Well that was a very tough email to get through. Several times I found myself holding back tears. I feel very sad and frustrated that I could not be there. There is so much I would have liked to say. This week has been one of very mixed emotions. I got the call from President Taylor on Wednesday morning. He said some very comforting words to me. I then got another call from him on Saturday. I will relate the experiences I had this week in chronological order.
Tuesday: Zone Leader Council. Same ol', same ol'. We are focusing a lot on obedience because a lot of the missionaries have become relaxed with some of the smaller rules.
Wednesday: Called by President to tell me about Grandpa's death at about 10:30 a.m. It was hard to focus the entire day. That night in my prayer before bed I prayed that I would have one last "mortal" experience with my Grandpa. I didn't know how that experience would come, but I will relate to you the answer to my prayer by quoting my journal entry that was written the next morning.
"I would like to recount the dream I had on the night of January 4th, 2012. I was told today by President Taylor that My Grandpa Roger passed away. To be honest this was an answer to my prayer. He had been suffering from cancer for a long while now. With so many mixed feelings in my heart and mind, I pleaded in my prayer before bed to be able to have a final "mortal" experience with him that I haven't been able to have for the past 20 months. I soon found myself fast asleep and dreaming after struggling to keep my eyes closed from the many things on my mind.
I remember it being my last day as a missionary (yet at the same time it wasn't) and I was able to return home for a short time. I remember wearing normal, non-missionary attire but at heart and mind I was still a set-apart missionary. I remember thinking that I hadn't been released by my stake president but I also hoped that that meant I would be able to return to the field after my short experience back home. The first place I was taken was a restaurant in West Valley City called Francescos. I walked through the sliding glass doors only to find my family sitting at a long, wooden, "family-size" table, eating their fresh garlic bread. My mom, dad, and sisters were there. Many members of my extended family were there. I specifically remember greeting my cousin Whitney who was sitting next to her immediate family. I cannot recall the other people who were sitting at the table but I remember it being a lot like any other family get together. My Grandpa Roger was sitting at the corner of the table nearest the glass door. As I walked in, I shook his hand and took my seat kitty-corner to where he sat. He looked the way I remember him looking the last time I saw him before my mission. He was in a wheelchair. His hair was white and thin due to constant treatments of chemotherapy. His stare was long and lifeless to those sitting around the table. His regular University of Utah sweatshirt covered his upper body and his well-known bifocal eyeglasses were on his face. His skin was worn, freckled, and tattered with signs of a life well lived. His hands and feet were swollen. But the most important attribute of his person I noticed was that his mind was clear, voice-unwaivering, stories-unforgotten. He related story after story and smart-aleck comment after comment. His conversation with us all was perfect. The overly told yet overly loved stories of his childhood rang through the ears of those in attendance. In my mind I thought, "How can he look so old on the outside, but sound so young and perfect on the inside?" I realized this was because his spirit, though harbored by his mortal body, was perfect and untattered unlike his body. I love that man. The feeling around the table was one that none in attendance would ever forget. Jokes, stories, gestures, quotes, and songs all brought laughter, tears, and love but overall, absolute joy. Everyone was happy. Out of the corner of my eye, a "visitor" came through a door from the back of the room. He walked over behind the wheelchair which Grandpa was in and told him that he would need to say his goodbyes, which would only be goodbyes for a short time. The room went quiet. Each remained in their seat. Tears slowly rolled down each person's face. I held up my left hand, caught his tear filled eyes with mine, and made the sign of "I love YOU" with my hand. He wept as he was wheeled out of the room away from his family, for a short time. I then found myself gathered with numberless concourses of people in a gigantic room that resembled an LDS chapel. The difference was that all the walls in a normal sized chapel were gone and replaced with stadium like seats that seemed to go up forever. I was seated on one of the front row pews on the ground in front of the pulpit. I finally realized where I was. I looked around and recognized faces of those who were in attendance. Each of them had been impacted in one way or another by my Grandpa. The rows and rows of people seemed endless as they stretched up and up the stadium seating. I quickly realized I was in attendance with the thousands of others at what I thought was my Grandpa's funeral. The only thing was that there was no casket. No viewing. Most of the time was spent visiting and recalling memories we each had with him. Then, a hush seemed to go over the entire room. The Mouritsen "daughters" all got up and went to the pulpit. They sang the songs, "Daughter of a King" and "Your Goodness Lives On" which were written by my sister Madison. There wasn't a dry eye in the room. Not because of sadness, but because his goodness truly does live on through us. I know his goodness lives on. Following the songs, I found myself back in the mission field, happy to be there. I knew I was needed to gather Israel in from this side of the veil, while Grandpa would be gathering Israel in on the other side.
At the end of the phone call when I heard this sad news, President Taylor said to me this, "I've set people apart before and told them that they would have those on the other side of the veil with them, watching over them while they served. I don't say this to everyone, but I feel impressed to tell you that your Grandpa has been added to the front lines and is added to those on your right and on your left and directly behind you. He will be there watching and guiding you in the time of need." I know that is true."
That was my entry. I felt like I should share it. I would have liked to have shared it at the service you held for him last Saturday.
Saturday night I got another interesting call. Elder Buttars answered the phone and President asked if he could speak to me. I was handed the phone and we began talking about some of the needs in the zone. We specifically talked about some struggling companionships. He then turned the conversation away and said, "Well the real reason I have called you is because the Lord has a new assignment for you Elder Mouritsen. The Lord has called you to be a trainer and a district leader." I was overwhelmed with some excitement, yet some major feelings of being torn away from the place that I have come to love so much. Of course I accepted.
Sunday was our ward conference. I'm glad that I was told the transfer news on Saturday because it gave me opportunity to say some last goodbyes to members in the ward. Since it was ward conference President Hettinger and the other stake leaders were there also. It worked out really nice because I was able to say goodbye to them also. President Hettinger and I have gotten really close over the past 20 months. Bishop got up to announce the meeting. During the announcement he stopped and said, "A long-time friend of ours here in the ward will be leaving us this week. We just wanted to publicly thank Elder Mouritsen for the work he has done and the love we have grown to have for him. We wish him the best wherever he goes." My heart was so big and I knew it was going to be extremely hard to say goodbye. It was so nice of him to say something like that. Next President Hettinger got up. He started by publically saying thanks also but then he took it to another level (haha). He said something to the effect of, "Hypothetically speaking, if I had two daughters who were up at BYU and not dating anyone, and Elder Mouritsen was not a missionary, I would sure love for them to date and marry someone like him. I've been very grateful to be able to work along side him for the past 14 months." Oh my, it was so embarrassing. Everyone busted up laughing and OH, what made it worse? His daughters were there and they were sitting on the FRONT ROW! And yes one of them is 19 and one of them is 21. Both are also very "fair and delightsome" as stated in the Book of Mormon. It was pretty funny yet awkward. Probably a good thing that I am getting transferred. Haha. They came up and talked to me after the meeting to ask when I was going to be home after the mission also... :/ President Hettinger is the man and I am definitely going to stay in contact with him after the mission.
Yesterday was when I read your letter because I had to transfer a bunch of stuff from my USB to Elder Buttars. I also had to email him some things. Following the email, we went to lunch with a member at Chiles. While there, a song came on over the loud speaker. You may have heard of it. It is called, "With or Without You" by U2. I thought it was interesting with all the stuff going on around. It reminded me a lot of my memories and experiences with Grandpa while up in Dingle. I also was looking through some past letters while packing and found the long printer paper letter that you had all the family members write on that you sent to me from Thanksgiving 2010. On the back of the paper, I found a note from Grandpa that I don’t remember reading before. It definitely describes him. I will quote it to you:
Dear Colton,
It has been 0 degrees all day here and we have been huddled together to stay warm. We have been burning wood like mad and if this continues we will have to start chopping up some of the smaller children to keep the fire going. Please send us any extra heat you are not using...Please say a prayer for me, I think the Lord will listen to you.
Frohliche Weinacten, Grandpa Roger
I was touched by that. I also don't know what "Frohliche Weinacten" means and I don't even know if I spelled it right. Oh well.
I recently found a poem that I want to share with you to close this email.
As I stare out the window,
Tears still in my eyes.
I see the vision of those I love,
As we said our last goodbyes.
The flight was long and tiring.
As two questions plagued my mind,
Do I want the life that's ahead of me,
Or the one I left behind?
You see twenty four months is such a long time
For going door to door.
In my reflection, I thought,
There must be something more.
I struggled down off the plane,
Looking for a friendly face.
When a man called Pres. said:
"Son, you've come to the right place!"
I sit reflecting once again
As this day is my last.
Please, Lord, it isn't fair,
The time went way too fast.
As I stare out the window
Tears still in my eyes,
I see the visions of those I love,
As we said our last goodbyes.
The flight was long and tiring,
As two questions plagued my mind;
Do I want the life that's ahead of me,
Or the one I left behind?
I love you all. Thanks for all your comforting words and strength. I'm excited to move on and finish strong to the end.
Love,
Elder Mouritsen
Amazing!!! What a kid. Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDelete