Last summer, I attended a 50th anniversary reunion of the Midland Ward—the congregation
of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the city of Midland, Michigan,
which was formed in 1963. The reunion
was a three-day event. Former and
current church members, now of two Midland
wards, came to visit and share memories.
Part of the reunion was a Saturday evening fireside. Selected speakers recounted faith-building
experiences in the Midland Wards. It was
a very spiritual meeting. Tears were
shed and a wonderful feeling gratitude to God prevailed as we reflected on the
blessings we’d received in Midland . After the fireside, people lingered to view
displays of memory items and old photos in the Primary room. While I was perusing photos, Pat Gudmundsen approached
me and gave me a long hug. I don’t think
much was said between us, and soon she moved on to mingle with other
people. I was touched as I reflected on
that hug and the role that Pat Gudmundsen had played in my life. Maybe she hugged me because she saw me wiping
joyful tears during the fireside when a speaker was talking about the temple that
was being built in Italy ,
where I served my mission. Maybe she was
thinking about the years of memories that included me and my family. I’m not sure of her motivation to give me
that hug, but it meant so much to me.
My relationship with Pat stemmed from my parents’
friendship with her and her husband, and my friendship with her daughter,
Kirsten. We met them when Kirsten and I were
toddlers, when my family moved to Midland . My earliest memory of Pat is when I was two
and a half years old, when I was taken aback to see her instead of my mom in
the kitchen when I got up in the morning.
She told me my mom was at the hospital having the baby. Some time later, I remember her putting me to
bed at her house when my parents took a trip to the temple in Washington , D.C.
Kirsten and I, (very often with our friend and
neighbor, Betsy Granstra), played for hours at each other’s houses over the
years. Pat always treated me kindly when
I visited their house. For summer day
camps at Central Park , Pat drove in the
carpool. When Kirsten and I were going
to have a sleepover at her house, Pat was the one who walked me home at 10:00
at night. I had angrily decided to go
home because when it came time to go to bed, Kirsten and I had disagreed about
where to sleep in the Gudmundsen’s house.
When I was 10 or 11 years old, I started going to
the orthodontist. Pat was the
receptionist there—a familiar, friendly face to greet me, which was especially
comforting during those first several visits when I was nervous.
My contact with Kirsten and her family continued
over the years. When Kirsten and I
graduated from high school, Pat and her family were there. I still keep in touch with Kirsten. One summer after we were married with kids, we
both were visiting our parents in Midland
at the same time, so I came over to the Gudmundsen’s house with my kids. Pat sat and chatted with me and Kirsten. When Kirsten and I had to discipline our kids,
Sister Gudmundsen chuckled and said, “It’s good to see you guys struggle.”
So, it was fitting that I should see Pat at the Midland ward reunion, and it meant so much to me to get
that hug from her. We never exchanged a
lot of words, so I wasn’t able to express to her how much it meant to me, or
what she meant to me. So, I decided to write this post so she will know.
