Learning to Minister

We walked up to the cemetery tonight.

Today has truly been a "day of rest."  I slept for several hours.  Shaun slept.  Most of the kids slept.  I was tired -- exhausted.  I have just had a hard time getting to sleep at night.  My head has been busy processing what has been going on and trying to make sense of it all.  Last night I pondered what I have been taught about how to "minister."

definition of "minister" -- to attend to the needs of someone

This past year my scripture studies have focused on the New Testament.  I particularly focused on the life of the Savior.  It was a fitting time for that study.  As I attended to Brendan's needs, I learned how the Savior ministered.  I also saw how others ministered to Him.  As I rubbed Brendan's feet, I saw how Christ washed his Apostles feet and served them.  I learned to serve more selflessly.  

The sunset was beautiful and the surroundings peaceful.

I saw the woman who anointed Christ's head in preparation for his burial.  I saw how she was remembered for her selfless act.  It reminded me of how many others have served us and how the memory of their service will be a memorial to them.

Sometimes in the hospital, at night, I would read in the book of Acts to Brendan while he settled down and prepared for sleep.  Paul's trials  -- imprisoned, shipwrecked, and on trial -- resonated to Brendan.  He had so much empathy for Paul's sufferings and trials. 

I finally took off my "Charlie's Angels" band.  I feel like he is our angel now.

A now dear friend (whose daughter had a biopsy after a relapse the same night as Brendan's first biopsy) ministered to me that first night and ever since.  She sent me this reminder of Brendan.  Now my wrist won't feel lonely.

During many nights of Brendan's treatments, but especially the last few nights of Brendan's life, I learned firsthand what it might have been like for Peter, James, and John -- who Christ asked to watch and pray with him while he suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane.  As Brendan suffered, I watched and prayed and held his hand and suffered with him -- trying to strengthen him.  Many times, usually in the early morning hours around 2 or 3 a.m., I felt sorely the description "the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak"  and understood how the disciples could sleep because "their eyes were heavy."

While we ministered to Brendan, so many of you ministered to our needs.  Pure love.  Brendan, indeed, taught all of us how to be more Christlike. 

I'm including the poem Shaun shared part of during his talk at Brendan's funeral.  I'm working to get the funeral audio and the kids memories so I can share it here.  But for tonight, I will just include this.

GETHSEMANE

In golden youth, when seems the earth,
A Summer land for singing mirth,
When souls are glad, and hearts are light,
And not a shadow lurks in sight.
We do not know it, but there lays
Somewhere, veiled under evening skies,
A garden all must sometimes see,
    Gethsemane, Gethsemane,
    Somewhere his own Gethsemane.

With joyous steps we go our ways,
Love lends a halo to our days,
Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,
We laugh and say how strong we are.
We hurry on, and, hurrying, go
Close to the borderland of woe
That waits for you and waits for me;
    Gethsemane, Gethsemane,
    Forever waits Gethsemane.

Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams,
Bridged over by our broken dreams,
Behind the misty caps of years,
Close to the great salt fount of tears
The garden lies ; strive as you may,

You cannot miss it on your way.
    All paths that have been, or shall be
    Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.

All those who journey soon or late,
Must pass within the garden's gate ;
Must kneel alone in darkness there,
And battle with some fierce despair.
God pity those who cannot say :
“Not mine, but thine;” who only pray,
“Let this cup pass;” and cannot see
The purpose in Gethsemane.
    Gethsemane, Gethsemane,
    God help us through Gethsemane.

                        —Ella Wheeler Wilcox.