Firewood

by Deb Robinson
Mountain Home, Utah
9/2010

In the spring of 1990, at the age of forty, my husband Gary was told he would never work again due to injuries he received while serving his country in the Vietnam War. After seventeen years of U.S Federal Government employment, the Federal Government no longer had a job that he could do; and Gary was subsequently fired, retired and then placed on Workers Compensation. This was a process that took over six years to complete.

I had been a stay-at-home-mom (a decision I still do not regret to this very day) and really didn't have many skills that would hep supplement our family's very meager income. We were to live on less than $400 a month. We had a daughter entering college, one in high school and one in elementary school. We made the decision to return to the Uintah Basin where we knew we would be accepted even if we didn't have much. Shortly after our return to the Basin, Gary underwent a second back surgery and had a stimulator implanted to help manage his pain.

A great lesson was taught to me that following winter. We were renting a small home, paying rent only when and if we could afford it. Our children were on the free lunch program. We ate game meat that the boys shot while their Dad watched and taught the skill. The week before Thanksgiving, our Bishop brought us Thanksgiving dinner (because we were the family in the ward who needed it the most) donated by someone in the ward. We didn't use it for Thanksgiving, but it was used thankfully throughout the next few months. The boys gathered wood so that we could heat our home with the small wood burning store that was in the home. We were slowly getting enough wood for the coming winter.

One day, one of the neighbors arrived at our home with her son and a large truckload of split firewood, enough firewood to heat the small home for a good portion of the winter. I told this young man's mother that they didn't need to bring our family wood, we could gather our own. We had healthy, strong boys; we could and would do it. We didn't need the wood; we would be fine, surely there was someone in the area who needed it worse than we did.

The mother lovingly took me aside and in a Christ-like manner taught me a lesson. She said,  "Please allow my son the opportunity to provide service. It is important for him to be allowed this opportunity to serve."

Yes, we are always taught: "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of you God." Mosiah 2:17. This load of firewood taught me one of the greatest lessons in life. The lesson I learned is not only do we need to give service, but also if we are the recipients of service, we need to be thankful for it and graciously accept it. If we do not allow service to be rendered, we are denying those who serve the opportunity to be in the service of their God.

I see this young man, now a grown man, some twenty years later and know he probably doesn't remember the load of wood he brought us. But I do remember and am grateful for the lesson his load of firewood taught me.