And lo... he understood

Ray Kirk Donaldson

This week I lost one of my very dearest and best friends, Ray Donaldson. Ray passed away after battling cancer for almost 6 years. The fact that he lasted that long is a testament to his strength and faith and desire. I first met Ray in Rosario, Argentina 45 years ago. He and I were companions for some of the most special times of my mission. We have remained very close over the years. I was the best man at his wedding. Our families spent time together in Antimony, New Mexico, California and attending general conference. A few years ago, Ray and I traveled together to South America to visit friends who were serving as mission presidents in Cochabamba Bolivia. I was grateful that I was able to speak to him just days before he left this life.
As I think about it, the fact that he and I were so close is still amazing to me. We could not have come from or had more different backgrounds, likes, dislikes and family situations.  He grew up in a small ranching community in New Mexico, while I grew up on the beach in Southern California. We were like polar opposites in everything. But what brought us together was the gospel of Jesus Christ and our common goal of sharing that with the people in Argentina. By the time he was transferred, we were closer than brothers. Ray helped me to 'understand' my purpose and how to love people unconditionally.
In Argentina, I was given a copy of a poem entitled, 'Love'. I was told that it once was the unofficial Argentina Mission poem. Someone else said that it had originated in the Chilean Mission. Irregardless, it sums up the feelings of my service in Argentina and the things that Ray taught me by word and example.
I will miss Ray, but know that I will see him again and once again share experiences that we have had in the meantime and remember our times together. Thank you Ray for helping me to 'understand'.

LOVE

  

A young man walked down a city street,

In a strange land, with his own so far away.

And his newness clashed with the echoing beat,

Of horse carts and cobbled streets.

And they say,

That he preached a better world,

To those who loved their own.

And he prayed,

'Oh God, I would that my good be known.'

And no one understood.

The young man stopped in the pitted road,

His manner not shiny now, and gazed,

At humble folk, their back bent neith heavy load,

And vaguely sensed the meaning of eternal days.

And he preached,

'Come follow me that you might have rest.'

And prayed,

'Oh God, help me to do my best.'

And few men understood.

The young man trudged down the country lane,

No stranger now to those still searching those paths to roam.

But somehow unashamed, a little older now he came.

And deep within his heart he sang, 'This place is home.'

And he preached

The brotherhood of man, and peace and charity.

And prayed,

'Oh Lord, that I may be worthy of such as these, in some far eternity.'

And lo... he understood.