Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Wait... what's the date?


Ladies and Germs... it's Missionary Monday. For anyone wondering why I'm so freakin pumped for Monday, Monday is P-Day (preparation day) for missionaries. On P-day missionaries prepare themselves for the week to come. They do all kinds of important things on this day, but getting letters from them may or may not be my favorite part of the week. I shall neither confirm or deny.

A while back, my brother (currently serving in the Mexico Hermosillo Mission) sent me this poem in response to a rather a whiny (and lengthy) email from me. I had let the previous week weigh down on me and my sense of urgency to serve was wilting. Like a day old french fry. 

That Monday, he wrote (Brother- sorry not sorry if you aren't vurreh keen on me quoting you here):
"...I say all this because you know what we've all been through. The Mauna Kea highs and the hell-hole lows. You know how hard it's been, yet how fulfilling it's been (and you know exactly what it is)."
And brought the email home with this:

           After All We Can Do
I’d been in that hole for a very long time –
In the dark and the damp, in the cold and the slime.
The shaft was above me; I could see it quite clear,
But there’s no way I ever could reach it from here.
Nor could I remember the world way up there,
So I lost all my hope and gave into despair.

I knew nothing but darkness, the floors, and the walls,
When from off in the distance I heard someone call,
“Get up! Get ready! There’s nothing the matter!
Take rocks and take sticks and build up a fine ladder.”
This had never occurred to me, had not crossed my mind,
So I started to stack all the stones I could find.

When I ran out of stones, the old sticks were my goal,
For some way or another I’d get out of that hole.
So I soon had a ladder that was really quite tall,
And I thought, “I’ll soon leave this place once and for all!”
Then I climbed up my ladder, it was no easy chore –
For from lifting those boulders my shoulders were sore.

So I worked and I climbed and at last had to stop,
For my ladder stopped short – some ten feet from the top.
I climbed back down the ladder and felt all around,
But there were no more boulders nor sticks to be found.
I went back to my ladder and started to cry.
I’d done all I could do; I gave my best try.

But in spite of my work, in this hole I must die,
And all I could do was to sit and think, “Why?”
Was my ladder too short? Or my hole much too deep?
Then from way up on high came a voice: “Do not weep.”
And then hope, love, and faith entered my chest,
As the voice said to me that I’d done my best.

He said, “Nothing’s the matter.  There’s reason to hope.
Just climb up your ladder; I’ll throw down my rope.
You have worked very hard, and your labor’s been rough,
But the ladder you’ve built is at last tall enough.”
I climbed up the ladder, then climbed up the cord.
When I stood at the top, there stood the Lord.

I’ve never been happier; my struggle was done.
I blinked in the brightness that came from the Son.
I fell to the ground; his feet did I kiss.
I cried, “What can I do to repay thee for this?”
He looked all around Him – there were holes in the ground.
They had people inside, and were seen all around.

There were thousands of holes that were damp, dark, and deep.
Then the Lord turned to me and He said, “Feed my sheep.”
Then He went on His way to help other lost souls.
And I got right to work, calling down to the holes,
“Get up!  Get ready! There’s nothing the matter!
Take rocks and take sticks and build up a find ladder!”

It now was my turn to spread the good word.
The most glorious message that man ever heard.
That there’s One who is willing to save one and all,
And we’ve got to be ready when He gives the call.
He’ll pull us all out of the hole that we’re in,
And save all our souls from death and from sin.

So do not lose faith; there is reason to hope:
Just build up your ladder; He’ll throw down His rope.



Needless to say, this was exactly what I needed to read (and reread and reread and reread). I am never surprised, and always amazed at the sharpness of Heavenly Father's ears to our needs. Coming from anyone else, this poem would've been nice. Maybe touching (maybe). But there is no where on earth that I could hide something from my brother. We never really address this (cause Goonies never say die), but he is my brother/sister/best friend/other half/ride or die/rice to my poke. So... Thanks Brother, I owe you one.

Como se dice..... Hurrah for Israel!

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