AS A CHILD

I was recently touched by reading the following:

Two-year-old Matthew supplied me a lesson.

He cried, I thought without reason, in bed tonight. He asked several times if I'd blow his nose for him or hold the tissue while he blew his nose.

After three or four trips, I stalked into his room and asked, "Do you want me to spank you?"

He nodded yes. I asked again, this time illustrating with my raised hand.

He said, "Yes."

Suddenly my heart melted as I realized he trusted me so much that if I thought a spanking would help his problem, that's what he wanted.

I rocked him for a while and realized to my further softening that he had a stuffed nose from a cold that was just beginning. That had been his discomfort. I got some tissues for him, gave them to him in bed, and told him to blow as much as he would like.

He said, "Thanks."

I went away a chastened man.

This incident appears in Henry B. Eyring's book, "Because He First Loved Us." I suppose I was touched because I too have experienced being impatient with a child when I didn't understand what his problem was. I was also impressed because President Eyring was humble enough to share this story without white-washing his own behavior.

And I suppose it also reminded me of another little two-year-old, whose name is Henry, who melts my heart on a daily basis.

"Do you want to go to bed?" asks his parent sternly-- indicating the punishment that is looming if Henry doesn't behave properly.

"Bed," responds a sorrowful Henry, meekly submitting to his punishment.

President Eyring points out that these little children are examples for us to follow. To be acceptable to God, we must become "willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon us, even as a child doth submit to his father" (Mosiah 3:19).

The Wrong Bridge

Elder Henry B. Eyring once told the true story of Jack Steel, a friend of his at Stanford University. During World War II, Jack received the second highest decoration a soldier can receive: the Distinguished Service Cross. He was awarded it because of gallant actions performed while defending his fellow soldiers in battle. Steel's platoon had been assigned to capture an important bridge. As they walked down a long slope, they could see that the bridge was heavily defended. When the enemy on the bridge spotted Jack's platoon they immediately opened fire. A machine gunner trained his gun on the men highest on the hill and began working his way down, with devastating effects. The men of the platoon were rapidly being killed or wounded.

In that moment, Jack Steel saw that the men who began running back up the hill were also being hit. It soon became clear, that if he wanted to live, he would have to charge straight at the bridge. Therefore, grabbing his Browning automatic rifle, he ran toward the bridge, screaming and firing from the hip. The defenders on the bridge were so surprised by his actions that they immediately deserted the bridge, leaving Jack to capture it single-handedly. His bold attack not only captured the bridge but also saved the rest of his platoon farther up the hill. Elder Eyring concluded the story with this note:


Now, the reason you need to hear the story is that it turned out to be the wrong bridge. That is what you need to know. The colonel who sent them had given the wrong instruction and it was a useless bridge—it didn't go anywhere. All the people defending it were dealing with the wrong bridge (“We Need a Miracle,” an address to CES Area Directors, 6 April, 1981).

Effort and gallantry aside, they had attacked the wrong target! Someone had made a serious mistake in their directives. The bridge they really needed to capture was still out there and still needed to be taken.

[The above 4 paragraphs are quoted from a Meridian Magazine article this week.]


In my life, how many wrong bridges have I either attacked or defended? How much time and effort have I expended on useless stuff? How many important bridges have I failed to either attack or defend?

Discernment. It's what this life is all about, I guess.