In March I chronicled a lesson Isaac taught me during one of his basketball games. Now I feel inspired, compelled (I'm not sure how to define it), to describe a lesson I am learning from Ben. I mentioned a couple of months ago that we now know that Ben has an underlying physical ailment that goes beyond the injury to his back. The hyper-mobility syndrome he has been diagnosed with is the real problem (the back injury seemed to push it to the forefront). As soon as we finally knew what the problem was, however, it was as if Ben's body said, in effect, "Now that you know, I'm going to give you a demonstration of what this syndrome is all about!" In rapid succession, several of Ben's joints (knee, jaw, wrist, and ankle) were attacked by a manifestation of the syndrome. I don't know how else to describe it other than to say those joints have now become more elastic, making them more mobile, which causes him a great deal of pain. Movements Ben used to make with ease have now become difficult. For example, if he tries to use his effected wrist for leverage (like pushing off a couch to stand up), that wrist won't remain firm but will buckle beneath his weight and cause him pain. Jennifer and I have watched helplessly as things we used to take for granted with him have now become hard for him to accomplish.
Now that you have this background, I will mention that as a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, Ben has the opportunity to officiate at the sacrament table each week. As part of his priesthood duties, his particular office allows him to break the bread and partake in saying one of the sacrament prayers each week. His quorum, at the moment, consists of two young men (including himself) and two recent converts who have been ordained to the Aaronic priesthood. In order to have three people at the table to help in the breaking of the bread, he has taken to asking me to join him.
Not long after his back became a problem, he quickly found that standing and bending to break the bread in preparation for the sacrament was not something he could easily do any longer. At first, Ben declined participating because of the pain he experienced. Then our former bishop, who was serving as a counselor in the young men's presidency, came to me and said there was no statements in the general handbook stating that a priest had to stand in order to break the bread. If something could be found that would allow Ben to sit in front of the sacrament table and break the bread, this would be completely acceptable. A solution quickly presented itself when we were able to borrow a walker with wheels from a family in our ward. Ben would transfer himself into the seat of the walker and maneuver the walker in front of the table to accomplish his task. While this solution helped, it still caused some discomfort because Ben had to turn the walker to the side in order to be close to the trays which caused his left side to be closest to the table. He is dominantly right handed and would have to reach across his body in order to break the bread, which still caused pain.
After several months of this arrangement, the hyper-mobility syndrome began to manifest itself in the ways I described above. When Ben's left ankle began giving him problems, it became more difficult to use his feet to turn the walker toward the sacrament table. Not long afterward, a second solution was offered--another member brought a folding stool from home for Ben to use. This new solution allowed him to face the table and break the bread and hand the trays to the deacons and teachers more naturally. Now, his left wrist is acting up which is making breaking the bread more difficult with that hand.
The lesson Ben is teaching me is this: today, as we were breaking the bread, I could tell he was struggling a bit more than the last few weeks. He was groaning a bit as he worked to complete his assigned trays. I glanced over at him and asked if he was okay. He shook his head quickly, but continued on with his work. After he had said the prayer over the bread and we had returned to the regular seats in front of the sacrament table, Ben leaned over to me and whispered, "It's a process, but we got it done." The time it takes for Ben to accomplish a specific task may be longer than it was before, but Ben is teaching me that if the task is worthwhile, the length of time doesn't matter as long as the task is properly accomplished. Also, Ben is teaching me (reminding me) the necessity of endurance. Nephi taught of the importance of baptism, but also said that baptism was "the gate" allowing entrance to the strait and narrow path not "the end" of the journey. He said, "after ye have gotten into this strait and narrow path, I would ask if all is done? Behold, I say unto you, Nay" (2 Nephi 31:19). Nephi continues, "Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life" (2 Nephi 31:20).
The archaic definition of the word strait is defined by the Merriam-Webster website as "strict, rigorous, and narrow" (see this link). In this context, I am inclined to consider a mountain hiking path. The path has twists and turns, rough places and smooth, well defined areas and those that aren't, steep inclines and quick descents. Sometimes it's difficult to stay on the path; sometimes it's hard not to want to turn around and return to familiar surroundings; but the destination is always worth the trip. When reaching the next ridge and finding several more ridges to navigate, it may be hard not to wonder if the journey is worth the effort. In a conference address in the April 2012 conference, President Henry B. Eyring said, "Many of you are now passing through physical, mental, and emotional trials that could cause you to cry out as did one great and faithful servant of God I knew well. His nurse heard him exclaim from his bed of pain, 'When I have tried all my life to be good, why has this happened to me?'" President Eyring then reminded us "You and I have faith that the way to rise through and above trials is to believe that there is a 'balm in Gilead' and that the Lord has promised, 'I will not … forsake thee.' That is what President Thomas S. Monson has taught us to help us and those we serve in what seem lonely and overwhelming trials. But President Monson has also wisely taught that a foundation of faith in the reality of those promises takes time to build" (Ensign, May 2012, 23).
"It's a process," Ben said to me. This life is "a process" as well. Father in Heaven has had moments when He was blessed me with help, but has also allowed me to struggle. As difficult as it may be for me to watch him go through this "process" at times, I am beginning to believe I will be better for it as I try to help Ben where I can and let him struggle at other times in order to strengthen his faith--and mine. I am grateful for my sons and the things they teach me. :)
The lesson Ben is teaching me is this: today, as we were breaking the bread, I could tell he was struggling a bit more than the last few weeks. He was groaning a bit as he worked to complete his assigned trays. I glanced over at him and asked if he was okay. He shook his head quickly, but continued on with his work. After he had said the prayer over the bread and we had returned to the regular seats in front of the sacrament table, Ben leaned over to me and whispered, "It's a process, but we got it done." The time it takes for Ben to accomplish a specific task may be longer than it was before, but Ben is teaching me that if the task is worthwhile, the length of time doesn't matter as long as the task is properly accomplished. Also, Ben is teaching me (reminding me) the necessity of endurance. Nephi taught of the importance of baptism, but also said that baptism was "the gate" allowing entrance to the strait and narrow path not "the end" of the journey. He said, "after ye have gotten into this strait and narrow path, I would ask if all is done? Behold, I say unto you, Nay" (2 Nephi 31:19). Nephi continues, "Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life" (2 Nephi 31:20).
The archaic definition of the word strait is defined by the Merriam-Webster website as "strict, rigorous, and narrow" (see this link). In this context, I am inclined to consider a mountain hiking path. The path has twists and turns, rough places and smooth, well defined areas and those that aren't, steep inclines and quick descents. Sometimes it's difficult to stay on the path; sometimes it's hard not to want to turn around and return to familiar surroundings; but the destination is always worth the trip. When reaching the next ridge and finding several more ridges to navigate, it may be hard not to wonder if the journey is worth the effort. In a conference address in the April 2012 conference, President Henry B. Eyring said, "Many of you are now passing through physical, mental, and emotional trials that could cause you to cry out as did one great and faithful servant of God I knew well. His nurse heard him exclaim from his bed of pain, 'When I have tried all my life to be good, why has this happened to me?'" President Eyring then reminded us "You and I have faith that the way to rise through and above trials is to believe that there is a 'balm in Gilead' and that the Lord has promised, 'I will not … forsake thee.' That is what President Thomas S. Monson has taught us to help us and those we serve in what seem lonely and overwhelming trials. But President Monson has also wisely taught that a foundation of faith in the reality of those promises takes time to build" (Ensign, May 2012, 23).
"It's a process," Ben said to me. This life is "a process" as well. Father in Heaven has had moments when He was blessed me with help, but has also allowed me to struggle. As difficult as it may be for me to watch him go through this "process" at times, I am beginning to believe I will be better for it as I try to help Ben where I can and let him struggle at other times in order to strengthen his faith--and mine. I am grateful for my sons and the things they teach me. :)
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