Gayle M. Clegg
Second Counselor in the Primary General Presidency
We have to keep writing, keep walking, keep serving and accepting new challenges to the end of our own story.
Some time ago I found a large white envelope in my mailbox. Inside was a story
written by a boy I had taught years before when he was in sixth grade. I remembered
the student and the assignment his class had worked on for months. I also remembered
that he loved to write and would sit and think and think. Sometimes only a
word or two found their way to the page. At times he worked during recess,
but when the due date arrived, his story still had a chapter to go. I told
him just to turn it in as it was, but Jimmy had a different vision and wanted
to turn in a finished story. The last day of class he asked if he could finish
during the summer break. Again I told him just to turn it in. He pleaded for
more time, and finally I sent him on his way with a stack of wrinkled and smudged
papers, complimenting him on his determination and assuring him of my confidence
in his ability to complete a great story.
I thought about him that summer, but the assignment left my mind until years
later when I found his completed project in the mailbox. I was amazed and wondered
what made Jimmy finish his story. What kind of vision, determination, and effort
had been required in this task? Why do any of us finish a hard task, especially
if no one demands its completion?
My husband's great-grandfather Henry Clegg Jr. was a
finisher. He joined the Church with his family when the first LDS missionaries
went to Preston, England. Henry had a view of his destination in his mind
as he and his wife, Hannah, and their two young boys immigrated to Utah. Henry
left his older parents, who were too feeble to make such a long and arduous
journey, knowing he would never see them again.
While crossing the plains, Hannah contracted cholera
and died. She was laid to rest in an unmarked grave. The company then moved
on, and at six in the evening, Henry's youngest son also died. Henry retraced
his steps to Hannah's grave, placed his young son in his wife's arms, and
reburied the two of them together. Henry then had to return to the wagon
train, now five miles away. Suffering from cholera himself, Henry described
his condition as being at death's door while realizing he still had a thousand
miles to walk. Amazingly he continued forward, putting one foot in front
of the other. He stopped writing in his journal for several weeks after losing
his dear Hannah and little son. I was struck with the words he used when
he did start writing again: "Still
moving."
When he finally reached the gathering place of the Saints, he began a new
family. He kept the faith. He continued his story. Most remarkably, his heartache
over the burial of his sweetheart and son gave birth to our family's legacy
of moving forward, of finishing.
I have often wondered as I have heard pioneer stories
like the one of Henry Clegg, "Could I ever do that?" Sometimes
I fear this question, knowing our pioneer legacy lives on today. I recently
visited West Africa and witnessed everyday pioneers walking forward, joining
a new church, leaving behind centuries of traditions, even leaving behind
family and friends, as did Henry. My admiration and love for them is as great
as for my own forebears.
Do the challenges of others appear more difficult
than our own? We often look at someone with tremendous responsibilities and
think, "I could never
do that." Yet others might look at us and feel exactly the same way. It
is not the magnitude of the responsibility but rather how it feels to be the
one in the middle of the unfinished task. For a young mother with many children
at home, caring for them through the day and then through the night could feel
like a thousand miles yet to walk. Giving a lesson in Relief Society to women who
are older or younger, more experienced or more educated could feel difficult,
especially when the topic is one you are struggling to understand and live
yourself. Teaching a class of 10 active six-year-olds can be daunting, especially
when your own six-year-old is in the class and you haven't quite figured out
how to teach him one-on-one.
What do we learn from young Jimmy, from early pioneers, and from modern pioneers
around the world that will help us in our specific challenges? Jimmy spent
years writing on his own for no deadline, Henry Clegg marched on alone and
without heart even to write in a journal, and African Saints lived worthy of
a temple they could not have imagined would one day rise in their own nation.
To keep going, to stay faithful, and to finish had to be its own reward.
Years ago one of our daughters asked me to come
outside and play tetherball with her. She told me to sit down and watch as
she hit over and over again a ball on a rope that wound itself around a pole.
After watching several windings I asked what my part was in the game, and
she said, "Oh, Mom, you say,
'Good job, good job,' every time the ball goes around the pole."
"Good job!" helps the journey seem possible.
It might sound like a phone call from a mother of one of the six-year-olds
in that Primary class, calling to let the teacher know that her son carefully
helped his little sister into the car seat without being asked, acknowledging
the Primary teacher's lesson as the impetus for this new behavior. It might
look like a husband getting the children off to nursery and Primary as his
wife sets up her lesson for Young Women. It might be as simple as a smile,
a hug, or a long walk to sort things out with a friend, a husband, or a child.
We each must find and finish our own story, but how much sweeter the telling
when encouragement is called out, when arriving at our destination is valued
and celebrated, however long ago the journey commenced.
The greatest mentor and advocate we have said: "I will go before your
face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be
in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up" (D&C
84:88). Can any of us afford to leave this piece out of our individual journey?
Henry Clegg was still moving forward to live among
the faithful Saints, to take his place, to raise a righteous family, to serve
his neighbor. He had that picture in his mind even when his heart was breaking.
I heard a Primary child from Ghana answer the question "What does it mean to choose the
right every day?" with, "It means to follow the Lord and Savior every
day and do your best even when it is hard." This modern pioneer boy knew
President Hinckley's admonition. He knew about keeping commandments every day.
He understood that his own story would unfold simply by putting one foot in
front of the other, one day at a time.
Last fall I found myself with a wonderful but challenging opportunity to develop
and teach Primary training through a video made entirely in Spanish. At one
time in my life I was a Spanish speaker, but recently I had been speaking Portuguese
and knew what it would take to relearn Spanish. I did all the things each of
you do to complete a task that feels extremely difficult. I found help from
capable and dedicated Hispanic sisters. Together we studied, prayed, fasted,
and worked long hours. The day arrived to go and do the thing the Lord had
asked, and we not only were fearful but felt our work was inadequate. We had
worked up to the moment of delivery, and nothing more could be done. I wanted
to start over.
Each of our husbands gave us priesthood blessings,
and peace and calm started to come. Like angels, help came in the form of
a sweet husband who set the alarm on his watch so he could pray for me every
half hour during the recording, a cameraman whose eyes radiated "Good job," and
Primary leaders who had confidence in the workings of the Spirit and were
able to communicate that with power. We ended up with a finished film that
was helpful for our Spanish-speaking leaders. All who participated in it
were partly surprised and entirely grateful for its success. We walked as
far as we could go, and when we thought we might abandon our carts and drop
by the wayside, angels somehow pushed from behind.
What did we learn from this task? The same lesson
Henry Clegg Jr. and Jimmy learned and the same thing all faithful modern-day
pioneers are learning. With the Lord, nothing is impossible (see Luke
1:37),
but we each have to finish our own story. He sends His Spirit, we call out
encouragement to each other, but we have to keep writing, keep walking, keep
serving and accepting new challenges to the end of our own story. "Still
walking" is
the fundamental requirement in the journey of life. He wants us to finish
well. He wants us to come back to Him. I pray that each of our stories will
end in the presence of our Heavenly Father and His Son, our Savior Jesus
Christ, the authors and finishers of our faith. In the name of Jesus Christ,
amen.
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