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Inspired by MWallace’s “New Moon” story, I thought we could use a thread to share some personal stories and insights. Here’s mine (I actually haven’t spoken about this to many people): The first time I remember truly feeling the spirit was my baptism. I was 8, the heater broke so the water was really cold, they had to dunk me twice because my big toe stuck out the first time. Afterward, my dad asked me how I felt. I remember grinning broadly and saying I felt funny. During the confirmation prayer, someone was shaking my head. It was my grandfather, I thought he was trying to make me laugh. What I didn’t know was that he had recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, which claimed his life nine years later, and that he couldn’t control his tremors, even during the laying on of hands.
It took me quite a while to note the dichotomous significance of that moment, but it weighs heavily upon me to this day.
I laughed about your baptism problems (other than grandpa, which brought a human condition sadly to mind). In my mission, for seven months, we baptized in a cattle watering trough. Thin ice to be broken usually, then stand securely on a very slippery green bottom to dunk, knowing that you can’t turn a thundering herd of cows back when they decide to come drink. Also, where to change wet clothes in a cow pasture? We buried the dead in the same cow pasture, 19 year old boys preparing the dead, digging the graves, holding a graveside service, lowing the wooden box, while comforting all to often, crying parents who had lost their baby. What I’m getting at, is you do what you have to do. Our lives get changed in the twinkling of a eye, especially through missions (though I write of conditions half a century ago). Would I still have gone if I knew before hand, of course. Service is what ‘grew’ us to manhood. I hope my grandsons are allowed to help the living. To be in their service, is to be in the service of…. Well, you all know the quote.
Quote:Service is what ‘grew’ us to manhood.
I love that, George.
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