I suppose first things should be first. I am sorry to hear of Grandma Ricks' passing, but not entirely surprised. I had a feeling when I left for Texas that she wouldn't physically be there when I got back. Not a vision or a revelation, just a feeling. Honestly, I've been happily surprised that she made it this far and this long. What a lady! And I don't think funny is the right word for it, but just yesterday I was thinking about a random memory I have of her, and I shared it with Sister Schlauder. We were at the church building making a copy of one of our records for the ward mission leader, and I kind of tripped on the carpet, which made me think of a small moment in my life that I shared with Grandma Ricks. Once I was with her and Grandpa and Grandmother at a hotel in Layton. We were going to see one of David's sons off on his mission at the airport. So this must have been over ten years ago, because we could still go right up to the gate, pre-September 11th. Anyway, once when we were walking back to the hotel room, I tripped on the carpet, just like I did last night, and Grandma Ricks turned to me and said, "Oh good. You do that, too. I thought I was the only one." Then she smiled at me, and I can still see that image, although quite blurred, in my mind. I know I remembered it last night as a tender mercy from the Lord. He knew Grandma Ricks was finally about to be reunited with her precious husband and Sharon and Max...and so many others. And He knew that I wouldn't know until today, but that if I remembered that then, I would be okay now. And I am. I believe that tender mercies come in layers. They are set up years in advance, like this one, and then when you come to the other side of it, you look back and marvel at the tenderness and wisdom and compassion of God. Another image is coming to my mind now. I see that photograph of Grandma Ricks and Grandma McClellan as nurses, both gazing off into the futures of their lives. And it is the same look that Grandma Ricks gave me that day in the hotel in Layton, Utah. Only she was passing it on to me, inviting me to dream about my future and then live it. And now she and Grandma McClellan are reuniting and looking back on all the layers of tender mercy in their mortal lives, rejoicing in the Lord's blessings and marveling at the detail in their own personal plans of salvation. Mom, you said something to me right before I left for my mission that has stuck with me, like a layer of tender mercy in my life. You told me that the Lord wanted me to be a writer, but you knew somehow that coming on a mission was an essential part of preparing me to be a writer. I think about that now when I think about that lovely artifact of two of the most elect ladies I will ever know, a picture I have always felt was my muse. And now it can fully speak to me. Partly because my muses are now back together, but also because I have gone through (most of) this essential step to becoming a writer. I feel the calling to write more than I ever have before in my life now. I listened to general conference with a question in my heart, really wanting to know if the Lord saw writing as a good use of my talents and testimony. I received such a fervent but simple confirmation that, yes, the Lord would have me write. Having met all these wonderful people and experienced life for myself, I feel I am now ready to write. Sorry.
That paragraph started out as a tribute to Grandma Ricks and became more focused on me towards the end. I didn't mean it to be self-centered. Sometimes my thoughts just flow out that way. I don't really have time to edit them while e-mailing, so I guess you could surmise that these are my thoughts in their purest form, nearest to raw material as a writer gets. A member in Katy shared this analogy with me once, and I have come to appreciate its truth over time. Writers are like word sculptors, but unlike sculptors, they not only chip away at their marble but must create it as well. Thanks, Miss Rhonda.
Speaking of tender mercies, we experienced one this week. Well, probably several, but my spiritual eyes are not yet refined enough to recognize them all. Dad, also a long time ago, back when I was still working at the Credit Union and it was more than two minutes from our house, I remember you saying something to me that was very prophetic. You told me that you saw great things in me and you could envision generations of people who speak Spanish one day thanking me for sharing the gospel. I remember at the time thinking to myself, I don't think so, Dad, because I don't know if I'm even going on a mission. That moment was when I was probably a sophomore in high school. But for some reason the memory has stuck with me. I ponder on it periodically, wondering how and when that could be fulfilled. Well, one of those moments of periodically happened this week. We have been increasing our finding efforts, and for some reason we decided to try a group of apartments in our area. We knocked around, and most people spoke only Spanish, but at one of the doors we met a young man who said, after we shared our brief schpiel about having a message about Jesus Christ, "Is that it?" Obviously, he wanted to learn more. We set up that we would return on Saturday. Which we did. He is from El Salvador, and a junior at the local high school. When asked about his beliefs in God, Pablo said, "I just want to know the truth. There are so many different ideas that I get confused." Later, we asked him if he had ever prayed to know something, and he said, "Yes. Often at night, I pray to know where we go after this life. I am asking God to tell me why I am here on earth, why we came here." All the time I am hearing this sincere seeker of truth talk to us, I am also hearing Dad's words in my head again, and I'm wondering, "Could this be him? Maybe I came to find him." Now, I'm not trying to be dramatic or say that he is or that I was sent to find him and he'll soon be a stake president and generations will call me blessed. It's not about all of that. It's about him finding the truth his heart has been seeking, ever so humbly. But at the same time, a father's words sure motivate me to think about what a difference the message of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ could make to generations if Pablo chooses to embrace it. I pray he will.
Now, as for Sister Tetreault, I will be sure to send a letter her way today. I have been incredibly busy, but she has been on my mind a lot. Thank you for sharing her lovely words with me. She is my best Texas friend, another layer of tender mercy in my life. The earth is truly on the church again. And it should come as no surprise to you that the Rangers defeated the Yankees to enter the fall classic. God lives in Texas. Duh.
Love from the Lone Star sister,
Sister Whitney Mikell Sorensen
PS I'm attaching some photos of us at the temple with a member from Katy who received her endowment on Saturday. What a blessing to be able to share it with her!
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