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Burnette 1 Keely Burnette Emily Dyer Writing 150 16 October 2013 Of Challenges, Changes, and Children of God Ken

was 50 years old on that summer day when it happened, when the diagnosis of stage four colon cancer came. Over the next two and a half years he dropped weight and lost hair and grew weaker and became meek and gentle and tender and so unlike the intimidating almost overpowering father I thought I knew. My dad was one of the most headstrong people that I have ever met; I was equally stubborn. We had a strained relationship. Lots of yelling, fighting, and threatening. I wish I could say our relationship was instantly repaired once we found out about the cancer, but it wasnt. The diagnosis simply added to the tension. In addition to the difficulties in our interaction, my dad was not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and expressed no interest in joining. This was hard on me. I was six when my mom was baptized, and I have loved the gospel ever since. The majority of the time, my father respected our beliefs. But sometimes, he would mock us. I knew Heavenly Father loved all of His children, but I could get so frustrated with my dad that I would forget that I needed to love all of His children too. Its not that I didnt love my father, its just that I would forget that he was also a child of God. As my dad neared death, his personality changed. Before, he dreaded my concerts and performances; then he dreaded missing them. He used to get mad about nearly everything, but tears of anger and frustration turned to tears of love and remorse. Words of punishment became

Burnette 2 words of praise. My fathers increasing weakness led him closer to Gods presence, and that presence resulted in an evident change in his demeanor. My sophomore year of high school, my dance team travelled to Orlando, Florida, for the National Dance Team Championship. My dad had been diagnosed with cancer about a year and a half earlier, and we all knew the trip would be hard for him. His treatmentchemotherapy, radiation, and numerous medicationsdeteriorated his muscles. Despite this, he happily walked around Walt Disney World, rode the rides he could, and came to all of my performances. He was more enthusiastic at this dance competition than he had been at any one previous. His new weakness made him more appreciative of life and its experiences. A month before my dad passed away, there came a new challenge. My mom worked nights as a nurse, so we would often have priesthood holders in our ward or a hospice nurse stay with him overnight. One night, no one was there to watch over my dad, so my brother and I were left to watch him. Some of his medications had negative effects on his sanity, so he pulled out his IV. When I was nine, the hospital my mom worked at taught me how to give shots, take blood, and start IVs as part of a bring-your-kid-to-work program. Placing a needle inside of a dummy, however, is very different from placing a needle inside of a human. I had to call my mom, she had to talk me through replacing the IV. I knew she was busy, and I felt bad for calling, but I knew there was no way I could do this on my own. After everything was under control and my mom hung up the phone, my dad cried. He did a lot of that through those two and a half years crying. He almost never cried before. He said more sorrys than I had ever heard him say. At first, it was a little jarring to have him suddenly behaving so differently. My mom, brother, and I piled into the car to go see my dads body after he died. The funeral home had special viewing rooms; the one my dad was in was right next to the incinerator

Burnette 3 hed be in just a little while later. My mom pulled back the sheet to reveal his face. It was definitely him, though he was paler than before. I remember my brother turning away. I remember my mother asking if there was anything I needed to say to my dad. I mumbled something I dont remember and turned to the wall. It was a strange feeling in that white room the one with two chairs, a garbage can, and a table with a body on it. It felt too small and too big; it felt sad; it felt a little scary. It felt like the Spirit was present. I thought of how my dads spirit was learning the gospel in the spirit world. I thought about how much Heavenly Father loved my dadenough to give him the opportunity to come to know and accept Him despite the fact that my dad rejected Him while he was on this earth. Seeing my dad lying there on that table without his spirit made me appreciate and recognize how true the gospel is. It made me realize that my dad has endless opportunities to accept this gospel. This is possible because Heavenly Father loves him. My dad did not possess the strength that comes from faith in his Heavenly Father, but he still received the blessings that came with being one of His children. One night during my dads sickness, I realized something. My father had become as [a] little child[] as Matthew 18:3 tells us we must. Matthew 5:5 says blessed are the meek. Meekness, I learned, is not weakness. It is being quiet, gentle, easil y imposed upon; submissive. So many of us struggle with misunderstanding this vital trait, but my dying father adopted it without realizing. My dad became more submissive as he agreed to our decisions regarding rides at Disney World; he became easily imposed upon as he allowed me to replace his IV; he had a gentle, quiet peace around him that entered our home in the last few moments of his life.

Burnette 4 As I saw my dad become as meek as a little child, I realized that to Heavenly Father, he was just that: a little child. My dad, though he wasnt a member; wasnt the kindest; wasnt the calmest. Was a child of God. Heavenly Father is the Father of all, not just of the righteous, most valiant church-goers (whose struggles may be less obvious to us). What does this mean for each of us? Does it mean that we, too, are children of our Heavenly Father no matter what our weaknesses may be? My father had physical and emotional struggles that I would not be able to image if I hadnt seen him enduring them. Everyone has struggles of some kind, and everyone is a loved child of God. I learned in my New Testament class this semester that Moses was so named because they did not know whose son he was it was custom to name children after their fathers. When God spoke with Moses in Moses 1:6, He addressed him as Moses, my son, identifying him. Now, the name Moses means born of a God. When reading a scripture about how God called the prophet His son, it can often be hard to apply that same scripture to someone with weakness. We are taught to apply all scriptures to our lives, so shouldnt we recognize that every person on this earth is a child of a loving Heavenly Father? We live in a world of 7 billion people. Every single one of these human beings is an amazing, meek, beautiful, special child of God. Of these 7 billion, many have debilitating, lifethreatening diseases; many have not yet accepted the gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint. All of these humans have struggles. We must come to see through their weaknesses and love them for all that they can be. Then will we be able to see them for what they are. Children of God.

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