First of all, I want to apologize for bailing on you last Monday. A surprise death in the family took us to Utah for a funeral on Christmas week, and I wasn't able to write a column.
It seems that a lot of you have been taking a vacation during the Christmas season as well and who can blame you? This is the season when we should all be spending time with those we hold dear, rather than cuddling up with our cold computer keyboards. But we did get a few letters from Meridian readers who shared with us some of the things they've learned in life. Here's what they had to say:
When I was 16, a summer stake dance changed my life forever. My good friend Cliff and his family went to their cabin in the mountains during the summers. We had been friends since we were 5, and he still is one of the finest people I have ever known.
That summer, he came back into town for one of our stake dances with a friend from his summer ward in tow. I was glad to see Cliff, as he always made sure we perpetual wallflowers got to dance at least once. He introduced his friend Norm to us, moving slowly through the line of friends while Norm shook each of our hands and looked us in the eye when he met us. As the night proceeded, Norm asked each of us girls to dance. (Cliff probably told him about our wallflower status and asked for help!)
As Norm asked us to dance, he called us by name when he talked to us. I was amazed that he could remember so many new names after only hearing them once and asked him how he could do that. His simple reply changed my life forever. He said, "People are important, so I remember their names." Profound words from a 16 year-old young man and those words moved me deeply. I pondered his reply often, and have lived by its wisdom ever since.
There is no sound as sweet as the sound of one's own name. When we are called by name, we know someone has cared enough to remember who we are.
When Joseph saw the Father and the Son in the grove, Heavenly Father called him by name. That impressed upon me that we are important to our Father and he knows us, each and every one of us, by name.
In general conference of April 1992, Janette C. Hales, then Young Women General President, in her talk entitled You Are Not Alone said, "Now, to every adult member of the Church, may I suggest that you learn the names of the young people in your ward or branch and call them by name." Her plea touched me, and I have watched children and youth light up when they are recognized and addressed by name and realize that in their ward family, they are not alone.
Am I perfect at remembering names? No, but if I forget, I always apologize and ask again, teasingly explaining that I will remember because I surely don't want to have to be told a third time!
The perennial excuse of "I can't remember people's names" should be erased from our vocabulary and replaced with Norm's simple answer, "People are important, so I remember their names."
Kathaleen May
Haltom City, Texas
That was a story I needed to hear, Kathaleen. Names are hard for me. Thanks to your inspiration, I'll try to do better in the future.
Every person has a story and after reading your great article I'd like to tell you a story that re-affirmed my love for Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father's care for me and my loved ones.
My story starts when I was 19 years old at the outbreak of WW2.
My girlfriend (later to be my wife) and I sat with ears glued to the radio as the Prime Minister declared Australia was at war with Germany and Italy .
I was called into the army (infantry) into camp. I disliked the idea of walking to war so transferred to the RAAF, determined to fly into battle.
The enlistment officer put his hand on my shoulder, turned to his companion, said, Yes, he's warm and breathing he's suitable for Aircrew.
I completed my elementary flying and was posted to Southern Ontario to complete my service training before being posted to a flying instructor's training course. For 3 years and 6 months I had to put up with looking at the back of some 200 pilots' heads and eat my heart out as my dreams of being the greatest fighter pilot of all time were not realized.
I returned home, discharged from the service after five years in uniform to take up the battle of life.
In January, 1960, two young men called at our home introducing the restored gospel of Jesus Christ to my lovely wife and our two children while I was at the tender age of 42.
On the very first night we were all impressed by the fact that the Holy Ghost bore witness to us that all this was true. On March 19, 1960, we were baptized along with 24 other people and we have never looked back.
During the years we have all been called to serve in varying capacities as endowed members with the philosophy that as covenant people we'll do what ever the Lord calls us to do.
The whole point of this story is to outline to you that I have a testimony of the very fact that the Lord protected me and guided my career in the armed services because I was foreordained before the world began to live through all the hair-raising flying experiences to come home unscathed, raise a wonderful family of three boys and a girl and to hold the Holy Priesthood of God to serve as a High Priest wherever the Lord wants me.
We live in the suburb of Endeavour Hills, Victoria, Australia, being cared for by our daughter and son-in-law with our remaining two children and grandchildren.
Keith Stringer
Keith, that was an excellent reminder that the things we want are not necessarily the things we need and that God knows the difference. Next time I pine for something I want, I'll try to remember that there may be better things in store.
Our next reader has an equally powerful tale to tell:
I did not see this but read this story somewhere and it has changed the way I look at people now.
An elderly man and his wife were in a restaurant eating. It was obvious the lady had suffered a stroke at one time. She wore a bib to keep her dress nice and clean. Her husband was feeding her in between bites of his own.
As she drooled and ate and drank much like a small child, there were those around them staring and making very rude comments about and to them. People said, "Can you believe he would bring her in public to eat? Look at her drooling all over the place. Let's move; this is making me sick!" One lady chastised him for bringing her out in public. Yet this man continued to feed his wife and talk to her.
The lady telling the story finished her meal with her family. She walked over to the table and told the man how thoughtful she thought he was. He told her it was their anniversary and this was his wife's favorite restaurant. She then leaned over and kissed the lady on her cheek and told her, "You are a very lucky lady!" With tears in her eyes she left the restaurant, changed forever.
The lesson I learned: We are children of our Heavenly Father and he loves each one of us for whom we are, his sons and daughters. What greater show of affection then a loving husband trying to make his sweet partner feel beautiful and loved. Now I try to see others as if looking through our Heavenly Father's eyes. I try to find the beauty in all I meet.
A Reader in Texas
Thanks for a beautiful story, Texas. What a powerful reminder of the value of compassion!
I experienced a similar situation in my own family as my father-in-law aged. He had ill-fitting dentures, and in his later years he ate much like the woman in your story. I have always had a weak stomach in the presence of sloppy eaters, and being around him at mealtime was torture. But his wife fed him and cared for him and loved him without regard for the noise or the mess. When we attended her funeral last week, that was one thing I remembered and greatly respected from her life. Surely she will be rewarded for her kindness.
Finally today, we hear from one of the Americans who are working to preserve our freedom in far-off Iraq:
I have been stationed as a defense contractor for the past 21 months over in the International Zone, Baghdad, Iraq. I have come to truly appreciate the freedoms, liberties, opportunities, and blessings that so many Americans take for granted back in the United States of America. In addition, I have gained a greater appreciation for the gift of life and the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Previous to this experience in Iraq, I had spent 20 years in the United States Army as an officer in the United States Army Signal Corps, and 14 years as a Department of Defense civilian working in government contracting for the U.S. Air Force.
No matter what you may see and hear about the war in Iraq on the various news media outlets, you honestly have to come to this country in order to experience first-hand what is going on over here.
I have lost count on how many times we have been shelled with Iranian-made rockets and mortars over here. I remember last Easter we could not get to Easter church services because we were being shelled throughout the day and night. One would have thought that the Iraqi terrorists and insurgents would have honored and respected our religious holiday of Easter, but that was not to be the case.
I can also remember other times sitting in the old Iraqi Republican Guard Palace with other Americans and hearing the C-Ram Sirens go off, the dreary sound of, "Incoming, incoming! Duck and cover!" One night while I was sitting in the palace we heard at least 40 mortar rounds go off all around us.
I also remember sitting in my two-man metal trailer, surrounded with 8-foot tall sandbags all around it, and having Iranian rockets go off on both sides of trailer. Everything that was not secured inside the trailer fell down on the floor. The problem with most of the trailers in the IZ is that there is no overhead protection on any of them. The trailer walls are surrounded with 8-foot sandbag walls, but the trailer roof is just a thin metal roof. We also have concrete bunkers in our trailer courts, but many times there is no time to get out of the trailer and run to the nearest concrete bunkers before the incoming rockets and mortars impact into the area.
We also have our share of suicide bombers in the city of Baghdad, roadside bombs, kidnappers, snipers, celebratory gunfire after successful Iraqi soccer games, and so on.
Lots of fellow American military, Iraqi military, civilian personnel, and defense contractor personnel have been injured, hurt, and even killed over here in the IZ from exploding rockets and mortars. My office is across the street from the American military hospital here in Baghdad. We see and hear the ambulances and military Medevac helicopters bring in the wounded and dying soldiers and civilians every day. It is very heart-wrenching to see the injured women and children being brought in for medical treatment. Many of them were at the wrong place at the wrong time when a suicide bomber blew themselves up, a roadside bomb went off, or a rocket or mortar landed too close to them.
Every day that I am able to escape harm, serious injury, and even death over here in the IZ, I count my many blessings, and thank my Heavenly Father for his divine protection and blessings. I am also very grateful for the US military personnel who are out there on the front lines protecting the IZ from any infiltrators, suicide bombers, and terrorists.
I have become a much better person having been over here in Iraq . I have learned a lot about myself, the sanctity of human life, the true value of my American freedoms and citizenship, and experienced the Lord's protecting hands many times while over here. I am also grateful for my membership in the Church and the testimony that I have concerning it. God lives and watches over each and everyone one of us!
