It was twenty years ago today...

Sergeant Pepper didn’t tell his band to play... No, Twenty years ago today, I arrived home from Chile, my missionary service ended. Like a dream it had come and gone in the slowest yet fastest way imaginable. Now, not only have two years passed but twenty.

What can I say about my time in Chile? I am reminded of one of my favorite books, the beginning of which has now become cliché, a tale of two cities. My time in Chile was indeed, the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, (I) had everything before (me), (I) had nothing before (me), (I was) going direct to Heaven, (I was) going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, …
I loved my time in Chile and am so glad I went. I learned so much, grew so much, changed so much and yet I am sad about my time in Chile. I missed learning so much. I missed growing as much as I could have. I really missed the best of everything. I thought I was so old. I was too young. I thought I knew so much. I knew nothing. In my mind, the times and memories I have of Chile are wonderful. The passing now of twenty years has made me proud of my time and service in Chile.
My parents saved my letters home. I have saved those letters along with my journal and other letters now for twenty years with the goal in mind of writing a Wilford Woodruff-like history of my mission. It’s not going to happen. I keep the letters and read them to my children not to inspire them but more as a cautionary tale; If you are not careful, you too could be this stupid. I am ashamed of what I wrote, ashamed of what I did, said I did, thought about life and love. The person in those letters is not the person I remember. I remember a person who tried hard, who loved the people of Chile and did his best to bring souls to Christ while he was there.
Socrates said: The unexamined life is not worth living. The over-examined life is not worth living either. I choose to remember my time in Chile the way Sydney Carton remembers his life to his friends:
"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward.

"I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both.

"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place- then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement- and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
No, I didn’t have my head cut off or give my life for the people of Chile, I did give my head, heart, love and life for a time with the hope that such service would bring them to a better place, twenty years ago today.

Comments on picture: That is me the night of my arrival home in my bedroom. Notice the tan line on my neck.