A Silver Lining

Amanda’s boyfriend Sean was baptized last night and he asked me to perform the ordinance. He was a little hesitant in asking me because, well, he has been around me lately, but I assured him that I could do it. In fact, I would be honored. My legs could handle it, right? Sean is about my height and is an agile wrestler-type 17 year-old. And we’d be in water. I agreed to it and we proceeded.

All week I was concerned though, not about my legs but my voice. Could I be heard? I’ve baptized dozens of people but never was I as nervous.   I mentally rehearsed the prayer over and over again. Surely I could do this, it was only 28 words! Just 40 syllables! If I could just muster up the voice for 40 measly, but important syllables! I considered recusing myself mainly because I didn’t want to do anything to detract from the sacredness of the ordinance, or the focus on Sean on his special day. It was not about me and my willingness to tempt fate. Seriously, I had thoughts like this. Tempt fate to do what? It was a baptism, not a triathlon! I don’t know why I was so nervous.

We entered the font, took the customary positions and I began. I cannot report a miraculous healing here or even a temporary stay; the voice was weak and strained as usual, and evenings are worse than mornings, but it was audible. When I reached “Amen” I was so relieved. I had done it! Then I had about one second to consider the physical part, which was accomplished with ease. Here is the thing: I was so concerned about the voice thing that I didn’t take any time to worry about the immersion part, which worry would have been in vain anyway. That’s a Silver Lining, right?

Is it me?

I suppose it is natural to wonder if my malady is the result of choices that I made. Notwithstanding there are no known causes for MS, I can’t help but wonder if it was something I ate. Or didn’t eat. Do lima beans and walnuts somehow interact to form a myelin shield? I know, it’s silly but I find myself doing this a lot. I consider that most people don’t have MS and can talk well into their 40s. What did I do that was different from most that could have done this?

I habitually read road sign in reverse, you know, Regnirre, T-srif, and Aredam from my home town or even just “Tixe Txen” anywhere. Could that have done it? Maybe somehow the cerebral calisthenics were too much. When alone in elevators I used to take a couple practice swings with my air Easton – I don’t think a lot of people do that. I always lather and rinse, but I never repeat. That can’t be it. Does anyone repeat? Maybe it is thinking ridiculous things too often! I do that.

A New Calling

A few weeks ago my bishop told me he wanted me to teach the Marriage and Family Relations course during Sunday school. Now I love teaching and I have 19 years experience at marriage, so this should be a no-brainer.  But there is the whole “can’t talk” thing. Details, details.

We would only meet once a month which makes it easier, but it would supplant Gospel Doctrine those weeks so the class would be teeming. I told him I’d do my best. Today was the first class. I over-prepared, had several parts to be read by class members, and the subject matter lent itself to good class participation.  But still I was scared. It seems most Sundays it is all I can do to keep my head up.  I never comment or volunteer to say prayers. I could do it but I don’t want to subject everyone else to my condition, especially since I sound way worse than I feel.

How could I teach?

Well, I’m happy to report that week 1 is done and it went well enough. I introduced myself, apologized for my weak voice, briefly explained the situation, and requested their patience, prayers, and participation. I was self-conscious, fearing that my medical condition would be a distraction from the subject matter.

I'll be honest; it was very difficult.  At several points I had to stop, take an uncomfortably forced swallow, and then try to squelch out a few more syllables.  Also, I was careful not to stray into any areas of the slightest emotions.  I could not afford to do that to the class, unless the topic for the day was "How to sound like large aquatic mammals."  (It was not.)

Following the class, one lady who just moved in came up and told me precisely what I wanted to hear. She said, “I just wanted to tell you that your voice was not a distraction. Once we got going and the Spirit took over it wasn’t even a thought.” How prescient was that? And for a first-timer to boot!  It gives me the encouragement to try again in February.

I won’t transcribe the lesson here, but I will share a story that I shared today.

In my BYU “married” ward, a friend who was generally happy and seemed to have a perfect marriage one day looked troubled. He said, “My wife expects me to pick up my own dirty socks!” I gave him a puzzled look. He explained that he was raised on a farm, and when Dad and the boys returned from the field, they removed their dirty clothing and socks and mother would pick them up off the floor and wash them. In his frame of reference, husband and wife had certain well-defined roles and he was troubled that his wife wasn’t fulfilling her wifely obligations. I consoled him saying, “Buddy, I have the exact same problem! And she won’t wear an apron, fetch my slippers, or let me go to meetings at the lodge! Seriously, I only suggested that perhaps he should expect some role divergence since his wife wasn’t raised in his home (and because he was not currently working on a farm.)