Opa's Shoes

Tonight, Christmas Eve, after a perfect day of celebration st Grandma and Grandpa's, we settled in at Coco and Bill's for the "Bible Story."  As I took my customary place on the hearth in front of the quiet fire, I took notice of Opa's Dutch shoes.  I have been reading Opa's missionary journal, given to the families by my Uncle Paul for Christmas this year, so the shoes held greater significance for me.  They are just a souvenir; Dutch people no longer wear wooden shoes, and they didn't when Opa served his first mission there in 1931.  But the rough-hewn shoes were a reminder to me of Opa's sacrifices and of his unwavering faith in the gospel.  When I got home tonight, I looked in Opa's missionary journal to see what he did on Christmas as a missionary in The Netherlands.  His family at home in Salt Lake would have had an extremely modest Christmas, it being the Great Depression, and the family with a missionary to support.  Opa, in Dordrecht, Holland, wrote in his journal, "Saturday, Dec. 24.  Plenty of mail this morning, even money and good tidings.  Went to Van der Merwe's and ate some eggs, bread and milk."  Opa also decorated the church and helped put on a Christmas production for the saints on Christmas Day.  His Christmas dinner was nothing like the bounteous feast we enjoyed today, and his family, across the Atlantic, surely didn't have anything approaching the riches we have under our tree.  Yet is it because of them that we enjoy not only the material blessings we have, but also the freedom of living in the country they gave everything to immigrate to.  And it is partly because of strong and proud Dutch immigrants who sold their furniture to keep their son on his mission during the Great Depression, that my family has the blessing of having the gospel of Jesus Christ to guide us safely home.

Tonight, Golda came to Scott and me, long after a girl should have been asleep on Christmas Eve, and said that she had just finished reading the Book of Mormon for the first time.  She was so happy!  As Opa sat eating his Christmas dinner of eggs, bread and milk in a bitter-cold city in Holland 1932, he could scarcely have imagined the benefits his faithfulness would have for his posterity.  Opa, I miss you.  Thank you for giving me such big shoes to fill.