Funny how the mind picks things to ponder on. This morning will waiting for Roscoe and Enos to finish their “business” outside, my mind drifted to how we judge people, we being me.
I try really hard to walk the path my Savior, Jesus Christ, asks. He commands us to be merciful. Yes we obey he laws of the land and execute righteous judgement in prosecution of criminals doing so, but within ourselves and while dealing with offenders our charge command is to be merciful.
Why is that? Does it matter? Not really. I think though in addition to the fact that in order to being able to receive the gift of mercy ourselves we must be merciful, there is another piece to it. We cannot see inside of an individual like out Savior can. We have not watched their daily struggles or successes, and seen what brought them to this point
Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables comes to mind. Jean ValJean, imprisoned for stealing a loaf of bread.. He was not a mean or a cruel thief, he stole because his nephew was starving. We received a huge prison sentence for this. When released he could not find work because of his past. Eventually going to a parish, he steals the silver. This time however, the priest shows him mercy, and explains to the constables that the silver was a gift, and even goes so far as to give him a candlestick that he missed. Because of this kindness, not only ValJean’s life was changed, but many others.
I am not saying if someone breaks in to our homes to say, “oh you forgot this.” I am saying that we can be more freely forgiving, more free to offer the hand of fellowship, free to serve those that are least serve-able
I could be completely wrong in this hypothesis, but I feel if people exhibited more charity and mercy, there would not be a need for so much “justice”. Some of those, especially the youth, that are acting out, and fall into the jaws of justice would feel compelled to change because they would see their worth as human beings and as sons and daughters of God.
Such would be my hope.
Thanks for reading. Have a wonderful Saturday. ~Hope
First thing this morning the word to one of my favorite hymns kept running through my mind.
Savior, may I learn to love thee,
Walk the path that thou hast shown,
Pause to help and lift another,
Finding strength beyond my own.
Savior, may I learn to love thee-
Lord, I would follow thee.
Who am I to judge another
When I walk imperfectly?
In the quiet heart is hidden
Sorrow that the eye can’t see.
Who am I to judge another?
Lord, I would follow thee.
I would be my brother’s keeper;
I would learn the healer’s art.
To the wounded and the weary
I would show a gentle heart.
I would be my brother’s keeper-
Lord, I would follow thee.
Savior, may I love my brother
As I know thou lovest me,
Find in thee my strength, my beacon,
For thy servant I would be.
Savior, may I love my brother-
Lord, I would follow thee.
I had decided to write my whole Sunday post about this song. It teaches so much about service and who our brothers and sisters are.
Then at church today we sang another favorite, but we generally only sing the first three verses, the chorister today was prompted to sing all seven verses. At the conclusion of the song, there was not a dry eye in the room, or one that I could see through my tears.
As I have thought about the two songs together, realize that the theme is serving one another, and not knowing what is hidden that the eyes cannot see. The song touched everyone in a different way, for different reasons.
A poor wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whereto he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love; I knew not why.
Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered; not a word he spake,
Just perishing for want of bread.
I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again.
Mine was an angel’s portion then,
For while I fed with eager haste,
The crust was manna to my taste.
I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.
The heedless water mocked his thirst;
He heard it, saw it hurrying on.
I ran and raised the suff’rer up;
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
Dipped and returned it running o’er;
I drank and never thirsted more.
’Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
A winter hurricane aloof.
I heard his voice abroad and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof.
I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest
And laid him on my couch to rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.
Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side.
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.
In pris’n I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him ’mid shame and scorn.
My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die.
The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
But my free spirit cried, “I will!”
Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise.
The tokens in His hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.
He spake, and my poor name He named,
“Of Me thou hast not been ashamed.
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto Me.”
Through out the song I pictured several people, but during the prison scene in my mind I saw one person. “Him”. As I sang the words, “He asked if I for him would die”. I knew the answer. I sobbed as I sang the words that echoed my own reply to “him”. I would and I knew I would. As terrified as I get when I see him, I do not want anything bad to happen to him.
My Mother was one of the speakers. She was sitting on the stand, I in the congregation and we locked eyes, I sobbed. I did not know what my face registered. I know when “he” usually comes into my mind or my PTSD kicks in Little Hope is evident on my face. I did not feel that so much, it was just the realization within myself that I would die for this friend. Then singing the next verse, was very overwhelming.
After Church and a visit to see my aunt, when we were about to turn into our drive we saw “him”. I was already holding my husband’s hand. I squeezed it tightly afraid to let go. My breathing increased. The words to that verse started going through my head over and over and over again. When I would allow myself to move on to the next verse I calmed down enough to get out of the car.
Hump Day! I picture the camel in the Geico commercial dancing his way down my hall.
Hump Day held doctor visits 3 and 4 of this week…only two more to go.
Visit 4 was a routine check up. Gratefully. Visit 3 follow-up on my nerve conduction studies.
I found out that the pain is not all in my head. Bilateral, okay just use the normal words, moderate to severe carpal tunnel in both hands. Then I watched way too much Harry Potter, or at least that is how I remember how to say the next thing they found in my neck–Cervical Radiculitis. Sounds just like one of the spells. My Mother reminders the name by saying everything that happens to me is ridiculous. True statement. So I suppose a spell has been cast that truly ridiculous things happen to me. They said once I am finished with all the testing, I am going to be tired of tests. I am passes that point already. They are going to figure out what is compressing the nerve root and also figure out what is going on in my lumbar region.
Mother and I were blessed with the opportunity to spend a few moments with our dear friend in ICU. She is such a sweet dear lady. I ask for prayers for her, she surely needs them. She was so very restless when we went in her room. As we talked to her Mother suggested we sing to her. We sang hymns, she calmed and started to relax. When we would stop she would raise her arm over her head, anxiously. When we did, she let her arm rest beside her. I know she is in there. I know she is. You could see it in her eyes today. I cannot imagine what she is feeling and not being able to express what she feels. I can only imagine how she felt knowing that we understood that she wanted us to keep singing.
I am grateful to have been able to share those moments with my amazing Mother and my sweet friend.
I have always loved this song and been inspired by it.
This article was found in the Huffington Post.
The Utah Food Bank received the most memorable donation in their history… but it’s not what you think. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was from someone very special, making the donation incredibly touching.
Three little kids, Aidan, Sofia and Zach, decided to give their hard-earned money to people in need. They sent in a check for $36.50 to the food bank along with a touching note. This is what it said:
“Dear Utah food bank,
I wanted to contribute the money I made from my lemonade stand to help feed the hungry.”
The Utah Food Bank was so impressed with the children’s genorosity, they posted the letter and story on Facebook, where it received lots of shares and like.
Yesterday I received and email from Happify.com that stated, “In a study by scientists at the University of British Columbia, participants were given envelopes of either $5 or $20, and instructed to spend the money on themselves or on someone else. The result? Participants who blew the bills on others were happier than those who’d spent the cash treating themselves—regardless of the amount.”
It warmed my heart that sweet Aidan, Sofia, and Zach served those in need. It touches me beyond words they worked for the money and then selflessly and charitably gave it away. I love that the letter is written by Aidan, what joy they must feel. That will be a feeling that stays with them and encourage them to continue to selflessly serve for the rest of their lives.
What tender examples they are!
When I think of kindness, I think of one lady. This woman emulates the Savior in her efforts to love an serve people. I can only wish to have inherited a drop of her charity. Yes, I am talking of my Mother.
The constant ringing of her home and cell phone from those who need a listening ear, a drive to town, a name on the prayer roll, whatever the task, she does it, and often feeling like she does not do enough. She is often visiting the needy and shut-ins, and calling them to make sure they are okay and let them know they are not forgotten.
Taking care of family members, including myself who have physical and emotional problems, also fills her plate. Her pay, jewels in her eternal crown, and love from those she serves…and exhaustion, but she keeps on going. The energizer bunny has nothing on my little Mother.
She does not serve only those she knows. She does not meet a stranger. If she sees a need, she reaches out and offers assistance. The other day we were out of town for one of my doctor appointments as we were driving through the parking lot I hear Mother say, “Woops, oh no! Bless her heart.” She quickly pulled over, and hurried out of the van to help a little lady who had tripped on the sidewalk.
Her prayers are filled with requests for opportunities to serve, and when one is placed before her, she answers the call.
She has the patience of Job. She has needed it with me. With my health problems and my mental goliaths, I have not always been the easiest daughter. A few years back I had a ten and a half week long migraine, during that time I stayed with my parents. Some days I was so weak, in pain, and medicated that I could not feed or use the toilet by myself. Never once did she make me feel like a burden. We actually started calling their place my summer home because my major medical problems always happened in the summer and I would live with them while recovering.
I could go on and on about how great she is, but I do not want to be boastful. I am just very humbly grateful that I have such an amazing example of kindness and charity in my life and I get to call her Mother.