NOAH-NOAH-NOAH

Greetings from Ted and Lydia:

I was sitting at my desk at the institute when the phone rang on Friday afternoon. My wife was on the line: "Come home now!" she said with that tone that communicates disaster. I came. For the third time in three months a connection under one of our sinks had broken. This time a hose came loose and the water came in a flood rather than a spray or a trickle. Standing water covered the north end of the basement from our bedroom through Justin's bedroom, and into the storage room.

After our first two experiences with with raging waters, we have made it a matter of prayer, asking the Lord to protect our home and our investment. Then this. It has been difficult not to look up and ask "Why?"

This thought comes to mind from Richard G. Scott:

When you face adversity, you can be led to ask many questions. Some serve a useful purpose; others do not. To ask, Why does this have to happen to me? Why do I have to suffer this, now? What have I done to cause this? will lead you into blind alleys. It really does no good to ask questions that reflect opposition to the will of God. Rather ask, What am I to do? What am I to learn from this experience? What am I to change? Whom am I to help? How can I remember my many blessings in times of trial? Willing sacrifice of deeply held personal desires in favor of the will of God is very hard to do. Yet, when you pray with real conviction, “Please let me know Thy will” and “May Thy will be done,” you are in the strongest position to receive the maximum help from your loving Father (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, Nov. 1995, 17).

So I have been asking myself what I should learn from all of this water. A few ideas have come to mind, none worth sharing.

I talked to Margie today and told her of our trial. Where did this woman come from, anyway? She is wise and insightful beyond her years, and in fact we are talking about a number of years. In one sentence she taught me more about my predicament than I had been able to understand in 24 hours. "Thank goodness it wasn't Katrina," she quipped.

Indeed.


Andy had his farewell party today. Since he insisted that no funeral be held, and suggested a party instead, many of us met today at the Copper Mill in Logan---one of his favorite restaurants. I drove to Logan with Steve. We ate and laughed and loved and visited. We rejoiced for Andy. Steve commented on the difference between this gathering and the funeral for Lydia's father several months ago. There was a great deal of regret at that funeral--regret for divided families and festering bitterness and unhappy relatives. Andy's party was a celebration of a life by a bunch of folks who knew him and loved him and admired him.

While I was there, I remembered two cartoons he had sent me, I assume from a newspaper in Greeley, Colorado where he lived at the time. Andy sent cartoons to everybody he loved, and they were selected based on personality and/or profession. I got the ones that contained religious humor. The two I remember best were from a single panel cartoon called "Pot Shots" by Ashleigh Brillaint. One said, "It is easy to make lifetime decisions, when I realize how temporary they are." The other was, "If the meaning of my life doesn't soon become clear, I may need to request an extension."

Did it finally becomel clear? Or did he request and extension? Wally, his oldest son, thought he had.

I kind of hope this catches on around here: a party for the departed. It was wonderful.