Last Sunday I had the rare opportunity to attend Sacrament Meeting in the church where I grew up. As I sat in the pew taking in the messages of faith and testimony my mind started to drift back to when I was younger and the weekly activities that occurred in that chapel.
I remember sitting on the pew with my Mom and siblings. I remember singing hymns and trying to block out my mom's voice (she has a great alto voice for the record) so I could hear myself and make sure I was in tune. I remember putting my head in her lap and her messing with my hair.
As I grew I remember sitting as a Deacon in the front pew with a shirt and tie on and then after the sacramental prayers standing and getting my tray of bread or water. I remember walking the aisles with those trays and passing the sacrament to the members of the congregation.
I remember being a Teacher and preparing the sacrament in the little room located just behind the sacrament table. I remember putting the bread in the trays and filling the water cups. I remember putting them on the table and placing the clean white cloth over them in preparation for being blessed and passed.
I remember as a Priest breaking the bread into bite size pieces. I remember saying the sacramental prayers that blessed the bread and the water. I remember passing the trays to the next generation of Deacons.
I remember the young men and young women I grew up with. The friendships made, the adventures we had growing up together. I remember the good times as well as the bad. I remember the heartaches and the joys. I remember what it felt like to be part of that group.
I remember leaving for college and coming back home to visit. I remember the faces I knew so well smiling and shaking my hand or giving me a hug. I remember the love and support that has always been there.
I remember giving my last discourse before heading on my mission. I remember my family members in attendance. I remember my mom and dad speaking that day. I also remember the well wishes I received from those that had influenced my life.
I remember the leaders who took the time to teach me how to be a better person. The lessons of the Gospel that have served me so well in my life. I remember that even if we didn't get along with them they stilled showed a love that is not forgotten.
I remember my youth with fondness. Not that everything was always a bed of roses, but overall it was never to be missed. I remember well the youth I've had and I hope that I have taken the lessons from that youth to heart and have applied them to my life today.