Monday, March 16, 2015

Great Falls 4th Ward

February 23, 2015

So this past week we got a confirmed amount of 8 people to be put on date to be baptized. They are super excited! As well as I am! This weekend the 28th we are suppose to have three hopefully we figure everything out. Then the 7th of march We have 1. Then on the 14th we have three more and. Then the 28th we have another. Its super hard and difficult to get everybody's schedule right.
But we keep working hard also transfers are the 2nd to last week in march. I hope everybody is doing good. Miss all of you and I also had to give a talk in sacrament on missionary work!! It was super fun and a great way to motivate members to work with us.\

Love you all!!!!1

Elder Grissom

So Preston sent this poem at the end of a letter.  I don't think he knew this but this is my all time favorite poem. It was a tender mercy I needed that day.

’Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile:
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar”; then, “Two!” “Only two?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three—” But no,
From the room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going, and gone!” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand
What changed its worth.” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of a master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game—and he travels on.
He’s “going” once, and “going” twice,
He’s “going” and almost “gone.”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand
 The old truck and the new car
Elder Graham (Colorado Springs) catching a cat nap


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