This the English translation of my “farewell” talk.
Yesterday was my birthday. I am 60 years old. As an old person, I think more and more about the purpose of this life. And more and more I hear the words of a hymn in my head. In English, it is entitled “Have I Done Any Good?” It has been translated into 40 different languages, but it has not been translated into French. You may not know this hymn, but don’t worry, I translated it for you.
And no, Rémi, I am not going to sing it.
The first verse is as follows:
Have I done any good in the world today?
Have I helped anyone in need?
Have I cheered up the sad and made someone feel glad?
If not, I have failed indeed.
Has anyone’s burden been lighter today
Because I was willing to share?
Have the sick and the weary been helped on their way?
When they needed my help was I there?
This song refers to the second great commandment: to love our neighbour as ourselves. This commandment requires us to enter into very personal relationships with the people around us. In short, we are here on this earth to form meaningful relationships with others.
During our mission, we have made connections with many people here. The district presidency specifically asked us to work with young single adults, and it was a wonderful experience.
About seven weeks ago at a family night with the young single adults (the “JAS”), Lindsay invited all the JAS to write a kind note to another JAS and tell them what they meant to them.
I didn’t. How could I? How could I pick one person? Lindsay, if you’ll allow me, this speech is my little note for all the JAS, and I hope there’s something here for everyone who’s here today.
Thank you for all the times we prayed together. Thank you for all the times we felt the Spirit together. Thank you for all the times we laughed together, and for all the times we cried together. Thank you for putting up with my bad French. Thank you for all the times we sat in our apartment and ate warm bread and drank apple juice. Camillia, thank you for allowing me—finally—to win a game of seven on the line. Thank you for allowing Sister Bates and I to adopt you into our family. And thank you for adopting us into yours.
I admire your talent. I’ve never seen anyone play Mario Kart like Matthieu. I’m still impressed by Manny’s ability to carve a “check engine” light into a pumpkin. And the finale of our popcorn game should have been a SportsCenter Top 10 highlight.
I admire your faith. I admire your diligence. I admire your tenacity. Finally, I admire the fact that you never give up.
You’re all awesome, and I love you more than you know.
You may remember that last summer I gave a talk about superheroes and superpowers. I focused on discovering your own superpowers and trying to help you see your value, how amazing you are. I knew that sometimes you think you don’t have superpowers. Sometimes you were depressed. Sometimes it feels like nothing is going right. Some of you were sitting at our kitchen table last February. It was one of the first family home evenings at our apartment. One after another, you expressed how you had not found peace in your life, despite joining the church. That night, after you left, I felt like a failure. I felt like our little study group an experiment that had somehow gone horribly wrong. I didn’t realize that this night was only the beginning of something amazing.
You’ve come a long way since then. A few weeks ago, a friend of the church came to our family home evening. Sister Bates and I took him home afterwards. He told us how much he loved the way you all supported each other, and made everyone feel loved and welcome.
To me, that reaction to our family home evening shows that you HAVE found peace — not peace as the world gives, but the peace promised by Jesus Christ.
This conversation also reminded me of a song. There is a band called The Script who wrote a song called “Run Through Walls.” I want to quote some of the lyrics. They don’t translate very well in French, so I’ll read them in English.
And no, Rémi, I am still not going to sing it.
With no visible superpowers
Sitting in the kitchen and talking for hours
You always show up at the perfect time
There’s no one born with X-Ray eyes
There’s no way to know what’s on my mind
But you always say the words that save my life
You may not be superhuman
But you’ve got the strength to carry me through it
My shield of steel when I’m too weak to fight
You’re always happy for my happiness
And sad for my sadness
I’ve got friends that will run through walls
I’ve got friends that will fly once called
And I’ve got friends that don’t text, they call
When I’ve nowhere left to go
And I need my heroes
I’ve got friends that will run through walls
So, my extraordinary JAS. You don’t have X-ray vision, but you can, if you pay attention to those around you, know what is going on in their mind and what troubles them.
You can’t lift a car, but you can lift your friends. As Ross showed us during our talent night.
You can’t fly, but you can rush to save someone.
You can’t stop time, but sometimes it seems that time stops for a moment when you give a friend who is struggling a hug and you cry together.
You can’t become invisible, but to be a true friend you must be visible anyway.
Today I invite you to continue to turn outward. Think less about your problems and more about how you can help those around you. Be that friend. The friend who is there when someone needs it. Sometimes, don’t send a text—call. Run through a wall, if necessary. Stay on the covenant path and help your friends stay there too. And never ever abandon your faith.
The more you do for others, the more you will forget about yourself. You will discover that your problems are less important. Christ said his yoke was easy and his burden light, and I think that’s what he was talking about.
Now that it’s time for us to leave, I feel a little like Ruth in the Bible when she said:
“Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goes, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: they people shall be my people and thy God my God.”
You are my people. Your God is my God. But unfortunately, it’s time for us now to “return from following after you.”
Thank you all for the love you have shown us. We leave knowing that we have a family here in Québec, a family we love very much. I hope our paths will cross again one day. I know that the work you do here in Québec is the work of our Savior.
And I leave you these things in His name, amen.