Carissimi,
I was somewhat stunned after last week’s letter from mom, detailing the swift decline in Nana’s health, but I discounted it, as every similar report had been followed by the joyful news of a Nana on the up-n-up. She had always bounced back before, and I saw no reason this time wouldn't be the same way. After all, I had spent the last year or so praying almost nightly that I would see her again when I got back, of course with “Thy will be done,” in parentheses. When I received the news, walking into church Sunday morning, I couldn't believe it for a moment. I believed my prayers regarding her had always been answered, and that this would be no different. Apparently, the “Thy will be done” clause is there for a reason, and I wasn't meant to give her a last hug, besides that which I gave her as she dropped me off at the MTC. I had been prepared, by continually worsening reports, yet there was no left tackle, no Michael Oher, to protect this quarterback from a blindside tackle worse than that sustained by Joe Theisman. I felt broken, but, put a brave face on, and began to translate the meeting for our African and American brothers. I didn't feel emotional, no, not one bit, but I struggled to keep my mind on what I was doing. The Stake President’s words on the Plan of Salvation suddenly took on a much greater meaning, and I felt my mind wandering down memory lane. Luckily, the second half of the 2 hour meeting was pre-translated, so I was left to think, so think I did. President Pickerd gave me a call shortly after lunch asking how I was, and we had a good conversation. I did my best to forget about it as we went out finding, and gratefully I was for the most part successful. Later that night, I abandoned Anziano Cutler to the typical calls we make on Sunday night, and began to record the following. While what I've written only touches the surface of the impact Nelani Walker left on me, but it contains as Mom’s letter put it today, the “raw, mental download.” Here goes…
78 Edgecombe Drive was always home away from home for me. Countless hours were spent out on Nana’s sportcourt, (and countless injuries sustained and dealt). Countless laughs were had in the course of lively conversation, and countless games were played, won, and lost, (more lost than won however, If only I had inherited Nana’s cunning). Countless meals were enjoyed together, (only good memories there), and countless calories taken in. Most importantly, within the walls of that home, countless memories were made. If I had the time, I'd write them all, but I must content myself with the memories I include here, hoping that in some small way, they'll capture the matchless life, (at least the part she played in mine), lived by Nelani Walker, continued now on the other side.
Growing Up:
• Little Christian Young came into the world, and Nana was right there in the days following, helping his mother through the aftermath of an 8 pound 9 oz. baby, come into the world a few days early. She loved that baby from the get-go, he being the 3rd of what would become many grandchildren. Nana taught me to love unconditionally, and to leave space in my heart for all those who will come along into my life.
• Nana was there to be both Batman and Robin, leader, and follower, whatever the circumstance she was placed in required. Submissive and humble, Nana was quick to deflect attention and praise, yet quick to accomplish a task when it needed to be done. Nana was rarely idle, always thinking outside of herself, to those she could serve. Nana taught me growing up, the true “Character of Christ.”
• As Dad put it in his Sunday letter, Nana, and without a doubt Papa, have always been “heavily on board the Christian Train, the CYT bandwagon if you will.” Both saw within me a potential I didn't imagine was there, and both were willing to take the time to help me develop it. Nana, as Elder Zwick put it last conference, looked beyond what she saw.
• With painstaking attention to detail, Nana created quilt after quilt for her grandchildren’s baptisms. Each unique and special to the grandchild, and each more impressive than the last. Through hours spent at a sewing machine, Nana conveyed her unconditional love for each beloved child. Nana taught me to express my love in meaningful ways.
• Nana always made sure young Christian was setting a good example. At around the age of 10-11, in what I thought was a funny joke, I raised the middle finger of my glove, while keeping my hand in a fist. Seeing my delinquency, Nana was quick to help me understand that if I did so again, she'd cut my finger off, (to this day I don't doubt she would've done it😁). Then, she taught the principle... I was an example for all around me. People saw what I did, and often would copy my actions. This teaching was repeated again, years later, in the words of Patriarch Bashford to me, as he declared, “So many of the children of men will watch you; will watch what you do, and what you say … Always look like what you believe.” Nana taught me to look like what I believe.
Manners:
• I remember vividly, once disrespecting my mother in front of Nana. Vivid because of the reprimand that followed. She wasn't mean, no, that would've been hypocritical, but instead she asked the question, “Now why would you treat your mother, who loves you so much, like that?” There is no true good answer to that question friends, let me tell you. Ashamedly, I apologized to both her and Mom, and luckily in doing so, learned a significant lesson in respecting women, specifically my mother, sisters, and future wife. Nana taught me to love my own mother.
Education:
• Nana was brilliant, and her knowledge as extensive as her love for her grandchildren. She never missed the opportunity to correct a “Can I,” to a “May I,” or a “Me and Simeon,” into a “Simeon and I.” She did so lovingly, expressing a desire that her grandchildren might not only be literate, but intelligent, and able orators. That desire is reflected in the courage with which many of her grandchildren have chosen to defend the gospel, be it in California, Arizona, Italy, or any number of future missionary destinations!
• Nana inspired my love for literature and reading. I could always, always, find something worth reading at Nana and Papa's, and that's because I had a Stanford educated Grandma, (and a historian/writer grandpa!) She instilled that love for reading, by bringing stories to life with her strong voice, so memorably vibrant, yet so sadly weakened at the end of her mortal adventure. Besides quality literature, Nana ensured I was reading from the books that truly mattered. Without a doubt concerned for my spiritual welfare, far more than my literacy, Nana encouraged me to prepare for a mission by reading from, and studying the Book of Mormon. Nana taught me the meaning of the scripture, “Seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith,” (D&C 88:118).
• Politically, Nana and I had much in common, and the hours afforded by her ferrying services from Provo to Salt Lake and back gave me ample opportunity to pick her brain on a number of such topics. Be it global warming, immigration reform, states rights vs. those of the government, Nana was opinionated on each concept, and could effectively reason why she held such an opinion. Nana taught me to be politically active, and to defend the beliefs I hold dear. (Nana was even cool enough to give Hamilton a try, and believe it or not she even liked it a bit! #TakeThatDad😉)
College and Mission:
• Nana was as the Nigerian brothers sing here, the “Rock of Ages,” in my college experience. As previously mentioned, Nana provided passage back and forth from Provo, and did so willingly. She fed a malnourished college student, living off of knock-off, Wal-Mart brand cereal and BYU Creamery skim milk, almost every weekend for months. If we’re being honest, I absolutely lived for the Sunday night dinners, often accompanied by a CYT/AK favorite, Tillamook Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream.
• Nana provided a familial bond, when the rest of the family was hundreds of miles away. Nana took the two refugee Toronto children and gave them a home. She threw in late night Mary Tyler Moore, Splendor, aforementioned Tillamook goodness and more.
• 10 and a half months ago, having just learned of Nana’s initial diagnosis, I wrote, “I take it as no coincidence, it was Nana, I hopped on an airplane with, after being set apart. The same goes with who I ate my Last Supper (Breakfast) with, (certainly not forgetting Grace and Abigail, but focusing as is the theme of this week, on our Allstar Nana). The last hug I gave, and last picture I had taken of me, all done by and with Nana before I departed into the MTC. The 6-7 months I spent at BYU, afforded me true quality time to remind me of the absolutely incredible force for good that she is. I got to know Nana like I never had before, and in doing so, I learned from her…”
Culinary Expertise:
• I once asked Nana what it was that inspired her to go to such great lengths in the kitchen, and she told me of the first year of her marriage, when she decided to make 365 different meals for Papa. After that first year, and circa 300 culinary experiments, she had developed two things: the first, a solid idea of the type of food Papa enjoyed, and the second, a taste for good food that never went away. I profited, from her knowledge, many, many times, and can only hope my future wife will have the same drive to experiment, learn, and grow from her mistakes, be they burnt casseroles, and spinach puffs that only get eaten if incentivized by ice cream and apple pie. The quantity and quality of the food presented at Nana’s table will always be legendary, and her culinary legacy lives on in recipes, and the memories of those she left behind! Nana taught me to love food!
Service:
• Last, but undoubtedly the most important legacy Nana leaves behind, is that of service and faithfulness. Having little to eat herself, yet stacks of freezer meals for the sick and afflicted in the last days of her life is an effective paradigm of the woman Nelani Ingaborg Walker became. As previously mentioned, Nana was consistently turned outward, seeking to find, help, rescue, feed, and save the one. She embodied the christlike attributes of charity, humility, diligence, patience, obedience, hope, and last but not least faith. Nana gave her all to the Lord, and those who mourn her loss are a reflection of the lives she touched in his service.
Nana’s gone, and while I have a knowledge of the Plan of Salvation, like Mom, for me that doesn't change the fact that she won't be a part of my life when I get back. The import of this has not fully hit me yet, and I'm sure in the coming days, months, and years, reflection will bring both a greater sadness, and a greater peace. I close with the words of Paul, found in the first epistle to the Corinthians, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” Christ, “Hath gained the victory over the grave; and also in him is the sting of death swallowed up,” (Mormon 7:5).
In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Anziano Toronto II
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