Last week I sat in the chapel of our ward and relived childhood memories during the funeral of Dian Ferrin. Dian and her husband, Cal, were my childhood Primary teachers. They taught our class on Sunday and their oldest daughter, Gayle, did weekday “Merrie Miss” activities for us at their home. Their home was just an orchard away from the church building tucked back in the trees with a large garden but to a small girl it seemed like it was a world away. I learned to make pizza dough in their kitchen, gardening in their yard and we practiced sewing skills around their kitchen table.
Hanging on the wall above the table where we sat was a framed map of the world. When I was a girl, the map contained a few pictures of missionaries from their family with a string running from a picture to the place they had served. One of the pictures was of Gayle. As we sat around the table, she would tell us stories about her service in Sri Lanka. She described a world unknown to us where it was sometimes difficult to obtain clean water and often the only safe beverage available was orange soda. She showed us pictures of homes built unlike any we had seen and of the country and people she had come to love.
More than forty years have passed since I first sat at their table. The large map that hung on the wall was on display at her funeral and the few pictures have grown to more than fifty “Ferrin Family Missionaries”. As I ponder the map, I admire the vision of Cal and Dian. The map was enormous when they bought it with so few pictures to place but they could envision the grand scale of what they were building. Through the family they raised in their home almost completely hidden by an orchard and grape vine fences, their influence has reached around the globe, sharing the hope and good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ by those who lived it and experienced it at home.
If we tried to track and measure the good that has come from Cal and Dian Ferrin and the good that comes from those who learned from them, we would find that their influence has become “eternal”. The influence of our lives doesn’t die with us, it lives on and on and on…eternally.