Grandma's Onion Patch

My wonderful Grandmother passed away early this morning. As I've taken time the past week to ponder her life my thoughts have focused on the following excerpt from a message given by Elder Henry B. Eyring:

"Now you have to know a little bit about my father. His name was Henry Eyring, like mine. He had done some of the things students of this university are preparing to be able to do. His work in chemistry was substantial enough to bring the honors some of you will someday have, but he was still a member of a ward of the Church with his duty to do. To appreciate this story, you have to realize that it occurred when he was nearly eighty and had bone cancer. He had bone cancer so badly in his hips that he could hardly move. The pain was great.

Dad was the senior high councilor in his stake with the responsibility for the welfare farm. An assignment was given to weed a field of onions, so Dad assigned himself to go work on the farm.

Dad never told me how hard it was, but I have met several people who were with him that day. I talked to one of them on the phone the other night to check the story. The one I talked to said that he was weeding in the row next to Dad through much of the day. He told me the same thing that others who were there that day have told me. He said that the pain was so great that Dad was pulling himself along on his stomach with his elbows. He couldn't kneel. The pain was too great for him to kneel. Everyone who has talked to me has remarked how Dad smiled, and laughed, and talked happily with them as they worked in that field of onions.

Now, this is the joke Dad told me on himself, afterward. He said he was there at the end of the day. After all the work was finished and the onions were all weeded, someone asked him, 'Henry, good heavens! You didn't pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway.'

Dad just roared. He thought that was the funniest thing. He thought it was a great joke on himself. He had worked through the day in the wrong weeds. They had been sprayed and would have died anyway.

When Dad told me this story, I knew how tough it was. So I said to him, 'Dad, how could you make a joke out of that? How could you take it so pleasantly?'

He said something to me that I will never forget, and I hope you won't. He said, 'Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds.' " (Henry B. Eyring, Fireside at BYU, Sept 30, 1990)

Grandma Lisenbee always met the responsibilities of her onion patch, however difficult, tedious, or daunting they might have been. And she did so with an abundance of tolerance, forgiveness, love, and kindess. More than any person I've known, Grandma understood that she wasn't here for the weeds. She carried with her a magestic understanding of what it means to wait on the Lord, knowing that His love is certain, perfect, and the great reward for a life full of service and love...a life like my Grandma's.