I've heard this pioneer story from time to time and have always enjoyed it for it's simple message. I heard it again on Sunday and was reminded of my previous post on service Can the Lord count on me to help those who need it--can I be his hands?

This story comes from a journal entry of pioneer Joseph Millett, who with his large family was suffering through some very difficult times.

"One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall's folks was out of bread, had none that day.

I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.

Says I, 'Brother Hall, are you out of flour?'

'Brother Millett, we have none.'

'Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided it and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.'

Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.

'Well Brother Hall, you needn't bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don't owe me for it.'

That night Joseph Millett recorded a remarkable sentence in his journal:
'You can't tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett.'

No Hands But Our Hands

So I was sitting in Sacrament Meeting today, juggling Coleman on my lap with one hand and scrambling around in my scriptures with the other. It was the time of sacrament meeting where reverence is important and I usually spend it trying to keep my kids from being rowdy. Well, today I wanted to actually block out the world for a little bit and put a little drop of oil in my ever-drying lamp. So to get on with my story I was turning the pages in my scriptures looking for a scripture that might inspire me and I turned to James 1:27 which reads:
"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction and to keep himself unspotted from the world."
I read the verse, it is one of my favorites, and the first point really stuck out to me--Pure religion is to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction. I thought about it for a little while and then moved on to another scripture which was Hebrews 12:12:
"Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down and the feeble knees."
Hmmmm was I seeing a message here? Was the Lord trying to tell me something about my lackluster attempts at serving my fellowmen? Well, as that thought entered my mind it was immediately confirmed. I really have a testimony of service and it's role in drawing us closer to our Heavenly Father. As I type this I'm reminded of the story told about a statue of the Savior.

Shortly after the culmination of World War II, a devastated
city in England began it's heartbreaking and wearying
work of restoration. In the old city square had
stood a large statue of Jesus Christ with his hands outspread
in an attitude of invitation. On the pedestal were
carved the words "Come unto me."
In the process of the restoration of the statue with the aid
of master artist and sculptors, the figure was eventually
reassembled except for the hands of which no fragments
could be discovered anywhere in the surrounding rubble.
Someone made the suggestion that the artist would have
to fashion new hands since the former hands could not be
found.
Later came a public protest, couched in the words NO,
Leave Him without hands! So, today in the square of
that English city the restored statue of Christ stands
without hands and on the base of it are carved the words,
"Christ has no hands, but ours!"
I love that story because it is so true! We are His tools in bringing about His purposes. When the Lord wants something done He sends one of us! I know this--so why am I so terrible at serving my fellowmen? At lifting the hands that do hang down and the feeble knees?
Well, sitting there in sacrament meeting I felt ashamed of myself. Ashamed of not putting myself out there to be an answer to someone's prayer. Ashamed of my inability to hear the Lord's call at times when it has come. In those few minutes, I can say that I was sufficiently humbled :) I AM the Lord's hands! So today, I sit with a new resolve to be the hands that the Lord needs--to see the needs of those around me and be there to lift up and enlighten. I pray the Lord will increase my courage and my ablility to hear Him when He beckons.
As a sidenote, the rest of the meeting entailed some talks by a couple of sr returned missionaries who served in the London England Temple. I was reminded of another important way in giving service by attending the temple--something I must also improve on! I'm definitely a work in progress! And yeah, you wanna guess the closing song? "Because I have been given much". Sometimes I think the Lord must feel like He has to hit me over the head to get my attention! And I think I've got the bump to prove it!

Mothering

Read the entire talk here

Finishing

Heard this story in Sacrament meeting today and loved it so I thought I'd share:

Unlike Carl Lewis and Daley Thompson, Derek Redmond is not a name that conjures up memories of Olympic gold medals. But it is Redmond who defines the essence of the human spirit.
Redmond arrived at the 1992 Olympic Summer Games in Barcelona determined to win a medal in the 400. The color of the medal was meaningless; he just wanted to win one. Just one.
He had been forced to withdraw from the 400 at the 1988 Games in Seoul, only 10 minutes before the race, because of an Achilles tendon injury. He then underwent five surgeries over the next year. This was the same runner who had shattered the British 400-meter record at age 19. So when the 1992 Games arrived, this was his time, his moment, his stage, to show the world how good he was and who he was.
Derek's father Jim had accompanied him to Barcelona, just as he did for all world competitions. They were as close as a father and son could be. Inseparable, really. The best of friends. When Derek ran, it was as if his father were running right next to him.
The day of the race arrives. Father and son reminisce about what it took for Derek to get to this point. They talk about ignoring past heartbreaks, past failures. They agree that if anything bad happens, no matter what it is, Derek has to finish the race, period.
The top four finishers in each of the two semifinal heats qualify for the Olympic final. As race time approaches for the semifinal 400 heat, Jim heads up to his seat at the top of Olympic Stadium, not far from where the Olympic torch was lit just a few days earlier. He is wearing a T-shirt that reads, "Have you hugged your foot today?"
The stadium is packed with 65,000 fans, bracing themselves for one of sport's greatest and most exciting spectacles. The race begins and Redmond breaks from the pack and quickly seizes the lead. "Keep it up, keep it up," Jim says to himself.
Down the backstretch, only 175 meters away from finishing, Redmond is a shoo-in to make the finals. Suddenly, he hears a pop. In his right hamstring. He pulls up lame, as if he had been shot.
"Oh, no," Jim says to himself. His face pales. His leg quivering, Redmond begins hopping on one leg, then slows down and falls to the track. As he lays on the track, clutching his right hamstring, a medical personnel unit runs toward him. At the same time, Jim Redmond, seeing his son in trouble, races down from the top row of the stands, sidestepping people, bumping into others. He has no credential to be on the track, but all he thinks about is getting to his son, to help him up. "I wasn't going to be stopped by anyone," he later tells the media.
On the track, Redmond realizes his dream of an Olympic medal is gone. Tears run down his face. "All I could think was, 'I'm out of the Olympics -- again,'" he would say.
As the medical crew arrives with a stretcher, Redmond tells them, "No, there's no way I'm getting on that stretcher. I'm going to finish my race."
Then, in a moment that will live forever in the minds of millions, Redmond lifts himself to his feet, ever so slowly, and starts hobbling down the track. The other runners have finished the race, with Steve Lewis of the U.S. winning the contest in 44.50. Suddenly, everyone realizes that Redmond isn't dropping out of the race by hobbling off to the side of the track. No, he is actually continuing on one leg. He's going to attempt to hobble his way to the finish line. All by himself. All in the name of pride and heart.
Slowly, the crowd, in total disbelief, rises and begins to roar. The roar gets louder and louder. Through the searing pain, Redmond hears the cheers, but "I wasn't doing it for the crowd," he would later say. "I was doing it for me. Whether people thought I was an idiot or a hero, I wanted to finish the race. I'm the one who has to live with it."
One painful step at a time, each one a little slower and more painful than the one before, his face twisted with pain and tears, Redmond limps onward, and the crowd, many in tears, cheer him on.
Suddenly, Jim Redmond finally gets to the bottom of the stands, leaps over the railing, avoids a security guard, and runs out to his son, with two security people chasing after him. "That's my son out there," he yells back to security, "and I'm going to help him."
Finally, with Derek refusing to surrender and painfully limping along the track, Jim reaches his son at the final curve, about 120 meters from the finish, and wraps his arm around his waist.
"I'm here, son," Jim says softly, hugging his boy. "We'll finish together." Derek puts his arms around his father's shoulders and sobs.
Together, arm in arm, father and son, with 65,000 people cheering, clapping and crying, finish the race, just as they vowed they would. A couple steps from the finish line, and with the crowd in an absolute frenzy, Jim releases the grip he has on his son, so Derek could cross the finish line by himself. Then he throws his arms around Derek again, both crying, along with everyone in the stands and on TV.
"I'm the proudest father alive," he tells the press afterwards, tears in his eyes. "I'm prouder of him than I would have been if he had won the gold medal. It took a lot of guts for him to do what he did."

"Make up your mind to be happy-even when you don't have money, even when you don't have a clear complexion, even when you don't have the Nobel prize. Some of the happiest people I know have none of these things the world insists are necessary for satisfaction and joy. Why are they happy? I suppose it is because they don't listen very well. Or they listen too well-to the things their hearts tell them. They glory in the beauty of the earth. They glory in the rivers and the canyons and the call of the meadowlark. They glory in the love of their families, the stumbling steps of a toddler, the wise and tender smile of the elderly. They glory in honest labor. They glory in the scriptures. They glory in the presence of the Holy Ghost. One thing I know for certain: the time we have here goes by far too quickly. Don't waste any more time sitting on the bench watching life pass you by." Joseph B. Wirthlin "Lessons Learned in the Journey of Life"

I read this quote today and felt like it was ment for me. This life does pass far too quickly. May I not forget to enjoy it!

PS Do you love that tree picture or what? I'm stealing it for my sidebar :)