When Love is Love

  Love words can mean Real love or no love And everything in between And so it’s not the words. Could it be the deeds How we behave Everything we do And everything we don’t? Isn’t it the kindnesses Caring for, forgiveness of Or could it mean being close to Understanding of or countless others? “I love you” Is most deeply a feeling Then an activity And least of all words, And even the words Can stop the loving Or fail to reassure Or even push away But when the feelings Form the words Words are not merely heard But are seen and touched So without the feelings All the rest All that’s said and all that’s done Have nothing to do with loving.

 November 19, 1998 "For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; (for) we look not at the things which we have seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:18). My father loved drama, and he himself played many roles in his lifetime. He was a husband, father, grandfather, businessman, friend, Bishop, churchman. And except for his role as husband (where he was allowed to be what he was), I am not sure he was ever really comfortable with the other roles he played. While he gave all that he was to each, he was always aware that he was just a man, and that is what I would like to talk about today--My father, the Man--"...the things which are not seen...." And while some of what I will say is only my observations and my experiences with him, in another way I may be the most qualified to talk ab...

J'aime le analogie de ma vie avec l'envers d'une tapisserie. Elle semble n'être rien d'autre qu'un fouillis de fils emmêlés, effilochés, parfois noués et apparemment aléatoires. Mais lorsque vous retournez la tapisserie, vous pouvez voir l'art, les couleurs riches, la texture et les motifs qui la composent.  Mon Père céleste n’a rien tissé dans ma vie qui ait été gaspillé : pas un seul fil d’expérience ni une seule personne que j’ai rencontrée.   Chaque personne que j’ai rencontrée, chaque expérience que j’ai vécue et chaque porte que j’ai franchie ont été le résultat d’un Père aimant tissant des expériences et des personnes dans ma vie. 

Monday, June 5, 1961--the hardest day of my life. I did not heed Annie's advice to not come down to the Hotel Utah, from where she was leaving today. I needed to see her one more time, but she was right. There were so many people there, family, almost the entire South High Pep Club, other exchange students, friends, and she didn't really have time for me. She understood what it would do to me, and she was right. I did get a chance to give her the bracelet I had bought for her, and hug her, but that was it. When the bus left, I was totally lost and so sad, and felt all alone--Annie Martin was gone, and I had no idea if I would ever see her again. Annie had written in my yearbook: "For life is but a sleep, a walking shadow.... Yes, this is true. After life is death. After land is the ocean. For me, the ocean means death (not because I don't know how to swim) but because the ocean is going to take me away from America, from my friends, from my American parents, and from y...