"...Proof you breathed for one short space...words on paper saying, "Love life, Live it well!"
The neighborhood note above, started brain juices going. Then came an assignment to talk in August with the topic: "How can capturing our stories keep our eyes on [what matters] and become a strength to those that follow? " May I share with you pieces of my talk?
When I was
about 10 years old, my mom and I were traveling to Boston for my mom and her friend to participate a women's writing group.
Following a school bus that stopped on the road with flashing lights, the little car I
was in halted suddenly. A car behind jarred the hatchback where
friends and I had been playing cards. I found myself perched on the asphalt of
a four-lane highway. Knowing memories can be fleeting, I wrote to my
mom’s friend, who had been driving. She affirmed the incident, with details
of viewing her children on the grassy side of the road and safety officials
affirming she was not at fault. Who was my mom’s friend?
C.S. Lewis said: "There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to
a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and
their life is to ours as the life of a gnat." (
C. S. Lewis (2014).
“Christian Reflections”, p.11, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing)
My mom’s friend, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich,
in search of material to write a thesis for a history doctorate,
discovered 1400 loose pages in a Maine library.
The pages comprised a log of an 18
th century midwife who delivered
816 babies over 27 years, a diary overlooked with its ink blots, margin
comments, herb recipes and tally marks. Unlike annals of an American
revolution detailing skirmishes and battles,
Martha Ballard’s papers unveiled tales of neighbors, daily
doings, traveling river and horse ridden roads. Laurel peered between ledgers
and jottings to carve a
Pulitzer Prize winning book,
crafting a
post-Revolutionary War story of births and healing, weaving and milling—mending
of splintered communities, with sifting, sorting, resurrecting relationships
that transcended transactions.
What will
angels do with the tally marks of my life and yours? I know that heaven hopes to build faith among
children on earth. President Henry B. Eyring (10/2007) shared about hearing an inner nudge, “I am not giving you these experiences for yourself.
Write them down!" He did. Elder
Richard G.
Scott (BYU, 8/1993), suggested that recording a valuable message opens the path for greater mercies.
Five years ago, I walked out of a funeral home
after the viewing for a niece who died at a young age. My heart leapt as I read words carefully
penned in an 8 x 10-inch leather prayer journal.
As I pondered sentences that spoke of thankfulness for life, the gift of a Savior, and a request to find a simple missing medical tool, I considered faith emanating from the cursive and wondered: “If it
helped this niece to pen a letter to heaven, what would happen if Laurene tried
it?”
Tara
Walker in a 2014 Ensign, shares ideas for gathering and keeping
things that matter. Walking through
Egypt, she kept an audio journal. What other ways can you think of? A
photo journal, art diary, video log, online blog, scrapbook, or “sloppy
copy” in stitched composition notebook? Would choosing a time or place help keep
a habit--for exploring interests, hopes, creativity, or quieting the mind?
“What could you do better for your children
and your children’s children than to record the story of your life, your
triumphs over adversity, your recovery after a fall, your progress when all
seemed black, your rejoicing when you had finally achieved?” President
Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), “President Kimball Speaks Out on Personal
Journals,” Ensign, Dec. 1980, 61.
Val and I
met Nic Brown in the mountains of Guatemala, Cobán. Diagnosed with four illnesses, including
dengue, Elder Brown’s path appeared to be headed for his family home. Elder
Nic sat weak and dejected-looking at the entryway of our stake center
mission office. Pointing to a painting of Jesus emerging from an empty
tomb,
Elder Brown asked me, “Why does the Savior still bear the marks of his
wounds?" I couldn't tell him exactly why, but we reasoned that Christ
wants us to see and remember what he did for us. Watching Elder Brown, head
in his hands, I so wanted to cheer him up. I handed him a talk by President
Holland telling missionaries: “
Don't you dare go home!” Your
brothers and sisters, your friends, future children and grandchildren need your
stories!
(
MTC Fireside – January, 2001) Elder Brown stayed. He taught in
San Jerónimo and finished his mission. A few years later, Val and I were
invited to witness Nic’s temple marriage in the Twin Falls temple to our
beloved friend Angie, whom we had seen baptized in Jerónimo. Nic became acquainted with Angie after his mission, connecting with mission friends electronically. The wedding was inspiring
and beautiful. In the celestial room just before the sealing, there came
a discussion of unsettled questions:
Three days
before our daughter’s long-awaited delightful twins were born, my husband had received a
nudge, “It's time." Time for what? Val had completed papers for our third
mission. (Have you ever related to the
words of the prophet Amulek who knew but he would not know? I was busy.
And NOT listening!) Exiting the Twin Falls temple, Val and I
crossed Wyoming to visit Honduras temple mission friends.
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Driving the long stretches brought memories
of my dad’s mission diary of 1958. I had perused pen scratchings of broken bike
chains and burgeoning bread dough on the counter overnight, and dusty roads
traveled with a mission leader sharing words of “eternal life and the joy of
the saints. “(Enos 1:3) His stories “sunk… into my heart… my soul hungered.”
Resistance to serve tumbled with surrounding tumble weeds. At 4
a.m. in a Gillette, Wyoming motel room, I finished my part of our mission
papers because the day before, I had “driven
today where Glendon drove.” .JPG)
My mother Shirley’s mother passed away when Mom was 16 months old. 
Imagine the
thrill of my mom, as a teen, to poke around her farmhouse attic and find a day
book penned when her mother Lucille was turning 18. 
 |
| 1932 Diary of Lucille Rowbury |
Lucille was attending
her junior year of high school after staying home as a freshman to help her
mother with twins. Lucille played and
worked and met and was courted by Grandpa Floyd. She studied and graduated valedictorian of
her class. She retires her day book at
the end of 1932 concluding: “Trouble sometimes comes up, of course, but love is
a great thing to help us through them. Well, goodbye, dear Diary, I am
going to lay you away and read you in later years when you will remind us both
of our great happiness and love. And maybe you can help us [and upcoming
generations] to keep it. Lucille". After scanning stories and remnants that Lucille had gathered and kept, our grandson bore his testimony in seminary, “They
knew what we know!”
Bruce
Feiler taught at 2016 Roots Tech of a 2013 most read NY Times article, The Ties
that bind in family stories: “...Bottom
line: if you want a happier family, create, refine and retell the story of your
family’s positive moments and your ability to bounce back from the difficult
ones. That act alone may increase the odds that your family will thrive for
many generations to come.”
What stories are touching and inspiring you
today? Where are they pointing you? Are
there dots in your life that might need connecting? What stories
might help someone you love? I cherish
President Eyring’s October 2007 invitation:
“Tonight,
and tomorrow night, you might pray and ponder, asking the questions: Did God
send a message that was just for me? Did I see His hand in my life or the lives
of my children? I will do that. And then I will find a way to preserve that
memory for the day that I, and those that I love, will need to remember how
much God loves us and how much we need Him. I testify that He loves us and
blesses us, more than most of us have yet recognized. I know that is true, and
it brings me joy to remember Him. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Love, the Starkeys
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