are You Thinking

A few months ago in the North Carolina Raleigh Mission, we were blessed to hear from Elder W. Craig Zwick. Last General Conference we were able to hear from him again in a talk titled What Are You Thinking?. The story he told about his young family helps illuminate our knowledge on forgiveness and understanding.

Forty-one years ago I climbed into the driver’s seat of an 18-wheel semitruck with my beautiful wife, Jan, and our infant son, Scotty. We were taking a heavy load of construction materials across several states. In those days there were no seat-belt restrictions or infant car seats. My wife held our precious son in her arms. Her comment “We sure are high off the ground” should have given me a clue about her feelings of apprehension.
As we made our descent over historic Donner Pass, a steep section of highway, the cab of the semi suddenly and unexpectedly filled with thick smoke. It was difficult to see, and we could hardly breathe.
With a heavy rig, brakes alone are not enough to rapidly decrease speed. Using the engine brakes and gearing down, I frantically attempted to stop.
Just as I was pulling to the side of the road, but before we had come to a full stop, my wife opened the door of the cab and jumped out with our baby in her arms. I watched helplessly as they tumbled in the dirt.
As soon as I had the semi stopped, I bolted from the smoking cab. With adrenaline pumping, I ran through the rocks and weeds and held them in my arms. Jan’s forearms and elbows were battered and bleeding, but thankfully she and our son were both breathing. I just held them close as the dust settled there on the side of the highway.
As my heartbeat normalized and I caught my breath, I blurted out, “What in the world were you thinking? Do you know how dangerous that was? You could have been killed!”
She looked back at me, with tears running down her smoke-smudged cheeks, and said something that pierced my heart and still rings in my ears: “I was just trying to save our son.”
I realized in that moment she thought the engine was on fire, fearing the truck would explode and we would die. I, however, knew it was an electrical failure—hazardous but not fatal. I looked at my precious wife, softly rubbing the head of our infant son, and wondered what kind of woman would do something so courageous.
This situation could have been as emotionally hazardous as our literal engine failure. Gratefully, after enduring the silent treatment for a reasonable amount of time, each of us believing the other person was at fault, we finally expressed the emotions that were churning beneath our heated outbursts. Shared feelings of love and fear for the other’s safety kept the hazardous incident from proving fatal to our cherished marriage.

How often in our lives do we find ourselves in arguments fueled by misunderstanding? With hundreds and hundreds of different cultures all around the world it is easy to see why there is so much contention. We read from the writings of Paul "Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers." If we all make a conscious effort to understand where one another is coming from, imagine where the world would be.

New Teacher

The experiences I have had thus far on my mission truly humble me.

This week I would like to talk about Daniel, one of the Haitian investigators Elder Gardner and I get to work with. Daniel lives at the end of a dead end street here in Lumberton, NC. On any given trip down Daniel's street chances are you would see many more Haitian refugees outside their homes talking and laughing. Daniel stands at roughly 6 foot 4 inches I would guess and always wears a smile ear to ear. The rest of his family still lives back in Haiti but he hopes to have them with him soon.

This past week two areas in Lumberton were consolidated leaving me with many investigators that other missionaries had been working with, most of which are Haitian. This process of meeting these new people is a normal thing in missionary work and usually comes with quite a bit of work. The tendency is that most investigators take some time to get used to the new missionary and their might even be some apprehension at first. To my surprise this was not the case at all with Daniel and many others.

It was my first day working with Elder Gardner and I was nervous because I hadn't learned much Creole yet. We drove down Daniel's street and pulled up to his house. Moments after we knocked on his door it swung open, he looked at me with his big smile and said, "NEW TEACHER!" He invited us in and smiled as he listened to the message we shared that day. Daniel showed so much love for me.

From house to house the love of these humble people has been the same. Though their earthly possessions are few, it always seems like they are trying to give you everything they have. I have never seen a happier group of people in my life. I am excited for the many more adventures to come!