What’s the Worth of a Soul’s Testimony?

Recently on the Middle Aged Mormon Man blog (http://middle-agedmormonman.blogspot.com/), the author shares some wonderful insight on testimoniese and the bearing thereof.  Especially at Girls’ Camp.  Around a camp fire.  With all your Church friends and leaders.  One of the best spiritual experiences.  Ever.  But he takes it to a new level.  Don’t have a friend-amony.  Bear your “real” testimony.  Not what you’re grateful for.  But what you know.

In another article some time back, a ward’s bishopric wanted to have that type of expeirence in their ward’s Fast & Testimiony Meeting.  On the lecturn was a picture posted of the Savior, with three lines below. Tell us your name.  How do you feel about the Savior?  Share your testimony. 

That’s it – pure & simple.  But for some it’s not simple.  And for others the things that they are thankful for are what help drive their testimony.  That isn’t to say that they don’t have a testimony.  It’s just sometimes difficult to separate our blessings from what we believe/know about the Gospel.

But there are some whose testimonies are pure.  As I recently witnessed on my own.

We had a young sister that joined the Church a few months ago.  I’m sure that she was barely above poverty level (if that high).  She had no dresses to wear to Church.  She couldn’t afford them.  She'd come to Church in stained clothes. And hair unkept.  But she didn't seem to mind.  She was just happy to be at Church with her fellow believeers.

You could tell after talking to her for a bit that she would probably be classified as a “special needs student” if she were in school.  She had trouble at times keeping up with the rest of the sisters, but that only added to her charm. A very wise Bishop eventually called her to work in the Nursery - the best place to learn the basic tenets of our faith.

She took care of her niece and nephew on the weekends and would bring them to Church with her – only one at a time.  That’s all she could handle.  But she did it willingly.  She'd take them by the hand and excitedly tell her little charge about the friends he/she would be playing with, the songs they'd get to sing and their teachers that they loved.

And to top it all off – she was married to a man who was in jail.  And she waited patiently for the day when he would be released so that their life together could begin.  She forgave him his wrongdoings and told me that while he had had a troubled past she knew that he loved her.  Because he treated her like a queen.  As every Daughter of God should be.

Even though she was so new to the Church she had the sweetest, most tender testimony I’d ever witnessed. As we were sitting in Fast & Testimony Meeting she slipped me a note, "I've never felt what I feel when I come to Church. I don't know why. I just feel so good and warm inside." She smiled sweetly at me and I returned the smile and gave her a quick hug. That's the closest she could come to bearing her testimony.

But I saw her testimony in her eyes.  The way she eagerly waited for her Sunday School class to begin and the love she shared with the little ones in the Nursery. How she was unafraid to share her true self to her sisters in Relief Society.  Never did I see a sister ridicule or mock her.  They were patient.  They were kind.  But not as much as she was.

Her prayers were pure, too.  She told us that she had been bullied all through school.  And that it was tough for her and she’d go to her Heavenly Father in prayer.  She never asked for the bullies to stop.  She didn’t ask for retribution.  She just simply prayed to the Lord for help in knowing how to handle them, how to show them that they were wrong.  No hate.  She just needed to know what she could do on her part to make things better.  For all involved.

I learned a lot from her before she moved away after her husband had been released from prison. She's been gone only a few months, but I so miss her sweet spirit and pure testimony.

"I don't know why I feel this way." I welcome this reminder from one that is so new to the Church and is now discovering and accepting the wonderful gifts that the Lord has blessed us all with. And I need to learn to be as thankful - and hopeful - as she was. And I hope and pray that the members of her new ward learn to appreciate and love her as much as I learned to.  And that they’ll realize what a unique treasure they have in their midst.

So back to my original question - what’s the sorth of a soul’s testimony?

As we read in 1 Peter 3:4 - But let it be the hidden man (or in this case, woman) of the heart, that in which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.

In other words - priceless.

(Big) Man Down!!!

 For those of us that are lucky enough to live in the Great State of Texas – or have travelled to DFW from other parts of the country - we've lost a much loved member of the family.

Big Tex, beloved icon of the State Fair of Texas, died on Friday, October 19, due to an electrical fire.  Well, actually it could be said that he “fried” that day.  It happened mid-morning to the horror and despair of those that were in attendance.  And I have to say that the news spread outside the gates of the fair like, uhm, wildfire? 

Thanks to the ever present phones/cameras there were pictures all over the internet within minutes of the fire, even before the firefighters arrived.  Eerie pictures.  Some with only his face visible in front of the flames that were on the back of his head, which gave him the look of a fiery halo.  The look on his face changed from friendly to angry, maybe a bit insane.  Not a face I’d like to meet in the dark.

The only parts that survived were his arms and his belt buckle.  Don’t know how much damage was done to his frame.  Considering how long he’s been hanging around the fair (since 1952), I’m pretty sure that it’s a lot.   

The State Fair folks say that he’ll be replaced next year.  Bigger (he's over 50’ tall).  Better.  And still decked out in his Dickies.  But may I please make a suggestion?  Oh, okay – a few suggestions.

Big Tex was originally built as a huge Santa Claus. If you think he looked weird, you should have seen what he looked like back then.  If I had seen him as a child that would have scarred me for life!  Since being purchased by the State Fair folks, he’s been reworked/redesigned over the years, but now I think it’s time for a new shape for our long legged hero.

If you’ve never had the honor/thrill of seeing him in person and the pictures on line still don’t give you a clear mental picture, then allow me to help you get a better idea of what he looked like. 

If you’ve ever seen an old(er) rancher then you can visualize Tex’s body shape.  Long skinny legs, pot belly, massive chest.  Basically the shape of my dad.  Not that that’s a bad thing, but I see that body type quite a bit around these parts.  Not that every one of them is a cowboy (or an engineer as in my dad’s case).  But you get the idea.  Maybe with better design he can lose that belly (because we all know that belly fat is unhealthy).

His face, even with his permanent grin, was a bit off-putting.  If eye-to-eye with a toddler I would consider him scary looking.  I’m sure he was quite handsome in the beginning.  But I’m afraid that he hasn’t weathered the elements as well as hoped.  If I had met a man that looked like him when I was a child – let’s just say that I probably would have been in need of “years and years of therapy.  And if you think I’m afraid of spooky, jump-out-at-ya movies now – it could have been 10x worse.  Not that I didn’t love Big Tex.  I just wouldn’t have wanted to run in to him on long, dark country road, in an alley, or be in front of him in the line at the bank.

So, rest in peace, Big Tex.  I’m sure we’ll see you next year.  Bigger.  Stronger.  Better wired.  Still lookin’ sharp in your Dickies.

Next year we’ll go back to the fair.  And if we’re lucky enough to be meeting up with friends and/or family, we’ll be able to tell all, “Meet you at Big Tex!” 

And can hardly wait to hear the old familiar, "Howdy, folks!"  The perfect Texas-styled greeting!

My Rainbow Connection

Today is the 50^th anniversary of the first black student entering The University of Mississippi AKA Ol’ Miss.  The National Guard was called out in an attempt to keep the peace.  Hard to do when the governor of the state was touting his message of hate and segregation off campus and on.  Students rioted. The state was not going to go quietly into that good night.  Trying, turbulent times.   

My how some things have changed.

When I attended high school there were only a few Black faces, along with a handful of Hispanics and Asians.  And only Whites in my elementary school.

I recently did some volunteering through Junior Achievement at my old elementary school.  The kids were shocked when I told them that when I went there and graduated 50 years ago (you could almost see them trying to figure out exactly how old I was).  And that when I was a student there were no kids (or adults, for that matter) from different ethnic backgrounds.  And only English was spoken.  And that they were so lucky to have kids from different countries, with different languages, different family structures.  I’m almost jealous.

And at college I was the only white girl on my floor.  What an eye opener that was.  And in a very good way.  I had an RA whose name was Shirley.  She taught me a lot about acceptance.  And belief in other people, regardless of skin color.

I’ve always believed that the color of someone’s skin is only skin deep.  Everyone has the same color of blood racing through their veins.  And their hearts (normally) beat the same as mine.  I hope that’s what my kids have learned from their parents.

I’m very lucky. I have a very diverse family tree.  Well, at least my Gkids do.  And I hope they’re very thankful for that.

My SIL is Hispanic. One of my “daughters” is also Hispanic and is married to an Italian. One of my “daughters” is Canadian. Both Jim & I are native Texans. One of my Gdaughter’s best friends is Black. My oldest is engaged to a Scot.  My older daughter has spots while the others have naught. I have Comanche blood coursing through my veins. The best man at our wedding was not only Black, but gay (if our parents had only known!) I have co-workers that are Korean, African, Turkish, English, Dutch, Indian, Jewish and Hispanic. And Jim is the only old white guy on his shift at work. Not exactly the workplace that either of my parents worked in.

Thankfully all my kids & Gkids have friends of every stripe and color, rich and poor, short and tall. And I’m grateful for that.

And I hope they realized how blessed they are, that each have their very own rainbow connection.

All of us under its spell, we know that it's probably magic....

For the lovers, the dreamers and me.