this time of year ...

as we drove home from town monday night we passed a house that was trimmed with holiday decor: plastic snowman family in the yard, twinkle lights, fake snow sprayed on the windows, just the usual. but these little decorations made a memory nudge it's way to the surface of my brain. 

it was christmas eve 5 years ago. i was a missionary in mississippi. we, as a district, went caroling in the district leader's area, petal, mississippi. elder mortensen was the district leader. he had the book of mormon memorized. literally. you could say a book and chapter and he'd tell you the gist of what that chapter said. any chapter. his companion, elder gooch. elder gooch could make anything out of duct tape. his scripture case: duct tape. (i secretly wanted to steal it.) my companion was sister taylor, and i'm sure there were other elders there, too, but i don't really remember.

what i do remember is the nudging memory. an old man (from my journal):

"... we sang two songs before he even got to the door. we began the third, 'silent night, holy night ...' the door opened and a man who looks exactly like pres. benson was leaning against his walker and the door frame. he mouthed the words with us. beneath his horn-rimmed glasses poured decades of love and experience. his gaze held me; i didn't want to look away for fear i wouldn't see him again. we sang several more songs together and he watched longingly as we departed from his porch into the dark abyss of the night. i just wanted to hold him in all his frailty, and at the same time be held by him. it was magnificent." 

i still remember this scene in my mind. i remember his plaid shirt tucked into his way-to-high pants. i remember the years of life experience in his eyes. i remember the horn-rimmed glasses. i remember how i wanted to protect him because he looked so fragile. mostly, i remember the love i felt for him.

and that's what i want to leave with you this christmas. 

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