I have a number of friends still alive, I am happy to report, who were born approximately when I was. When I write them and wish them a happy birthday, I always tell them that I am one person they will never hear complaining about getting older. I believe getting older is better than the alternative! I always say it's better to be "seen" than to be "viewed."
I definitely feel, not in a morbid way, that I am quickly and inevitably rolling down the home stretch of life approaching the finish line of mortality. It causes me to reflect on my life and what good I may or may not have done.
Many years ago, when I was the Institute director at the Cerritos, California, Institute of Religion, part of my duties included being the general manager of a patriotic singing group, sponsored by the Institute, called "The Grand Land Singers." They performed all over the United States, and I truly enjoyed the four years I spent with them. I left that assignment in the late 70s, but I can still remember several of the songs the group sang at almost every performance. One that I think a great deal about as I grow older is: "I May Never Pass This Way Again." It was written by Murray Wizel and Irving Melcher. The artist who made it famous was Perry Como. Some of you old guys may remember it. The lyrics are as follows:
"I'll give my hand to those who cannot see the sunshine or the fallin' rain.
I'll sing my song to cheer the weary along,
For I may never pass this way again!
I'll share my faith with every troubled heart, so I shall not have lived in vain.
I'll give my hand, I'll sing my song,
I'll share my faith, because I know, that the time is now to fulfill each vow,
For I may never pass this way again!"
Those beautiful lyrics, to me anyway, penetrate my heart as I ponder what I have done with these precious years I have spent on this earth. I know that as we finally cross the finish line of mortality and enter the Spirit World, all of the worldly possessions, high profile positions in the world and the Church, degrees, and the honors of men, won't amount to anything!
The Savior passed "this way" of mortality but once, and demonstrated to us what our priorities should be. I believe Christ's mission was twofold: (1) to fulfill the Law of Moses, to work out the infinite atonement, and to teach his Gospel. (2) But also to bless the lives of his brothers and sisters during the brief time he was with them by healing their souls – body and spirit. [
88:15].
In my study of the four Gospels, I have discovered, as many others have as well, I am sure, that much of Christ's ministry was not spent just in teaching but in healing the sick and afflicted. I have discovered there are 53 references which use the word heal, or a derivative thereof such as healing or healed when referring to the Savior's blessing the sick. There are also an additional three references using the words cure or cured. These references do not include the times he raised the dead, or gave sight to the blind. I am sure what we have recorded in the Gospels is but the tip of the iceberg, with regard the healing part of his ministry.
In reading these accounts, I have been impressed by two things: (1) what a large part of the Savior's ministry was spent in healing the souls of his brothers and sisters; and (2) the great compassion he had for them.
I love Dr. Elaine Marshall’s (former Dean of the BYU College of Nursing) summary from the scriptures of this aspect of the Savior’s ministry.
“As Jesus healed, the scriptures say, "All the people were amazed" (Matthew 12:23). They brought their sick, their "blind, and dumb" (Matthew 12:22), those that were "possessed with a devil" (Matthew 12:22; also Mark 1:32), and their dead. They sought Him every day and into the evening. So great was His reputation and His healing power that they sought to "only touch the hem of his garment; and as many as touched were made perfectly whole" (Matthew 14:36). "And Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching . . . and preaching the gospel . . . , and healing every sickness and every disease among the people" (Matthew9:35).”(April, 2004 Ensign, 57.)
It is a daunting task to seek to follow Christ's example of love and compassion to those with special needs who are all about us. Knowing "we will never pass this way again," however, what better way can we, or should we, use these few fleeting and fragile hours of mortality than to try to emulate the example of the Master Healer?
Believe it or not this is a Christmas letter. Truly celebrating the birth of Christ and his subsequent mortal mission, it seems to me can best be done by committing ourselves to follow His example of compassion, love, and desire to bless even "the least of these our brethren" who surround us on every side.
At the final judgment day, when the sheep are gathered together by the Good Shepherd on His right hand, He will say to them, "…Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison ,and ye came unto me… Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." [Matthew 25:31-46 – Emphasis added]
Merry Christmas!
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Friday, January 6, 2012
What Lack I yet?
We are very fortunate indeed if we, in our lifetimes, have a good friend or family member, who will be perfectly honest with us when we solicit their feedback. My dear wife, Joanne, is one of those people. I can always count on her to tell me the truth when I ask her opinion regarding a talk I have prepared, or something I have written, or a lesson I have given. Many times over the years, I have had to swallow my male ego and pride as I have asked for her opinion – and have received it!
For example, one Christmas I was asked to speak at a Ward in our stake. I prepared what I thought was a wonderful talk, and had felt great inspiration as I did so. I then had Joanne read what I had prepared and asked her what she thought of it. She was silent for some time, which is always a bad sign, and then said, "Do you really want to know?" I gulped and said, "Go ahead." She then proceeded to tell me that my talk was a very good Education Week talk at BYU, but was just not going to cut it in a sacrament meeting. She told me that I would lose the children and teenagers who would be attending, in about one minute. My first human and male response to such feedback is to get defensive and almost angry. How could anyone find fault with my inspired and well-crafted message? Thankfully, I had the good sense to swallow my pride, and told her I would think about what she had said. As I thought about it, I realized that she was right – and that is what is so infuriating – she always seems to be right. It reminded me of the little pink T-shirt she bought for our daughter Rachel when she was in about the third or fourth grade that had emblazoned on the front in silvery script letters, "Girls Are Smarter!" I have lived long enough to sadly come to realize the truthfulness of that statement.
Well, I went to work and spent hours preparing an acceptable talk. I finally presented it to Joanne, who quickly read through it and said, "This is better, but you are not quite there yet." I began to defend myself and my precious work, but fortunately thought better of it and humbly went back to the drawing board. Finally, because of Joanne's reaction to my work, I did a lot of pondering and praying about what would be more appropriate than I had already prepared. New ideas came flooding into my mind, and writing another draft that I felt good about, and with great trepidation I might add, asked Joanne to read it once again. With me holding my breath while she silently perused the document, finally, and with a smile on her face, she said, "I think you have really got it!" That statement made me happier than when I passed my oral examination defending my doctoral dissertation before a group of learned professors at USC.
I have told Joanne that Adams, Jefferson, and Lincoln's Declaration of Independence, the Preamble to the Constitution, and Gettysburg Address, would have been so much better if they could have passed them by her before going public. Truthfully, however, she is a very gifted editor and has a finely tuned sense of what is good or bad in the written word or a talk.
This time of the year, the beginning of January, I often think of the incident in the Savior's ministry, recorded by Matthew, when the rich young man came to Him and asked Him a searching question – he wanted Jesus' feedback. Matthew recorded: "And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life? And he said unto him…if thou wilt enter into life, keep the Commandments. He saith unto him, Which? [Jesus then told the young man to keep the 10 Commandments] The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up: WHAT LACK I YET? Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me. But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful: for he had great possessions." [Matthew 19:16-22]
I believe the young man's question, "What lack I yet?" is a question for the ages, and one we could all benefit from asking ourselves, a trusted spouse or friend, but especially to ask it of our Heavenly Father frequently. I am convinced if we ask that question of the Lord, and then take the time to listen, through the whisperings of the Spirit to our minds and the feelings that come into our hearts, we will receive an answer to our prayer and question. It of course, may take more than just one prayer.
There is a danger in asking that question, because we may not like the answer, as was the case with the rich young man. I don't know that the Savior would give all of us the same answer he gave to this young man. We are all lacking in different ways, I believe. The rich young man was more attached to his material things than he should have been which kept him from becoming a true disciple of Jesus. All of us, however, are lacking in something which is keeping us from following the Savior with more devotion, putting Him first in our lives, and being his true disciple.
Growth will only come to us as we recognize and honestly admit to ourselves, however hard it may be, what we lack and take the steps to overcome and deal with that weakness.
As Moroni so truthfully and beautifully wrote: "… And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make week things become strong unto them." [Ether 1 phase out 2:27]
The keywords in this teaching of Moroni, I believe, are (1) ",Come unto me," (2) "Humble themselves before me," and (3) "have faith in me." The promise to those who do so is that weak things will become strong unto them.
As I reflect back on my life, as I am sure is the case with all of you as you do likewise, you will see how this true principle has been operative in all our lives.
Especially at the beginning of this new year, I can't think of a more worthwhile question to ask the Lord than, "What lack I yet?"
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
For example, one Christmas I was asked to speak at a Ward in our stake. I prepared what I thought was a wonderful talk, and had felt great inspiration as I did so. I then had Joanne read what I had prepared and asked her what she thought of it. She was silent for some time, which is always a bad sign, and then said, "Do you really want to know?" I gulped and said, "Go ahead." She then proceeded to tell me that my talk was a very good Education Week talk at BYU, but was just not going to cut it in a sacrament meeting. She told me that I would lose the children and teenagers who would be attending, in about one minute. My first human and male response to such feedback is to get defensive and almost angry. How could anyone find fault with my inspired and well-crafted message? Thankfully, I had the good sense to swallow my pride, and told her I would think about what she had said. As I thought about it, I realized that she was right – and that is what is so infuriating – she always seems to be right. It reminded me of the little pink T-shirt she bought for our daughter Rachel when she was in about the third or fourth grade that had emblazoned on the front in silvery script letters, "Girls Are Smarter!" I have lived long enough to sadly come to realize the truthfulness of that statement.
Well, I went to work and spent hours preparing an acceptable talk. I finally presented it to Joanne, who quickly read through it and said, "This is better, but you are not quite there yet." I began to defend myself and my precious work, but fortunately thought better of it and humbly went back to the drawing board. Finally, because of Joanne's reaction to my work, I did a lot of pondering and praying about what would be more appropriate than I had already prepared. New ideas came flooding into my mind, and writing another draft that I felt good about, and with great trepidation I might add, asked Joanne to read it once again. With me holding my breath while she silently perused the document, finally, and with a smile on her face, she said, "I think you have really got it!" That statement made me happier than when I passed my oral examination defending my doctoral dissertation before a group of learned professors at USC.
I have told Joanne that Adams, Jefferson, and Lincoln's Declaration of Independence, the Preamble to the Constitution, and Gettysburg Address, would have been so much better if they could have passed them by her before going public. Truthfully, however, she is a very gifted editor and has a finely tuned sense of what is good or bad in the written word or a talk.
This time of the year, the beginning of January, I often think of the incident in the Savior's ministry, recorded by Matthew, when the rich young man came to Him and asked Him a searching question – he wanted Jesus' feedback. Matthew recorded: "And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life? And he said unto him…if thou wilt enter into life, keep the Commandments. He saith unto him, Which? [Jesus then told the young man to keep the 10 Commandments] The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up: WHAT LACK I YET? Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me. But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful: for he had great possessions." [Matthew 19:16-22]
I believe the young man's question, "What lack I yet?" is a question for the ages, and one we could all benefit from asking ourselves, a trusted spouse or friend, but especially to ask it of our Heavenly Father frequently. I am convinced if we ask that question of the Lord, and then take the time to listen, through the whisperings of the Spirit to our minds and the feelings that come into our hearts, we will receive an answer to our prayer and question. It of course, may take more than just one prayer.
There is a danger in asking that question, because we may not like the answer, as was the case with the rich young man. I don't know that the Savior would give all of us the same answer he gave to this young man. We are all lacking in different ways, I believe. The rich young man was more attached to his material things than he should have been which kept him from becoming a true disciple of Jesus. All of us, however, are lacking in something which is keeping us from following the Savior with more devotion, putting Him first in our lives, and being his true disciple.
Growth will only come to us as we recognize and honestly admit to ourselves, however hard it may be, what we lack and take the steps to overcome and deal with that weakness.
As Moroni so truthfully and beautifully wrote: "… And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make week things become strong unto them." [Ether 1 phase out 2:27]
The keywords in this teaching of Moroni, I believe, are (1) ",Come unto me," (2) "Humble themselves before me," and (3) "have faith in me." The promise to those who do so is that weak things will become strong unto them.
As I reflect back on my life, as I am sure is the case with all of you as you do likewise, you will see how this true principle has been operative in all our lives.
Especially at the beginning of this new year, I can't think of a more worthwhile question to ask the Lord than, "What lack I yet?"
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
He Really Likes Me
A couple of nights ago I was watching one of my favorite Broadway musicals on Turner Classic Movies, "Man of La Mancha."
The next day, I was telling Joanne how much I had enjoyed watching "Man of the Mancha" once again. She reminded me of the day, 23 years ago, when I was able to come home from the rehabilitation Hospital, where I had spent the last six months of my life. Our street was lined with friends and family cheering me on, and welcoming me home. Through my tears I could see my good friend, Murl Nelson, playing his drums on my front lawn – he had played the drums for some of the major big bands, including Elvis Presley, during the 50s – with my mother-in-law, Evelyn Stuart, singing at the top of her lungs, "To Dream the Impossible Dream," the most well-known and popular number from " Man of La Mancha." My mother-in-law loved life and loved to sing. She even enjoyed my repertoire of dumb mother-in-law jokes. I was grateful. Joanne had brought this memory back into my mind.
In case you are not familiar with the musical, it was written by Dale Wasserman, with music by Mitch Leigh and lyrics by Joe Danon. The musical was suggested by the classic novel Don Quixote de La Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes.
The main thrust of the play is that Cervantes and his manservant have been imprisoned by the Spanish Inquisition and a manuscript by Cervantes is seized by his fellow inmates, who subject him to a mock trial in order to determine whether the manuscript should be returned. Cervantes' defense is in the form of a play, in which Cervantes takes the role of Alonso Quijana, an old gentleman who has lost his mind and now believes that he should go forth as a knight-errant. Quijana renames himself Don Quixote de La Mancha, and sets out to find adventures with his "squire", Sancho Panza. [Wikipedia]
This time as I watched the movie, one of the lesser-known numbers struck a chord with me. It is a musical exchange between Sancho and Aldonza, a scullery maid with loose morals whom Don Quixote treats as though she is a princess. She has watched in amazement how Sancho has taken care of Don Quixote and catered to his every whim. She wants to know why Sancho does what he does for him, and why he is so kind and loyal to such an obviously crazy man. The following musical conversation takes place between Sancho and Aldonza.
SANCHO
"I like him… I really like him! I don't have a very good reason,
Since I've been with him,
Cuckoo-nuts have been in season... But there's nothing I can do, Chop me up for onion stew, Still I'll yell to the sky
I can't tell you why, That I like him!"
ALDONZA
"It doesn't make any sense! "
SANCHO
"That's because you're not a squire."
ALDONZA
" All right, I'm not a squire. How does a squire, squire?"
SANCHO
"Well, I ride behind him... and he fights. Then I pick him up off the ground, and..."
ALDONZA
"But, what do you get out of it?"
SANCHO
"What do I get? Oh! Why, already I've gotten..."
ALDONZA
"You've got nothing! Why do you do it?"
SANCHO
"I like him, I really like him.
Pluck me naked as a scalded chicken, I like him! Don't ask me for why or wherefore, 'Cause I don't have a single good
" because" or "therefore!"
You can barbecue my nose.
Make a giblet of my toes,
Make me freeze, make me fry.
Make me sigh, make me cry.
Still I'll yell to the sky, I can't tell you why. That I like him!"
Aren't we fortunate, if in our lifetimes, besides our parents who are stuck with us, we find one or two people, like Sancho, who, in spite of our faults, failings, idiosyncrasies, warts, barnacles, and most nauseating characteristics, still really like us, for apparently no good reason.
I have thought about my relationship with Joanne over the past 23 years since my accident. As Sancho said about the time he had spent as the squire of Don Quixote -- "cuckoo nuts have been in season”-- for Joanne all these years as she has acted as my squire. She does, and has done for me, all these years what Sancho did for Don Quixote. She rides behind me, and I fight, then she picks me up off the ground.
I don't think anyone has ever asked Joanne the question Aldonza put to Sancho, "But what do you get out of it?" However, perhaps they have thought it.
You would have to know Joanne's dad, Joe Stuart, to appreciate what I am going to write next. One morning he was helping Joanne get me dressed and into my wheelchair for the day. As he was leaning over me, he looked at Joanne, who was on the other side of the bed, and said, "Boy your life sure went down the tubes when Jack had his accident!" He then got a sickly grin on his face when he realized what he had just said and we all burst out laughing.
Joanne has always made me feel over the years, since my accident, though she, like Sancho, may be hard pressed to say why, that she likes me. At least she always makes me feel like she really likes me. Even I can't figure out why, but it surely does make me feel good.
I am sure there must be times when she, like Sancho, might say to herself, "Don't ask me for why or wherefore, 'cause I don't have a single good " because" or "therefore."
What I write next would probably never make it through church correlation, but here goes. The Savior, the Scriptures teach, [See the numerous references in the topical guide], is our advocate with the Father. For example –"Lift up your hearts and be glad, for I am in your midst, and am your advocate with the Father; and it is his good will to give you the Kingdom. " [D&C 29:5]
I can just picture the Savior pleading our case before the Father. "I know they are "unprofitable servants" and "less than the dust of the earth. They are so very imperfect in many ways, but I like them – I really like them, I like them so much I have given my life for them. Please have mercy on them, Father."
And so when we get discouraged and may think that not even one other mortal being really likes us and can overlook some of our imperfections, we can take comfort in knowing there is ONE who does.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
As a
will
The next day, I was telling Joanne how much I had enjoyed watching "Man of the Mancha" once again. She reminded me of the day, 23 years ago, when I was able to come home from the rehabilitation Hospital, where I had spent the last six months of my life. Our street was lined with friends and family cheering me on, and welcoming me home. Through my tears I could see my good friend, Murl Nelson, playing his drums on my front lawn – he had played the drums for some of the major big bands, including Elvis Presley, during the 50s – with my mother-in-law, Evelyn Stuart, singing at the top of her lungs, "To Dream the Impossible Dream," the most well-known and popular number from " Man of La Mancha." My mother-in-law loved life and loved to sing. She even enjoyed my repertoire of dumb mother-in-law jokes. I was grateful. Joanne had brought this memory back into my mind.
In case you are not familiar with the musical, it was written by Dale Wasserman, with music by Mitch Leigh and lyrics by Joe Danon. The musical was suggested by the classic novel Don Quixote de La Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes.
The main thrust of the play is that Cervantes and his manservant have been imprisoned by the Spanish Inquisition and a manuscript by Cervantes is seized by his fellow inmates, who subject him to a mock trial in order to determine whether the manuscript should be returned. Cervantes' defense is in the form of a play, in which Cervantes takes the role of Alonso Quijana, an old gentleman who has lost his mind and now believes that he should go forth as a knight-errant. Quijana renames himself Don Quixote de La Mancha, and sets out to find adventures with his "squire", Sancho Panza. [Wikipedia]
This time as I watched the movie, one of the lesser-known numbers struck a chord with me. It is a musical exchange between Sancho and Aldonza, a scullery maid with loose morals whom Don Quixote treats as though she is a princess. She has watched in amazement how Sancho has taken care of Don Quixote and catered to his every whim. She wants to know why Sancho does what he does for him, and why he is so kind and loyal to such an obviously crazy man. The following musical conversation takes place between Sancho and Aldonza.
SANCHO
"I like him… I really like him! I don't have a very good reason,
Since I've been with him,
Cuckoo-nuts have been in season... But there's nothing I can do, Chop me up for onion stew, Still I'll yell to the sky
I can't tell you why, That I like him!"
ALDONZA
"It doesn't make any sense! "
SANCHO
"That's because you're not a squire."
ALDONZA
" All right, I'm not a squire. How does a squire, squire?"
SANCHO
"Well, I ride behind him... and he fights. Then I pick him up off the ground, and..."
ALDONZA
"But, what do you get out of it?"
SANCHO
"What do I get? Oh! Why, already I've gotten..."
ALDONZA
"You've got nothing! Why do you do it?"
SANCHO
"I like him, I really like him.
Pluck me naked as a scalded chicken, I like him! Don't ask me for why or wherefore, 'Cause I don't have a single good
" because" or "therefore!"
You can barbecue my nose.
Make a giblet of my toes,
Make me freeze, make me fry.
Make me sigh, make me cry.
Still I'll yell to the sky, I can't tell you why. That I like him!"
Aren't we fortunate, if in our lifetimes, besides our parents who are stuck with us, we find one or two people, like Sancho, who, in spite of our faults, failings, idiosyncrasies, warts, barnacles, and most nauseating characteristics, still really like us, for apparently no good reason.
I have thought about my relationship with Joanne over the past 23 years since my accident. As Sancho said about the time he had spent as the squire of Don Quixote -- "cuckoo nuts have been in season”-- for Joanne all these years as she has acted as my squire. She does, and has done for me, all these years what Sancho did for Don Quixote. She rides behind me, and I fight, then she picks me up off the ground.
I don't think anyone has ever asked Joanne the question Aldonza put to Sancho, "But what do you get out of it?" However, perhaps they have thought it.
You would have to know Joanne's dad, Joe Stuart, to appreciate what I am going to write next. One morning he was helping Joanne get me dressed and into my wheelchair for the day. As he was leaning over me, he looked at Joanne, who was on the other side of the bed, and said, "Boy your life sure went down the tubes when Jack had his accident!" He then got a sickly grin on his face when he realized what he had just said and we all burst out laughing.
Joanne has always made me feel over the years, since my accident, though she, like Sancho, may be hard pressed to say why, that she likes me. At least she always makes me feel like she really likes me. Even I can't figure out why, but it surely does make me feel good.
I am sure there must be times when she, like Sancho, might say to herself, "Don't ask me for why or wherefore, 'cause I don't have a single good " because" or "therefore."
What I write next would probably never make it through church correlation, but here goes. The Savior, the Scriptures teach, [See the numerous references in the topical guide], is our advocate with the Father. For example –"Lift up your hearts and be glad, for I am in your midst, and am your advocate with the Father; and it is his good will to give you the Kingdom. " [D&C 29:5]
I can just picture the Savior pleading our case before the Father. "I know they are "unprofitable servants" and "less than the dust of the earth. They are so very imperfect in many ways, but I like them – I really like them, I like them so much I have given my life for them. Please have mercy on them, Father."
And so when we get discouraged and may think that not even one other mortal being really likes us and can overlook some of our imperfections, we can take comfort in knowing there is ONE who does.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
As a
will
Monday, November 14, 2011
"I Saw That All I Had Made Was Good."
My life, like yours, has been an exciting adventure, but especially since my accident 23 years ago. I really have no idea from day to day what new and exciting challenge and opportunity for growth is lurking just around the corner.
For one thing, I have become better acquainted with the medical profession than I ever wanted to. I have been privileged to come to know a wide variety of medical doctors, including a psychiatrist Joanne insisted I visit. I really never could figure out why! I have seen dentists, dermatologists, ER doctors, internists, pulmonologists, urologists, various surgeons, family doctors, doctors of infectious diseases, neurologists, ophthalmologists , cardiologists, and I'm sure some other "… ologists " that I can't think of right now. I appreciate the training and expertise of these doctors who over the years have saved my life and made it possible for me to keep coming back to them for more punishment.
Paid staff will
It stands to reason that someone in my condition would need the expertise and professional training of many doctors to keep them going. I never thought though, that I would have to employ the services of a blacksmith to keep me rolling along down the highway of life.
At a restaurant, anxiously wanting to position my wheelchair under the table so as not to be conspicuous in any way, I was going faster than I should have been, and inadvertently broke my right leg rest on the wheelchair when I rammed it into the table leg.
You would think that a broken leg rest on a wheelchair would not be a big deal. After dinner, though, I found it almost impossible to drive the chair to the van because my foot would drag along in a dangerous way. We finally got me home and figured we could get it easily fixed in the morning.
As a new day dawned, Joanne drove the broken leg rest to our wheelchair repair facility near our home. My chair is very high tech and the technicians are good at diagnosing and repairing electronic computerized problems. They took one dazed and puzzled look at the broken leg rest, however, and told Joanne they couldn't fix something like that. I guess it was too low-tech! They admitted they didn't have the equipment or expertise to do the job. The best they could do they said would be to order a new leg rest for a couple of hundred dollars, and that it would take several weeks for it to come.
There is no way Joanne was going to spend $200 on a broken leg rest without a coupon or some kind of discount. When she returned home with the broken leg rest and bad news, I had her go to the Yellow Pages and look under "Blacksmith." In all of Orange County, with a population of several million people there was only one listing for a blacksmith shop. Believe it or not it was located near our home in old town, Tustin. She copied down the address, got me into the van, and we headed out to find the blacksmith shop.
No more than 2 miles from our home we spotted an old barn that looked like it had been there forever. Sure enough, this was the blacksmith shop, and it had been there forever. With some trepidation Joanne got me out of the van and we somehow were able to cross the street to the open door of the old barn. Standing in the open door an elderly gentleman and his elderly friend – both about my age, I hate to admit – were standing there chatting. This was Andy Griffith's "Mayberry RFD" revisited. We showed them the problem and asked if it could be fixed. The blacksmith took a good hard look at it and said he thought maybe he could do something for us.
The shop was filled with junk metal, other non-discernible debris from a galaxy long ago and far away, welding equipment, discarded oxygen tanks, and a small forge. As we chatted with the blacksmith and his friend we learned that the blacksmith's father had begun the business in that very barn about 1915. The current blacksmith had inherited the business from his father when he passed away. The blacksmith had been taught the trade by his father, came to love it, and never wanted to do anything else. He said that many years ago, his father had taught him how to make customized tools, plows, and etc. that the local farmers needed. In its day, Tustin was quite a farming community. The local high school athletic teams are known as the "Tustin Tillers." He said he wasn't nearly as busy as he used to be but that he still enjoyed working as a blacksmith. About that time a young man came into the barn and took an interest in helping his older friends fix the leg rest. He had come to the blacksmith shop, to work with his friends in the passion and hobby they shared, regardless of the age differential – restoring an old automobile to its pristine state.
It turned out that fixing the leg rest was not so easy after all. It had levers and springs associated with it, but these three wonderful men worked on it as though it were the most important project they had ever tackled. I think there was some pride involved as well. Finally after about two hours, they got it welded together and attached as it should be to the wheelchair. During the procedure I made many helpful and encouraging comments – at least I felt they added an important dimension to the work at hand – a view not shared by all present. Finally, Joanne asked the blacksmith what she owed him, and with an embarrassed look on his face, he said, "Would $20 be too much? Over the years I have never had a doctor ask me a similar question – have you?
Interestingly enough, just the other day Joanne was watching our local PBS TV channel and they were doing a piece on Old town Tustin, California. One of the stops they made was at the blacksmith shop, which included an interview with our friend, the blacksmith. He and his barn truly are the subject matter of a great human interest story.
My recent encounter with the blacksmith and his friends triggered a feeling I have felt many times over the years. I am just in awe of, and appreciate so much people who can create, produce, and repair concrete physical things that bless others. If all we had in the world were lawyers, teachers, computer programmers, and insurance salesmen, for example, we would all be in a "world of hurt."
Some years ago I stumbled on to Rudyard Kipling's poem and tribute to engineers and all men who get things done through hard work, sweat, and getting their hands dirty. Kipling wrote the poem in 1907 and entitled It "The Sons of Martha!" It is based on Luke's account of Jesus' visit to the home of Martha and Mary recorded in Luke 10:38-42.
"The sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part; But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart… Her Sons must wait upon Mary's Sons worlds without end….It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.… It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.… Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.… And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessed – they know the Angels are on their side.… They sit at the Feet - they hear the Word - they see how truly the Promise runs. They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and – the Lord He lays it on Martha's Sons!"
I'm afraid during my lifetime I have been much more a "Son of Mary" than a "Son of Martha." Thankfully, however, over the years I have had many friends who have been "Sons of Martha." They have bailed me out of more difficult and challenging situations than I could ever mention. As the years have gone by my appreciation for blacksmiths, and others our society labels as "blue-collar workers," has increased dramatically.
Ogden Nash, I believe, truthfully and yet sadly said that "People who sit to do their work make a lot more money than people who stand to do their work." I certainly have nothing against people who sit to do their work -- that is my modus operandi for sure -- but we certainly have missed out on something important which is also a great source of joy and fulfillment, if we haven't learned how to create something concrete and of lasting value with our hands.
Our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jehovah rejoice and have joy in the creations of their hands. In speaking to Moses the Lord said: "… I am the Beginning and the End, the Almighty God. By mine only begotten. I created all things; yea, in the beginning I created the heaven, and the earth upon which thou standest… And I God, saw that all things which I had made were good." [Moses 3:1, 10].
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
For one thing, I have become better acquainted with the medical profession than I ever wanted to. I have been privileged to come to know a wide variety of medical doctors, including a psychiatrist Joanne insisted I visit. I really never could figure out why! I have seen dentists, dermatologists, ER doctors, internists, pulmonologists, urologists, various surgeons, family doctors, doctors of infectious diseases, neurologists, ophthalmologists , cardiologists, and I'm sure some other "… ologists " that I can't think of right now. I appreciate the training and expertise of these doctors who over the years have saved my life and made it possible for me to keep coming back to them for more punishment.
Paid staff will
It stands to reason that someone in my condition would need the expertise and professional training of many doctors to keep them going. I never thought though, that I would have to employ the services of a blacksmith to keep me rolling along down the highway of life.
At a restaurant, anxiously wanting to position my wheelchair under the table so as not to be conspicuous in any way, I was going faster than I should have been, and inadvertently broke my right leg rest on the wheelchair when I rammed it into the table leg.
You would think that a broken leg rest on a wheelchair would not be a big deal. After dinner, though, I found it almost impossible to drive the chair to the van because my foot would drag along in a dangerous way. We finally got me home and figured we could get it easily fixed in the morning.
As a new day dawned, Joanne drove the broken leg rest to our wheelchair repair facility near our home. My chair is very high tech and the technicians are good at diagnosing and repairing electronic computerized problems. They took one dazed and puzzled look at the broken leg rest, however, and told Joanne they couldn't fix something like that. I guess it was too low-tech! They admitted they didn't have the equipment or expertise to do the job. The best they could do they said would be to order a new leg rest for a couple of hundred dollars, and that it would take several weeks for it to come.
There is no way Joanne was going to spend $200 on a broken leg rest without a coupon or some kind of discount. When she returned home with the broken leg rest and bad news, I had her go to the Yellow Pages and look under "Blacksmith." In all of Orange County, with a population of several million people there was only one listing for a blacksmith shop. Believe it or not it was located near our home in old town, Tustin. She copied down the address, got me into the van, and we headed out to find the blacksmith shop.
No more than 2 miles from our home we spotted an old barn that looked like it had been there forever. Sure enough, this was the blacksmith shop, and it had been there forever. With some trepidation Joanne got me out of the van and we somehow were able to cross the street to the open door of the old barn. Standing in the open door an elderly gentleman and his elderly friend – both about my age, I hate to admit – were standing there chatting. This was Andy Griffith's "Mayberry RFD" revisited. We showed them the problem and asked if it could be fixed. The blacksmith took a good hard look at it and said he thought maybe he could do something for us.
The shop was filled with junk metal, other non-discernible debris from a galaxy long ago and far away, welding equipment, discarded oxygen tanks, and a small forge. As we chatted with the blacksmith and his friend we learned that the blacksmith's father had begun the business in that very barn about 1915. The current blacksmith had inherited the business from his father when he passed away. The blacksmith had been taught the trade by his father, came to love it, and never wanted to do anything else. He said that many years ago, his father had taught him how to make customized tools, plows, and etc. that the local farmers needed. In its day, Tustin was quite a farming community. The local high school athletic teams are known as the "Tustin Tillers." He said he wasn't nearly as busy as he used to be but that he still enjoyed working as a blacksmith. About that time a young man came into the barn and took an interest in helping his older friends fix the leg rest. He had come to the blacksmith shop, to work with his friends in the passion and hobby they shared, regardless of the age differential – restoring an old automobile to its pristine state.
It turned out that fixing the leg rest was not so easy after all. It had levers and springs associated with it, but these three wonderful men worked on it as though it were the most important project they had ever tackled. I think there was some pride involved as well. Finally after about two hours, they got it welded together and attached as it should be to the wheelchair. During the procedure I made many helpful and encouraging comments – at least I felt they added an important dimension to the work at hand – a view not shared by all present. Finally, Joanne asked the blacksmith what she owed him, and with an embarrassed look on his face, he said, "Would $20 be too much? Over the years I have never had a doctor ask me a similar question – have you?
Interestingly enough, just the other day Joanne was watching our local PBS TV channel and they were doing a piece on Old town Tustin, California. One of the stops they made was at the blacksmith shop, which included an interview with our friend, the blacksmith. He and his barn truly are the subject matter of a great human interest story.
My recent encounter with the blacksmith and his friends triggered a feeling I have felt many times over the years. I am just in awe of, and appreciate so much people who can create, produce, and repair concrete physical things that bless others. If all we had in the world were lawyers, teachers, computer programmers, and insurance salesmen, for example, we would all be in a "world of hurt."
Some years ago I stumbled on to Rudyard Kipling's poem and tribute to engineers and all men who get things done through hard work, sweat, and getting their hands dirty. Kipling wrote the poem in 1907 and entitled It "The Sons of Martha!" It is based on Luke's account of Jesus' visit to the home of Martha and Mary recorded in Luke 10:38-42.
"The sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part; But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart… Her Sons must wait upon Mary's Sons worlds without end….It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.… It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.… Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.… And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessed – they know the Angels are on their side.… They sit at the Feet - they hear the Word - they see how truly the Promise runs. They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and – the Lord He lays it on Martha's Sons!"
I'm afraid during my lifetime I have been much more a "Son of Mary" than a "Son of Martha." Thankfully, however, over the years I have had many friends who have been "Sons of Martha." They have bailed me out of more difficult and challenging situations than I could ever mention. As the years have gone by my appreciation for blacksmiths, and others our society labels as "blue-collar workers," has increased dramatically.
Ogden Nash, I believe, truthfully and yet sadly said that "People who sit to do their work make a lot more money than people who stand to do their work." I certainly have nothing against people who sit to do their work -- that is my modus operandi for sure -- but we certainly have missed out on something important which is also a great source of joy and fulfillment, if we haven't learned how to create something concrete and of lasting value with our hands.
Our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jehovah rejoice and have joy in the creations of their hands. In speaking to Moses the Lord said: "… I am the Beginning and the End, the Almighty God. By mine only begotten. I created all things; yea, in the beginning I created the heaven, and the earth upon which thou standest… And I God, saw that all things which I had made were good." [Moses 3:1, 10].
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Monday, October 31, 2011
The Defiant Power of the Human Spirit
Many years ago, when my oldest son, Mike, was about four or five years old, I came home from work late one afternoon to find Joanne, almost in tears. Mike was sick and the doctor had given her some pills for him to take to make him feel better. She said, "Jack, he just won't swallow the pill." I responded, "He won't will he – well, we shall see about that!" With that, I told him he had to take the pill and that he could and would swallow it with no trouble. However, you could see in his eyes that he didn't believe me and that he was not about to cave in. One thing led to another and I hate to report the outcome, but I finally was sitting on the chest of this five-year-old, holding his nose, shoving the pill in his mouth, and then pouring in the water. Today I'm sure I would have been jailed for child abuse. He gagged and I knew I had won the battle, but as I looked at him in shocked disbelief, with a little smirky smile on his face, he spit the pill out. Joanne and I and Mike began to laugh – he never did take that pill, but he is still alive today, so I guess it was okay. That was our introduction to a boy, a young man, and a man, who has what I call an indomitable spirit which has served him well as a Deputy Dist. Atty. and now as a judge.
Victor Frankl, in his book "Man's Search for Meaning," called this trait that many human beings you all have known or read about seem to possess, "… the defiant power of the human spirit," [page 171]
I have known a number of individuals who are my heroes, because they possess in rich abundance this "defiant power" to not let life's circumstances limit or control their behavior, and keep them from striving to achieve their true potential as sons and daughters of God.
A number of years ago now, I met through the Internet, a young married woman by the name of Jenny Lynn. She lives in Texas and somehow received one of my observations, I think from a friend. She responded to it, and periodically over the years, we have written back and forth.
Jenny Lynn and her husband are the parents of four beautiful children. One night while asleep, she suffered a massive stroke that made it impossible for her to move more than just one finger, and yet, although paralyzed, she has severe pain in one side of her body. While attending BYU, she was part of the dance program – I believe it was the folk dancers, but Jenny will forgive me if I am wrong. I have seen a picture of her, her husband and her children taken prior to the stroke and they are a picture perfect, wholesome, and happy family.
I am sure the last thing they ever could have contemplated is what happened to Jenny. I know when I had my body surfing accident at Laguna Beach, my oldest daughter, Jolene, said to her mother, "Mom, if somebody had told us that something like this would happen to daddy, we never could have imagined it or believed it." I am sure Jenny and her family, undoubtedly felt the same way.
A month or so ago, or maybe longer, I sent out an observation about Job. Some of us who have very visible afflictions to deal with at times, are compared to Job. We who are in these situations would hasten to say that we are not even in the same league with him, because of one important reason that the Lord revealed to Joseph Smith: "Thy friends do stand by thee… Thou art not yet as Job; thy friends do not contend against thee…" [Doctrine & Covenants 121:9-10].
Jenny received this observation and it struck a chord with her. I would like to share with you her e-mail response as it came to me.
"HOW FUNNY! I WAS JUST THINKING (EVER SINCE SUNDAY) EXACTLY ABOUT WHAT U SAID ABOUT JOB, BUT DIDN'T READ YOUR EMAIL UNTIL TODAY!
I CAN'T TELL U HOW WEIRD IT WAS 2 READ YOUR EMAIL! I'M AN AVID JOURNALLER, & SUNDAY I HAD A FLOOD OF THINGS COME INTO MY MIND, & THEY WERE ALL "JOURNAL WORTHY." THE THOUGHT CAME 2 ME, HOW THIS MUST BE PART OF A "MEAN GAME", BECAUSE I TYPE WITH 1 FINGER, & CAN'T SPEAK, SO THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NO WAY I CAN WRITE DOWN ALL THAT THE SPIRIT TEACHES ME! I BRIEFLY WAS FRUSTRATED, WONDERING WHY I LEARNED ALL THESE THINGS THAT I CAN'T SHARE, & THEN MY THOUGHTS TURNED 2 JOB.
I'M OFTEN COMPARED 2 JOB, BUT I THINK THE ONLY SIMILARITY WE HAVE IS: WHEN I HAD MY STROKE, I ACTUALLY FEEL THAT SATAN PLAYED THAT SAME "GAME" WITH GOD, TAKING THINGS AWAY (MAKING MY LEFT SIDE FEEL, BUT BE PARALYZED, GIVING ME DOUBLE VISION, GIVING ME PBA/MY "EMOTIONAL INCONTINANCE", MAKING MY EYES LIGHT SENSITIVE, TAKING AWAY MY SPEECH & MOBILITY, ETC.), BUT THAT'S AS FAR AS OUR SIMILARITIES GO! & I, TOO, FEEL THAT I'M NOT IN THE SAME LEAGUE--NOTHING CAN BE WORSE THAN THE LOSS OF FRIENDS & FAMILY! & WHATEVER I'VE REGAINED IS BECUZ OF HIM! (ISN'T IT INTERESTING THAT I'VE REGAINED JUST ENOUGH SO I CAN TAKE THE SACRAMENT, & ATTEND THE TEMPLE?) I FEEL LIKE WE ALL HAVE OUR OWN UNIQUE MISSIONS, & GOD MAKES THEM POSSIBLE, EACH IN UNIQUE WAYS.
THERE IS NO WAY I CAN WRITE ALL THAT, OR BE AS ELOQUENT AS U WERE! IT'S AS THOUGH U SAID ALL I THOUGHT IN THAT EMAIL (I WAS EVEN SUPPOSED 2 DIE, & I BELIEVE I'M ONLY HERE 4 THE SAME REASONS AS U), SO WOULD U MIND IF I CUT & PASTE YOUR EMAIL, ALONG WITH MY RESPONSE, IN MY JOURNAL?
LOVE,
JENNY"
Jenny then concluded by writing, "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes, it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow".
- Mary Anne Radmacher
I was touched by what Jenny had to say. I am always very humbled when I compare my situation to hers, and am reminded of the great truth I learned 23 years ago now in a rehabilitation hospital by observing my two young roommates who I felt were much worse off than me. That truth – "No matter how bad you think your life is, there is always someone who has it worse than you, and because of that, we should count our many blessings and be content with our lot in life, whatever it may be.
However, I do disagree with Jenny about me being more eloquent than her. I personally have never read anything more eloquent than what she has written, and I'm sure you all would agree.
Thank you, Jenny, for your COURAGE, and your great example of reminding all of us of the "defiant power of the human spirit!"
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Victor Frankl, in his book "Man's Search for Meaning," called this trait that many human beings you all have known or read about seem to possess, "… the defiant power of the human spirit," [page 171]
I have known a number of individuals who are my heroes, because they possess in rich abundance this "defiant power" to not let life's circumstances limit or control their behavior, and keep them from striving to achieve their true potential as sons and daughters of God.
A number of years ago now, I met through the Internet, a young married woman by the name of Jenny Lynn. She lives in Texas and somehow received one of my observations, I think from a friend. She responded to it, and periodically over the years, we have written back and forth.
Jenny Lynn and her husband are the parents of four beautiful children. One night while asleep, she suffered a massive stroke that made it impossible for her to move more than just one finger, and yet, although paralyzed, she has severe pain in one side of her body. While attending BYU, she was part of the dance program – I believe it was the folk dancers, but Jenny will forgive me if I am wrong. I have seen a picture of her, her husband and her children taken prior to the stroke and they are a picture perfect, wholesome, and happy family.
I am sure the last thing they ever could have contemplated is what happened to Jenny. I know when I had my body surfing accident at Laguna Beach, my oldest daughter, Jolene, said to her mother, "Mom, if somebody had told us that something like this would happen to daddy, we never could have imagined it or believed it." I am sure Jenny and her family, undoubtedly felt the same way.
A month or so ago, or maybe longer, I sent out an observation about Job. Some of us who have very visible afflictions to deal with at times, are compared to Job. We who are in these situations would hasten to say that we are not even in the same league with him, because of one important reason that the Lord revealed to Joseph Smith: "Thy friends do stand by thee… Thou art not yet as Job; thy friends do not contend against thee…" [Doctrine & Covenants 121:9-10].
Jenny received this observation and it struck a chord with her. I would like to share with you her e-mail response as it came to me.
"HOW FUNNY! I WAS JUST THINKING (EVER SINCE SUNDAY) EXACTLY ABOUT WHAT U SAID ABOUT JOB, BUT DIDN'T READ YOUR EMAIL UNTIL TODAY!
I CAN'T TELL U HOW WEIRD IT WAS 2 READ YOUR EMAIL! I'M AN AVID JOURNALLER, & SUNDAY I HAD A FLOOD OF THINGS COME INTO MY MIND, & THEY WERE ALL "JOURNAL WORTHY." THE THOUGHT CAME 2 ME, HOW THIS MUST BE PART OF A "MEAN GAME", BECAUSE I TYPE WITH 1 FINGER, & CAN'T SPEAK, SO THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NO WAY I CAN WRITE DOWN ALL THAT THE SPIRIT TEACHES ME! I BRIEFLY WAS FRUSTRATED, WONDERING WHY I LEARNED ALL THESE THINGS THAT I CAN'T SHARE, & THEN MY THOUGHTS TURNED 2 JOB.
I'M OFTEN COMPARED 2 JOB, BUT I THINK THE ONLY SIMILARITY WE HAVE IS: WHEN I HAD MY STROKE, I ACTUALLY FEEL THAT SATAN PLAYED THAT SAME "GAME" WITH GOD, TAKING THINGS AWAY (MAKING MY LEFT SIDE FEEL, BUT BE PARALYZED, GIVING ME DOUBLE VISION, GIVING ME PBA/MY "EMOTIONAL INCONTINANCE", MAKING MY EYES LIGHT SENSITIVE, TAKING AWAY MY SPEECH & MOBILITY, ETC.), BUT THAT'S AS FAR AS OUR SIMILARITIES GO! & I, TOO, FEEL THAT I'M NOT IN THE SAME LEAGUE--NOTHING CAN BE WORSE THAN THE LOSS OF FRIENDS & FAMILY! & WHATEVER I'VE REGAINED IS BECUZ OF HIM! (ISN'T IT INTERESTING THAT I'VE REGAINED JUST ENOUGH SO I CAN TAKE THE SACRAMENT, & ATTEND THE TEMPLE?) I FEEL LIKE WE ALL HAVE OUR OWN UNIQUE MISSIONS, & GOD MAKES THEM POSSIBLE, EACH IN UNIQUE WAYS.
THERE IS NO WAY I CAN WRITE ALL THAT, OR BE AS ELOQUENT AS U WERE! IT'S AS THOUGH U SAID ALL I THOUGHT IN THAT EMAIL (I WAS EVEN SUPPOSED 2 DIE, & I BELIEVE I'M ONLY HERE 4 THE SAME REASONS AS U), SO WOULD U MIND IF I CUT & PASTE YOUR EMAIL, ALONG WITH MY RESPONSE, IN MY JOURNAL?
LOVE,
JENNY"
Jenny then concluded by writing, "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes, it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow".
- Mary Anne Radmacher
I was touched by what Jenny had to say. I am always very humbled when I compare my situation to hers, and am reminded of the great truth I learned 23 years ago now in a rehabilitation hospital by observing my two young roommates who I felt were much worse off than me. That truth – "No matter how bad you think your life is, there is always someone who has it worse than you, and because of that, we should count our many blessings and be content with our lot in life, whatever it may be.
However, I do disagree with Jenny about me being more eloquent than her. I personally have never read anything more eloquent than what she has written, and I'm sure you all would agree.
Thank you, Jenny, for your COURAGE, and your great example of reminding all of us of the "defiant power of the human spirit!"
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Even If Paul, Not I
“Et si omnes ego non”
I watch quite a bit of BYU TV early in the morning with my caregivers as they work on me. Though not members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints they seem to enjoy the programming on BYU TV. One caregiver I had for eight years loved to hear President Gordon B Hinckley speak and told me he was his favorite speaker on BYU TV, a sentiment I shared with him. As we watched President Hinckley's funeral service together I saw him wipe away a tear or two.
Several months ago I heard a re-broadcast on BYU TV of a talk Sharon G. Samuelson, the wife of BYU president Cecil O. Samuelson, gave on September 12, 2006 at a student devotional. Her talk seemed so important and relevant, not only to college students in today's society, but to the very young, middle-aged, and old alike.
She told of going with her husband to some friend's home for dinner and inscribed on an archway they had placed some printed words – “Et si omnes ego non.” She was curious about what the Latin words meant and why they had them in such a prominent place in their home.
She was told that their translation was, roughly: “Even if all, not I.” In other words, “Even if everybody does it, I will not.” She was also told the saying was the motto of the Barons von Boeselager, an old German noble family. Two descendants in the family, Philipp and Georg von Boeselager, were members of the resistance group that had planned the failed assassination attempt on Adolph Hitler on July 20, 1944. Their involvement in the operation went undetected, and they were not executed along with the majority of the other conspirators. The saying is carved in a timber beam on the outside of Philipp’s family home in Germany.
She went on to say that her friends explained that they used this quote as a motto for their family and that it was a reminder to them that they are members of a chosen generation and must be different in the world of today. As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they should make choices consistent with the teachings of the gospel and shun the negative, misleading, and evil messages of the world that surround them. [BYU Devotional September 12, 2006]
I was very fortunate as a young boy, about age 14, to have the great truth and principle of life, "Even If all, Not I," indelibly burned into my heart and spirit.
The year was 1952, and I was a freshman at White Pine County high school in Ely, Nevada. I had three friends that were excellent trumpet players and they had learned a number entitled "Buglers Holiday." I played the piano accompaniment for them at the annual Christmas high school band concert. The county was so lacking in, and starved for entertainment, that we were asked to perform for the Lion's Club, the Rotary Club, and for the Elks Club. Prior to our performance at the Elks Club, a custodian opened up the hall for us so we could practice for the evening performance. When we finished our rehearsal the custodian was nowhere in sight, and one of the trumpet players reached over the bar, snatched up a fifth of whiskey and hid it under his leather jacket. We all hurried out to the car, piled in, and headed up into the mountains surrounding Ely on an old dirt road. We finally pulled off the road behind some cedar trees and I knew what was coming next.
The driver is the one that had taken the bottle of whiskey and he opened it up and took a big drink and handed it to the kid next to him. I was strategically placed behind the driver and so I knew I would be the last one to be offered a drink of whiskey. I began to sweat bullets! The last thing I wanted to do was to drink the whiskey but at the same time, I didn't want to appear to be a goody two shoes to my friends. What was I to say or to do? I guess I could say, "I don't like whiskey." Or maybe, "My mother would be upset if I were to drink this." Or maybe I would take the bottle and throw it out the window and call my friends to repentance for their wickedness. Quite frankly, I just simply did not know what to say or what I would do when that bottle would inevitably come into my hands.
My good friend sitting next to me was handed the bottle from the boy in the front seat next to the driver. He took a big drink and then turned to hand it to me. I don't know what he saw on my face but he said, "I'm not going to waste this whiskey on Rushton, I know he is a Mormon and doesn't drink." With that he passed the bottle up to the driver. Nothing more was said and no pressure exerted on me to do what in my heart I did not want to do. I felt like I had been pardoned by the governor just before being executed. I gained a reputation that afternoon, for which I take no credit that would follow me all through high school and I was never asked to take a drink by any of my friends who did not share my standards or beliefs. I have often wondered what direction my life might have taken had I taken that drink as a 14-year-old. I vowed that I would never find myself in that kind of a situation again, not knowing what to say or do. Of course, as a 14-year-old I hadn't heard the principle, "Even If All, Not I," but that was in reality how I knew I wanted to live my life.
As a 73-year-old, as I look back on my life, I am so grateful for that experience I had as a 14-year-old. Over the years, like so many of you, I have encountered many situations where I have had to take a stand on certain issues and implement the principle, "Even If All, Not I!"
When we find ourselves outnumbered on issues of morality that obviously are in violation of Article of Faith 13 – "…We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things," hopefully, we will take a stand and be true to our God and to ourselves.
Perhaps, if we are fortunate, there will come into our minds when being tempted to cave-in and give up defending unpopular truths, both by word and by deed, the words of Joseph. As a young 14-year-old boy being persecuted and ridiculed for what he said had occurred in his life, said he felt much like Paul, whose testimony of having seen Christ in vision was rejected and ridiculed as he was examined by King Agrippa.
" So it was with me. I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation." [Joseph Smith History, 25]
How blessed we would be if we were to truly internalize into our lives and into our hearts as individuals and as families, the motto –“Et si omnes ego non.”
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
26
I watch quite a bit of BYU TV early in the morning with my caregivers as they work on me. Though not members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints they seem to enjoy the programming on BYU TV. One caregiver I had for eight years loved to hear President Gordon B Hinckley speak and told me he was his favorite speaker on BYU TV, a sentiment I shared with him. As we watched President Hinckley's funeral service together I saw him wipe away a tear or two.
Several months ago I heard a re-broadcast on BYU TV of a talk Sharon G. Samuelson, the wife of BYU president Cecil O. Samuelson, gave on September 12, 2006 at a student devotional. Her talk seemed so important and relevant, not only to college students in today's society, but to the very young, middle-aged, and old alike.
She told of going with her husband to some friend's home for dinner and inscribed on an archway they had placed some printed words – “Et si omnes ego non.” She was curious about what the Latin words meant and why they had them in such a prominent place in their home.
She was told that their translation was, roughly: “Even if all, not I.” In other words, “Even if everybody does it, I will not.” She was also told the saying was the motto of the Barons von Boeselager, an old German noble family. Two descendants in the family, Philipp and Georg von Boeselager, were members of the resistance group that had planned the failed assassination attempt on Adolph Hitler on July 20, 1944. Their involvement in the operation went undetected, and they were not executed along with the majority of the other conspirators. The saying is carved in a timber beam on the outside of Philipp’s family home in Germany.
She went on to say that her friends explained that they used this quote as a motto for their family and that it was a reminder to them that they are members of a chosen generation and must be different in the world of today. As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they should make choices consistent with the teachings of the gospel and shun the negative, misleading, and evil messages of the world that surround them. [BYU Devotional September 12, 2006]
I was very fortunate as a young boy, about age 14, to have the great truth and principle of life, "Even If all, Not I," indelibly burned into my heart and spirit.
The year was 1952, and I was a freshman at White Pine County high school in Ely, Nevada. I had three friends that were excellent trumpet players and they had learned a number entitled "Buglers Holiday." I played the piano accompaniment for them at the annual Christmas high school band concert. The county was so lacking in, and starved for entertainment, that we were asked to perform for the Lion's Club, the Rotary Club, and for the Elks Club. Prior to our performance at the Elks Club, a custodian opened up the hall for us so we could practice for the evening performance. When we finished our rehearsal the custodian was nowhere in sight, and one of the trumpet players reached over the bar, snatched up a fifth of whiskey and hid it under his leather jacket. We all hurried out to the car, piled in, and headed up into the mountains surrounding Ely on an old dirt road. We finally pulled off the road behind some cedar trees and I knew what was coming next.
The driver is the one that had taken the bottle of whiskey and he opened it up and took a big drink and handed it to the kid next to him. I was strategically placed behind the driver and so I knew I would be the last one to be offered a drink of whiskey. I began to sweat bullets! The last thing I wanted to do was to drink the whiskey but at the same time, I didn't want to appear to be a goody two shoes to my friends. What was I to say or to do? I guess I could say, "I don't like whiskey." Or maybe, "My mother would be upset if I were to drink this." Or maybe I would take the bottle and throw it out the window and call my friends to repentance for their wickedness. Quite frankly, I just simply did not know what to say or what I would do when that bottle would inevitably come into my hands.
My good friend sitting next to me was handed the bottle from the boy in the front seat next to the driver. He took a big drink and then turned to hand it to me. I don't know what he saw on my face but he said, "I'm not going to waste this whiskey on Rushton, I know he is a Mormon and doesn't drink." With that he passed the bottle up to the driver. Nothing more was said and no pressure exerted on me to do what in my heart I did not want to do. I felt like I had been pardoned by the governor just before being executed. I gained a reputation that afternoon, for which I take no credit that would follow me all through high school and I was never asked to take a drink by any of my friends who did not share my standards or beliefs. I have often wondered what direction my life might have taken had I taken that drink as a 14-year-old. I vowed that I would never find myself in that kind of a situation again, not knowing what to say or do. Of course, as a 14-year-old I hadn't heard the principle, "Even If All, Not I," but that was in reality how I knew I wanted to live my life.
As a 73-year-old, as I look back on my life, I am so grateful for that experience I had as a 14-year-old. Over the years, like so many of you, I have encountered many situations where I have had to take a stand on certain issues and implement the principle, "Even If All, Not I!"
When we find ourselves outnumbered on issues of morality that obviously are in violation of Article of Faith 13 – "…We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things," hopefully, we will take a stand and be true to our God and to ourselves.
Perhaps, if we are fortunate, there will come into our minds when being tempted to cave-in and give up defending unpopular truths, both by word and by deed, the words of Joseph. As a young 14-year-old boy being persecuted and ridiculed for what he said had occurred in his life, said he felt much like Paul, whose testimony of having seen Christ in vision was rejected and ridiculed as he was examined by King Agrippa.
" So it was with me. I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation." [Joseph Smith History, 25]
How blessed we would be if we were to truly internalize into our lives and into our hearts as individuals and as families, the motto –“Et si omnes ego non.”
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
26
Sunday, September 11, 2011
"Is It I?"
Several weeks ago I was having some trouble with the battery on my wheelchair that keeps my ventilator going. After making sure it was fully charged, Jo Anne loaded me into the van to go run some errands.
As we pulled into the post office parking lot, the alarm on the ventilator began to sound – a piercing siren like noise. Because the ventilator also has an internal battery, we knew we had about 20 minutes to make it home, realizing we were on borrowed time. Leaving the car running, Jo Anne made a mad dash into the post office. As she did so, I could see that my date with a bean burrito and extra beans at Taco Bell was in jeopardy. She was back in a flash, jumped in behind the wheel, and slamming it into reverse, backed into a yellow cab that had not been there when she came out of the post office. As our back bumper collided with the cab, the driver came exploding out of his beautiful, shiny, and now dinged up yellow vehicle. He was a big man and it was evident from his appearance that he was from somewhere in the Middle East. Looking at the damage inflicted upon his rear fender, he began waving his arms and screaming. Before Jo Anne could even approach him, he was on his cell phone calling everyone he could think of – his boss, the insurance company, and maybe even Al Qaeda.
Knowing we were running short on time, Jo Anne tried to exchange information with him, but he would not get off the phone. She tried to tell him that her husband was on life support that was failing, and she had only minutes to get him home. She said that if he wanted to exchange information he would have to follow her home. He seemed to understand our urgency and moved his cab forward so we could leave. With that she got in the van, screeched out of the parking lot, and zoomed down Newport Avenue toward home. The poor taxicab driver had zero chance of keeping up with Jo Anne, and as we pulled into the driveway she was amazed that the cab was not behind her. However, I was not amazed!
Once safely in our house with my vent plugged into the wall socket, Jo Anne looked at me and with frustration in her voice said "You know, Jack, it is your fault that I backed into that yellow cab! If you hadn't broken your neck at Laguna Beach 22 years ago and been on life support, I wouldn't have been in that situation and smashed into the cab! I was so worried about saving your life that I just didn't see that cab when he pulled up behind me as I was backing out.”
I started to respond and to defend myself but then realized she was probably telling the truth. She can be very convincing.
Several days later just as we were about ready to drive into our housing tract, we saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police motorcycle right behind us. Jo Anne obediently, and I might add, with a sinking heart, pulled over to the side of the street. The police officer sidled up to Jo Anne's side of the van and identified himself, and then asked her if she was Jo Anne Rushton. She said yes and was amazed that he knew her name without even asking for her driver's license. He laughed and said he was actually on the way to our home when he spotted our van. He then asked about the accident that had taken place over a week ago with the cab. Jo Anne explained her version using me as evidence of the truthfulness of her story. However, having been previously convinced by Jo Anne's persuasive argument to me, I blurted out that I was the real culprit even though I couldn't drive, and even if he didn't believe that, he should go easy on my wife – no handcuffs or sirens or lights on the way to the clink. He believed our story after looking at me and that was pretty much the end of it.
Our insurance company did call us the other day, but I don't know what they had to say. I leave those insignificant things up to Jo Anne while I concentrate on more weighty matters like writing observations, reading the Scriptures, sending out e-mails, preparing gospel doctrine lessons and wondering what's for dinner.
Well, what is the point of all of this? Jo Anne has given me permission (isn't she a good sport) to use the tongue-in-cheek experience I have related above and apply it to a very real human character trait all mankind has possessed since the fall of Adam and Eve. I am referring to accepting the consequences of our actions without excuse.
Think back to the Garden of Eden episode and how blame was deflected and directed to others when God confronted Adam and Eve after they had partaken of the forbidden fruit. This was just the beginning of "passing the buck!"
We find it all throughout the Scriptures, in society – ancient and modern – in the workplace, and politics, as well as in society at large and in families.
I hope my son Mike won't mind me relating the following incident that took place when his two boys were very young. Mike was a Deputy Dist. Atty. and was accustomed to cross-examining witnesses and alleged criminals to discover the truth. He was putting his boys to bed one night and when he went into the bathroom he saw toothpaste spread liberally everywhere. The crime scene had become a Ground Zero disaster area. He brought the two boys into the bathroom and said, "Who did this?" Neither boy would confess to the toothpaste crime. Mike was at his cross-examining best but the boys would not cave in. Mike was getting increasingly frustrated with each passing moment and realized he was more successful with hard-core criminals in getting at the truth than with his two little boys. After sending the boys directly to bed with no story time, Mike carefully analyzed the boys' responses with his legally trained mind. He was confident that his namesake, Mike Jr, the oldest of the two, was the perpetrator, or at least the instigator, of the dastardly deed. Hoping to outsmart the guilty one, he entered their bedroom and said in a firm voice, “Spencer, I know you are the one that did it.” And taking the youngest boy from his bed, told him that he was taking him into the other bedroom to spank him. As he did so there was still no response from Mike Jr. As Mike proceeded with his threat, Spencer's eyes got big as saucers while breaking into a cold sweat as he awaited the awful punishment -- having been found guilty of the crime without really having had a legitimate day in court and adequate legal representation. Suddenly from the boys' bedroom came the anguished cry, "Dad, I did it, it wasn't Spencer! Don't hit him!" With that brotherly confession, the rod was spared.
My favorite scriptural example of this "fallen, natural man" character trait is found in Exodus 32. Moses had been up on Mount Sinai for a long time and when he descended with the tablets which contained the 10 Commandments he saw the people worshiping a golden calf. He knew that Aaron and his brother had made the calf for the children of Israel. We can only imagine what Aaron must have felt when he was confronted by his brother Moses. What follows is one of the most classic and lame excuses ever conjured up to cover one's culpability. I like to think that Moses actually laughed out loud at what Aaron told him in an attempt to defend himself. "And Aaron said, Let not the aanger of my lord wax hot: thou knowest the people, that they are bset on cmischief. For they said unto me, aMake us . Bgods, which shall go before us: for as for this Moses, the man that brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we wot not what is become of him. And I said unto them, Whosoever hath any gold, let them break it off. So they gave it me: then I cast it into the fire, and there came out this calf." [Exodus 32:22-24 – Emphasis added]
The only thing that can compare to Aaron's lame excuse is all the finger-pointing in Washington regarding the budget and nobody willing to step up to the plate and admit wrongdoing or at least stupidity.
I believe there is a great lesson to be learned from the original apostles who when the Savior said that one of them would betray him, instead of saying, "I'll bet it's Judas, or Bartholomew," instead said, "Is it I?" [Mark 14:18-19]
I call their response "Apostalic Humility." I believe we can all use a little bit more of that as we exercise our agency and do dumb things every once in a while, because let's face it, "For the anatural bman is an cenemy to God, and has been from the dfall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he eyields to the enticings of the Holy fSpirit, and gputteth off the hnatural man and becometh a isaint…" [Mosiah 3:19]
Best wishes in your attempt to "yield to the enticings of the Holy Spirit."
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
As we pulled into the post office parking lot, the alarm on the ventilator began to sound – a piercing siren like noise. Because the ventilator also has an internal battery, we knew we had about 20 minutes to make it home, realizing we were on borrowed time. Leaving the car running, Jo Anne made a mad dash into the post office. As she did so, I could see that my date with a bean burrito and extra beans at Taco Bell was in jeopardy. She was back in a flash, jumped in behind the wheel, and slamming it into reverse, backed into a yellow cab that had not been there when she came out of the post office. As our back bumper collided with the cab, the driver came exploding out of his beautiful, shiny, and now dinged up yellow vehicle. He was a big man and it was evident from his appearance that he was from somewhere in the Middle East. Looking at the damage inflicted upon his rear fender, he began waving his arms and screaming. Before Jo Anne could even approach him, he was on his cell phone calling everyone he could think of – his boss, the insurance company, and maybe even Al Qaeda.
Knowing we were running short on time, Jo Anne tried to exchange information with him, but he would not get off the phone. She tried to tell him that her husband was on life support that was failing, and she had only minutes to get him home. She said that if he wanted to exchange information he would have to follow her home. He seemed to understand our urgency and moved his cab forward so we could leave. With that she got in the van, screeched out of the parking lot, and zoomed down Newport Avenue toward home. The poor taxicab driver had zero chance of keeping up with Jo Anne, and as we pulled into the driveway she was amazed that the cab was not behind her. However, I was not amazed!
Once safely in our house with my vent plugged into the wall socket, Jo Anne looked at me and with frustration in her voice said "You know, Jack, it is your fault that I backed into that yellow cab! If you hadn't broken your neck at Laguna Beach 22 years ago and been on life support, I wouldn't have been in that situation and smashed into the cab! I was so worried about saving your life that I just didn't see that cab when he pulled up behind me as I was backing out.”
I started to respond and to defend myself but then realized she was probably telling the truth. She can be very convincing.
Several days later just as we were about ready to drive into our housing tract, we saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police motorcycle right behind us. Jo Anne obediently, and I might add, with a sinking heart, pulled over to the side of the street. The police officer sidled up to Jo Anne's side of the van and identified himself, and then asked her if she was Jo Anne Rushton. She said yes and was amazed that he knew her name without even asking for her driver's license. He laughed and said he was actually on the way to our home when he spotted our van. He then asked about the accident that had taken place over a week ago with the cab. Jo Anne explained her version using me as evidence of the truthfulness of her story. However, having been previously convinced by Jo Anne's persuasive argument to me, I blurted out that I was the real culprit even though I couldn't drive, and even if he didn't believe that, he should go easy on my wife – no handcuffs or sirens or lights on the way to the clink. He believed our story after looking at me and that was pretty much the end of it.
Our insurance company did call us the other day, but I don't know what they had to say. I leave those insignificant things up to Jo Anne while I concentrate on more weighty matters like writing observations, reading the Scriptures, sending out e-mails, preparing gospel doctrine lessons and wondering what's for dinner.
Well, what is the point of all of this? Jo Anne has given me permission (isn't she a good sport) to use the tongue-in-cheek experience I have related above and apply it to a very real human character trait all mankind has possessed since the fall of Adam and Eve. I am referring to accepting the consequences of our actions without excuse.
Think back to the Garden of Eden episode and how blame was deflected and directed to others when God confronted Adam and Eve after they had partaken of the forbidden fruit. This was just the beginning of "passing the buck!"
We find it all throughout the Scriptures, in society – ancient and modern – in the workplace, and politics, as well as in society at large and in families.
I hope my son Mike won't mind me relating the following incident that took place when his two boys were very young. Mike was a Deputy Dist. Atty. and was accustomed to cross-examining witnesses and alleged criminals to discover the truth. He was putting his boys to bed one night and when he went into the bathroom he saw toothpaste spread liberally everywhere. The crime scene had become a Ground Zero disaster area. He brought the two boys into the bathroom and said, "Who did this?" Neither boy would confess to the toothpaste crime. Mike was at his cross-examining best but the boys would not cave in. Mike was getting increasingly frustrated with each passing moment and realized he was more successful with hard-core criminals in getting at the truth than with his two little boys. After sending the boys directly to bed with no story time, Mike carefully analyzed the boys' responses with his legally trained mind. He was confident that his namesake, Mike Jr, the oldest of the two, was the perpetrator, or at least the instigator, of the dastardly deed. Hoping to outsmart the guilty one, he entered their bedroom and said in a firm voice, “Spencer, I know you are the one that did it.” And taking the youngest boy from his bed, told him that he was taking him into the other bedroom to spank him. As he did so there was still no response from Mike Jr. As Mike proceeded with his threat, Spencer's eyes got big as saucers while breaking into a cold sweat as he awaited the awful punishment -- having been found guilty of the crime without really having had a legitimate day in court and adequate legal representation. Suddenly from the boys' bedroom came the anguished cry, "Dad, I did it, it wasn't Spencer! Don't hit him!" With that brotherly confession, the rod was spared.
My favorite scriptural example of this "fallen, natural man" character trait is found in Exodus 32. Moses had been up on Mount Sinai for a long time and when he descended with the tablets which contained the 10 Commandments he saw the people worshiping a golden calf. He knew that Aaron and his brother had made the calf for the children of Israel. We can only imagine what Aaron must have felt when he was confronted by his brother Moses. What follows is one of the most classic and lame excuses ever conjured up to cover one's culpability. I like to think that Moses actually laughed out loud at what Aaron told him in an attempt to defend himself. "And Aaron said, Let not the aanger of my lord wax hot: thou knowest the people, that they are bset on cmischief. For they said unto me, aMake us . Bgods, which shall go before us: for as for this Moses, the man that brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we wot not what is become of him. And I said unto them, Whosoever hath any gold, let them break it off. So they gave it me: then I cast it into the fire, and there came out this calf." [Exodus 32:22-24 – Emphasis added]
The only thing that can compare to Aaron's lame excuse is all the finger-pointing in Washington regarding the budget and nobody willing to step up to the plate and admit wrongdoing or at least stupidity.
I believe there is a great lesson to be learned from the original apostles who when the Savior said that one of them would betray him, instead of saying, "I'll bet it's Judas, or Bartholomew," instead said, "Is it I?" [Mark 14:18-19]
I call their response "Apostalic Humility." I believe we can all use a little bit more of that as we exercise our agency and do dumb things every once in a while, because let's face it, "For the anatural bman is an cenemy to God, and has been from the dfall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he eyields to the enticings of the Holy fSpirit, and gputteth off the hnatural man and becometh a isaint…" [Mosiah 3:19]
Best wishes in your attempt to "yield to the enticings of the Holy Spirit."
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
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