Tenderfully Merciful by Stacy Waite

When the Jaredites FINALLY landed in the promised land, they immediately “bowed themselves down upon the face of the land, and did humble themselves before the Lord, and did shed tears of joy before the Lord, because of the multitude of his tender mercies over them.”  I’ve always loved the phrase ‘tender mercies’ because it so perfectly captures what I imagine my Heavenly Father to be. Tenderfully Merciful.

I’m not a writer, but I’ll share with you two of the greatest Tender Mercies that Heavenly Father ever granted to me.  He truly lives and loves His children and wants only what is best for us and what will get us back to Him.

My dad passed away 25 years ago this past December at the young age of 52.  I used to call him old all the time, but he really wasn’t.  He used to joke and say that it wasn’t the years, but the miles that aged you.  If that’s true, my dad had a lot of miles.

He was called to serve in the Vera Cruz, Mexico Mission.  He had only been serving for a few months when he drew the short straw and was elected to put up an antenna on top of their apartment building so they could listen to general conference on the radio.  He had just finished setting the antenna up and was dropping the cable down the side of the building when the wind caught the cable and it came in contact with a 240 volt power line.  The cable conducted the power directly to my dad who had it in his hands, knocking him unconscious.  He fell over the side of the 2 story building, some 25 feet to the concrete below.  He fortunately landed on his feet and he always said that he came to long enough to see his glasses go skidding across the sidewalk.  The electricity had gone to ground through his right leg and had severed the artery just below his calf muscle.  When he landed on the pavement, most of his weight was on his left leg and it both dislocated his knee and shattered the bone into 17 pieces between the knee and ankle.  The doctors were so worried about his left leg that they failed to notice the lack of circulation in his right foot and consequently they ended up amputating it just below the calf.  They removed 2 inches of bone from his left leg as it was so broken up they couldn’t piece it back together.  Needless to say, he was pretty banged up.  He stayed in the hospital in Mexico City for several months.  When he was well enough to leave the hospital, he still couldn’t travel and convalesced at the home of the ambassador for the US to Mexico, Dean Tyler.  Brother Tyler and his wife were kind enough to allow my dad to stay there several more months, until he was well enough to travel back to St. Johns.  The Tyler’s and my grandparents corresponded frequently and for years after dad came home they continued to send Christmas cards to one another.  Over the decades though, the Tyler’s and my grandparents lost contact with one another.

President Gordon B. Hinckley was the Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve at that time and was the liaison between the mission and my grandparents and church headquarters.  I didn’t know this until we were living in Idaho 15 years ago. I found some letters between him and my grandparents from the time of the accident.  President Hinckley was the prophet by then and I thought it would be neat to write him a letter to see if he remembered what happened to my dad down there, so I did.  I explained who I was and summarized the accident and then told him that dad had passed away 10 years prior and at the time of his passing he was a full tithe payer, had his home teaching done, and was a worthy temple recommend holder.  To my surprise, he had his personal assistant respond to my letter.  He did remember my dad and the accident and was happy to hear that my dad was faithful till the end.  This is tender mercy #1.

Fast forward a few decades…

My dad died on December 5^th, 1991.  Almost a year later, to the date, I reported to the MTC to prepare to  serve my own mission in the Missouri Independence Mission in Kansas City, Kansas.  When I had been out a few months, I was assigned to the Olathe Branch in a suburb of KC, KS which was a tiny congregation of about 25 people.  It was very intimate, to say the least.  I had been serving there for a couple of months and I had just received the news that I would be leaving and serving in another area.  Fortunately the Sunday before transfers was a fast Sunday and I was able to share my testimony with the branch one last time and let them know I was leaving.  I noticed a new couple in the back of the room we were meeting in.  We didn’t get visitors very often and the Spirit whispered that I needed to talk to them. So I did.  I introduced myself to them:

“Hello, I’m Elder Waite.”

“Hello Elder Waite”, the man replied, “Where are you from?”

I gave my standard answer, “A tiny, little town in Arizona, I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

He said, “Try me”, so I told him…”St. Johns”.  I could tell he recognized it and confirmed it by saying that he knew exactly where St. Johns was.

“Who are your grandparents?” he asked me.  I told him my grandparents were Edward and LaRue Waite.  His eyes started to sparkle a little as he told me that he knew them.  I was at a loss.

“Who are your parents?” he continued.  “Richard and Beverly Waite”, I said proudly.  He really started to cry and said that he knew my dad.  “My name is Dean Tyler”, he said, and I had heard his name before, but never the story behind it.  So he told me all about the accident that my dad had while he was on his mission.  We embraced and the tears flowed freely.  I was able to give him my home address and my grandmother LaRue’s address so they could reconnect after so many decades.

I had many reservations about going on a mission since my dad was gone.  I really felt like I was abandoning my mom in a time that she really needed me.  I know now that serving a mission was the most important thing for me to do at that time.  I never would have met the Tyler’s and experienced one of the most comforting, testimony building, and divine tender mercies ever.