Beautiful Courage

I got to do something wonderful on Sunday. I sat in the front row and watched my father speak in Sacrament meeting. It was an amazing, inspiring sight. No one in the congregation had any idea how difficult it was for him, how terrifying.

Some of you might remember me mentioning my Dad's special circumstances before. The man that raised me was an ultra-confident bomber pilot. He had positions in the church of responsibility. He was outgoing and friendly, with a bit of swagger to him. He was technical and precise, working as an engineer after he retired from the Air Force.

Then he hit some black ice one day and rolled his truck seven times, hitting his head each time.

His life is so different now. The swagger has given way to humility and tenderness. He needs a lot of help, and he's so gracious and thankful to receive it. He serves in the temple every week, sometimes more. He thrives on his 'grandpa hugs' and has a close relationship with each of my boys.
When my Dad took the pulpit, he was shaking. He smiled and mouthed to my mom sitting beside me, "I can't do this!" And he really couldn't. After hours of study, he wouldn't remember what his subject was. In the middle of a point, he would lose his train of thought. My mom worked with him for hours and hours. She made a booklet of notes for him, each page with a single enlarged word or two, stapled together so they wouldn't get mixed up.

When he began to speak, he set his notes aside, too scared to use them. But he spoke clearly, sweetly and humbly. He made all his points. He needed help remembering a word or two that eluded him, but the spirit of what he said was powerful.

Simply put, my Dad was blessed for his beautiful courage and his faith. He took a step into the dark, knowing he didn't have the ability to do what was asked of him. His capabilities were magnified, he was sustained. It was an amazing, humbling thing to witness.