I haven't posted in forever. My friend, Sister Mikelle Norton, reports to the MTC on Wednesday to serve in the Singapore Mission, where I too served. She posted this story on her blog.

Please read it.

I love my mission more than I can say. Some days I wish I was back there still. The joy of a mission truly is one that surpasses all understanding.

I love mt Savior so much.

Marks Of A Man

As I jumped on board my flight from Miami to Salt Lake City, I paused for a moment to catch my breath. Seated near the front of the plane was an excited young man, probably 19, sitting with his parents. His hair was short and his clothes new and sharp. His suit was fitted perfectly and his black shoes still retained that store bought shine. His body was in good shape, his face clear, and his hands clean. In his eyes I could see a nervous look, and his movements were that of an actor on opening night.

He was obviously flying to Utah to become a missionary for the Mormon Church. I smiled as I walked by and took pride in belonging to this same Church where these young men and women voluntarily serve the Savior for two years. With this special feeling, I continued to the back where my seat was located.

As I sat in my seat, I looked to the right and to my surprise, saw another missionary sleeping in the window seat. His hair was also short, but that was the only similarity between the two. This one was obviously returning home, and I could tell at a glance what type of missionary he had been.

The fact that he was already asleep told me a lot. His entire body seemed to let out a big sigh. It looked as if this was the first time in two years he had even slept, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was. As I looked at his face, I could see the heavy bags under his eyes, the chapped lips, and the scarred and sunburned face caused by the fierce Florida sun.

His suit was tattered and worn. A few of the seams were coming apart, and I noticed that there were a couple of tears that had been hand-sewn with a very sloppy stitch.
I saw the name tag, crooked, scratched and bearing the name of the Church he represented, the engraving of which was almost all worn away. I saw the knee of his pants, worn and white, the result of many hours of humble prayer.

A tear came to my eye as I saw the things that really told me what kind of missionary he had been. I saw the marks that made this boy, a man. His feet - the two that had carried him from house to house, now lay there swollen and tired. They were covered by a pair of worn-out shoes. Many of the large scrapes and gouges had been filled in by the countless number of polishings.
His books - laying across his lap were his scriptures, the word of God. Once new, these books which testify of Jesus Christ and His mission, were now torn, bent, and ragged from use.
His hands - those big, strong hands, which had been used to bless and teach, were now scarred and cut from knocking at doors.

Those were indeed the marks of that man. And as I looked at him, I saw the marks of another man, the Savior, as he was hanging on the cross for the sins of the world.
His feet - those that had once carried him throughout the land during his ministry, were now nailed to the cross.

His side - now pierced with a spear. Sealing his gospel, his testimony with his life.
His hands - the hands that had been used to ordain his servants and bless the sick were also scarred with the nails that were pounded to hang him on the cross.
Those were the marks of that great man.

As my mind returned to the missionary, my whole body seemed to swell with pride and joy, because I knew, by looking at him, that he had served his Master well.

My joy was so great, I felt like running to the front of the plane, grabbing that new, young missionary, and bringing him back to see what he can become, what he can do.
But would he see the things that I saw, could anyone see the things I saw? Or would he just see the outward appearance of that mighty elder, tired and worn out, almost dead.
As we landed, I reached over and tapped him to wake him up. As he awoke, it seemed like new life was entering his body. His whole frame just seemed to fill as he stood up, tall and proud. As he turned his face towards mine, I saw a light about his face that I had never seen before. I looked into his eyes. Those eyes, I will never forget those eyes. They were the eyes of a prophet, a leader, a follower, and a servant. They were the eyes of the Savior. No words were spoken. No words were needed.

As we unloaded, I stepped aside to let him go first. I watched as he walked, slow but steady, tired but strong. I followed him and found myself walking the way that he did. When I came through the doors, I saw this young man in the arms of his parents, and I couldn't hold it any longer.
With tears streaming down my face, I watched these loving parents greet their son who had been away for a short time. And I wondered if our parents in Heaven would greet us the same way. Will they wrap their arms around us and welcome us home from our journey on earth? I believe they will. I just hope that I can be worthy enough to receive such praise, as I'm sure this missionary will.

I said a silent prayer, thanking the Lord for missionaries like this young man. I don't think I will ever forget the joy and happiness he brought me that day.

David Bryan Wiser

-eechie.

I've been really bad at reading my scriptures.

And, I feel really bad about it.

Resolution.

I'm busying a paperback copy of The Book of Mormon, read it, and mark what I feel means something to me.

Then, I'll take that and give it to someone.

And I'm going to keep doing that, day after day and month after month... and year after year,

so,

that I can be happy, and share that happiness with someone who needs it.

-eechie.

Statistics bores the life out of me. More than that, it's confusing. Fortunately, I've been lucky enough to have Professor Reese as my professor, which has made it slightly bearable, what with his antics and ways of getting us to understand the concepts.

Today was the last day of class. As he was finishing up, Brother Reese said something like this, "Statistics is great, it's wonderful and I love it, but in the end, it doesn't really matter." After a bit of laughter from us, he continued,

If there's nothing else that you take from this class, and nothing else that you learn about Shane Reese, the thing that I want you all to know that I know that Jesus Christ lives, that Thomas S. Monson is a prophet, and that The Book of Mormon is the word of God. I want you to know that about me.

It was a moving moment for me, and one which allowed me to understand the beauty that comes from the gospel of Jesus Christ, that allows a grown man to humble himself in front of 700 students and bear his testimony in a statistics class. I am so grateful for the opportunity to attend Brigham Young University, to learn the things that I learn each day, and to stand for the things which mean all the world to me.

In my Judaism and the Gospel class after, Brother Woods, our teacher, also ended with testimony, talking about how He had known that Jesus was the Christ from a very young age, but how he had come to love him more as the years have gone by, from 5 to his current age of 54. He said that "the desire of my heart as I get older is to learn how to and more fully give my will to God."

President Hinckley has give numerous speeches on campus. In one them them, he said,

The motto of this university is “The Glory of God Is Intelligence.” You have come to partake of that intelligence, that light and truth which becomes the vast lexicon of your learning. What a precious and magnificent opportunity is afforded you. Robert Browning said that “a man’s reach should exceed his grasp” (“Andrea del Sarto” [1855], line 97). Extend your grasp while reaching ever higher to drink from the inexhaustible fountain of learning that is offered you.

He goes on, in another speech entitled The BYU Experience:

I hope that you will take from this university the habit of seeking knowledge and that this habit will never leave you for as long as you live. A truly educated man never ceases to learn. He never ceases to grow. I hope you young women, as you take upon yourselves the burden of rearing families, will never set aside your desire to acquire knowledge. I hope that you will read to your children. They will be blessed and you will be blessed if you do so. I hope that you will even read to your husbands. They need to be read to. I hope that you will read to yourselves. We come here to learn, to gain intellectual knowledge that will help and sustain us throughout this life. But, I believe that the most important lessons that we can and that I will learn here are the eternal truths found in the gospel.

He went on,

I hope that the BYU experience will cause you to take on those qualities that will make of you a true disciple of Jesus. All of you are taking religion classes while you are here. I hope that you are gaining much more than a knowledge of the organization of the scriptures and such matters as that. I hope that you are developing a great desire to walk in the footsteps of the Master, to reach out to those in distress, to serve the Church with great faithfulness, and to serve your fellowmen in a spirit of love and consecration. I hope the lessons of going the second mile, of the prodigal son, of the Good Samaritan--and all the other lessons of the Son of God who gave his life in a great offering of atonement--will motivate you and never leave you.

I love this university and all it stands for. I can only hope that I will be able to live up to its standards and I do my best in living the standards set forth by the university, but more importantly, the commandments that a loving Father in Heaven has given me so that I may be happy, finding joy both in this life, and also into the eternities.

-eechie.