When a young man who lived with us for a year (about eight years ago) sent me a message years later saying he finally understood what I had modeled for him about what it really means to be a father, I sat and bawled like a baby. When he left our house, mad at me for not being a man because I wouldn't beat him when I was upset, the only hope I had was that we had saved his life and that it would last. To read what he wrote to me so long after the fact . . .
I got a tiny glimpse of how our Heavenly Parents must feel as they
watch us struggle, wanting deeply to make us see but needing to let us learn on our own, and then, seemingly miraculously, suddenly "get it".
It was a moment I will cherish forever.
Edith Russell: Associate Editor
31 minutes ago