We had a fun family home evening with the other senior missionaries Monday night. We played a game where everyone submitted something unusual about themselves that everyone might not know – and everyone else tried to guess who belonged each unusual item. It sure is fun being together with the other senior missionaries! It has been one of the “unanticipated blessings” of serving our missions.
Because of scheduling conflicts, the discussions with my Venezuelan “son“ and his wife were rescheduled several times, so we only had one video discussion this week. It was about “The Lord’s Law of Health“ (Word of Wisdom). There was a wonderful spirit present. They are already following this commandment! What a wonderful family! What a blessing for me to have met them! I look forward to the day —whenever that is — when I can give them a great big hug!
I finished listening to a book entitled Divine Signatures, by Gerald N. Lund. In chapter 13 of that book, he tells about a woman who was at the point of taking her own life, but felt an impression to stop. (See that chapter for more details). I have asked myself why the Lord didn’t stop Ashton from taking his own life? My response: I don’t know, but I trust God. I trust his love. I trust his justice. I trust his mercy. My faith is in Him…and does not depend on outcomes.
When I am so extremely tired in the midst of grief, I sometimes wonder what the physiology is behind that fatigue? Does my serotonin (or other chemical/hormone) level drop? Am I subconsciously looking for a way to “escape“ from the grief? Is that what my body needs at the time to heal? Again, I don’t know, but wanted to share some of my musings.
When I was in high school, I was in a car accident and cracked or bruised one of my ribs. I called a couple of girls my age to tell them about the accident. Somehow another girl in our high school found out about those calls. She teased me, saying “Did you call them so you can get sympathy?“ For several months, whenever she would see me, she would continue to tease me and say just, “Sympathy, huh?!“ When I was about five years old, I was barefoot and stepped on a piece of glass. The resulting cut on my foot required several stitches. I remember enjoying the attention of others wanting to see the cut on my foot. It reminds me of the story of Tom Sawyer being punished by having to whitewash their fence. He then cunningly tricked his friends into whitewashing the fence for him. One of his friends “paid“ for his “privilege“ of whitewashing the fence by promising to show Tom his sore toe. “Sympathy, huh?!“ To some degree, yes, I think I share how I am feeling because it feels good to have others reach out in love and support. If I’m going to make a mistake, it’s probably going to be on the side of sharing more rather than less. I’m grateful for the charity of those who indulge what I have written.
I found a website called “grief.com.” It has lists of some of the best and worst things to say to someone in grief. (I refer you to that website for the complete lists.) For me, it was enough to hear the words, “I am so sorry for your loss.“ I heard that a lot, but don’t think I could ever have heard it too much. It never felt trite to me. Bernie Christiansen was an elderly man in the community who passed away several weeks ago. After Ashton died, he said to me, “I am available with a listening ear at any hour of the day or night. I mean it – including at 2 o’clock when you can’t sleep.” I saw him several months later and he said, “Do you remember what I said about calling me in the middle of the night? Again, I mean it!“ I never did call him, but it meant so much to me to know that he knew that I might have sleepless nights from the grief. I really appreciated that.
I am reminded today what a blessing good friends are! Some of my high school buddies invited us to dinner before we left from the US in December; it was great to be with them again! Faye’s mother took some soup and homemade bread to Faye’s friend when the friend’s mother died. The friend wanted to decline the offer, but Faye’s mother said, “But I NEED to bring you some soup and bread!” I tearfully thought of all those who reached out to us when Ashton died and brought “soup and bread”…or a multitude of other things. That’s what we do when we “…mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort…” The women often bring something to eat. The men often perform some sort of physical labor. In our situation, this is what I saw men doing: setting up/taking down chairs for the funeral, digging/covering the grave, planting trees in honor of the deceased, going for walks/hikes/bike rides with me, inviting us over to eat antecuchos (a Peruvian delicacy) with them on the anniversary of Ashton’s death. These are only a few examples. One of my friends/mentors from my mission to Venezuela as a young man reached out to me on Facebook this week. That meant so much to me!
May I pay tribute to Max & Dona Kartchner? Max was the physician who delivered me when I was born. His signature is on my birth certificate. I considered him to be one of my mentors as a man and as a physician. After Ashton died, he and I were serving at the front desk in The Gila Valley Temple. It wasn’t very busy, so we chatted. He said something that still comforts me today: “Sometimes in medicine we do everything right. We select the appropriate antibiotic or other treatment. We perform the proper surgery. But sometimes the infection or injury or cancer is “overwhelming” and the patient still dies. Sometimes it’s the same with depression: it is treated appropriately; we and the patient do everything we can…but sometimes the depression is “overwhelming” and the patient still dies. Hearing that from him brought (and still brings) more solace to my broken heart than I can describe. As Max’s age advanced and his health deteriorated, I felt privileged that he selected me as his physician. He died at home on Christmas Eve a few years ago. His family called me and asked if I would be willing to come and “pronounce” his death. I felt humbled and honored to perform that sacred medical duty; the poignancy of my signing the death certificate of the man who signed my birth certificate was not lost on me. Dona is my mother’s first cousin. She was my Scout leader when I was 11-years-old and did a great job; I’m grateful for her sense of humor and patience with us rowdy boys.
Since 2014, we have awarded the Ashton Richardson Mayberry Memorial Scholarship annually to a St. David High School graduating senior that we select based on attitude, morals, effort and need. Funds for the scholarship were donated by I-don’t-know-how-many very generous people when Ashton died. Max and Dona made a significant contribution to the scholarship fund. When we have been on missions, someone from our family has awarded the scholarship in our stead. Next year (2021) will be the last of 8 years that the scholarship will be awarded. What a blessing to be a part of this touching tribute to Ashton, allowing us to “pay it forward,” hoping that the recipients will return the favor to someone else in need.
The photos are from a trip we took yesterday with some friends to Tiritiri Matangi, a beautiful little island close to Auckland that is also a bird sanctuary. What a treat for our first post-pandemic-lockdown excursion!
Written by Carter. Photos by Faye.