j . a . m . k . m . b: The Fragility of Life

Pres. Thomas S. Monson, Oct 2008

"This is our one and only chance at mortal life—here and now. The longer we live, the greater is our realization that it is brief. Opportunities come, and then they are gone. I believe that among the greatest lessons we are to learn in this short sojourn upon the earth are lessons that help us distinguish between what is important and what is not. I plead with you not to let those most important things pass you by as you plan for that illusive and non-existent future when you will have time to do all that you want to do. Instead, find joy in the journey—now.

... Professor Harold Hill, one of the principal characters in [The Music Man], voices a caution that I share with you. Says he, “You pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you’ve collected a lot of empty yesterdays.”

f you have children who are grown and gone, in all likelihood you have occasionally felt pangs of loss and the recognition that you didn’t appreciate that time of life as much as you should have. Of course, there is no going back, but only forward. Rather than dwelling on the past, we should make the most of today, of the here and now, doing all we can to provide pleasant memories for the future.

Stresses in our lives come regardless of our circumstances. We must deal with them the best we can. But we should not let them get in the way of what is most important—and what is most important almost always involves the people around us. Often we assume that they must know how much we love them. But we should never assume; we should let them know. Wrote William Shakespeare, “They do not love that do not show their love.”³ We will never regret the kind words spoken or the affection shown. Rather, our regrets will come if such things are omitted from our relationships with those who mean the most to us.

Send that note to the friend you’ve been neglecting; give your child a hug; give your parents a hug; say “I love you” more; always express your thanks. Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved. Friends move away, children grow up, loved ones pass on. It’s so easy to take others for granted, until that day when they’re gone from our lives and we are left with feelings of “what if” and “if only.” Said author Harriet Beecher Stowe, “The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”

In the 1960s, during the Vietnam War, Church member Jay Hess, an airman, was shot down over North Vietnam. For two years his family had no idea whether he was dead or alive. His captors in Hanoi eventually allowed him to write home but limited his message to less than 25 words. What would you and I say to our families if we were in the same situation—not having seen them for over two years and not knowing if we would ever see them again? Wanting to provide something his family could recognize as having come from him and also wanting to give them valuable counsel, Brother Hess wrote—and I quote: “These things are important: temple marriage, mission, college. Press on, set goals, write history, take pictures twice a year.”

Said one well-known author: “Both abundance and lack [of abundance] exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend . . . when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present—love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature, and personal pursuits that bring us [happiness]—the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth.”

Said the Lord in a revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith, “In nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things.”¹⁰ May we be found among those who give our thanks to our Heavenly Father. If ingratitude be numbered among the serious sins, then gratitude takes its place among the noblest of virtues.

Brothers and sisters, my sincere prayer is that we may adapt to the changes in our lives, that we may realize what is most important, that we may express our gratitude always and thus find joy in the journey."

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The Fragility of Life

Less than 6 weeks ago, my former mission companion and friend, Jake Hoffman, was diagnosed with cancer, and he talked optimistically about beating it even though it was going to be a long journey. Yesterday he died. Not living close to Jake, I didn't know that his body reacted badly to chemotherapy, and I didn't know he was on life support. I knew he had cancer, but I didn't think it would take him, let alone this soon.

Jake was one of those people who could make anyone laugh. He was goofy and funny and confident and vulnerable all rolled into one likable personality. I really feel sad that I will no longer benefit from his wit and charm. I also really feel sad that I had a lot of thoughts to go visit him over Christmas break before he knew of his illness, and I didn't do it. What a missed opportunity.

I spent one month on my mission with Jake in a run down little mining town in the middle of Nowhere Australia called Broken Hill, or affectionately referred to as "Broken Hell". I'm not sure that I would have stayed sane there without Hoffy, and I'm very thankful for that.

I wear a Livestrong bracelet, which is to celebrate cancer survivors in my life - Dad most particularly. Now it also will help remind me to live strong for Jake too.

I'm a better person for having known Jake Hoffman.

j . a . m . k . m . b

Pres. Thomas S. Monson, Oct 2008

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The Fragility of Life

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