Prom: "No Man is an Island"

All mankind is of one author. . .
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.

The student body theme for my senior year was "No man is an island, no man stands alone."  Ironically, during much of the year I felt very much like an island.

The theme comes from Devotions upon Emergent Occasions by John Donne, written in December of 1623.  Donne was a metaphysical poet and a cleric of the Church of England.  Meditation XVII contains the phrases "No man is an island" and "for whom the bell tolls."

Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind;
And therefore never send to know
For whom the bells tolls,
It tolls for thee.

One meaning taken from Donne's meditation is that humans do not thrive when they are isolated from others.  If true, there may be exceptions.

"They say 'no man is an island'; well, Neil is kind of an island," said Michael Collins of his fellow Apollo 11 astronaut Neil Armstrong. "Sometimes what he is thinking and his inner thoughts were more interesting to him than somebody else's thoughts were to him, so why should he leave his island, go wading out into the shallows to shake hands with somebody, when he's perfectly happy back in his little grass hut or wherever."

If there are exceptions, I do not feel that I am one of them.  I had felt like an outcast for a long time, and then, during my junior year, I made many new friends.  At first I was happy just to have those new friends, but during my senior year I began to feel more and more isolated.

It began at the senior party the Saturday before the start of the school year; I was talking with a friend when, during a momentary silence that felt awkward to me, she said she was going to go mingle.  For some reason that bothered me.  Later, I was tossing a Frisbee with another boy when his girlfriend joined us.  After a few minutes they walked off together, leaving me standing there by myself.  It was a bit surreal.

There were other times when I went somewhere with friends only to find myself alone.  Even when I was with my friends, I felt like I was stuck out on the edge of everything.  It seemed that my quiet personality created a barrier -- a coral reef, if you will -- between me and my friends.  If Neil Armstrong was happy back in his little grass hut, I was not happy in mine.  I wanted, sometimes desperately, to leave my island to be a part of what was going on, even as I was sitting in the middle of the group!

One day after school, I was walking with Sally down the fifth floor hallway -- she was kindly giving me a ride home that day.  I said something about needing my friends and then asked if my friends needed me? She thought for a moment and then said she did not know.  As an introvert, I tend to overthink things, and this made for a miserable few days.

I wanted to talk some more with Sally the next afternoon, but missed her before she left for home.  So I called her up and we had a nice chat.  Having had some more time to think about my question, she had some thoughts that helped me feel better about a lot of different things. She also gave me the following scripture, Helaman 5:12, to help me:

“And now my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.”

If we build our foundations with God, or on his rock, all that the devil can throw at us won’t get us down, or into the depths of despair.  For a few days this seemed to help, but then a mighty storm broke when Julie stood me up and I sent that goodbye letter.  The storm continued to rage even as I took Evelyn to the Junior Prom.

While Julie and I debated what a friend was supposed to be, I began to wonder at the very meaning of friendship.  At times, I may have expected too much from my friends, but at other times I doubted that I had a right to any expectations at all.  I had wanted to have friends for such a long time, but now that I had them, I did not know what to do with them.  I felt that I had not been able to develop important social skills, thus I was socially clueless.  I had mastered the ability to smile and give a friendly greeting, but it seemed that I could do little else.

Once or twice, when feeling down, I had called Evelyn up to have a chat.  She was always happy to talk, but I could not find the words to describe what I was feeling.  In the end, Evelyn did most of the talking; it must have been frustrating for her, but I was also frustrated.  I was feeling a strong need to talk to a friend, but had no words; I was filled with emotion, but my voice was stilled.  This only served to deepen the feelings of loneliness I was experiencing.

At one point I concluded that it was preferable -- safer -- to avoid a conversation.  On a Friday night in February, after the prom, John drove me home from a basketball game at the school.  Evelyn was also in the car and she must have noticed that I was feeling down because she asked me if I was okay.  I wanted desperately to tell her how lonely I was, and about the war of words between Julie and I.  I wanted to say that despite having so many friends, some of them very good friends, that I had been feeling very alone for several months. Yet I was afraid, not of rejection, but of not having the words, so I did not open up and the moment passed.  I said I was fine and got out of the car.

Like the prom, where I was inundated with feelings about Julie, after already feeling self conscious about being so quiet through dinner, it was another lost moment.  As the crisis with Julie stretched into the second half of February, I felt that I could not go to my friends.  While I believed they would be willing, I worried that I would be unable to convey what I felt.  This left me well and truly alone.

Somehow, things got better.  I cannot say for certain how, but my senior year improved.  Time passed, spring arrived, and I moved on.  If I felt that I could not go to my friends, I still received love and acceptance from them; a moment here, a moment there -- like that day not long after the prom, when Evelyn sat with me at lunch and made my day.

All mankind is of one author. . .
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.

Even when we feel that we are alone, we are never truly alone.

Prom: "Just For A Moment"

In the fall of 1986, I was doing a lot of work as a yearbook photographer. I had my camera with me at school every day and I often took candid shots of people. One day after school I was helping a group make decorations for the Homecoming dance. At one point I got a shot of John and Sally making some funny faces.

Another day I saw Sally sitting in the foyer, and as I was getting ready to take a picture I saw Gary to her right and my left with his camera. I was ready when she saw Gary and turned in my direction and I got the shot.

Throughout the year, when it would be announced that a group was having their picture taken, I would go to the photography classroom to make sure the photographer assigned showed up. As backup I often ended up taking the photos myself. I tried to be someone the photo teacher could count on.

One day, late in the year, I saw Evelyn working on something in the foyer.  I sneaked up with my camera and got a photo of her with a surprised look on her face.  A few weeks later, on January 6, I dropped a print of that picture by her house with a little note: "Why so surprised? Someone thinks you are beautiful.  Would you go to the prom with me?"

Evelyn gave me her answer just six days later -- imagine that!  She said yes.  I was excited, and mutual friends told me that Evelyn was excited, too.  I wrote in my journal that "Evelyn is a great girl, I really like her. I am not, however, looking for a girlfriend."  I would get more excited as the dance approached, and Evelyn, herself, would tell me that she was also excited.

The evening started out great when I picked Evelyn up and told her how wonderful she looked.  We joined a group of friends for dinner, which we ate at an antique store in Salt Lake.  That's when things started to go downhill for me.  Throughout dinner, I hardly said a word, I just could not think of anything to say.  The only thing on my mind was that there wasn’t anything on my mind -- except, maybe, a song; there is always a song or some other piece of music playing in my head.  I began to feel very self-conscious, but in such a large group, I doubt anyone noticed that I wasn't talking.

After dinner we drove over to Symphony Hall and the dance.  The minute we walked into the foyer, I was flooded with thoughts of Julie, whom I had taken to the Junior Prom two years earlier, which had been held at this same venue.  The first thing Evelyn and I did was get into the line for the dance photos, which left me a lot of time to think about Julie, the night of that dance, the troubles since, and the last few weeks of arguing about the meaning of friendship.

By the time it was our turn to sit for the photograph, I was in complete despair -- but I was not going to let it show.  I forced a smile for the camera, and then tried to pretend that I was having a great time.  I don’t know if Evelyn ever picked up on my depression. Perhaps I had gotten good at hiding my feelings; I had had enough practice by then.

We laughed until we had to cry
And we loved right down to our last goodbye
We were the best
I think we'll ever be
Just you and me...
For Just a Moment

We chased that dream
that we never found
And sometimes we let one another down

But the love we made
made everything all right
We shone so bright
For Just a Moment

Those are the lyrics from the love theme to the movie St. Elmos Fire, "For Just a Moment," which happened to be the theme of the Junior Prom that year.

Evelyn deserved so much more, which added feelings of guilt to my depression.  For her, I did my best to hide my feelings, and I hope that, somehow, she had a great time in spite of me.

Time goes on
People touch and they're gone
And You and I
will never love again
like we did then

Someday when we both reminisce
We both say there wasn't too much we missed

And through the tears (and through the tears)
we'll smile when we recall
We had it all
For Just a Moment

I wondered, for just a moment, if Mary had not done me a favor in canceling on the prom the year before.  I had been hung up on Julie at that time, too.  Had I been able to take Mary to the prom, would the same thing have happened that night that was happening on this night?

As I had done at the Homecoming dance, I kept the claim tickets for the photos so that I would have an excuse to see Evelyn the next day.  When I stopped by, she told me that she had had a good time the night before, and I said that I had as well.  I never wanted Evelyn to know that I did not have a great time at the dance.  I did not want her to wonder if it was in any way because of her.

So, naturally, I found myself blurting almost the whole story out when we got the dance photos a few days later.  She paid me a compliment, saying that I looked good in the photo, and I felt the need to deflect.  On top of my troubles with Julie, and my depression at the dance, I didn't have a positive view of myself.  I could not see myself as anything but plain, quiet and even boring.  So there were a few reasons why I might have felt the need to deflect Evelyn's compliment.

I found myself telling her that my smile in the photo was forced, which, of course, necessitated an explanation as to why.  I tried to make sure that she knew it had nothing to do with her.  But, seriously, who wants to hear that their date had a bad time because they were thinking of someone else?

A couple of weeks later, I saw Julie while I was on my way to school, and then thought about her most of the morning.  But at lunch, Evelyn sat down with me and spoke as if she was truly happy to see me, and she was completely genuine about it.  She made my day, and I stopped thinking about Julie.

Time goes on
people touch and then they're gone
But you and I will never really end
Will Never Love again
like we did then

We laughed
until we had to cry
And we loved
right down to our last goodbye...




Song Lyrics:
Love Theme From St. Elmo's Fire (for Just A Moment) written by Cynthia Weil, David Foster (1985).

To Serve or Not to Serve?

We live in a culture that often pushes people to do things quickly; "Hurry up and get married," or "Hurry up and have lots of kids."  And now, with the 2012 change in missionaries ages, there may be some who are saying "Hurry up and go on a mission."  There has always been pressure on young men to serve missions, and now it seems that those who pressure will brook no delay.

In the spring of 2013, I read about a young man who was about to leave on his mission, his farewell was scheduled for this Sunday.  Instead of a farewell, however, his family had to prepare for a funeral.  Apparently the pressure of going on a mission was too great, for this young man took his own life.  A family that was preparing to say goodbye never saw their son or brother come home.

Serving a full time mission is not for everybody, but we live in a culture that all but demands that young men serve.  There are also those for whom a mission is a good idea, just not at age 18 . . . or 19 . . . or even 21.  Too many missionaries quit and go home early because they were not prepared to handle the rigors of a mission.  Too many missionaries quit but stay in the field, wasting their time and their parents' money.

After the announcement in 2012 of the age change for missionaries, I started a blog for missionary prep and service.  One of the reasons for the blog was my belief that the culture which pressures young men to serve missions did a lousy job of preparing those same kids to serve.  Eventually I felt that the missionary blog had served its purpose and I created this blog with a larger focus.

There is really only two reasons for serving a mission: to serve the Lord and to spread the restored gospel -- that may be combined as one reason depending on your point of view.  There are other things that may serve as motivation for wanting to serve the Lord and spread the gospel, but they are not reasons of themselves to serve.

There are plenty of wrong reasons to serve, as well as wrong things to serve as motivation for serving.  At the top of the list we should probably put "because it is expected" and the next would be "because my parents will by me a car".  Also on the list is something one of gave as his reason for serving, "because young women practically worship returned missionaries."

Let's face its, there are some young women out there, attempting to heed the call to "hurry up and get married", who will not even consider a young man who has not served a mission.  The trouble with that is, there are too many young wolfs in sheep's clothing, less than worthy prospects who did serve missions.  At the same time, there are other young men who are more worthy, even though they did not serve.  Whether a man has served a mission or not is no real indicator of his character.

There are other ways to serve and other avenues for sharing the gospel.  Several months after the age change announcement, there was a worldwide missionary broadcast which stressed the importance of members and missionaries working together to find people to teach.  Whether we have served a mission or not, we are called to be member missionaries.

When I was in high school I had the dream of attending the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis; alas, I came to have this dream a little bit late and did not have the grades to seriously pursue an appointment.  I also wanted to be a naval aviator, but I did not have the eyesight.  Still, I did speak with at least one recruiter from one of the military services.  As I listened I had the distinct impression that I had a different purpose, one that included serving a full time mission.

A mission was for me.  God had blessed me with talents that were directly applicable to teaching the gospel.  So I put in my papers and was called to the place I was meant to serve, and it was the best thing I have ever done.  I am a big believer in missions, but I know that it is not for everybody.

Then there are those that a mission is for, just a little further down the road.  It is important to remember that while they changed the ages for missionaries so that some can leave sooner, young men can still leave as late as when they are 25 -- there is no limit for young women.  As long as that young person is no dawdling or otherwise wasting time, there is plenty of time to prepare to serve.  If they are not ready as 18 or 19, that should be okay, there is always the next year, the one after that.

There was an elder in my mission who prepared to serve at 19, he put his papers in and received his call -- to the California San Jose Mission.  But he balked; as a small town kid he felt that he could not handle serving in a big city.  He asked to be released from his calling at that time, and this was granted.  Then, at age 25, staring the age limit in the face, he put his papers in again, and was called to . . . the California San Jose Mission.  He might have been a little nervous, still, at the idea of serving in a big city, but he answered the call and served his two years faithfully and well.

As King Benjamin said, we do not need to run faster than we have strength, but we should not take a casual approach either -- we should at least be running, "anxiously engaged" in that "good cause". Remember the tortoise and the hare, "Slow and steady wins the race."

Those who choose to serve should go into a mission with their eyes wide open.  Serving a mission is difficult; it may be one of the hardest things you ever do, but it may also be the best thing you ever do.  The work is often hard, and sometimes seemingly unrewarding.  There will be some missionaries, including some companions, who will be difficult to get along with.  There will be days or weeks when you will feel that you are being stretched to the limit.  If you have the right attitude, it will all be worth it as the rewards for the faithful servant are many.

"And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father! And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!" (D&C 18:15-16)

I have called my mission the university of my life.  I learned more about life in those two short years than I have in all the years before or since.  I faced many trials and persevered.  I worked hard and when I was done I felt to say as Paul did that I had kept the faith and finished the race.  I look back now and recall as the best times those when we were working hard, even when we were having appointments cancel on us left and right.

To serve or not to serve . . . whatever we choose, we should never allow anyone else to push us into it.  The rewards tend to be greater for those things we willingly and happily choose to do.  Reluctant service can still lead to good things, but it is still not as good as the alternative.

Those who of us who feel the need to pressure young people to serve, or to do anything else we think they should, would do well to remember the teachings of the Lord we would have them serve. No matter how much we have achieved, earned or accomplished, if we are not kind to others, we have failed and missed the whole point.

Finally, however we choose to serve, we should always ask if we can do more, and then we should stretch ourselves to do it.  We may not reach the goal, but we will have made the effort and gained from it, and maybe the next time we will reach the goal.  If we continue to fall short we should humble ourselves before our Heavenly Father, and exercise faith in Jesus Christ, then might we be lifted up to do more than we thought we could, because His grace is sufficient to make weak things become strong.

Prom: It Could Have Been You

We were so close yet so far away
I'd reach out, you'd be gone
Moments that still talk my breath away
There's so much more to life than loving you
You don't need me, no...

In August of 1986 I had the idea of asking Julie to get together and do something -- just as friends.  Maybe I caught her on a bad day because it was one of the times that I got a negative answer. She could have said something about me dating girls in my own class.  It had been over six months since Mary had cancelled on the junior prom, but I still had not asked a girl out on a date -- although, technically, I had just asked Julie out.  Mary and Julie, by the way, were in the same class, the one ahead of mine.

Whatever happened, I found myself in a mood to give up on being friends with her.  I went to her house one day and we talked on her porch. I said that I had come to say goodbye. “I can’t wait all my life on a street of broken dreams,” I said.

She came right back with “What dream? To have Julie?” This knocked me back, and I had no response. Only later would I think of what I should have said, “No, that she might like me as much as I like her.”

When I recovered, we talked it out and I’m sure I explained again that I was going to wait until after my mission to have a relationship. We must have made some kind of peace that day because in the fall I would ask her out on a date and she would say yes.

I had borrowed that line about broken dreams from a song on the recently released Journey album Raised on Radio.

I can't wait all my life, on a street of broken dreams
It could have been you my love (where are you now)
Oh I still wonder if you remember the night
It could have been you.

At the end of September, I finally went on a date when I asked Linda to the Homecoming Dance.  Linda was in my ward and in the class behind mine.  We were friends because she approached me at a football game the previous year to say "hi".  The next spring she invited me to an end of the school year party she put on for her friends.

We went into Salt Lake with some of her friends to have dinner before coming back to the school where the dance was being held.  After taking Linda home, I realized that I forgot to give her the claim ticket for her set of photos. The next day after church I dropped by her house to give it to her. We had a brief conversation about the dance and told each other how much we enjoyed it. As I drove home I was struck by the serendipity of the moment, and at future dances I would deliberately keep something so I could have the excuse to go see the girl the next day.

A few weeks later I called Julie and asked her to go to a Braves football game with me. She said yes and I thought we had a good time. After the game we drove around for a bit and then stopped at a park – the one I at which I had taken pictures of her more than a year before. We sat on the swings and reminisced about stake dances, the prom and other events.

On reflection, this might not have been a good idea. It was early yet, and there was no point in hurrying home, but she might not have liked talking about the past. Going to that particular park might also have been a mistake. Not long after this we were having a disagreement and I asked if we could go for a walk in order to talk it out. Julie said that she did not want to because we would just end up at that park talking about "us" – by which she meant the past, because the present “us” was what we needed to talk about.

Time washes over, memories
I can't look back no more
Change has forsaken, our promises
There's someone else for you to hold again
So please stop your crying

In late November or early December I called Julie up and suggested that we get together to talk and play some games.  She agreed and we decided that she would come over to my house that Saturday.  The day came, but Julie never showed.  I thought that perhaps she had forgotten or might have been sick, so I called her up on Monday to see about rescheduling.  Her response was to suggest that I date girls in my own class.

We were right back to where we had been in August, but this time, instead of going by her house to talk it out, I wrote her a letter.  I said it was clear that we could not be friends, so this was a goodbye letter.  Then I did something really silly, I mailed it to her.  It was not very long before I regretted sending that letter.

I called her to try and talk, and soon I was calling her every week, sometimes even twice a week.  Today we have a term for this: "stalking".  We argued for weeks this way about the meaning of friendship.  To her credit, through all of the phone calls, she never simply hung up on me. She always answered when I called (usually at the same time as the previous week). She always gave me time, even as we couldn't agree on anything.

Perhaps calling her up to make a date was not a good idea, but she said yes, only to stand me up without explanation. Her comment about dating other girls my age was a slap in the face, as well. So once again I tried to forget about Julie, and once again I failed to do so.

She might have said yes when I asked her out, first for the football game and then for the get together at my house, because she was afraid of what I might do if she said no. Perhaps she just wanted to avoid a repeat of what happened the previous August.

At one point I wrote Julie another letter.  In this one I explained what I thought a friend should be and then apologized to her.  After a week a called her up to get her response.  At first she said she'd still like to be friends, a declaration I should have accepted, which would have allowed both of us to walk away.  But I worried that we would be friends in name only, and soon enough I all but talked her out of it.

I can't wait all my life, on a street of broken dreams
It could have been you my love (where are you now)
Oh I still wonder if you remember the night
It could have been you

A month went by where I did not call Julie even once.  One day during that break, I called Linda to ask for her advice.  She said that instead of just throwing it all away, I should just back off.  I should say "hi" when I saw her, but I should not go out of my way to see her.

As it happened, I did not have to go out of my way.  Every Sunday at church, Julie would sit with her family almost right in front of the Sacrament table, and I was blessing the Sacrament almost every week.

Finally, I called her again and said that the only thing I wanted was peace, and Julie was able to agree to at least that much.  Then I told her that I had very strong feelings for her, that I was in love with her.  She responded by saying that it was just a school boy crush.  I said that I had had school boy crushes on other girls and that this was different.

Still, Julie was right when she said that I did not love her. I was not putting her happiness before mine; all that I could think about were my feelings. If I ever worried about hurting her it was mostly because I was afraid of losing her. Her welfare was never really a concern to me – yes, I didn't want to hurt her, but I didn't want to hurt anybody.

I did not want to lose her, be it as a friend or something more, and I refused to give up when I should have simply walked away. As noted, my feelings for Julie were very strong, and I never knew how to deal with them. What I had was more than just a schoolboy crush; what I did not have was love, and the day would come when I would know full well that I did not.

The previous year, after I had asked Mary to the prom, something started stirring me up regarding Julie.  This time it seemed that something was stirring us both up.  Still, peace had been agreed to, and for the moment, at least, the crisis was over.

During the crisis, another prom had come and gone.  This time I was able to make and keep a date for the dance.

Song lyrics: "It Could Have Been You" (1986) Schon, N., Perry, S. & Cain, J.

"Awake, My Soul!"

"Behold, my soul delighteth in the things of the Lord; and my heart pondereth continually upon the things which I have seen and heard.  Nevertheless, not withstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am!  Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.  I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.  And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.

"My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.  He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.  He hath confounded mine enemies, unto the causing of them to quake before me.  Behold, he hath heard my cry by day, and he hath given me knowledge by visions in the nighttime.  And by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him; yea, my voice I have sent up on high: and angels came down and ministered unto me." (2 Nephi 4: 16-24.)

So begins a passage in the Book of Mormon that has come to be known as the Psalm of Nephi.  Nephi was a prophet of God, he had seen visions and miracles -- he also saw the Son of God!  Yet even he experienced feelings of shame and anguish.  Did he often hear in his mind the accusing voices of his older brothers?  What sins and weaknesses troubled this mighty man of God enough that he would view himself as wretched?

In the end, it does not matter what temptations so easily beset Nephi; what matters is that even a man who had experienced and received so much, could still be brought so low by grief and anguish.  If such a man as Nephi could experience this anguish, this shame, can it be a surprise that we, too, might have such feelings?

While I have not been a witness to great visions or mighty miracles, I have experienced personal revelation and have even witnessed and been blessed by smaller miracles.  I have been filled with God's love, even to the point of being almost consumed by it.  I know that my cries have been heard, and I have been ministered to by friends -- sent in lieu of angels.  Who knows, I may even have been unknowingly ministered to by angels.  Yet I have often felt to say, as Nephi did, "Oh wretched man that I am!"

I too have sins and weaknesses, and temptations which so easily beset me.  As with Nephi, it does not really matter what those sins and temptations are; what matters is that they are difficult for me.  So it is, I am sure, with everyone else.  We all have challenges and we all have hard times.  We can be sure that the people around us are fighting battles that we cannot see.

I have written before about blind spots I had while in high school; one of them was the belief that no one had challenges like I did.  I was pretty sure that I had more challenges, and more difficult challenges. I was still thinking this way six months into my LDS mission and I wrote home about my feelings.  In response, I received a letter from my older brother which served to be the head slap that I needed.

"You are not unique because of your challenges," he wrote, "but for other reasons."  As I read that it seemed that my eyes were opened, and for the next week or so I was keenly aware of the challenges my fellow missionaries were experiencing -- my companion was having financial issues; my district leader was dealing with a difficult companion, and his companion was dealing with some health issues.

A friend wrote to me around the same time and said that we all have down times and we all experience feelings of inadequacy, but we are the master of our own soul and can determine how we feel and how we react to our challenges.  Yet, as we reach, we often fall short, for we are human and weak.  Sometimes our best efforts to determine how we feel and react are challenged by the grief and anguish we are often so easily beset with.  But there is hope, for through the Atonement we can be lifted by the Grace of our Savior, and our weaknesses can become strengths. (Ether 12:27.)  We can lift our voices on high and be filled with God's love.

Then might we say, as Nephi did: "Awake, my soul!  No longer droop in sin.  Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul. . . .  Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say; O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation." (2 Nephi 4: 28, 30.)

Sometimes, though, it may be difficult to let go of the pain and anguish.  Another Book of Mormon prophet used the word "exquisite" to describe his anguish (Alma 36: 21), and I have often thought the same about my sorrows.  It might even seem better to hold on to those exquisite feelings than face the prospect of feeling nothing, or to risk that leap of faith required to experience the exquisite joys that may or may not come.  Our hearts may be broken, but are our spirits truly contrite?

"And it came to pass that as I was thus racked with torment, while I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins, behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world.  Now, as my mind caught hold upon this thought, I cried within my heart: O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness. . . .

"And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more. . . .  And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding was my pain!" (Alma 36: 17-20.)

Who of us, if told that we could be healed and have that exquisite joy simply by looking to the Savior, would refuse to look?  God sent fiery serpents to afflict the Children of Israel and then commanded Moses to raise a brazen serpent so that all who looked upon it would be healed (1 Nephi 17: 41, 2 Nephi 25:20).  I have never understood how any of those who had been bitten could refuse to look -- skepticism I understand, but would you not look in order to say "see, I told you so," if it didn't work?  Yet, could we be refusing to look when we refuse to let go of our griefs -- it can be something other than sin which is harrowing us up -- or when we refuse to let go of our grudges, or when we refuse to forsake our sins and seek forgiveness?

"O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul?  Wilt thou deliver me out of the hands of mine enemies?  Wilt thou make me that I may shake at the appearance of sin?  May the gates of hell be shut continually before me, because that my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite!  O Lord, wilt thou not shut the gates of thy righteousness before me, that I may walk in the path of the low valley, that I may be strict in the plain road!  O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness!" (2 Nephi 4: 31-33.)

Perhaps we have taken that leap of faith, and perhaps more than once.  Perhaps we have looked to the Savior, forsaken our sins and sought forgiveness.  Perhaps we have been lifted by His grace and filled with his love.  Perhaps we have felt to sing the song of redeeming love.  But, perhaps, we have not felt to sing that song recently.  If so, then once more unto the breach we must go.

For those who have entered in at the strait gate, it is for us to endure as we walk the narrow way.  We will continue to struggle with our weaknesses and will continue to fall short.  Discipleship is not a destination, it is a process.  If we have fallen short, again, then once more unto the breach . . . or, once more to our knees.

"Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh, yea, my God will give me, if I ask not amiss; therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee; yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness.  Behold, my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee, my rock and mine everlasting God." (2 Nephi 4: 35).

Go back to the top, for a moment; Nephi said that when he desired to rejoice that his heart groaned.  He did not say, "once, when I desired to rejoice. . . ." Perhaps one reason Nephi's voice would forever ascend was that he knew he would continue to fall short due to his human frailty, and thus would continue to need the grace of his Savior.

So it will be with us.  Therefore, once more unto the breach . . . er, knees, we go.

Loyalty, Honor and Devotion

Tom Hudner was born in Fall River, Massachusetts in 1924. Upon his graduation from the Phillips Academy at Andover in 1943, Tom received his appointment to the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland. He would graduate in June of 1946. After almost two years in the fleet, Tom was accepted into flight training at Pensacola, Florida. After receiving his wings of gold, he was sent to an attack squadron in Rhode Island, but after just a few weeks the squadron was decommissioned.

During the decommissioning process two staff officers came to Tom to talk about his next assignment.

"Well, we have a slot for you in VF-32," one of them said. "What do you think about that?"

The information meant nothing to him. "VF-32? What's that?"

"Say, isn't that the squadron Jesse Brown's in?" asked another officer.

This didn't clear things up at all. Tom had never heard of Jesse Brown and none of the three officers in the room bothered to tell him who he was, either.

A few days later, after reporting in and getting the grand tour, his new flight leader asked Tom if he would have a problem flying as Jesse Brown's wingman.  Dick Cevoli went on to explain that Brown was the first African-American naval aviator. Jesse had earned his wings at Pensacola the year before Tom received his. Brown was not only the first, he was the only black aviator on active duty in the US Navy.

Though neither knew it yet, both Tom and Jesse were destined to have their lives inextricably linked together by events on a frozen battlefield half a world away.

Tom Hudner was a lieutenant (junior grade) and Jesse Brown was an ensign, but Jesse had more flying experience, so Tom became Jesse's wingman. As the two flew together they began to develop a mutual respect and rapport.

Their first flight together, however, gave Tom, a by-the-book sailor, some cause for concern.  Jesse led them over Quonset Point, Rhode Island, flat-hatting, as it was called, which left Tom uncomfortable.  As it turned out, Jesse was making a flight over his home to say "hi" to his wife and daughter.  When Tom found out the purpose of the flight he thought, "Why didn't he just say so?"

The following spring and summer, Fighting 32 undertook a Mediterranean cruise aboard carrier USS Leyte (CV-32).  But the cruise would be cut short when the North Koreans launched their invasion of South Korea that summer of 1950.

By December, both Leyte and VF-32 were off the coast of the Korean peninsula.  The Chinese had entered the war, and were threatening to encircle the 1st Marine Division at the Chosin Reservoir.  Jesse, Tom and their VF-32 squadron mates flew close air support missions to assist the Marines in their fight to break out of the Chinese trap.

On December 4, Dick Cevoli was leading his flight over the battlefield when his wingman called over the radio, "Jesse, something's wrong -- looks like you're bleeding fuel."

This is what alerted Tom Hudner that Jesse Brown had a problem. They were flying in a loose formation with a quarter-mile of separation. With one glance Tom saw that Jesse was starting to lose altitude.

A glance at his instrument panel told Jesse that his engine temperature was rising into the red. Starved of oil, the Pratt & Whitney of his F4U Corsair was burning itself up. In just three minutes, his engine seized up and he lost power so fast he had no chance to run for the coast. By now he was too low to bail-out, so he would have to ditch his plane, and he would have to do it behind enemy lines.

The Corsair had an Achilles heel in that its oil cooler was on the underneath side of the fuselage and very vulnerable to ground fire. The Chinese developed the habit of lying on their backs and firing at the Corsairs as they flew over. It was long odds, but if they could hit the oil cooler with a single 30-caliber bullet the F4U would suffer the problems that Jesse's was now experiencing.

As Tom and Jesse looked down, all they saw were jagged mountains covered with forests. Finally, Jesse saw a small, sloped clearing. With his canopy open and his tailhook down, Ensign Brown dropped the Corsair into the snow. After skidding on the rocky ground it soon came to rest. The impact with the ground had bent the fuselage about 30 degrees right in front of the cockpit.

As Tom circled overhead he saw Jesse wave his arms to let him know that he was okay. But Jesse wasn't climbing out of the aircraft. With each circuit over the site, Tom saw that Jesse was still in the cockpit of the Corsair. Why wasn't he getting out? Now Tom saw smoke rising from the engine. The F4U was on fire! Still Jesse did not get out. Then it dawned on Tom, Jesse Brown was trapped.

"OK, I'm going down after him," Tom radioed.

A few days before this flight, the skipper of VF-32 had warned his men against trying to land to save a downed pilot.  Any pilot taking such a risk could face a court martial. A year before, Tom would have had a hard time going against such an order, but today, with his friend trapped in a burning aircraft, he would risk anything to save him.

Tom made one pass to try and judge how best to make the landing. Coming around again he made a classic flaps-and-hook down approach, but with his wheels up. Whoomp! The Corsair hit with such force that Tom would experience back pains for years to come.

Tom climbed out of his cockpit and ran a hundred yards or so over to Jesse's F4U. He found his friend in bad shape. Jesse had taken his gloves off to try and unstrap himself, but he had been too weak from injury to succeed, and now his hands were already frostbitten. As Tom wrapped his scarf around Jesse's hands he heard his friend say "I can't get out, Tom. I'm caught." Tom would never forget how calm and soothing Jesse sounded.

Tom looked into the cockpit to see where his friend was stuck, he could see that his knee had been crushed between the instrument panel and the side of the cockpit when the impact of the crash landing had bent the fuselage. Tom could also see that he would not be able to pull Jesse out of the cockpit by himself. He would have to wait for the rescue helicopter.  He ran back to his plane to radio his flight leader, asking him to tell the rescue chopper to bring an axe.

When Charlie Ward learned that a second Corsair had gone down north of Chosin he dropped off his crewman so he would have room to bring back two pilots. After a twenty minute delay Ward, and his rescue helicopter, were on the way.

When he arrived at the mountain where the two F4Us had crash landed he recognized Tom Hudner and Jesse Brown, two pilots he had come to know aboard USS Leyte during the voyage to Korea. Charlie had brought a small fire extinguisher, but it was used up in seconds on the smoke in Jesse's cockpit without any visible effect. Tom and Charlie now took turns with the axe, swinging it against the fuselage.

The ax didn't even make a dent, but he two rescuers did not give up. After swinging the ax for awhile they tried to pull Jesse out, but he would not budge, so they went back to swinging the axe. Again they tried to pull him out. Jesse looked over at Tom. "Just tell Daisy how much I love her."

Jesse's shoulders slumped heavily as he closed his eyes and his breathing became shallow.  Tom lowered his head, sensing the finality settling in.

But Tom wasn't ready to give up. After getting up on top of the fuselage, and straddling the cockpit with his feet on the canopy rails, he stood above his friend and tried to pull him out. But Jesse remained hopelessly trapped.

Charlie now noticed that the sun was getting lower in the sky. Without night-flying instruments he would not be able to fly the helicopter after dark. He also knew that he and Tom would not survive the night and its freezing temperatures -- 35 degrees below zero Fahrenheit -- because the helicopter did not carry blankets or warm clothing. He walked Tom away from the Corsair and told him all of this.

"Jesse ain't moving," said Charlie. "I don't want to admit it, but I think he's gone."

Tom shook his head, he didn't want to believe his friend was dead.

"We gotta go," Charlie said.  "I don't have instruments for night flying." Looking Tom in the eye, he asked, "You coming or staying? 

Tom went back to Jesse.  If his friend had been moving or even breathing, it would have made his decision easy.  He would have stayed.

"Decide quickly," Ward said. "But remember -- you stay here, you freeze to death."

Tom called up to the cockpit, "Jesse, we don't have the right tools to free you. We're going to go and get some equipment. Don't worry -- we'll be back for you!"

He couldn't tell if Jesse comprehended or even heard. His friend had not even stirred. Reluctantly he went with Charlie to the helicopter and climbed aboard. As they lifted off they left behind one of aviation's pioneers.  More than that, they left behind a friend.

Tom returned to his ship a few days later and was called to the bridge to report the incident to Leyte's captain. When he finished the captain said he wanted to send a helicopter back to retrieve the body.

"Captain, that's not the Jesse we knew. The Jesse we knew is gone." In protesting, Tom explained that it was just too dangerous to send another rescue crew, what with the possibility of enemy troops in the area, the ruggedness of the terrain, and the altitude of the crash site. A flight of Corsairs was sent instead, and they incinerated Jesse and his Corsair with napalm to prevent the Chinese from getting any useful intelligence from the wreck.

Instead of facing a court martial, on Friday, April 13, 1951, while his family and Jesse's wife sat in the Rose Garden at the White House, Tom was awarded the Medal of Honor by President Harry S. Truman. His loyalty to his friend had transcended color as he risked his life to rescue Jesse, upholding the highest traditions of the United States Navy and showing America the meaning of devotion.

After the ceremony, Jesse's wife Daisy said to Tom, "I'm just so grateful that you tried to save him.  Jesse was lucky to have a friend like you."

Ensign Jesse Brown had served honorably and died honorably. As the first, and at the time only, black aviator in the US Navy, he had broken the color barrier at a time when America had yet to accept all of its sons and daughters as equals. In 1973, the Navy commissioned a frigate bearing Jesse's name.

In 2013, long after retiring with the rank of Captain, Tom returned to North Korea to begin a search for Jesse's remains in order to bring them home to America.  Daisy hoped that someday her husband's remains would be interred at Arlington National Cemetery.

Daisy would pass away in 2014, at age eighty-six.  "In her last days," wrote Adam Makos, "when she looked around her, Daisy came to one final conclusion: The World needs Jesse Brown and Tom Hudner more than ever."

On November 13, 2017, Tom Hudner passed away at the age of ninety-three.  USS Thomas Hudner (DDG-116), an Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer, is expected to be commissioned by the U.S. Navy in late 2018/

As we consider Tom's devotion to his friend Jesse, let us also recall the devotion of our Savior. I attended a baptism recently, and I stood in the circle as the candidate was confirmed a member of the church.  In the blessing the father said to the little girl that even if she was the only one who needed the Savior to go to Gethsemane and to Golgotha, the He would still have gone, because He loved her that much.  That is also how much He loves each of us, and how much He loves all of God's children.  We should never forget this simple truth.


Sources:

John R. Bruning, Crimson Sky: The Air Battle for Korea (Brassey's: Dulles, Virginia, 1999)

Makos, Adam. (2015) Devotion: An Epic Story of Heroism, Friendship, and Sacrifice. New York: Random House.

Prom: The Third Girl

In the spring of 1986, elections were held for student body and class officers.  First up were the student body elections, and I had more friends running for office than could win.  I was worried, knowing that at least a few of my friends would lose, and there was one in particular that I was concerned about.

I had met Evelyn the previous fall, one of many I met through the ever increasing circle of friends I was experiencing.  At the time she was battling a low self esteem, something I had had a lot of experience with.  But I saw a hint of something in the wall flower, and over the next several weeks I watched as her confidence grew and she blossomed into one of the prettiest girls in school.  Now she was running for student body officer, but I was worried that she might still be a little fragile.

Sally was also running in the election and everyone, it seemed, expected her to win.  When they announced the winners, I was overjoyed that Evelyn had won, but I was also concerned for Sally, who had not.  It could not have been easy to lose an election in which you were considered one of the favorites to win.

The election for senior class officers followed the very next week -- once again Sally ran and was again considered a favorite to win.  But she didn’t win, and this time she took it very hard.  I heard that she had hurried home before anyone could talk to her and I wished that I could do something to cheer her up.

I went to a stationary store looking for a card I could give to Sally, but none that I looked at really seemed right.  So I went home and wrote a simple note of encouragement and walked it over to her house.  Since it was just after Easter, I included a few jelly beans with the note.  The next day, Sally gave me a note in which she expressed gratitude for “the nicest note” and said that it had really made her day.

That spring I tried out for Concert Choir.  I had taken Barbershop that semester, which was just the name for the boys choir, and Concert Choir, a mixed group of boys and girls, was the next thing.  There were 66 boys trying out for 60 slots, so it seemed that at least a few of us were going to be disappointed.  Somehow I managed to convince myself that it would be a huge failure if I did not make it, which probably made for a bit more drama in my life than was necessary.  In the end, the choir director decided to take all 66 boys, and I went around the school excitedly telling my friends that I had made it.

I made another group that spring when the photography teacher asked me to be on the yearbook staff for my senior year.  I loved photography but was not sure I had enough talent to be a yearbook photographer, an honor that had been extended to both of my older brothers.  I was happy to accept the invitation, but I figured that I would have to work harder than the other photographers.

Soon enough the school year ended, and it was not very long before I was missing all of my new friends.  One day I was feeling very lonely, and I called Evelyn and asked if we could get together and talk.  While I had made a decision to wait until after my mission to have a girlfriend, my resolve had wilted some, and I made a rather clumsy overture to Evelyn as we sat on her front lawn.  I said something about being very lonely and how I just did not want to be alone any more.

Why Evelyn?  It was, of course, clear that neither Julie nor Mary were interested in a relationship.  If I was to have a high school girlfriend it would have to be a third girl -- The Third Girl is the title of one of Agatha Christie's Poirot mysteries, but I am giving it a different meaning here.  In the spring and summer of 1986 there were two who could have been that third girl, Sally and Evelyn.  Alas, Sally was already in a relationship, and was unavailable.  At the same time, the more I got to know Evelyn, the more I really liked her, and the more, it seemed, that we had in common.  I could have fallen for either girl, but because of my decision to wait until after my mission, I think I managed to stop short of doing that.

Returning to Evelyn's front lawn, she was a very smart girl, and she picked up on what I was doing rather quickly.  She deftly changed the subject, I thought, by telling me about a movie she had just seen.  It didn’t occur to me until sometime afterward, when I saw the movie myself, that she wasn’t just changing the subject – I can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes.  The movie was called Lucas and was about a nerdy kid who falls for a pretty girl.  Now, I don’t think Evelyn was saying I was nerdy but that, similar to the girl in the movie, while she did like me it was not in a romantic way.

Evelyn handled this whole thing brilliantly; I could see that she really did like me as a friend and that she thought I had value.  Also, I quickly forgot about feeling lonely, and about how the conversation started, as I listened to her tell the story.  I think that means that a girlfriend wasn't what I really wanted that day.  As I look back now I can see that I simply wasn't ready for a relationship, and that I wouldn't be until after my mission.  In a simple, yet wonderful way, Evelyn gave me what I really needed, kindness and friendship.

Still missing my friends, though, I decided to throw a party.  I planned a cookout in my backyard, after which we were going to play basketball.  I even drew up a bracket for a tournament, which was not very realistic.  We did play a game of HORSE, however, and I think everybody had a good time.

Perhaps the most important thing that happened that summer occurred at a church softball game.  I was asked to play catcher, which for some reason I did not want to do, and I was soon in a bad mood.  When my first turn came at bat I hit a grounder between third base and short stop; I ran as fast as I could but was unable to beat the throw to first.  This only made my mood worse and I stormed off the field and started to walk home.

As it happened, my father was there to see the whole thing.  Later that night I found a note on my pillow from my dad which suggested that I read Ether 12:27 in the Book of Mormon:

“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness.  I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”

I had many weaknesses, and the idea of them becoming strengths was very appealing.  But, I wondered, about having faith and humbling one's self before God?  I recalled something my dad had said some years before to one of my brothers, “If you have questions, read the Book of Mormon.”  We were going to be studying the Book of Mormon in seminary my senior year so it seemed like a good time to read it.  I started right away and got a head start on the school year.

Through most of my junior year I had been content with having so many new friends.  I would find it a little difficult to be content during my senior year.

Prom Story: The Winter of My Discontent

No Mary, no Julie, no Uncle Sam. Was I the battling you-know-what of my high school?  I might have felt that way. My heart was broken, and it would be a long time before I would ask another girl out on a date.

When I asked Mary to the junior prom, I did not know whether we would like each other enough to be more than just friends, but hope springs eternal, and I certainly entertained the idea after meeting her the previous year. Even so, I was not expecting more than friendship when I asked her to the prom.

How could I have any right to expect anything? I began to wonder if I had a right to any expectations of anybody, whether they were girls I might be attracted to, or just my friends. Sometimes, it seems, I did expect too much, but at other times I doubted that I could expect anything at all.

What can anyone reasonably expect from other people? Kindness, respect, love? Certainly if one treats others with kindness and respect they might feel that they should get some in return. But it is clear that no one can expect people to act the way they want them to. I could not expect Julie or Mary to like me the way I liked them; they either would or they would not. In that sense, at least, my feelings for them were not relevant.

Our disappointments often come when others do not feel the same way we do. I might think I was close friends with some of those I came to know my junior year, and I might be surprised to realize that they did not think the same. One of the great trials of high school for me lay in trying to deal with it when others did not feel the same way that I felt about them.  Even today one of my big fears is that none of it, the friendships or the good times we had, was real.

On top of all that had happened, in February my grandmother passed away; within a matter of days my grandfather passed away as well.  They had divorced when my mother was still a child, but though my grandfather had remarried, the passing of his first love was enough to break his heart.

As for me, these events were added to the list of difficult things that had been happening that year, starting the previous summer when I nearly lost my mother to a brain tumor.  In reality, I was not as affected as I portrayed myself to be.  Was it because my heart was already broken, was I a little numb, or was I just a teenager?  In any case, the passing of my grandfather actually provided a nice break from the school year as my family went down to San Diego for his funeral.

I think to a certain extent I was martyring myself.  While I would not ask a girl out on a date until the following September, I was hoping like crazy that a girl would ask me to the girl's choice dance in March.  In the end, I was not asked, and it was another thing to add to the list.

There were five girl's choice dances between my sixteenth birthday and my high school graduation, and I was not asked to any of them.  There is a classic episode of the old TV comedy Father Knows Best where Bud is the only boy who is not asked to the Sadie Hawkins dance at school; it's a great episode, but it hits too close to home for me.

For a moment, though, there was a little bit of light.  My efforts to be friends with Julie seemed to be paying off as I was able to say hi to her a few days in a row, and then we actually had a short conversation.  It did not last.  On some days she was friendly, but on others she wouldn't even acknowledge me.

I was struck recently at the contrast in my reaction to the rejection I received from both Julie and Mary.  I found it very difficult to forget about Julie and move on, whereas, though my heart was broken, I did not find it particularly difficult to accept Mary's decision.  I seemed to be exhibiting a little bit of maturity with one that I seemingly could not with the other.  Maybe it was because I had been able to build a good friendship with Mary, or maybe it was because I knew where I stood with her but felt that I had no clue where I stood with Julie.

By March, I had decided to wait until after my mission before trying to have a girlfriend. That decision, however, did not erase the feelings I had for Julie. One day I called Sally to ask if I could come by and talk. Sally suggested that I talk to Julie and tell her how I felt about her, but also tell her that, because of my decision to wait until after my mission for relationships, I just wanted to be friends. I followed this advice and it went rather well; Julie appeared to respond favorably to our being friends.

After that I still needed to settle things with Mary. In April I called her up and asked if we could talk, and we decided to meet in a public place. I asked her why she had canceled on the dance and she said that she didn’t like having her picture taken. Apparently my asking her to pose for me led her to think I wanted more than just friendship.

She also said that her father was out of work and that she didn’t have enough money to buy a new dress for the dance. I said I didn’t care about that kind of thing and that I would have been happy enough if she had worn a particular dress she had worn to school once or twice.  Let's face it, I would not have bought a new suit, or even a new tie for the dance, so why should she have had to buy a new formal, and expensive, dress?

We talked about some other things and she told me about how disappointed she was the year before because she could not try out for a choral group because she had injured her leg. All in all it was a great discussion from which we both learned a lot, and we became better friends as a result.

Winter changed to spring and the school year neared its end.  It had been an eventful year, with good and bad things happening.  I was changing, too.  Making so many new friends was a great blessing, but one that brought new challenges.

For all the good, I had a few blind spots; I had so many doubts about myself, I could not see that I had value as an individual. I told myself that nobody had challenges like I did -- not as many and not as difficult -- and my junior year had given me a long list of challenges.

The biggest mistake I made that year, however, was putting my new friends up on pedestals.  There had to be something special about these friends who had reached out to me because, I told myself, there was nothing particularly special about me.  In recent years I finally took my friends down from those pedestals; while I still think there was something special about them -- I knew others who went to the same high school at different times who did not have the same experience -- but there was indeed something special about me, too.

I had done such a small and simple thing in taking initiative that I must have minimized it's importance in my mind, but great things were truly brought to pass because of it.  And many of my new friends would tell me that I was special.  I do not say that to brag, but rather to remind myself that my role in what happened was important, and to remind myself that I did and do have value.

The biggest lie is that an individual, be it you, me, or someone else, is worthless. We are all God's children and as such we all have value.  Anything that tells us that we are not special comes from the Father of all Lies.  Knowing that simple fact should make it easier to reject the voices that say we are not good enough.

I attended a baptism recently, and I stood in the circle as the candidate was confirmed a member of the church.  In the blessing the father said to the little girl that even if she was the only one who needed the Savior to go to Gethsemane and to Golgotha, the He would still have gone, because He lover her that much.  That is also how much He loves each of us, and how much He loves all of God's children.  We should never forget this simple truth.