Write Them Down...

I’ve been reminded repeatedly over the past month and a half of a talk I heard in conference several years ago. President Eyring shared the story of a time in his life when he was a very busy young father, and was arriving home late one night in the dark. As he was walking toward his front door, his father-in-law unintentionally surprised him. His father-in-law was walking very fast toward the backyard, dressed in work clothes, and carrying a load a pipes. He was building a system to pump water from a stream to President Eyring’s property. His father-in-law smiled, spoke softly, and then rushed past him into the darkness to continue with the work. He was performing an exceptional selfless service for the Eyring family, even late into the nighttime hours. As President Eyring was entering his home and thinking upon this service he heard in his mind (not in his own voice) these words, “I’m not giving you these experiences for yourself. Write them down.”

I’ve heard that same voice and that same phrase for years, and particularly since Ammon started this most recent journey. I feel selfish in many regards for not doing a better job of writing and then appropriately sharing many of these experiences. I’ve been particularly moved as many times recently I’ve come home from work or the hospital, and it is dark, and the children have already been hugged and tucked into bed, and my own father-in-law is sitting quietly on the couch doing some work. On many days when he is here, it means that his beautiful wife is back in California, and they are apart while serving our family. I’ve been surprised many times to come home and find everything already done. The laundry room painted, the freezer moved, and a dozen other items that I was supposed to get done months ago that are finally being completed. All of these experiences inspired by Ammon are truly not for myself, but I’m trying to do what has been asked of me and writing them down.

Here’s a few of the dozens of stories that I’ve written down. I do hesitate to share them in this way, because it feels like standing up at a party and acknowledging only a few where literally everyone in attendance deserves significant acknowledgment and praise for the service and prayers that have been performed. Every service and prayer is special, and a child's 15-second prayer is of equal merit and importance as the gathering of a dozen youth to clean our yard and mow our lawn. I do know, that in the eternities all the good will be known, and when compared to the things that we have written down the volumes of records will likely increase a hundred fold.

There have been numerous families that have been a significant comfort and source of faith since Ammon’s diagnosis, and in some instances several of these families have historically only been general acquaintances, kind of like those that you only wave hi to with a brief hello in a hallway. On one occasion, I was deeply touched and almost brought to tears when one extremely shy individual approached me. She called me by name (I didn’t even know she really knew who I was), and then proceeded to offer exemplary support and service to our family on Ammon’s behalf. As people learn about Ammon’s strength and experiences, he apparently makes it easier for people to overcome their own fears and weaknesses, and truly step outside of their comfort zones. On other occasions, right from the time of Ammon's diagnosis, so many good people have watched and loved Coleson and Brynn. On the nights surrounding Ammon's diagnosis this was particularly poignant for me to such a degree that I have struggled to write the right words in expressing the gratitude I felt. I struggled greatly on how to relay Ammon's diagnosis to Coleson and Brynn for the first time. As I went to pick them up on those nights I received great comfort in knowing they were in homes and with families that loved them. That alone, made an incredibly difficult task of telling them that their brother has cancer and what that means a little easier for a father to shoulder. I continue to be amazed daily as I witness so many tender mercies from the Lord.

Ammon’s nurses and doctors love him, and we are grateful they have those feelings. At times, we have found his nurses, both male and female, sitting next to Ammon and singing him songs or holding his hand. Ammon has an occupational therapist that comes to visit him daily now that his health has been improving, and they play specialized exercise and interaction games together. Today, near the end of Ammon’s therapy session the therapist was singing Paddy Cake and doing the motions and Ammon started to smile, and just melted the therapist’s heart.

The youth and children in our neighborhood, in our extended families, and from work have been especially thoughtful and prayerful on Ammon’s behalf. To hear their testimonies and eternal experiences concerning Ammon’s journey has been particularly touching and inspiring. The drawings, pictures, letters, and cards have been a repeated heart warming source of strength to us and to Ammon. Several very sweet young girls were apparently distraught over Ammon's diagnosis, and taking matter's into their own hands they canvassed the neighborhood sharing Ammon's story and securing donations on his behalf. Our family has been humbled immensely by the kindness of the act and the amount of funds our good neighbors donated. Another group of families ensured that fuel for our cars as we travel to be with Ammon would not be a concern. It’s so humbling and strengthening to hear parents share stories of their littlest children, who sometimes can hardly even talk, praying on Ammon’s behalf, with no encouragement or reminders needed. I hope you all treasure those special moments, by so many special children, as much as we do.

One day a close friend dropped by our house several grocery bags. When Summer first explained to me the delivery I naturally thought they were full of groceries, but instead it was full of paper plates, plastic cups, and picnic utensils. Apparently, while our friend was grocery shopping that day, she was thinking of Ammon and thought there would be less chores do if we could simply throw away our dishes after dinner instead of washing them.

A package arrived one day with a couple of CDs full of the sounds of soothing harps and other relaxing music. The gift of music was from a grandmother that had lost her own grandchild several years ago when the grandchild was less than a few months old. A note was attached that shared how much she loved and was inspired by Ammon, and that the music on the CDs were used to calm and comfort her own grandchild when she was experiencing her own difficult and inspiring journey here on Earth. We feel so much joy and humility in receiving such a tender gift, and are glad to share it with Ammon, while knowing that a loved grandchild in Heaven is always remembered and connected with Ammon in this special way.

The week after Ammon was diagnosed, two of Summer’s friends from the neighborhood stopped by our house and asked to borrow the keys to the Explorer. They relayed some story of needing a larger vehicle for some event and simply wanted to borrow the car for a few hours (despite one of these women having teenagers, they were not the best at creating a tall tale or even a remotely believable excuse). With a questioning smile from Summer that conveyed “what is really going on,” she handed over the keys. Several hours later the Explorer was returned, with the task accomplished. Upon investigating the vehicle we were greeted with an immaculate showroom interior. Everything had been vacuumed, all items picked up and put away, the windows cleaned, the dash scrubbed, and a basket full of travel goods, a journal, food items, and other necessities that have since been enjoyed on every car trip. They had even taken the thought to place a vanilla air freshner at the front of the vehicle and another way in the back. The car was perfect, the service was exceptional, and the love conveyed was immeasurable. Even a month later, each time as we open the doors to load the children in the car or for another solo trip to be with Ammon at the hospital, the warm vanilla smells envelope us. The Explorer, has maintained its illustrious shine when it has been in Summer's responsibility, but for the days that I've had it the shine has occasionally been diminished. At times, if you did not know the service that had been performed and had the chance to open the car doors, you might be greeted by a few messy treasures left behind by two young children (any maybe one particular adult). But let me explain how this kind act of service continues to burn strong. Without fail, each time I’ve gotten in that car, despite any current physical appearance, the sweet smells of vanilla have greeted me, and like an emotional reaction the divine service of these good people wraps around me and I can hear again the words in the service performed, “We love you Ammon, we pray for you Ammon, you inspired us Ammon…”

Shortly after Ammon was diagnosed, Summer was at the hospital with Ammon and I was at home cleaning and keeping the house in marginal order before heading there as well. A knock came at the door and I was greeted by one of our neighbors. She had learned from Summer the day before about Ammon’s diagnosis and had been broken hearted ever since. With emotion in her voice she simply said, “I’m not sure exactly how to say this, but I need your laundry.” In her hands she was holding two empty laundry baskets. I was touched immediately by her thoughtful service on Ammon’s behalf, and I’ll never forget her words and the inspired charity it conveyed. Unfortunately, I had just finished the last load of laundry, except for a load of whites that included all of our unmentionables and I wasn’t ready to hand those over (although, since that day our ‘unmentionables’ have been folded and put away through another kind act of service). After talking for a while, our friend left empty handed, or at least with empty laundry baskets. But she needs to know that the inspiration behind the mission was accomplished, and it really had nothing to do with laundry. No, that day, even that specific hour, the real inspired service was to let a Dad know that his son was loved and being prayed for, that heavenly and earthly forces of good were marshaling on Ammon’s behalf and there were yet many miracles to come. Who would have ever thought that the phrase “I need your laundry” would convey such a divinely comforting message.

Thank you again to everyone! Our hearts have been overflowing with the charity and love that we and Ammon have witnessed.