My article today is not long or profound; it is simply one of gratitude. A few weeks ago, I wrote about the example of my son, Matthew, who had suffered over the last three years from the effects of kidney failure, hemophilia, hepatitis, West Nile Virus, cancer, respiratory failure and grand mal seizures. After he had survived all of these maladies, and when, after multiple attempts and failures to find a matching donor, he finally was scheduled for a kidney transplant only to lose the opportunity hours before surgery because of a rare blood chemistry shift. Amazingly, the response of Matt and Kristin, his wife, was to regroup around their faith, declare their allegiance to God, and move forward toward the promised miracle.

But nevertheless, we were faced with a dilemma. The possibility of a matching kidney now seemed more remote than ever. Over the last year, we had tried almost every family member and come up short. On top of everything else, Matt had developed antibodies to eleven common antigens. Essentially, he is allergic to most kidneys. Remarkably, his sister, Katie, emerged as a perfect match, like an identical twin, but she was rejected twice because the anatomy of her kidneys made harvesting one of them risky. But she was not to be denied. After Matt’s latest disappointment on March 5th, she tried again. The family had prayed and fasted one more time, asking for a miracle. Several days later, the surgeons huddled and determined that the head surgeon could, indeed, perform the surgery on Katie, and she was offered the position.

And just like that, we had a donor!

The day after Matt’s latest disappointment, I observed Matt and Kristin’s response and wrote an article for Meridian called, “Why I Believe in God.” The article referenced the title of Matt’s journal and Kristin’s and his declaration of faith. In response to the article, our family was suddenly overwhelmed with love from well-wishers all over the world. Offers to help poured in. Some readers shared their stories or found strength in Matt and Kristin’s story. Others placed his name on temple rolls, prayed, and entered into fasts. We felt your strength. We were exhausted, and you buoyed us up. I am convinced that this is the condition of Zion-a situation of love and the absence of lack. Having written about this subject for years, I came away from this experience believing that there are many saints who could easily segue into the priesthood society of Zion at a moment’s notice, because they are already Zion people.

I am sitting here in the surgical waiting room with Buffie, my wife, Kristin, Matt’s wife, and Jason Purdie, Katie’s husband. Kristin just took a call. The surgeons have just removed Katie’s kidney successfully, and they are preparing it to transplant into Matt. So far, so good. We are tired. We took a survey, and the most sleep any of us received last night was two hours. We started at 4:30 a.m, and now we have settled in for a five-hour wait. Jason and I gave blessings to both Katie and Matt. The image of the Israelites’ day of deliverance came to mind. I tried to imagine what it must have been like to one day be a slave and the next day become a free man, walking away forever from bondage. How many prayers and tears preceded that day of days? I suppose that many people lost faith that life could ever be different. Perhaps some people stopped praying all together, imaging that their prayers were vain. I am reminded of verses in Malachi 3.

Ye have said, It is vain to serve God: and what profit is it that we have kept his ordinance, and that we have walked mournfully before the Lord of hosts? And now we call the proud happy; yea, they that work wickedness are set up; yea, they that tempt God are even delivered.

That is to say, what good has it done us to serve God and keep the commandments? We look around us and see wicked people apparently happy and prospering, and yet we, who have tried to be obedient, suffer in the bondage of our circumstances, and see no relief in sight. Why are wicked delivered and we continue to languish in captivity? Where is our deliverance? Has God forgotten us?

Then, the Lord’s answer:

Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another: and the Lord hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name. And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him.

That is to say, the Lord absolutely remembers us. In fact, a book of remembrance is kept in heaven. This book records the sufferings, declarations of faith, acts of patience, and the manifestations of devotion to God. The Lord hearkens to such people. He knows and loves those who take upon themselves and remember his name despite all odds. God claims such people as his own; they are his jewels, his most prized possessions. He promises to spare them and care for them as would a father, who cares for his devoted son.

We are not forgotten after all. We are being “written up” and polished. When our story is completed and when our shine is the brightest, the Lord will declare, “It is enough; it is finished.” Then with a strong hand, he will deliver us. He is called the Deliverer for good reason. We can count on his fulfilling that title.

We have been in the surgical waiting room a long time now. Recently, Katie’s surgeon told us that her surgery went perfectly and she is in recovery. Matt’s surgery was going equally well, and he said he had “a good feeling.” Over the past roller-coaster year, after the eight tries and seven disappointments, I have wondered why. Why do Matt and Kristin have to continue going through this agony? Why so hard? Why the delay? Then the Spirit whispered, “This has more to do with your family’s education than for Matt and Kristin’s education.” Then I remembered that every eligible person has stepped forward and invested in the outcome. This is no small decision. Considering the donation of an organ is a sanctifying event that teaches you something about the Atonement that is very personal. You can never again look at people the same way. If giving my family an experience with the Atonement was the Lord’s goal, he certainly succeeded. We will never forget this event; we all took ownership.

Matt’s surgeon just met with Kristin and informed her that Katie’s kidney that had been placed in Matt is functioning perfectly, as if it was his own. What a miracle we have experienced! Only a few weeks ago, we felt as though we were doomed to the darkness of midnight, but now we see the sun breaking on the horizon.

As we gather up our things and wait for the call giving us permission to visit Katie and Matt, I am reminded of an incident when the apostles were attempting a sea crossing by night.

     And when even was come, the ship was in the midst of the sea, and he alone on the land.
     And he saw them toiling in rowing; for the wind was contrary unto them: and about the fourth watch of the night he cometh unto them, walking upon the sea, and would have passed by them.
     But when they saw him walking upon the sea, they supposed it had been a spirit, and cried out:
     For they all saw him, and were troubled. And immediately he talked with them, and saith unto them, Be of good cheer: it is I; be not afraid. And he went up unto them into the ship; and the wind ceased: and they were sore amazed in themselves beyond measure, and wondered.

When we find ourselves toiling in the midst of the sea, the wind contrary to us-when we are afraid and troubled, encompassed by the blackness of the “fourth watch,” the darkest time of night, when we cry out, he will speak to us “immediately,” saying, “Be of good cheer. It is I; be not afraid.” Then he will board our fragile vessel, take a seat beside us, calm the wind and storm, and navigate us safely to shore.

It is a truth. I have witnessed it time and again. And I have witnessed it once more today. Thank you for your prayers and support.

The Power of God

Falling off the Roof on Halloween Night

Some years ago, my son, Gavon and his friends, then teenagers, had tired of trick or treating. One of the boys was the son of my friend, Mike. His roof could be easily climbed and often was. It required little effort for a nimble 16-year-old boy to mount the fence, swing up a leg up and roll onto the roof.

Looking for more excitement that boring Halloween night, the boys had climbed to the peak of Mike’s roof and pondered the possibilities. Someone suggested that they rig a microphone to scare passing trick or treaters. There were no dissenters. The prank played out like this: target a victim below, scream into the microphone, and run to another side of the roof to hide. Their fun time went on for a long time.

The boys had just frightened another unsuspecting child and had raced to the far, dark side of the roof, when suddenly Gavon disappeared. His friends heard a hard thump twelve feet below. When I received a phone call from Mike’s dad, Ted, he only could say, “Gavon’s been hurt. It’s pretty bad.”

I arrived just as an ambulance was pulling up. My son was lying on his back, unconscious and groaning. When the paramedics shined a flashlight on him, I saw blood seeping from his ears. “He fell directly onto his head and right shoulder,” one of them said. I tried to reach out for him but was prevented. “He may have injured his neck or back,” they said.

Ted, anticipating my needing a friend, said, “I’ll go with you to the Emergency Room.”

At the hospital, doctors cut away Gavon’s shirt and began to work on him. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight. He was still bleeding from his ears. His face was swelling. His right collarbone had a large bump that appeared to be trying to protrude through the skin. I was told that it was broken badly.

“Does the bleeding from the ears mean head injury?” I asked.

“It’s the sign of concussion. It doesn’t look good.”

“What about his neck and back?”

“We’ve ordered a CAT scan.”

When the doctors left the room, I said to Ted, “I’m so afraid for my son. Will you help me give him a priesthood blessing?”

Ted is a man of great faith. Over the years he and I had been each other’s Home Teachers. We had given many blessings together. In other trying situations, I had seen him take his problems to the Lord with the perfect assurance that he would be heard and answered. On occasion, I had knelt with him and heard him pour out his heart in behalf of someone in need. This was to be another of those times. We stood on either side of my son’s bed and pled for a miracle of healing. Then we laid our hands on my son’s head and pronounced the blessing. When we finished, the doctors took Gavon to Radiology.

During that long night while we watched Gavon’s unconscious body being scanned, we talked of God, faith and past miracles. I didn’t know what would happen to my boy. Periodically I called home to discuss the situation with my wife, who was tending our little children. We tried to prepare ourselves for whatever news might come. Finally, a doctor came from a room and approached Ted and me with a handful of x-rays. His speech was clinical. He pointed out bones, growth plates and the obvious concussion.

Has the bleeding from the ears stopped?” I asked. “Is there any brain damage?”

“The bleeding has stopped and there is no apparent brain damage.”

“What about breaks? His back, his neck?”         

“No breaks.”

“Not even his collar bone?” I asked in astonishment.

“Nothing. He will probably have a headache for a few days.”

Gavon woke up 24 hours later with the predicted headache, not remembering anything expect standing on the edge of the dark roof. The bruising and swelling was gone within the week. Within a few days, he was back playing carefully with his friends.

The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him (Nahum 1:7)

The Knowledge of God

No Food in the House

In a particularly difficult financial time, I sought God for help. I suppose that I am like other people whose prayers are offered with more feeling in times of urgent need. I remember feeling ashamed that I had not previously put more effort into my relationship with God when money had been plentiful. Still, believing that such petitioning could help, I arose one morning and began to plead for help.

The answer came in a strange way. A thought entered my mind: “Your friend Paul (name changed) has no food in his house. Go and take him some money.”

“But I have so little,” I said aloud. Then, considering to whom I was talking, I asked, “How much?”

“One hundred dollars.”

I felt anxiety shoot through me. One hundred dollars was all I had in the bank! I searched myself hoping that I had made the whole thing up. I tried to pray again but felt only silence. Then, through the quiet I perceived a message. It seemed to say, Will you trust me or not?

Paul was a good man who had recently lost his income source and was struggling through very difficult financial times. No effort of his had seemed to be able to stop the rapid decline of his assets and reserves.

I dressed, drove to the bank, withdrew one hundred dollars and headed to Paul’s house. When I stuffed the money into his hand, he couldn’t hold back the tears. He said, “My wife and I totally ran out of food last night. We have been up since four o’clock this morning praying for a miracle.”

I never missed the one hundred dollars. One thing after another fell into place to sustain my family. But no miracle was as great as the one that occurred inside me when I discovered that God truly loves his children and often uses other people to prove it.

… let us fall now into the hand of the Lord; for his mercies are great…(2 Sam. 24:14).

The Love of God

Welcome Home

Two months after my daughter, Katie, and her husband, Jason, were married, Jason was diagnosed with Crohns Disease. In an emergency operation, eighteen inches of his intestine were removed. From that point forward, Crohns became a third member of their marriage and the hospital became their second home.

Home. That word became foreign to them. During their first years of marriage, strangling medical debt dictated their residences and moves. Now they had a baby girl. More poor health and meager finances forced them to move once again, this time in with family. The three of them crowded into two tiny bedrooms that Jason’s parents graciously provided in their house.

Later, when they thought that the Crohns was in remission, they decided that education was their only hope for normalcy. So they moved-again. This time to be students. Their excitement to finally be on their own was short-lived, however. Too soon, they discovered that the college program that they wanted required unethical practices of its students in exchange for grades. Jason and Katie had a choice to make: live their values or to leave school. They packed up and left.

When they returned to Jason’s parents’ home and the two cramped bedrooms, they felt defeated. Then Jason’s Crohns took a frightening and deep dive. Suddenly they had to face the difficult realization that his current health status would not allow him to maintain a full-time job. Katie would need to become the primary breadwinner and their prospects for affording a place of their own now seemed worse than ever. And, of course, the medical debts kept mounting.

They wanted to be self-sufficient; they wanted to be an independent family. They did not want to be reliant upon other people. So they prayed. They knew that no one could get them through this challenge except Heavenly Father.

Slowly, things began to change. Within a short period of time they received a government grant and an unexpectedly large tax return. Suddenly they could pay off their medical debts! Then Katie received a job offer; then a few months later a better one; and then a few months later a better one. But their living situation had not improved-two cramped bedrooms in their parent’s house.

One night Katie prayed again. She didn’t want to be ungrateful. She knew that one thing after another had been working out. She knew where their blessings were coming from. She hoped she wouldn’t be asking amiss.

For some time she had longed for and pictured in her mind a sweet little apartment that her family could live in-a modest place with some elbowroom, a yard with green grass, a safe neighborhood, a nice ward and a friend for her little girl…and it had to fit in their slender budget. By scrimping they might be able to come up with $650 a month for her dream place.

Unlikely. Impossible. These words had kept her from offering the prayer before. But this night she yearned for change, and she knew that she could not achieve it on my own. She humbly took her request to Heavenly Father. She imagined that it was too much to ask. But she asked anyway.

The next day, Lindsay, her sister called. Lindsay’s brother- and sister-in-law were just finishing building a new home, she said. It had a large, basement apartment. It had a huge green yard. It was in a nice part of town, and the ward was wonderful. A little girl, the same age as our daughter, lived next door. They were willing to rent the apartment for only $650 a month!

Suddenly what Katie had thought could never change changed. What she had imagined impossible was possible. When she first walked into her “dream apartment,” she said, she felt as though Someone had already been there. It was as though Someone had placed a little note on the door saying, Welcome home.

…the Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering and abundant in goodness and truth (Ex. 34:6).

May ever be aware of our powerful, loving Father, who is ever aware of our needs and who showers us with his gifts.