Conquering fear and being humbled by the spirit.

Last week Jordon and I were blessed with the opportunity to speak in sacrament, something that terrified Jordon. In fact, we had to turn the bishopric down twice before (because we were scheduled to be out of town each weekend they asked us to speak). He still has a hard time speaking when he is put on the spot, nervous, afraid, or emotional (and speaking in sacrament combines all of those emotions).

Now, before I share anymore, I must preface this story with a little info about our ward. We have a very.....LOUD ward (for the lack of a better word). There are a ton of young children and babies (and even many chatty elderly people), so needless to say, it can be very irreverent and VERY hard to be a speaker trying to overcome the loudness and distractions (we have even had the bishop up trying to adjust the microphone so you could hear the speaker better because that was all that was left to be tried).

With that being said, I can continue. Anyway, as I said, Jordon was very nervous (and so was I for that matter!) Right before sacrament started, we felt prompted to change the order of speaking. In our ward the wife usually goes first and the husband finishes, but I really felt like Jordon should go first.

My sweet hubby nervously stepped up to the podium and quietly spoke into the microphone. He explained that he would just read his talk because he freezes up and can't speak when he is nervous. And then my sweetie began sharing his talk. Within about a minute of Jordon speaking, the chapel got very quiet (which is a rarity). Jordon did an amazing job and even though he got very emotional (especially when talking about what he has gone through and is going through) he was able to to continue speaking. It was incredible! And then I got to get up. It wasn't easy following Jordon, but I was able to get through it okay, and by the end of sacrament, there were few dry eyes.

Our story does not end there. Last night, while I was at work, I received a voice mail from a woman in the ward whom I have only met once. She simply asked for me to call her back, which I did on my break. She proceeded to tell me that she was not inactive, but she wasn't overly active. She explained that she had come to church that Sunday with a very bad attitude (something that was a normal occurrence for her she explained), and when Jordon got up, she immediately began to judge and thought "Oh great another horrible sacrament with bad speakers". And then the spirit touched her. She was deeply touched by Jordon's words and then mine. She explained that she could not hold back the tears, and this is a woman who DOES NOT CRY (as she put it). She explained that she had to call and tell me that our talks literally changed her life and how grateful she was. It was emotional talking to her, and I almost cried just talking to her.

Now I don't share this experience to toot our own horns. I share this to help demonstrate yet another tender mercy of the Lord manifested in our lives. Since Jordon's diagnosis, I have felt strongly that Jordon was blessed with this tumor to not only change and bless his life, but it is also to bless the lives of all those Jordon comes in contact with, friends, family, and strangers alike. Since his diagnosis two-and-a-half years ago ( I can't believe that much time has passed), we have had numerous opportunities to share our testimonies of our Heavenly Father's love through this trial, and I hoped each person was touched, but it wasn't until that phone call, that I really KNEW that someone had been so deeply touched. I only pray for the opportunity to continue sharing our testimonies. I know this post will seem like a novel, but I would like to share our talks, our testimonies, with all our faithful blog readers, though it will not convey everything that was felt or even said that day. I also share these because we had several friends and family who wanted to come, but were unable to make it. We love you all!!!!

Jordon’s Talk – Individual Worth
My dear brothers and sisters, I feel it a great privilege and honor to stand before you, and I pray for theblessing of the Holy Spirit, that what I say may add to the spiritual feelings we all experience here in this beautiful house of the lord, this day. I would like to begin with a poem called “The Junk Box”

THE JUNK BOX
My father often used to say:
"My boy don't throw a thing away:
You'll find a use for it some day."
So in a box he stored up things,
Bent nails, old washers, pipes and rings,
And bolts and nuts and rusty springs.
Despite each blemish and each flaw,
Some use for everything he saw;
With things material, this was law.
And often when he'd work to do,
He searched the junk box through and through
And found old stuff as good as new.
And I have often thought since then,
That father did the same with men;
He knew he'd need their help again.
It seems to me he understood
That men, as well as iron and wood,
May broken be and still be good.
Despite the vices he'd display
He never threw a man away,
But kept him for another day.
A human junk box is this earth
And into it we're tossed at birth,
To wait the day we'll be of worth.
Though bent and twisted, weak of will,
And full of flaws and lacking skill,
Some service each can render still.

The moral of this poem is that even though we might be broken. We still have value in God’s eyes. We are not “Junk” on the Lords pile. God, our Heavenly Father, and Jesus Christ love and care about all of us each individually! We are all his children! We came down to earth to be tested and tried in various ways. We all have a choice in life whether we do right or wrong, it our choice. Our lives may not be easy, but the experiences we have here on earth will always be worth it!

It was once said, “True personal worth comes from a secure relationship with Heavenly Father. Individual worth is intrinsic; it is internal; it is eternal. It is something that cannot be taken from us when the blossom of youth fades, when economic conditions leave us desolate, when sickness or handicaps befall us, or when prominence and visibility are obscured."

When I was diagnosed with my brain tumor, my whole life changed, literally. In a way, it was like I lost my identity. I basically had to start from scratch, like a baby. I had to relearn how to walk, talk, swallow, and eat. But through it all, I remembered the most important thing about me: I am a child of God. God knows me, and he knew what I was going through, and he knows what I go through now.

Through my experiences, I have had numerous blessings, and each promised that God knows and loves me. To me, that is individual worth, knowing that God cares about me. I also feel like I have been led to others to bear my testimony of God’s love for each of us. I think this again shows “that the worth of souls is great in the sight of God”. He uses us as tools to help his other children, children who matter to a loving Father. (And then bear my testimony)

Wendi's Talk
Good morning brothers and sisters. Before I begin my talk, I thought I would share with you how Jordon and I came to giving these talks. First the bishopric thought they would ask the best public speakers in the ward. They said no. Then they thought they would ask the most humble people in the ward, they said no. Finally they decided they would ask the most spiritual people in the ward. We decided we couldn’t say no for a third time, so here we are on the pulpit.

As my husband said, we were asked to speak on Individual worth. Often times, people associate individual worth with missionary work and bringing the “one” lost soul back until Christ. To prepare for this talk, I read numerous talks and stories addressing this, however, as I prayed and studied, a Children’s story kept coming to mind every time. It is called “You are Special” by Max Lucado, and I would like to share the story with you.

THE WEMMICKS were small wooden people. All of the wooden people were carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village. Each Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village.

And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people spent their days sticking stars or dots on one another. The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots.

The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars. Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star, it made them feel so good! It made them wants to do something else and get another star. Others, though, could do little. They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots. Sometimes when he fell, his wood got scratched, so the people would give him more dots. Then when he would try to explain why he fell, he would say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots. After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one for no reason at all.
"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another. "He's not a good wooden person."

After a while, Punchinello believed them. "I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say. The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots. He felt better around them.

One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. Some of the Wemmicks admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Others would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn't stay either.

That's the way I want to be, thought Punchinello. I don't want anyone's marks. So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it.

"It's easy," Lucia replied.

"Every day I go see Eli."

"Eli?"

"Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him."

"Why?"

"Why don t you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there." And with that the Wemmick who had no stickers turned and skipped away.

"But will he want to see me?" Punchinello cried out. Lucia did not hear. So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots. "It's not right," he muttered to himself. And he decided to go see Eli.

He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard.

"I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave. Then he heard his name.
"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong. Punchinello stopped. "Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you."

Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman.

"You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.

"Of course I do. I made you."

Eli stooped down, picked him up, and set him on the bench. "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he looked at the gray dots. "Looks like you've been given some bad marks."

"I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard."

"Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think."

"You don't?"

"No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They are Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."

Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?" Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you are mine. That's why you matter to me."

Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this - much less his maker. He didn't know what to say. "Every day I've been hoping you'd come", Eli explained.

"I came because I met someone who had no marks," said Punchinello,

"I know. She told me about you."

"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"

The maker spoke softly.

"Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them."
"What?"

"The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about their stickers."

"I'm not sure I understand."

Eli smiled. "You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care."

Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground. "Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door, "you are special because I made you. And I don t make mistakes." Punchinello did not stop, but in his heart he thought, I think he really means it. And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.

I share this story, because every time I read it, I think about my sweet husband. Growing up, he was very shy and clumsy, much like Punchinello. He often made mistakes and in a way, people were always giving him “gray dots” They made fun of him, and teased him, and it was hard for him to fit in and find friends. No one knew, not even himself, that he had a brain tumor causing the clumsiness and shyness, and everything else. Yet, our maker does not make mistakes. Jordon was made the way he was for a purpose. And much like Punchinello, Jordon turned to our Heavenly Father for reassurance that he is special, unique and individually mattered to God.

To me, this is what Individual worth is about, that God knows and cares about each of. We are all different and special and have different talents. We have different trials, but God knows each of us, one by one.

This “one by one” love is shown through the ministry of the Savior. Instance after instance, the scriptures tells of the “one by one” interactions of the Savior

“And it came to pass that the multitude went forth, and thrust their hands into his side, and did feel the prints of the nails in his hands and in his feet; and this they did do, going forth one by one until they had all gone forth” (3 Ne. 11:15; emphasis added).

To further illustrate the “one by one” nature of our Savior’s ministry, we read in 3 Nephi, chapter 17, verse 9:

“And it came to pass that when he had thus spoken, all the multitude, with one accord, did go forth with their sick and their afflicted, and their lame, and with their blind, and with their dumb, and with all them that were afflicted in any manner; and he did heal them every one as they were brought forth unto him” (3 Ne. 17:9; emphasis added).

3 Nephi goes on to tell of the special blessing given to the children in verse 21: “And when he had said these words, he wept, and the multitude bare record of it, and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them” (3 Ne. 17:21; emphasis added).

This was not a small gathering. In verse 25 [3 Ne. 17:25] we read: “And they were in number about two thousand and five hundred souls; and they did consist of men, women, and children.”

Certainly, there is a very profound and tender personal message here. Jesus Christ ministers to, and loves us all, one by one.

The night Jordon first suffered his grand mal seizure, I experienced one of the most agonizing and heart wrenching times of my life. As he was being put into the ambulance, I went into the bedroom and poured my heart out to the Lord. At this point, I did not know what exactly was wrong with Jordon, I just knew that I could not handle things on my own. I asked the Lord to comfort and strengthen us, regardless of the outcome. I immediately felt peace and comfort and I turned my burdens over to the Lord. I knew my individual prayer had been heard and at that moment, I KNEW without a shadow of a doubt that at that moment, God knew exactly what I felt, and what would happen. I knew that my husband and I mattered, and regardless of the outcome, God would help us and love us.

After Jordon’s brain tumor was removed, I again turned to the Lord as I sat by Jordon’s hospital bed waiting for him to wake from his surgery. It was days before Jordon even began to respond and move. In those times of quiet I turned to prayer and scripture study. In the scriptures I found great peace and comfort. I read of the Savior comforting the sick and the afflicted. I read of him raising Lazarus from the dead. I read about the woman with the issue of blood, who made her way through the crowd to touch the master’s robe, and was healed, and even though many people probably pressed against him and touched him, the Savior immediately knew that someone had sought healing from him. Countless story after story brought peace and comfort and the reassurance that God knew me individually and he knew how to comfort and heal my aching heart. Not only did he bring peace, he blessed angels to come into our lives to help us through this trial, through Jordon’s long recovery and through Jordon’s chemotherapy now.

I know that we have a loving Father in Heaven who cares about each of us. He answers each of our prayers, and each child of our Father in Heaven matters to him. I pray that if you don’t know already, pray and ask our sweet Father in Heaven if he knows you, and if you matter. I know that God knows me and love me individually. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.