As years go by, I continually reflect on the Sabbath days of
my youth and young adulthood.
I still remember the first day I passed the sacrament as a
deacon, the little glass cups I passed to the
members of our ward.
A few years ago, a Church building in my
hometown was remodeled.
A compartment in the pulpit had been sealed.
When it was opened, there were some of these little glass
cups that had remained hidden for years.
One of them was presented to me as a memento.
I also remember the green footlocker we carried with us
in the Marine Corps.
Inside the footlocker was a wooden tray and package of
sacrament cups, so that we could be blessed by the peace
and hope of the Lord's Supper, even in the conflict and
despair of war.
As I think about these sacrament cups of my youth,
one in the sheltered valleys of my boyhood at home and the
other 1,000 miles away in the Pacific, I am filled with
gratitude that the Savior of the world was willing to drink
from the bitter cup for my sake.
And because He did, I can say as the Psalmist, my cup
runneth over with the blessings of His infinite and
eternal Atonement.