Remarks at My Mother's Funeral

As all children do, I learned countless things from my mother. She taught me how to walk and talk. She taught me how to dress and feed myself. I learned many things from her about the world around me and how to interact with it. I also learned some very profound things from my mother. Some of these lessons were taught through instruction, but most of them were taught by example. I would like to share a few of those lessons with you today in the brief time that we have together.

These principles include taking time for the “one”, having faith in God’s love, and providing selfless service.

In today’s world of social media, it is easy to get caught up in how many Facebook friends we have, how many times our YouTube video has been viewed, or how many “Likes” we have received on our latest post. The focus is on communicating with the masses.

However, the last Facebook post that my mother made to her own wall directly was back in October of 2011 when she commented on message that my wife had made in connection with our son Michael. Facebook just wasn’t her thing. She didn’t communicate with masses. She liked to text and call and speak directly with individuals. In fact, when she was planning a visit to our house, she would frequently ask if there was a way that she could have 1-on-1 time with each of our children. Unfortunately, our visits with her were usually too short and my kids’ schedules usually too chaotic to accommodate such a request. But that is what she liked most—one on one time. She focused on the “one”.

She was never too busy for the “one”—an attribute that I have learned from her example but am still working to emulate. When I was a little boy, I would ask her to come play in my hideout (a.k.a. the fort that I had constructed by hanging a flashlight in my closet). I don’t remember her ever rejecting requests such as those. She never gave me the impression that my requests were silly or that she had more important things to do with her time. She would focus on me, on the “one”, and let the rest of the world wait for a little while.

My mother also taught me at a very young age that God loved me. I believed it, because my mother said it was so. I knew that she loved me, and witnessing her unconditional love for me helped me to believe that God could love me in a similar fashion. She taught me that the Creator of the Universe loved and cared for me, and that knowledge helped me to feel safe. It helped me to have peace during difficult times.

Some of my fondest memories of my mother involve her putting me to bed at night. After tucking me into bed, she would sit beside me and sing me songs. There were several songs that she would sing to me, but the two that I remember most were “You are My Sunshine” (my mother always loved the sun), and “I am a Child of God”. Even in song, night after comforting night, my mother taught me that I was a child of God and that He loved me.

My mother also taught me the principle of selfless service—a principle she taught by example. She constantly and consistently put the needs of others before her own. She would go without, sacrificing her own needs in order to fulfill her children’s wants. She sacrificed her time, money, and personal ambitions in order to help her children pursue their dreams and interests. It was always a challenge to serve my mother or to assist her in any temporal way; because when you gave her money to assist with financial challenges, she would often use it to help someone else instead.

One of my favorite stories of my mother demonstrates the way she lived her life—with a reckless disregard for her own needs when faced with the needs of others—most especially her children and grandchildren: When I was very young my parents took me skiing for the first time. I had difficulty learning how to “snow plow”. I recall that it was a pretty frustrating experience for my father, but my mother finally decided to ski down the mountain backwards, standing in front of me so that she could help me keep the tips of my skis together. She couldn’t see where she was going, and it couldn’t have been a very easy thing to do. It was probably even a little dangerous for her. But she saw that I couldn’t make it on my own, and she willingly sacrificed her own safety to help me learn what I needed know and make it safely down the mountain.

These first 3 lessons that I learned from my mother—taking time for the “one”, having faith in God’s love, and providing selfless service—were due in large part to her unique character, to her particular values…to who she was. There was a 4th profound principle that I learned from her, however, that I suspect many, if not most people learn from their mothers; and that principle was how to endure separation. She taught me that separation was temporary, and to endure it through hope in an eventual reunion.

Like most toddlers, I didn’t like being away from my mother. However, the times eventually came when I needed to be separated from my mother in order to attend school or church classes. She reassured me that my time in primary or kindergarten would pass quickly and that she would be there waiting for me afterwards. It took a while to work through the anxiety of separation, but eventually my hope that she would be there waiting for me turned into the expectation that she would be there.

Over time, the separations become longer. There were the weeks that we would spend visiting my grandparents, or the months that I would spend visiting my father in a different state. Still, she helped me to prepare for and endure each of these separations by reassuring me that the time would pass quickly and that we would be together again soon. Eventually, it became time for me to a serve a mission. This time the separation wasn’t measured in months—it was measured in years. Unlike other separations, I wouldn’t be able to talk to her while I was gone. (Phone calls were limited to Mother’s Day and Christmas.) But she helped me to know that this separation was needed in order for me to fulfill God’s plan for me, and that although it would be the longest separation we had ever experienced, it would still be temporary. She taught me once again to endure the separation by looking forward to our eventual reunion.

I realize now, that she has actually prepared me for today’s separation through each of the principles that I mentioned earlier. You see, these profound lessons that she taught stand as guideposts pointing me toward He who came not for the ninety and nine, but for the one. He whose ministry was less about sermons and more about ministering 1-on-1, healing blind eyes, deaf ears, and broken hearts one at a time.

And so it still is today. In ways that I cannot begin to understand, He cares about each of us individually. He knows our individual sorrows and our grief, and I believe that He stands ready to comfort me in my trials. Though it is difficult for me to comprehend, amidst billions of people, He is aware of me—aware of the one—and He will not leave me comfortless.

In Alma 34:26, we are encouraged to “pour out [our] souls [to the Lord] in [our] closets, and [our] secret places, and in [our] wilderness”. Although He has created worlds, I know that He, like my mother, does not find my pleas for His attention silly; nor will he leave me alone in my closet or my wilderness because He has more important things to do.

And what of the second lesson? How has knowing about God’s love prepared me for separation?

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

God does love me, and He loves my mother, and He loves us so much that He sent His only begotten Son to the earth to pave the way for us to be together again someday.

But that path came with a price. We were on top of the mountain, and there was no way for us to make it safely to the bottom. We simply couldn’t do it on our own. No matter how hard we tried, left to our own abilities, none of us could make it back home on our own. So the Savior did more than abandon His safety, He sacrificed His very life in order to help us get back home. In the ultimate act of selfless service, He carried out the atonement. He laid down His life so that all mankind could live again. He suffered for our sins so that each of us could return home again if we would come unto Him.

Because of Christ’s atonement, even death is a temporary separation. It is a temporary separation of the spirit from the body, and it is a temporary separation of family members one from another. My mother knew that, and it was her faith in an eventual reunion with her sweet husband that helped her to endure over 2 decades of separation from him. Now she is with him, and her parents, and her little brother. And it is our turn to endure the separation from her.

It is my prayer that her lessons will sink deep within my heart. The Savior does stand ready to comfort us in our sorrow…1-on-1. God does love us and so He sent His Son to conquer sin and death. And Jesus did just that—he overcame both sin and death. Death is temporary, just like any other separation. What is important now is to look forward to the day when we will be reunited, and to use the anticipation of that day to help us endure this temporary separation.

I believe this to be true because my mother taught me that it was so.

I know it to be true by the power of the Holy Ghost.

Arrivals and Departures

Five whose flights were cancelled.
One who's always late.
Two that arrived on time.
One that missed her gate.
One that arrived a day early.
One who departed too soon.
One who waved goodbye,
       and didn't come home til' June.
Two that we're still waiting on—
       hoping they'll travel fast.
Desperately waiting for them
       to come home to us at last.

Tough Days

June 12, 2014

• Bronson's 2nd birthday in a dilapidated orphanage in DR Congo
• 6 months to the day since Jacob suffered his stroke
• My 43rd birthday

June 15, 2014

• 6 months to the day since my sweet Jacob departed this world
• The first time that the 15th landed on a Sunday since Dec. 15, 2013 (Jacob's passing)
• Father's Day

Recipe for a Love Story (First Course)

Water bottles and waterfalls
Dancing for hours and going to balls
Flowers in shoes and little toys too
Buildings of glass and slippers of glue

Great distance hallways and great distance walls
Scaling ironclad fences with anonymous calls
Graveyard shifts and cemetery nights
Damaging cars after long-distance flights

Bright orange trucks and dark red squares
Beautiful bathtubs with broken chairs
Forbidden cities and strawberry shores
Labors in love and fliers on doors

Christmas traditions that cleave both ways
Serendipity and perfect days
Sitting on the floor in the heat of the night
Candles for warmth rather than light

Times Square and time squared
Sandwiches finished and sandwiches shared
Nesting sparrows and nesting dolls
Air force hospitals and army crawls

Arches in sunlight and spires in the moonlight
Happily ever comes after midnight
Unexpected songs and Broadway plays
Swimming with dolphins, enchanting bat rays

Pig war beaches and sea lion caves
Big yellow buses and tiny hand waves
Arenas on fire and werewolves with fountains
Skidding off roads and running down mountains

Seven thousand three hundred days
Endless nights and countless ways
A love story that knows no end
A trail of tomorrows about to begin

A Baby Changes Everything

"A Baby Changes Everything”.  Most people consider it to be a Christmas song.  For me, it belongs to St. Patrick’s Day…

Over the course of the past few weeks, I have watched the videos of Jacob’s “gotcha day” and ensuing homecoming several times.  When I reflect on those videos, three things in particular stand out in my mind:  Jacob’s celestial laughter, my wife repeating the words “he’s just a baby” over and over, and the surreal green hue of the homecoming pictures.


Jacob’s perfect laugh needs little explanation.  I have never heard, nor do I expect to ever hear something more wonderful than Jacob’s laughter.  He filled our hotel room with that laughter the night of his gotcha day, and he continued to fill our lives with those heart-warming giggles nearly every day until he left us.

As for the “baby” comments—we have video of the first time that we Skyped our children from China and introduced them to their new little brother.  Jacob was five at the time, and our other children were startled by how small he was.  They were also surprised by his demeanor which was that of someone several years younger.  In both size and development, Jacob appeared to be about two years old at the time.  In trying to explain the situation to our other children, my wife kept repeating the words to them, “Guys, he’s just a baby.  He’s just a baby.”

Two weeks later, we arrived home with our sweet Jacob and his siblings had the opportunity to meet him in person for the first time.  Emily collapsed with emotion when she first saw Cubby.  The other children fell instantly in love with him.  In my mind, the videos of the children playing in the back yard with Cub always seem to go in slow motion.  There also seems to be a strange Hollywood-like green filter over the camera—something to create a “flash-back” effect.  Interestingly, when I look at the actual photos of that homecoming day, the green hue is really there.  Where did it come from?  It was St. Patrick’s Day and everything other than Jacob was washed in shades of green.

And so it was that on that St. Patrick’s Day three years ago that “a baby changed everything”.  He brought joy and laughter into our family beyond anything that we had previously known.  He helped us to see the world in new and beautiful ways.  He helped us love each other a little more and even accept ourselves just a little better.  We had to baby proof our home again and find creative ways to keep doors and windows closed and locked.  However, our hearts were pried wide open to let in light and love and laughter that changed our home into a heaven on earth. 

I wish the story ended there, but it doesn’t.  Three months ago our sweet Jacob left us. He was the baby of the family and so pure and innocent that the only words that seem to accurately reflect his demeanor would be “angelic” and “baby-like”.  Now he really is our “angel baby”, and his departure has left a void in our hearts and our family that is truly indescribable.  The darkness and pain that was left in the wake of Jacob’s death has been numbing at best and crushing more often than not.  Just like his arrival, Jacob’s departure was a defining moment for our family.   We lost our baby and the loss of a baby changes everything.

I am pleased to say that the story doesn’t end there either, though.  A little over two thousand years ago, another man welcomed his adopted son into his family and held him lovingly in his arms for the first time.  That baby also brought love and light with Him—love and light that would eventually fill the world.  And that baby brought something else with Him.  That baby brought life—immortality and eternal life—gifts that He contained within himself.  However, that baby wouldn’t be able to give those gifts to the world until after His Heavenly Father, the most powerful being in the universe, sat helplessly by and watched as His Son slipped from life into death.  “For God so loved the world…”

When the Savior suffered and died for us, He not only overcame sin (something that Cubby had not been stained with)—He also broke the bonds of death.  He made it possible for Jacob’s spirit to be reunited with his body in a resurrected form.  He made it possible for me to someday hold my son in my arms once again and bask in the sound of his glorious laughter. 

The Savior’s Atonement also made it possible for us to be to be together forever as a family, and that knowledge is the only thing that gets me through some days.  I desperately want to be with my son again in the eternities, and God’s Only Begotten Son made that possible for me.  Jacob’s death brought indescribable darkness into our lives, but the Light of the World has helped us to survive that darkness.  I have also felt the strength of His love and mercy as they supported me through some of my most devastating hours.

Three years ago tomorrow we brought our sweet Jacob home for the first time.  Three months ago yesterday we held our baby boy as life slipped away from his body.  At the meridian of time, the Savior of the World was born in a lowly stable, destined to break the bonds of death for all mankind.  Yes, a “baby changes everything”.

My whole life has turned around
I was lost but now I'm found
A baby changes everything, yeah
A baby changes everything
(From the song “A Baby Changes Everything” by Craig Wiseman and Tim Nichols)

Letter to a Friend

Today I happened to reread a letter that I sent to a remarkable friend back on December 23rd.  My message was a response to a condolence email that my friend had sent me the previous week.  I decided to copy a portion of that message here because it gave voice to so much of how I feel about my son…

…However, the thing that touched me the most was your email below.  I haven’t had the emotional strength to respond to most of the messages that Jennifer and I have received this past week.  We are very grateful for all of the kind and supportive things that people have said and we have received much strength from their words.  However, your message below contained a few short words for which I was unspeakably grateful and I wanted to express that gratitude to you.  Although I am grateful to you and your family for many, many things, it is your email below that prompted me to write you at this time.  I simply had to thank you for your message.

As you know, my beautiful son had Trisomy 21 (Down’s Syndrome).  Because of Jacob’s genetic condition, many people mistakenly believed that we loved our son but were somehow disappointed by his “limitations”.  The truth of the matter is that both Jennifer and I find our son to be the most remarkable individual we have ever met or ever hope to meet.  Jacob was, and is, my hero and the example to me of everything I hope to be someday.  He loved unconditionally, forgave instantly, found joy in the smallest of blessings, found self-worth in small accomplishments, and never forgot to turn to G-d (he would remind us on frequent occasion of our need to pray).  He carried a light within him that brightened the day of everyone that was privileged to come in contact with him.  He created love and joy where there was none.  He uplifted, and brightened, and taught.  I was so very, very, very proud of him.

Although we received many messages of consolation and love when we lost our Jacob, most of the messages seemed to focus on what we had allegedly done for Jacob.  At best, they acknowledged our intense love for our son.  When I received your message below, I openly wept, however.  It meant so much to me to have someone acknowledge the fact that I was not only filled with “loving”, but “proud” memories of my son.  It meant a great deal to me to have someone acknowledge that Jacob was (and is) an “exceptional little boy”, a “wonderful source of joy and love”, and that “he enriched the lives of each member of [our] family immeasurably”. 

I am so very proud of my son.  I am eternally grateful for him and the few short years that I had to bask in his light.  I am also grateful for the blessing of remarkably considerate individuals such as you, [your wife] and [your son] who have helped to ease our sorrow, if only by degrees.

Thank you for your messages.  Please express my gratitude to [your wife] and [your son] for their messages as well.  Most of all, thank you for being insightful or receptive enough to include the particular words that you chose in your email below.  I will never be able to properly express how much they meant to me.

With much appreciation,
-James

Relentless Love

The Good Samaritan

I used to think that "Christlike love" meant loving others whether they deserved it or not.  I thought that it meant loving people who hadn't "earned" your love in any way.

In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 10, a lawyer asks Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?" in connection with the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves.  The Savior's response to that question is the parable of the Good Samaritan, a story in which a man greatly serves another despite the fact that the two men come from feuding cultures and that the service requires considerable sacrifice, even physical peril, for the Samaritan.  To me, the story of the Good Samaritan was the quintessential example of Christlike love.  A man serves another who has done nothing to deserve such kindness. Isn't that the very definition of "charity" or Christlike love?

I recently had an experience that changed that definition for me...

Carrying Me

A few weeks ago, I came across a painting by an artist named Thomas Blackshear.  When I first saw the image, it took my breath away and then replaced it with tears.  It depicts Christ carrying a man who looks somewhat like me.  The image struck me because it depicted my soul's greatest desire at the time--second only to my desperate wish to have my son back.  I, like the man in the painting, was overcome with grief, sorrow, and exhaustion--to the point that I could no longer "stand on my own" (figuratively speaking).  I yearned for the Lord to share my burden, to support and strengthen me, to simply keep me from falling to someplace from which I would never get up.

However, one cannot look at Blackshear's painting and fail to notice something more about the unnamed man than just his despair and weakness: my eyes were immediately drawn to the mallet and nail clutched in the man's hands--symbols of the inestimable suffering that Christ went through to save us.

When I saw that picture, it struck me--perhaps for the first time--that Jesus didn't just suffer for us, He suffered because of us.  Our sins, our selfishness, our weakness, our greed, spite, envy and pride--they caused the Savior to suffer so much that He bled from every pore, so great was the pain.  He didn't just suffer for us because He loves us...He loves us in spite of the fact that we caused Him unfathomable suffering through our wrong choices.

 

When I saw Blackshear's picture and the Savior's hands clasped tightly around His suffering brother, I felt something. I realized in that moment that the Savior loves us--loves me, in spite of me. Despite all of my wretchedness, He truly, deeply loves me and stands by ready to support me.  Despite all that I have done and all that I have failed to do--despite all the grief, sorrow and pain that I have caused and continue to cause Him, He carries and consoles me. 

 

Loving More Than Our "Neighbors"

 

I have come to realize that Christlike love is not just loving people unconditionally (i.e. whether or not they deserve it).  It is loving them relentlessly.  It is loving them as a child of God and as our spiritual brother or sister--not for what they have done or avoided doing.  It is loving them even when they have done things to "deserve" our resentment, anger, or even hatred instead of our love.

 

After seeing this picture, I realized that the quintessential story of Christlike love is not found in the 10th chapter of Luke; it is found in the 23rd chapter.  Although the Good Samaritan showed unconditional love for the injured man on the road to Jericho, the Savior showed us how truly unrelenting His love is when He looked upon the soldiers who had just pounded nails into his hands and feet.  Instead of cursing them, He plead with our Heavenly Father to "forgive them; for they [knew] not what they [had done]".  In the last moments of His earthly life, Jesus taught us what celestial love is, not by commandment, nor by parable, but by example.

 

In Luke chapter 6, we read:

27 But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you,
28 Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.

I had never really noticed the first part of verse 27 before today..."unto you which hear".  I realize now, that I was not among those "which hear" before.  Oh, I had heard the words, but I had failed to hear their meaning.  In my mind, these words were an injunction to "take the higher road", counsel to be better than our enemies.  I caught all of the verbs: "do", "bless", and "pray"--all of them that is except for the first one.  In my mind, this charge was about behavior, not about thoughts, feelings, or emotions.  It didn't matter if I begrudgingly did good to those who hate me, just as long as I did good.  It didn't matter if I prayed through gritted teeth for those who despitefully used me, just as long as I prayed for them.

 

However, I hadn't "heard" the most important verb, rather the most important word, in the entire scripture.  It hadn't sunk in.  The most important part of the commandment isn't about how we treat others; it is about how we view them.  For if we truly, deeply love all of God's children, then the requisite behaviors will happen as a natural consequence of our caring.  Perhaps just as importantly, if we truly love all of God's children, then we will have beauty and joy inside of us, not just hypocritically admirable behaviors on the outside.  Man is that he might have joy, and love is probably the most important ingredient in joy.

 

But is that really possible?  Can any of us truly love others who hurt and despitefully use us?  Love them to the point that we could, like the Savior, stand ready to console them in their grief despite the fact that they had selfishly harmed us?  The answer to that question is "yes".  I have seen it.

 

Cublike Love

 

I have long held that my eight-year-old son, Jacob, embodied Christlike love, for he truly had unconditional love for all of his "neighbors". 

 

My wife relayed the following about Jacob at his funeral:

 

"The first lesson that I learned from my Cub was to love unconditionally and to create love where there isn’t any . Most everyone who knows Jacob has been the recipient of many hugs and kisses. Every time our doorbell would ring, our visitor would be welcomed to our home with a hug from Jacob. Visitors were often people that Jacob did not know personally. Some were his siblings’ friends, some were friends from church and others were working for UPS, simply delivering mail to our home. It didn’t matter that Jacob didn’t know the UPS man; the UPS man was given a tender embrace before he was sent on his way after delivering a package."

"This past Halloween, I watched my little boy as he offered every student who passed by in the Halloween parade a high five. It didn’t matter to him that sometimes the student did not want to participate in the high five. It mattered to him that he had offered it."

However, Cub did more than just love his neighbors, whether or not they deserved it.  Like the Savior, Jacob loved people even when they intentionally did things to "deserve" losing his love.

My wife also shared the following account at Jacob's funeral:

"Jacob was absolutely unable to hold a grudge against anyone or stay angry at someone. I remember a day, several months ago, where Michael became upset that Jacob’s iPad was charged and his was not. As jealousy raged, Jacob was hit by the iPad and now needed many stitches in his eyebrow. Little Jacob was hurt and began to scold Michael for injuring him. I told Michael he needed to apologize to Jacob. Michael weakly gave the sign for “sorry” and started to cry. Jacob immediately forgot his injury and started to hug and kiss Michael and tell him that it was alright."

 Remarkable isn't it?  Jacob has a huge gash in his forehead because his brother had harmed him in a fit of selfishness and greed.  Yet when Michael starts to cry because of being scolded, it was Jacob who consoled Michael (and not the other way around)!  Michael's selfishness had been written on Jacob's forehead, leaving a scar that never went away.  But Jacob's love for his brother was far more evident than that scar, showing itself in every interaction, every conversation, and every moment that the two brothers had with each other.

But isn't that what the Savior does for us?  Despite the pain and sorrow we cause Him, he comforts and consoles us in our misery. He wants us to be happy and our sadness is of more concern to Him than the harm that we have caused Him.  He loves us because He is our brother, and our actions cannot change that.  His love is based on who He is and who we are--not on what we truly deserve.  Our selfishness and weakness were engraved on the palms of His hands.  But His love for us is even more apparent than the symbols of His sacrifice, showing itself through blessings far too numerous to count.

I Would Follow Thee
I thank my Heavenly Father for my beautiful son who helped me to better know, love, and understand His Son. Yes, Jacob embodied Christlike love, and because I have experienced it, I know that it is real. My glorious son loved everyone relentlessly, and that knowledge gives me hope that he will forgive me for my shortcomings and want to be with me--want to be mine--in the eternities. I know that our Heavenly Father loves us relentlessly, and that knowledge gives me hope that I will be able to return to live with Him and the rest of my family someday through the atonement of His Only Begotten Son. I also know that my Savior, Jesus Christ, loves me relentlessly, and that faith gives me hope that He will support and even carry me when I need Him to--not when I deserve it.

I hope and pray that I can one day learn to love as they do.

Savior, may I love my brother

As I know thou lovest me,

Find in thee my strength, my beacon,

For thy servant I would be.

Savior, may I love my brother--

Lord, I would follow thee.
(from the hymn, "Lord, I Would Follow Thee")