The Siberian Messenger: A good day to say goodbye....

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

A good day to say goodbye....

April 5--Aaron was set apart by President Stephen Peterson of the South Weber Stake.
(Not to be confused with Aaron's soon-to-be Mission President Steven Petersen.) How could anything be more like heaven than to have your entire family there to listen to a wonderful blessing by a wonderful stake president, hear each others' tender messages to Aaron, and to hear their youngest brother/uncle share his testimony and eagerness to serve? I want it to be like that in heaven--no empty chairs, as my mother and President Benson used to say!

April 6--A wonderful day for so many reasons (as Aaron reminded me) yet very bittersweet. So sweet because a wonderful son who has prepared all of his life is entering the mission field. Sad because we're going to miss him so much. Our house is so quiet! Already looking forward to that first letter!

One last hug and it's such a quick goodbye!

2 comments:

Sarah BApril 8, 2011 at 6:27 PM
We are going to miss Aaron. One of our favorite uncle babysitters.
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ReneeApril 8, 2011 at 7:54 PM
What a sweet picture! Love that hug! Our thoughts are with you, he's an awesome young man!
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Elder Hoggan's Companions

Elder Yurkivanis (Lithuania) 03/21/2013 to 04/03/2013
Elder Nichols (Lindon, UT) 12/2012 - 03/21/2013
Elder Dawson 10/2012 - 11/2012
Elder Harper: 07/04/2012 to 10/2012
Elder Duncan (Roosevelt, UT): 03/15/2012 to 07/03/2012
Elder Ortner (Israel & Florida): 01/22/2012 to 03/08/2012
Elder Patton (Ohio): 11/7/2011 to 01/22/2012
Elder Voronkov (Moscow, Russia): 09/13/2011 to 11/06/2011
Elder Terry (St. George, UT): 08/01/11 to 09/12/2011
Elder Washburn (Chicago, IL): 06/23/11 to 07/31/11
Elder Fitzgerald (Pleasant Grove, UT): 04/06/11 to 06/22/11

Who Are You, Boy?

Poem to Missionaries from Russian Convert, circa 2000

Who are you boy? For a boy you are journeyed to this land of ours, this land where I've endured my days. And felt oppression kill my soul and force me into some tight mold. And teach me that I should not hope unless I care to smell the smoke of dreams that the Red Army tamed.

Who are you boy, from this land of plenty, teaching God, if there is any. You have all; we have none. Do you know what that feels like, son? And yet, you ask me to believe in something that I cannot see; some force you say will bring me joy. Do you know what that feels like, boy? Where you're from, faith is free, but it has a price for me. When I have pain, I have my bottle. Hurt dies quick when you down it with Vodka. That's enough to warm my soul. I work, I sleep, the days go by--I'm waiting for the day I die. You don't understand this place. You say believe, obey, have faith, live life well, serve and give. Here in Russia, we just live.

Who are you, boy? Why did you come? To save a soul who once was numb. To teach a wretched, hateful, man who cursed your help, refused your hand. I thought that we were worlds apart. So how is it that you knew my heart? A fraction my age, you calmed my rage; mercy paid my generous wage. I should have been left behind. It is hard to love my kind. Hope in your heart, power in your hands, why did you come to this distant land? I know now, it was for me. The Red Curtain fell, but I was not free. Until a boy from nations away brought me my Lord, I bless the day. He led me to weep at my Master's feet, the American boy I met on the street--new and naive, still in his teens, with a message to bring the world to its knees. I thought that the truth would come from another--I did not know this boy was my brother.