To Give and to Receive the Gift of Love

My mom was just a couple of years younger than I am now when she found out her five year old, Brant, had cancer. It was right after Halloween, and the assumption was that his tummy ache resulted from too much candy or from "rough-housing" (as we called it) with the other boys in the basement. She sent him to kindergarten the following day because it was picture day, but the principal called even before the half day was over to let her know she should probably come pick him up. Now she sat in the doctor's office by herself (my dad was traveling for work), and got the news that they needed to get him to Primary Children's Hospital right away.

The next three months were a bit of a blur. My mom spent a good part of that time in Utah while Dad balanced work responsiblities and shuffled 6 other children, including a nursing baby, between neighbors, relatives, and friends--all while trying to make his way at any opportunity to make his own trips to Utah in support of my mom and his sick, young son.

I was four at the time and have just a few memories of that holiday season. I remember our home teachers bringing dinner each week from their restaurant, Dale E. O's. One evening they showed up with a large, black garbage bag full of stuffed animals, one for each child. I remember the quilt that the Primary children made; each had drawn a picture wishing Brant well, which had been transferred to a beautiful white quilt that looked like fluffy, white, entertaining goodness to a four year old. My parents came home from the hospital with my brother for a time, and I remember them bringing a sucker tree, made by Scouts in Utah who had delivered the gift to children in the hospital. Clay Santas and candy canes and manger boxes--along with real suckers--adorned the tree. I remember spending nights at Aunt Lynda's, Aunt Connie's, and Grandma's houses. I remember seeing the lights on Temple Square and then visiting Brant in the hospital. He had tubes coming from everywhere and though his eyes were closed, Dad assured me it was okay to say hi to him--he could hear me.

These are the few memories I have. Each year as we reminisce about that time, more details emerge from those who remember better. A bus carrying Brant's classmates from Tyhee Elementary showed up in our driveway. He stood at the door in his red, one-piece Santa pajamas and handed a candy cane to each child as they entered the house. They sang to him, as did the mutal youth another evening. Three Santas came that year. A plate (of sorts) was passed around to collect finanical support from the high priest group. Brant's school teacher visited a couple of times a week when he was home to keep him to speed with the other children. Meals arrived each day for three months, even when my mother claimed she was home and volunteered to give the ward a break. Our neighbor, Karla, is the one who piled the six of us in her car and hauled us to Salt Lake to visit our brother and see the lights. Visiting teachers, home teachers, neighbors, church leaders, classmates, friends, and strangers soon-to-be-friends helped in any way that they could.

To have been the recipients of so much love, sacrifice, and Christlike compassion warms our hearts each year at holiday time. I feel encouraged by the goodness of mankind--their selflessness and thoughtfulness. To receive love, kindness, and so many gifts--tangible and not--builds my faith in Heavenly Father, my desire to be like those who serve Him by serving others. I think of the Savior and am touched by those who follow in his footsteps. Those who served were touched as well. A couple of years ago my parents received a card in the mail. Anonymously a friend had donated to the Ronald McDonald House in memory of Brant. As I look around, there are countless opportunities to extend that love to others: a listening ear, a word of encouragement, a hug, a smile, a thoughtful note, warm blankets, food to eat, or even a bag full of toys. The very best gift is the love of the Savior that we feel as we give and as we receive.