For some reason, I've thought a lot about this post, but haven't quite been able to figure out how to say what I've been thinking, which is kind of frustrating! In fact, even as I write this, I'm not sure if I can make my thoughts flow the way I want them to. I think my thoughts have multiple parts, each new thought stemming from the one before, if that makes sense. So, I'll start at the beginning.
Last week, a powerful man passed away. When I think of Howard Rytting, the word that comes to mind is steadfast. He was a constant symbol of faith and good works. He was, at different times, my home teacher, part of my bishopric, part of my stake presidency, and always a great friend to our family. My dad and Brother Rytting always kind of go together in my head. Because of their service in the Church, they were often together. Brother Rytting was the one Dad would call to help give a blessing when one of us was sick. The Rytting home was a place we knew we could go and be safe, even when throwing toilet paper in their trees and stabbing forks into their lawn. My point is that Brother Rytting was always there, doing what the Lord had asked him to do, with a smile and a handshake and some kind words. He was there at Christmas time singing in the Ward Choir. He was there at Priesthood Meeting with his sons. He was there at Stake Conference, usually sitting on the stand with Dad. He was constant and immovable and steadfast.
As I thought this past week about the Rytting family, the second thought in this train occured to me. I was really blessed as a child to grow up in the same ward and with the same people. The Lawrence Ward, and then the Lawrence 2nd Ward was a place where I could always feel comfortable. There are so many in that ward that have been there for so long and they are an essential part of who I am. Some moved away, some passed away, but many remained for many years - even now, when I visit my parents, I feel so welcome and comfortable in that ward. There was Sister Lindsey, who let us park in her driveway as long as we promised to come in and have a cookie after school. I'll never forget seeing her house from the Centennial school playground and feeling like I had a friend close by. There were the McClure's, who always sat on that same side pew in the chapel. There was Susan Peterson, who I had to remember to call Miss Peterson at school. There was the 4th of July picnic at Benny Stewart's house, Klissa at Allen Field House and home teaching Art Sloan and the Faucher's. There were the Remke's and Thanksgiving dessert, the Kaleikini's and "Aloha!", the Haslam's and the vegetables from their amazing garden. There are so many that I think of when I think of the Lawrence Wards.
So that takes me to the third piece of this puzzle. On Sunday, our ward was split into two wards. Now, we haven't been here long enough to have any truly enduring friendships, so for us, the split was really just another day at church. We wanted to make sure that each of our kids had at least one friend with whom they were comfortable. And they do, so that's good. But, the thoughts about Brother Rytting and about my own "home" ward made me miss the constancy and friendships of those Lawrence Wards. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm all for the growth of the Church. It's amazing how strong it is here in the Henderson area. But with that growth comes a constant shifting of the boundaries and that means that you lose out on some of those long-lasting relationships. I want my kids to look back on their youth and love the wards in which we lived. I want them to remember their leaders and their friends. I want them to be inspired by the examples of people like Brother Rytting.
Books of 2018.
5 years ago
5 comments:
What a great post! I, too, feel that way about the ward(s) in Lawrence. One of my earliest memories in the church is Sister Rytting welcoming me to the Junior Sunday School building that used to be in back of the old institute. Her presence always made me feel that church was a place where people knew me, cared about me as an individual, and yes, even loved me. I still remember the lessons Brother Haslam taught when our class of 11-year-old boys met on the stand behind the organ and a host of other such experiences, many of which you mentioned in your post. The Ryttings, the Haslams, and the others who belong to that core group provided a sense of stability and trust for which I am very grateful. Now, as an adult, I am especially touched by the kindness -- or rather, the charity (in the full, powerful sense of that word) -- that the adults in those families showed for each other. What a fantastic example to follow.
Just think of all the lives someone can touch just by being a good, kind person.
Thanks for your post Matt. Sometimes I worry that being in the "mission" field was difficult on our children. I am very grateful that you feel a sense of belonging and loved here in Lawrence. It means alot.
Nice post, Matt. And mom, I've never thought of where we live as the "mission field." It was just home.
Thanks Matt. I echo your feelings about the "ward family". I'm grateful for it in terms of my formative years and for what it has meant to us recently.
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