Many years ago, about 1976 I think, I did one of the most foolish things I have ever done. This was the year that Volkswagen produced and began selling the Rabbit. Their advertising campaign was so ingenious and persuasive I just knew I had to have this car. At that time in our lives we were always just scraping by financially. So when Jo Anne reluctantly gave her permission for me to go ahead, I bought the most stripped-down model that was available. I think it had a radio, but no air-conditioning, no tinted windshields, and only two doors. It was sort of a red color -- it should have been a lemon color. At the time we had four children, an Indian placement student, and a dog. We would take long trips with the seven of us and the dog somehow stuffed into the Rabbit with our luggage strapped on top. Today Jo Anne and I would have been jailed for violating the seat belt law and for pre-meditated child abuse as well. Come to think of it though, the Rabbit had no seat belts.
I spent hours at the Volkswagen dealership trying to get them to fix an eternal series of problems. I think Germany got back at us for winning World War II by manufacturing the Rabbit. At times I would wonder who really won the war.
One of the happiest days of my life was the day I traded in the Rabbit for a new car. Now don't think badly of me or question my intelligence or sanity, but guess what I traded for? That's right, a Volkswagen Vanagon! Some of us never seem to learn. As always, balancing ourselves precariously on the edge of financial disaster, I bought the most stripped-down Volkswagen Vanagon available. It had no tinted windows, no radio, no air-conditioning, and no carpeting on the floor. It did have some utilitarian rubber mats that you could hose down, which was a plus when going to the beach. The bottom half of the van was a sick lemon color and the top was a kind of cream color. We took a number of summertime trips to Utah in that van, with Jo Anne and the kids almost dying from heat prostration. It was always a roll of the dice whether we would make it to Las Vegas without a problem. Once we had to spend a week in St. George while the repair people at the very busy Volkswagen repair establishment ordered parts that must have had to be shipped from Berlin. I imagined seeing Hitler standing by the van, giving me an evil smile and growling, "Gotcha!"
I have spent good money on other worthless things during my lifetime and always get a little bit of a guilty conscience when I read Jacob's counsel regarding our priorities: "Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy..." [2 Nephi 9:51]
Not only am I guilty of spending "money for that which is of no worth," but also my labor at times for that which "cannot satisfy." On one occasion before I became wiser and paralyzed -- in retrospect it might have been a blessing to have become paralyzed sooner -- Jo Anne talked me into wallpapering the little bathroom just off the master bedroom. It was a tiny room, which was encouraging at first glance. However, the old wallpaper had to be stripped off and it didn't seem to want to come off. I sweated, strained, and cussed (just a little bit). Finally I got it off, but then had to prepare the walls to receive the new wallpaper. I thought I had measured the first roll of wallpaper correctly, but in trying to hang it I realized I had cut it too short -- and wallpaper won't grow. The paste began to harden as did my heart toward this tiny bathroom and the supposedly "easy wallpaper job." Hour after hour went by and then I began to think, which is always dangerous when performing manual labor. How many people would ever come into our master bedroom and then into the tiny bathroom? Who were we trying to impress any way? Couldn't there be a better use of my time than laboring on something that seemed to be so useless and unsatisfying? Jo Anne, painfully aware of my lack of talent as a handyman and fix it guy, came to my rescue and finished the job herself. That was painful as well, because I heard about it for some time afterwards. I wonder why I never felt comfortable using that bathroom.
We live at a time when it is so easy to spend money for that which is of no worth and our labor (time) for that which cannot satisfy in any worthwhile or lasting sense. Several years ago President Hinckley, in speaking to the young men in the general priesthood meeting, cautioned them to: "... Please, please ... not fritter away your time or your talents in an aimless pursuit. If you do so, it will lessen your capacity to do worthwhile things. I believe it will dull your sensitivity.... and as you look back, you will be disappointed with yourselves." [Gordon B. Hinckley, May 2005, Ensign.]
Given the electronic age we are living in, it is not difficult to know what President Hinckley was talking about.
Jacob went on to say in verse 51 of 2 Nephi 9, "... and come unto to the Holy One of Israel and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted."
Jacob has beautifully told us how to order our priorities in life. I realized within just days after my accident 20 years ago the truthfulness of Jacob's teachings regarding our priorities. I realized almost immediately that whatever material possessions I had, or whatever degrees or honors of men I had received, meant absolutely nothing. The only thing that mattered at all was the relationships I had with my wife, my family, my good friends, and the Lord. Before then and since then I have tried to "come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which "perisheth not, neither can be corrupted." It has made all the difference in the world. I haven't always been successful, but I do know what my priorities should be, and as I seek to follow Jacob's counsel, my life has truly been blessed.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Snuffy Smith
I have been listening to a wonderful history about the Eighth United States Air Force stationed in England and flying bombing missions over Germany during World War II. I think I enjoy the book so much because of my good friend, Allen Rosza. As a young 20-year-old he was a pilot of one of the flying fortresses making bombing runs over Germany. Allen went on to make the Air Force his career and was a Lt. Colonel and in line to become a General when he was called to serve as a mission president and took an early retirement. After his mission, he had served as a stake president a regional representative, and then Temple president of the Los Angeles Temple. We became good friends because of my work with CES and because I taught his football playing triplet sons in an Institute class at Santa Ana College.
When I was in a rehabilitation hospital for six months following my injury, Allen was a frequent visitor and spent many hours at my bedside encouraging me and giving me blessings. My son John would spend most Sundays with me so his mom could stay home with the girls and not worry about me. Our favorite thing to do was to get Allen to tell us war stories about his experiences of flying as a very young man over Germany. Believe me, it was exciting and John and I loved it.
The title of the book, in case you are interested, is "Masters of the Sky" by Donald L. Miller. It is an in depth history of the Eighth Air Force and the part it played in helping to win World War II. If you don't like history don't read this book, but if you do you will be well rewarded for the time invested. It is really a heart wrenching history of gallant young men from all walks of life who gave their lives to save the world from the maniacal dictator, Hitler. The mortality rate in the Eighth Air Force was far higher than in any other branch of the service during the war. One of the crew members on one of the flying Fortresses was 27 years old and was considered by his mates to be an old man. Most of the men, including the pilots, were in their late teens or very early 20s. Many things in this history have touched my heart, but especially the desire these young men had to help and protect, and save the lives of fellow crew members. Each bomber had a crew of 10 men and their great motivation in battle was not to bomb the Germans, or shoot down the enemy fighter planes, but to work together to save one another's lives and hopefully make it back to England in one piece. The spirit of these bomber crews could well have been that of Alexander Dumas' Three Musketeers, "One for all and all for one." Sadly, so many never made it back to England or back to the United States either.
One incident from the book that was very inspirational to me was the story of "Snuffy Smith." Now, those of you that are old enough to remember will know that Snuffy Smith was a hillbilly cartoon character that appeared in newspapers for decades. The Snuffy Smith of the Eighth Air Force was actually a young man named Maynard H. Smith. All of his fellow airmen considered him to be a real "wingnut" and always messing up everything he tried to do.
It was during his first mission, on May 1, 1943 that Staff Sergeant Smith, who was assigned to the ball gun turret, helped save the lives of six of his wounded comrades, put out a blazing fire and drove off wave after wave of German fighters. The target of the mission was the U-boat pens on the Bay of Biscay. The submarine pens were heavily defended by antiaircraft guns and the entire area was nick-named "flak city" by the airmen. After successfully dropping their bombs on the target they turned toward home. It was at that time that Staff Sergeant Smith's bomber was hit, rupturing the fuel tanks and igniting a massive fire in the center of the fuselage. What "Snuffy Smith" did next earned him the Congressional Medal of Honor.
From the official Medal of Honor citation we read:
"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action above and beyond the call of duty. The aircraft of which Sgt. Smith was a gunner was subjected to intense enemy antiaircraft fire and determined fighter aircraft attacks while returning from a mission over enemy-occupied continental Europe on 1 May 1943. The aircraft was hit several times by antiaircraft fire and cannon shells of the fighter aircraft, 2 of the crew were seriously wounded, the aircraft's oxygen system shot out, and several vital control cables severed when intense fires were ignited simultaneously in the radio compartment and waist sections. The situation became so acute that 3 of the crew bailed out into the comparative safety of the sea. Sgt. Smith, then on his first combat mission, elected to fight the fire by himself, administered first aid to the wounded tail gunner, manned the waist guns, and fought the intense flames alternately. The escaping oxygen fanned the fire to such intense heat that the ammunition in the radio compartment began to explode, the radio, gun mount, and camera were melted, and the compartment completely gutted. Sgt. Smith threw the exploding ammunition overboard, fought the fire until all the firefighting aids were exhausted, manned the workable guns until the enemy fighters were driven away, further administered first aid to his wounded comrade, and then by wrapping himself in protecting cloth, completely extinguished the fire by hand. This soldier's gallantry in action, undaunted bravery, and loyalty to his aircraft and fellow crewmembers, without regard for his own personal safety, is an inspiration to the U.S. Armed Forces." [The information above comes from the book, Masters of the Sky, and Wikipedia]
Maynard Smith was one of the fortunate few to survive the bombing raids over Germany and lived into his early 70s.
This incident is actually one of many that could be told of young men putting their lives on the line to save a comrade. They knew they had to be a cohesive team and concerned about one another as much as they were about themselves or they had no chance of survival.
Of course the same is the case with all of us. We simply cannot navigate this "flak field" called mortality without the support and aid of our family and friends.
"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up." [Ecclesiastes 4: 9-10]
Casey Stengel, famous manager of the New York Yankees, modestly admitted to reporters after winning his first World Series, "I couldn't have done it without my players!"
Jo Anne, like "Snuffy Smith" has put her life on the line for me. I modestly admit, like Casey, that I could not have done it without her and other family members and many friends. I'm sure we all have "Snuffy Smith's" in our lives to have been able to come as far as we have.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
When I was in a rehabilitation hospital for six months following my injury, Allen was a frequent visitor and spent many hours at my bedside encouraging me and giving me blessings. My son John would spend most Sundays with me so his mom could stay home with the girls and not worry about me. Our favorite thing to do was to get Allen to tell us war stories about his experiences of flying as a very young man over Germany. Believe me, it was exciting and John and I loved it.
The title of the book, in case you are interested, is "Masters of the Sky" by Donald L. Miller. It is an in depth history of the Eighth Air Force and the part it played in helping to win World War II. If you don't like history don't read this book, but if you do you will be well rewarded for the time invested. It is really a heart wrenching history of gallant young men from all walks of life who gave their lives to save the world from the maniacal dictator, Hitler. The mortality rate in the Eighth Air Force was far higher than in any other branch of the service during the war. One of the crew members on one of the flying Fortresses was 27 years old and was considered by his mates to be an old man. Most of the men, including the pilots, were in their late teens or very early 20s. Many things in this history have touched my heart, but especially the desire these young men had to help and protect, and save the lives of fellow crew members. Each bomber had a crew of 10 men and their great motivation in battle was not to bomb the Germans, or shoot down the enemy fighter planes, but to work together to save one another's lives and hopefully make it back to England in one piece. The spirit of these bomber crews could well have been that of Alexander Dumas' Three Musketeers, "One for all and all for one." Sadly, so many never made it back to England or back to the United States either.
One incident from the book that was very inspirational to me was the story of "Snuffy Smith." Now, those of you that are old enough to remember will know that Snuffy Smith was a hillbilly cartoon character that appeared in newspapers for decades. The Snuffy Smith of the Eighth Air Force was actually a young man named Maynard H. Smith. All of his fellow airmen considered him to be a real "wingnut" and always messing up everything he tried to do.
It was during his first mission, on May 1, 1943 that Staff Sergeant Smith, who was assigned to the ball gun turret, helped save the lives of six of his wounded comrades, put out a blazing fire and drove off wave after wave of German fighters. The target of the mission was the U-boat pens on the Bay of Biscay. The submarine pens were heavily defended by antiaircraft guns and the entire area was nick-named "flak city" by the airmen. After successfully dropping their bombs on the target they turned toward home. It was at that time that Staff Sergeant Smith's bomber was hit, rupturing the fuel tanks and igniting a massive fire in the center of the fuselage. What "Snuffy Smith" did next earned him the Congressional Medal of Honor.
From the official Medal of Honor citation we read:
"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action above and beyond the call of duty. The aircraft of which Sgt. Smith was a gunner was subjected to intense enemy antiaircraft fire and determined fighter aircraft attacks while returning from a mission over enemy-occupied continental Europe on 1 May 1943. The aircraft was hit several times by antiaircraft fire and cannon shells of the fighter aircraft, 2 of the crew were seriously wounded, the aircraft's oxygen system shot out, and several vital control cables severed when intense fires were ignited simultaneously in the radio compartment and waist sections. The situation became so acute that 3 of the crew bailed out into the comparative safety of the sea. Sgt. Smith, then on his first combat mission, elected to fight the fire by himself, administered first aid to the wounded tail gunner, manned the waist guns, and fought the intense flames alternately. The escaping oxygen fanned the fire to such intense heat that the ammunition in the radio compartment began to explode, the radio, gun mount, and camera were melted, and the compartment completely gutted. Sgt. Smith threw the exploding ammunition overboard, fought the fire until all the firefighting aids were exhausted, manned the workable guns until the enemy fighters were driven away, further administered first aid to his wounded comrade, and then by wrapping himself in protecting cloth, completely extinguished the fire by hand. This soldier's gallantry in action, undaunted bravery, and loyalty to his aircraft and fellow crewmembers, without regard for his own personal safety, is an inspiration to the U.S. Armed Forces." [The information above comes from the book, Masters of the Sky, and Wikipedia]
Maynard Smith was one of the fortunate few to survive the bombing raids over Germany and lived into his early 70s.
This incident is actually one of many that could be told of young men putting their lives on the line to save a comrade. They knew they had to be a cohesive team and concerned about one another as much as they were about themselves or they had no chance of survival.
Of course the same is the case with all of us. We simply cannot navigate this "flak field" called mortality without the support and aid of our family and friends.
"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up." [Ecclesiastes 4: 9-10]
Casey Stengel, famous manager of the New York Yankees, modestly admitted to reporters after winning his first World Series, "I couldn't have done it without my players!"
Jo Anne, like "Snuffy Smith" has put her life on the line for me. I modestly admit, like Casey, that I could not have done it without her and other family members and many friends. I'm sure we all have "Snuffy Smith's" in our lives to have been able to come as far as we have.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Darwin Awards
As many of you know I get around in what is called a "Breath Control Wheelchair." Christopher Reeve -- Superman -- had one exactly like mine. Some call it a "Sip and Puff" wheelchair because that is how you control it. A small tube inserted into my mouth allows me to operate all the functions the chair is capable of: moving forward, backward, left, right, the speed in which these maneuvers are made, and also tilting and reclining – is by sipping or puffing with different intensities through the tube. Wheelchair technology has improved over the years and hardly anyone now uses a breath control wheelchair. If a person can move his head or neck at all there is more advanced technology available. Because I have zero movement in my neck, my only alternative is to sip and puff. Orange County, in Southern California, is heavily populated, but our wheelchair provider tells us that, as far as they know, I have the only sip and puff wheelchair in the entire area. Thankfully, there are still technicians who know how to fix the chair -- I hope I don't outlive them all.
I am in my third generation chair now and each new chair is better and safer than the previous one. However, if I am not careful I can still run into things, over things, and off of stairs and curbs. The problem is the tube I sip and puff into. If I inadvertently let my tongue cover the little hole in the tube while sipping or puffing, the chair has a violent reaction. It starts going at warp speed and zigs sharply to the left or zags just as sharply to the right. Thankfully, as soon as I remove my tongue from the little hole, I am in control once again. I always have to remember to be alert, careful, take nothing for granted, and not get lulled into a sense of false security while driving about. I am always an accident just waiting to happen.
I hate to admit it, but I have left my mark on a number of people and places through "bad driving." In the Los Angeles Temple one day I was motoring quite rapidly toward the men's dressing room when I carelessly covered the driving tube with my tongue and zigged into the wall. The matron of the temple was standing right by me as I left two gaping holes in one of the most conspicuous places in the entire temple. She assured me that I was still welcome anytime I wanted to return and was most gracious, but I just felt terrible. I have zigged and zagged in the San Diego Temple as well as the Newport Beach Temple and have left my mark on both of these beautiful edifices. The kind temple presidencies and temple workers tell me to not let this deter me from my temple attendance, but at the same time I notice they are a tad nervous when they see me show up.
I think one of the worst things I did was run over my aged mother's foot. She became quite upset for some reason and used the "D" word in referring to me. I was not offended by her use of that word believing that she was justified in speaking to me in that way.
Another potential disaster was the day I was tooling down the hallway in our Stake Center. Without warning, a door suddenly opened and a huge seeing-eye dog with his blind master entered the hallway. The dog, upon seeing me rolling towards his master at top speed, went ballistic trying to save him from impeding danger. The blind man, in shock and total confusion, wanted to know what was happening. Fortunately, I was able to stop before running over the dog and knocking this good brother down. Jo Anne quickly explained the situation and assured him that all was well. I can't recall Jo Anne saying anything comforting or kind to me -- I wonder why? Thankfully, no harm was done and we didn’t get sued. I could just see the headlines, “Paralyzed man in wheelchair driving at a reckless speed runs over blind man.”
I probably shouldn't write what I'm going to next. I'm sure Jo Anne will submit my name and some of my escapades to the following website I recently found on Google called "A Darwin Award." It is "A Chronicle of Enterprising Demises or near demises honoring those who improve the species...by accidentally removing themselves from it!" [Google]
For example, one incident that almost received the top "Darwin Award" a few years ago is as follows: two young men living in Wisconsin went ice fishing for the first time. It was bitterly cold and they were ill prepared for this event. They had all their gear in the back of a beautiful brand-new red truck, along with their faithful dog. Although they had a special saw to make a hole in the ice they thought it would take too long and so they got the brilliant idea of blowing a hole in the ice with a stick of dynamite. One of the young men lit the stick of dynamite and threw it as far as he could. The dog, thinking this was a fun game ran after it, retrieved it, and started running back toward the truck as fast as he could. They tried to wave the dog off, but the more they waved and shouted the faster he came toward them. Just as he got to the truck he slipped, slid under the truck, and the dynamite exploded. The only happy thing about this story, I'm afraid to report, is that the two young men were able to save themselves -- wish I could say the same about the truck and the dog.
I believe that all of us have probably done something to qualify for a Darwin Award sometime during our lives. Just as I have to be constantly on the alert when driving my wheelchair so as not to injure myself or somebody else, I believe this principle applies to all of us in a physical way.
The Scriptures teach us however, that: "And the spirit and the body are the soul of man." [D&C 88:15] I believe there could be given spiritual "Darwin Awards" for less than intelligent spiritual or near spiritual demises, as well as for the physical. The Lord also has counseled: "... care not for the body, neither the life of the body; but care for the soul, and for the life of the soul. And seek the face of the Lord always, that in patience ye may possess your souls..." [D&C 101: 37-38]
When we become careless in our spiritual drive through life we can zig or zag off the narrow path, and in the process, destroy ourselves and possibly many loved ones as well. To not read our Scriptures, have our personal prayers, pay our timing, keep the Sabbath day holy, and not to protect our minds from the potential poison that can come from the media is to qualify for a "spiritual Darwin Award."
Just as I always have to remember to be alert, careful, take nothing for granted, and not get lulled into a sense of false security while driving my wheelchair, so I must also be equally as careful in my spiritual drive through life.
"And finally, I cannot tell you all the things whereby ye may commit sin; for there are divers ways and means, even so many that I cannot number them. But this much I can tell you, that if ye do not watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God, and continue in the faith of what ye have heard concerning the coming of our Lord, even unto the end of your lives, ye must perish. And now, O man, remember, and perish not." [Mosiah 4: 29-30]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
I am in my third generation chair now and each new chair is better and safer than the previous one. However, if I am not careful I can still run into things, over things, and off of stairs and curbs. The problem is the tube I sip and puff into. If I inadvertently let my tongue cover the little hole in the tube while sipping or puffing, the chair has a violent reaction. It starts going at warp speed and zigs sharply to the left or zags just as sharply to the right. Thankfully, as soon as I remove my tongue from the little hole, I am in control once again. I always have to remember to be alert, careful, take nothing for granted, and not get lulled into a sense of false security while driving about. I am always an accident just waiting to happen.
I hate to admit it, but I have left my mark on a number of people and places through "bad driving." In the Los Angeles Temple one day I was motoring quite rapidly toward the men's dressing room when I carelessly covered the driving tube with my tongue and zigged into the wall. The matron of the temple was standing right by me as I left two gaping holes in one of the most conspicuous places in the entire temple. She assured me that I was still welcome anytime I wanted to return and was most gracious, but I just felt terrible. I have zigged and zagged in the San Diego Temple as well as the Newport Beach Temple and have left my mark on both of these beautiful edifices. The kind temple presidencies and temple workers tell me to not let this deter me from my temple attendance, but at the same time I notice they are a tad nervous when they see me show up.
I think one of the worst things I did was run over my aged mother's foot. She became quite upset for some reason and used the "D" word in referring to me. I was not offended by her use of that word believing that she was justified in speaking to me in that way.
Another potential disaster was the day I was tooling down the hallway in our Stake Center. Without warning, a door suddenly opened and a huge seeing-eye dog with his blind master entered the hallway. The dog, upon seeing me rolling towards his master at top speed, went ballistic trying to save him from impeding danger. The blind man, in shock and total confusion, wanted to know what was happening. Fortunately, I was able to stop before running over the dog and knocking this good brother down. Jo Anne quickly explained the situation and assured him that all was well. I can't recall Jo Anne saying anything comforting or kind to me -- I wonder why? Thankfully, no harm was done and we didn’t get sued. I could just see the headlines, “Paralyzed man in wheelchair driving at a reckless speed runs over blind man.”
I probably shouldn't write what I'm going to next. I'm sure Jo Anne will submit my name and some of my escapades to the following website I recently found on Google called "A Darwin Award." It is "A Chronicle of Enterprising Demises or near demises honoring those who improve the species...by accidentally removing themselves from it!" [Google]
For example, one incident that almost received the top "Darwin Award" a few years ago is as follows: two young men living in Wisconsin went ice fishing for the first time. It was bitterly cold and they were ill prepared for this event. They had all their gear in the back of a beautiful brand-new red truck, along with their faithful dog. Although they had a special saw to make a hole in the ice they thought it would take too long and so they got the brilliant idea of blowing a hole in the ice with a stick of dynamite. One of the young men lit the stick of dynamite and threw it as far as he could. The dog, thinking this was a fun game ran after it, retrieved it, and started running back toward the truck as fast as he could. They tried to wave the dog off, but the more they waved and shouted the faster he came toward them. Just as he got to the truck he slipped, slid under the truck, and the dynamite exploded. The only happy thing about this story, I'm afraid to report, is that the two young men were able to save themselves -- wish I could say the same about the truck and the dog.
I believe that all of us have probably done something to qualify for a Darwin Award sometime during our lives. Just as I have to be constantly on the alert when driving my wheelchair so as not to injure myself or somebody else, I believe this principle applies to all of us in a physical way.
The Scriptures teach us however, that: "And the spirit and the body are the soul of man." [D&C 88:15] I believe there could be given spiritual "Darwin Awards" for less than intelligent spiritual or near spiritual demises, as well as for the physical. The Lord also has counseled: "... care not for the body, neither the life of the body; but care for the soul, and for the life of the soul. And seek the face of the Lord always, that in patience ye may possess your souls..." [D&C 101: 37-38]
When we become careless in our spiritual drive through life we can zig or zag off the narrow path, and in the process, destroy ourselves and possibly many loved ones as well. To not read our Scriptures, have our personal prayers, pay our timing, keep the Sabbath day holy, and not to protect our minds from the potential poison that can come from the media is to qualify for a "spiritual Darwin Award."
Just as I always have to remember to be alert, careful, take nothing for granted, and not get lulled into a sense of false security while driving my wheelchair, so I must also be equally as careful in my spiritual drive through life.
"And finally, I cannot tell you all the things whereby ye may commit sin; for there are divers ways and means, even so many that I cannot number them. But this much I can tell you, that if ye do not watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God, and continue in the faith of what ye have heard concerning the coming of our Lord, even unto the end of your lives, ye must perish. And now, O man, remember, and perish not." [Mosiah 4: 29-30]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Monday, April 27, 2009
Living on the Edge
Things have been very quiet and rather humdrum at our house for some time. A number of years ago our youngest daughter Jackie said to her mother, "If dad were "normal" like everyone else life would be so boring!"
Well, last week I decided to bring a little excitement back into our lives. Our three married daughters, a daughter-in-law, and eight of our sixteen grandchildren came to our home in Tustin and Jo Anne and I went with them to a nice park for a picnic. We had Subway sandwiches, cookies and chips and root beer -- life just doesn't get much better than that!
The sun was shining brightly but it was cold and I had a black poncho on to protect me from the chill in the air. As long as I faced the sun, I was warm and happy, much like a toad sitting on a hot rock out in the desert.
Facing the way I was; however, I couldn't see the kids playing on the playground equipment and so I decided to re-position myself, even though it meant turning my face away from my friend, "Mr. Sun."
My eyesight isn't very good and as I turned toward the playground area it looked to me like there was no drop-off or barrier between the sidewalk I was on and the playground area. To my surprise, there was a drop-off from the sidewalk to the sandy area where the kids were playing. I hit it at such an angle that my wheelchair began to tip over on its left side, of course with me in it. I resembled a pregnant elephant that not very gracefully, had to lie down on her side rather quickly. If you were to assign style points to my tipping over, on a scale from zero to 10, you may have given me a one, but that would have been generous.
Two of the girls saw me literally "bite the [dust] sand" and their screams would have raised the dead. Jo Anne, from her vantage point, could only see a big black blob lying in the sand and then was able to make out my features and realized the black blob was me.
When my face was finally settled into the sand and I realized I was still breathing, any panic I had quickly disappeared. I have always said "If you can just breathe, everything else in life is pretty much just icing on the cake."
Well, there I was, at least 450 pounds of dead weight -- I hate to say that but it's true -- lying on my side in the sand. Jo Anne, always practical, felt there was no way they could get me up so she commenced to dial 911. My daughters, daughter in law, some of the bigger grandkids, and three or four moms that were at the park with their kids tried to push me and the chair upright. Their first effort was unsuccessful but the second effort, spurred on by massive doses of adrenaline now pumping through their bodies, was very successful as these women got that chair with me in it upright and out of the sand. Whoever said women are the "weaker sex" should have been at the park that day to realize how false that statement really is.
And so, I made my contribution to the picnic by turning it into a very exciting and memorable event. Who said I wasn't good for anything? I must admit being a bit offended at being called a "black blob" by my wife, but it was an apt description.
I can't tell you how many times I have driven up to the "edge" of a drop-off in my wheelchair only to be miraculously stopped before tipping off onto my face. I know I can't see well and have promised Jo Anne to stay as far away from the edge of the sidewalk as I can, and to never drive anywhere without somebody walking in front to show me the safe way.
Because of our agency, if we choose to do so, we can live our lives on the very edge of physical or spiritual disaster. One false move and we are over the edge and must suffer the consequences of our actions. How wise it is to stay away from the edge of physical or spiritual disaster following those who know the "safe way."
And what if we do plunge off the edge; is all lost? I don't think so! David teetered on the edge of spiritual disaster and then plunged off into an abyss of misery. I have often wondered when David quit reading his scriptures and praying regularly. As he quit doing these things he got too close to the edge and invited disaster into his life. However, even David's disaster taught him a great lesson about the love of the Savior in his life. "I waited patiently for the Lord and he inclined unto me and heard my cry. And he has also brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of the mire in clay, and has set my feet on a rock and has put a new song in my mouth." [Psalms 40:1-3]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Well, last week I decided to bring a little excitement back into our lives. Our three married daughters, a daughter-in-law, and eight of our sixteen grandchildren came to our home in Tustin and Jo Anne and I went with them to a nice park for a picnic. We had Subway sandwiches, cookies and chips and root beer -- life just doesn't get much better than that!
The sun was shining brightly but it was cold and I had a black poncho on to protect me from the chill in the air. As long as I faced the sun, I was warm and happy, much like a toad sitting on a hot rock out in the desert.
Facing the way I was; however, I couldn't see the kids playing on the playground equipment and so I decided to re-position myself, even though it meant turning my face away from my friend, "Mr. Sun."
My eyesight isn't very good and as I turned toward the playground area it looked to me like there was no drop-off or barrier between the sidewalk I was on and the playground area. To my surprise, there was a drop-off from the sidewalk to the sandy area where the kids were playing. I hit it at such an angle that my wheelchair began to tip over on its left side, of course with me in it. I resembled a pregnant elephant that not very gracefully, had to lie down on her side rather quickly. If you were to assign style points to my tipping over, on a scale from zero to 10, you may have given me a one, but that would have been generous.
Two of the girls saw me literally "bite the [dust] sand" and their screams would have raised the dead. Jo Anne, from her vantage point, could only see a big black blob lying in the sand and then was able to make out my features and realized the black blob was me.
When my face was finally settled into the sand and I realized I was still breathing, any panic I had quickly disappeared. I have always said "If you can just breathe, everything else in life is pretty much just icing on the cake."
Well, there I was, at least 450 pounds of dead weight -- I hate to say that but it's true -- lying on my side in the sand. Jo Anne, always practical, felt there was no way they could get me up so she commenced to dial 911. My daughters, daughter in law, some of the bigger grandkids, and three or four moms that were at the park with their kids tried to push me and the chair upright. Their first effort was unsuccessful but the second effort, spurred on by massive doses of adrenaline now pumping through their bodies, was very successful as these women got that chair with me in it upright and out of the sand. Whoever said women are the "weaker sex" should have been at the park that day to realize how false that statement really is.
And so, I made my contribution to the picnic by turning it into a very exciting and memorable event. Who said I wasn't good for anything? I must admit being a bit offended at being called a "black blob" by my wife, but it was an apt description.
I can't tell you how many times I have driven up to the "edge" of a drop-off in my wheelchair only to be miraculously stopped before tipping off onto my face. I know I can't see well and have promised Jo Anne to stay as far away from the edge of the sidewalk as I can, and to never drive anywhere without somebody walking in front to show me the safe way.
Because of our agency, if we choose to do so, we can live our lives on the very edge of physical or spiritual disaster. One false move and we are over the edge and must suffer the consequences of our actions. How wise it is to stay away from the edge of physical or spiritual disaster following those who know the "safe way."
And what if we do plunge off the edge; is all lost? I don't think so! David teetered on the edge of spiritual disaster and then plunged off into an abyss of misery. I have often wondered when David quit reading his scriptures and praying regularly. As he quit doing these things he got too close to the edge and invited disaster into his life. However, even David's disaster taught him a great lesson about the love of the Savior in his life. "I waited patiently for the Lord and he inclined unto me and heard my cry. And he has also brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of the mire in clay, and has set my feet on a rock and has put a new song in my mouth." [Psalms 40:1-3]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Monday, March 30, 2009
Living Our Religion Will Help Us Rise Above Mediocrity And Excel In Our Professions
The Transcontinental Railroad is the popular name of the U.S. railroad line (known at the time as the Pacific Railroad) completed in 1869 that tied to our nation together as one. It was opened for through traffic on May 10, 1869, with the driving of the "Last Spike" at Promontory Summit, Utah.
Several years ago I read Stephen Ambrose's wonderful book "The Building of the Transcontinental Railroad." It is an incredible story of engineering and technology, political intrigue, and hard backbreaking work, as well as unbelievable endurance in the face of seemingly impossible odds.
I found it intriguing to realize that the Transcontinental Railroad was built across the state of Utah in 1868-69 when Brigham Young was governor of the territory and President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. The Saints had only been in Utah approximately 20 years when the Transcontinental Railroad was being built across the state. The Railroad Company needed to hire many men to get the Railroad built across Utah in a timely fashion and then to maintain it. The economy of Utah was still very fragile and Brigham Young saw this as a great opportunity for the men of the Church to earn some valuable income for their families and to bolster the local economy.
In a general meeting with the Saints, Brigham Young, always very practical as well as visionary, said: "We want the Saints to increase in goodness until our mechanics, for instance, are so honest and reliable that this Railroad Company will say, “Give us a ‘Mormon’ Elder for an engineer, then none need have the least fear to ride, for if he knows there is danger he will take every measure necessary to preserve the lives of those entrusted to his care.” I want to see our Elders so full of integrity that they will be preferred by this Company for their engine builders, watchmen, engineers, clerks, and business managers. If we live our religion and are worthy [of] the name of Latter-day Saints, we are just the men that all such business can be entrusted to with perfect safety; if it can not it will prove that we do not live our religion." (Teachings of the Presidents of the Church, Brigham Young Book on page 24. Also found in Discourses of Brigham Young, 232-33).
I believe Brigham Young's counsel given in the 1860s to be timeless. Given today's fragile economy and with millions losing their jobs, to follow his admonition is to exercise great wisdom.
Actually, my good friend and former Bishop, Brent North, put me onto the Brigham Young quote. He also gave me permission to quote him as follows:
"I think that one of the most important things we can do in this economy is to excel in our jobs. Just collecting a paycheck, just doing our jobs is not enough. We must excel in them. When we do, we will be so irreplaceable that the marketplace will not be able to do without us. When I was a junior in high school and was beginning to consider whether or not to become an attorney, I expressed my concerns to the only attorney that I had ever met—a man named Richard King who spoke at a Rotary Youth Leadership Camp that a teacher nominated me to attend on scholarship. I told him I worried about what I had read about how there were too many attorneys and that I wasn’t sure I would be able to find work. He said something that never left me. “Mediocre will always be crowded in every profession, but there will always be room at the top. If you are going to excel, don’t worry about how many others there are in the profession.” That gave me the courage to launch my career." [Brent North]
I hope my grandchildren will read what Brigham Young and Brent have written and take it to heart. I know I have worked hard to try to excel in my profession as a quadriplegic on life support so I would never have to worry about being replaced as numero uno quadriplegic on a ventilator by the many others that are out there vying for my position. I surely wouldn't want to be replaced at the top of my profession and fall into the ranks of the "mediocre," commonplace quadriplegics on life support. Heck, I might even get fired -- I wonder how that would be?
Brent also gave me permission to share the following wonderful story, having gained permission to do so from Walter Dellinger.
"A friend of mine is Walter Dellinger, former Solicitor General of the United States. During the Watergate trial, Judge Sirica's chambers were constantly beset with attempts to get leaked information. He had asked Walter Dellinger for a recommendation for a clerk before Watergate fell into his lap. His first clerk was a good LDS attorney, but his tenure was expiring. Judge Sirica went to Walter again and explained that his first clerk’s tenure was ending and he had to find another one, but that the next one had to be LDS too. He explained that given the nature of the position and the pressures on it, he absolutely had to have confidence and trust in the integrity and work ethic of the clerk. The clerk that Walter recommended and who was hired as Judge Sirica's second Mormon clerk was Lynn Wardle. The first one, hired before the Watergate trial began, was none other than D. Todd Christofferson. Isn't that a great story?" [Brent North]
Yes, Brent, that is a great story! I believe that you and Brigham have taught us all a great lesson given the fragile status of the nation and the world at this time.
There always has been and always will be a need for excellence in any profession. It never really is crowded at the top. "Mediocre" will just never ever do it for us!
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
NEVER give up!
February 24, 2009, Observation:
Victor E. Frankl wrote his landmark book, "Man's Search for Meaning" in 1945, having lived through the Holocaust and witnessing the deaths of his immediate family and extended family as well. I read his book for the first time as a college student and it had a great impact upon me then. What he said struck a chord with me and rang true. Now, based on 20 years experience of living life paralyzed from the neck down and on life support his words are even more profound and meaningful to me. If you have never read the book you must do so and if you read it many years ago you owe it to yourself to read it again.
His insights and reflections regarding those who were able to survive the death camps of the Holocaust are timeless and applicable to anyone who has faced seemingly impossible circumstances that life has brought their way. There are many individuals, like those who lived in the death camps, who share similar experiences: paralysis, cancer, heart problems, multiple sclerosis, marital and family problems, financial problems, etc., but who react to them in different ways. In the death camps, there were those who simply gave up and died, while others survived and eventually went on to live happy and productive lives. The same is true with the less dramatic experiences that so many of us share in common. There are those who simply give up in the face of their adversity, while others, being faced with the same adversity, seem to actually grow stronger, and in many cases, survive the seemingly non-survivable.
In the short paragraph below, Frankl identifies something those who survived the death camps had in common, as opposed to those who simply gave up and died.
"A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any "how."
[p.127]
My understanding of what Frankl is saying is that if we know that family members need our love and that we are loved in return, and if we have some work, some significant project (at least to us) that we have a desire to complete, then we will be blessed with a desire to live and press forward regardless of the seemingly impossible odds we are facing.
I know this has been the case with me during the past 20 years. Because of the love and support I have received from our family and because I still feel I can contribute in my own unique way in strengthening and blessing my loved ones, I have a great will to continue to live. I also have projects and work, goals to achieve, that make me excited to get up each day and go to work. I would imagine the worst day of my life would be that there was nothing to get up for and to accomplish. I haven't faced that day yet, thank goodness.
As insightful as Frankl's observations are regarding survival, I believe he left out the most important ingredient which is faith and hope. Several weeks ago Jo Anne had me watch a 20/20 program on ABC which she had previously recorded. It was a documentary on survival. There were five or six different individuals whose survival stories were told. Many of these people were severely injured and should have died, but did not. One man lost both legs when a train ran over him and should have died on the spot but was able to keep his wits about him and get help through his cell phone. He continues to live a productive life without legs. The moderator had interviewed dozens of survivors all over the world and discovered a common element in all those who had the will to live and did so. That common element was faith in God. They were all from different religious traditions but they believed that God could help them and their faith gave them the hope and will to cling to life.
Faith and hope, coupled with family love and support and daily goals in seeking to accomplish some great good, will kindle and cause to blaze within our hearts the will to live and be productive.
There are many examples, both negative and positive, regarding what I have written above. I have known four men, younger than me, who have sustained spinal cord injuries that left them paralyzed from the neck down and on life support. All of them had more movement of their upper body than I have and yet each of them died within two years of their accident. I was able to visit with three of them several times in care facilities where they were being warehoused because family members were unwilling or unable to bring them home and see to their rehabilitation. My heart would just break because I could see their potential and yet they were without hope and I believe, in at least three cases, they simply died of a broken heart. In one case, after two years of not being able to get out of bed because of horrible pressure sores, the poor man with his family's support and permission went through the necessary legal paperwork so that he could be disconnected from his life-support system. He was finally injected with a sedative and the doctors "pulled the plug" as he had desired.
There is no way I can describe my sorrow as I have experienced these needless deaths and miserable lives. What contributions to family, friends, and society at large could these men have made had they received the family support they needed, had some great goal to work toward, and had greater faith and hope in a loving and kind Heavenly Father?
Thankfully, there are many more positive examples that we all are aware of. How proud I am of the many individuals I know who, for example, are battling cancer with great courage, or courageously fight other difficult health challenges, who never give up, and bless so many other lives in the process.
One of my favorite historical characters is Winston Churchill. The essence of his life is captured in the words he spoke to his countrymen during the dark days of World War II, "NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, GIVE UP!" Hopefully his words will be the essence of our lives regardless of what circumstances life may bring our way.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Victor E. Frankl wrote his landmark book, "Man's Search for Meaning" in 1945, having lived through the Holocaust and witnessing the deaths of his immediate family and extended family as well. I read his book for the first time as a college student and it had a great impact upon me then. What he said struck a chord with me and rang true. Now, based on 20 years experience of living life paralyzed from the neck down and on life support his words are even more profound and meaningful to me. If you have never read the book you must do so and if you read it many years ago you owe it to yourself to read it again.
His insights and reflections regarding those who were able to survive the death camps of the Holocaust are timeless and applicable to anyone who has faced seemingly impossible circumstances that life has brought their way. There are many individuals, like those who lived in the death camps, who share similar experiences: paralysis, cancer, heart problems, multiple sclerosis, marital and family problems, financial problems, etc., but who react to them in different ways. In the death camps, there were those who simply gave up and died, while others survived and eventually went on to live happy and productive lives. The same is true with the less dramatic experiences that so many of us share in common. There are those who simply give up in the face of their adversity, while others, being faced with the same adversity, seem to actually grow stronger, and in many cases, survive the seemingly non-survivable.
In the short paragraph below, Frankl identifies something those who survived the death camps had in common, as opposed to those who simply gave up and died.
"A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any "how."
[p.127]
My understanding of what Frankl is saying is that if we know that family members need our love and that we are loved in return, and if we have some work, some significant project (at least to us) that we have a desire to complete, then we will be blessed with a desire to live and press forward regardless of the seemingly impossible odds we are facing.
I know this has been the case with me during the past 20 years. Because of the love and support I have received from our family and because I still feel I can contribute in my own unique way in strengthening and blessing my loved ones, I have a great will to continue to live. I also have projects and work, goals to achieve, that make me excited to get up each day and go to work. I would imagine the worst day of my life would be that there was nothing to get up for and to accomplish. I haven't faced that day yet, thank goodness.
As insightful as Frankl's observations are regarding survival, I believe he left out the most important ingredient which is faith and hope. Several weeks ago Jo Anne had me watch a 20/20 program on ABC which she had previously recorded. It was a documentary on survival. There were five or six different individuals whose survival stories were told. Many of these people were severely injured and should have died, but did not. One man lost both legs when a train ran over him and should have died on the spot but was able to keep his wits about him and get help through his cell phone. He continues to live a productive life without legs. The moderator had interviewed dozens of survivors all over the world and discovered a common element in all those who had the will to live and did so. That common element was faith in God. They were all from different religious traditions but they believed that God could help them and their faith gave them the hope and will to cling to life.
Faith and hope, coupled with family love and support and daily goals in seeking to accomplish some great good, will kindle and cause to blaze within our hearts the will to live and be productive.
There are many examples, both negative and positive, regarding what I have written above. I have known four men, younger than me, who have sustained spinal cord injuries that left them paralyzed from the neck down and on life support. All of them had more movement of their upper body than I have and yet each of them died within two years of their accident. I was able to visit with three of them several times in care facilities where they were being warehoused because family members were unwilling or unable to bring them home and see to their rehabilitation. My heart would just break because I could see their potential and yet they were without hope and I believe, in at least three cases, they simply died of a broken heart. In one case, after two years of not being able to get out of bed because of horrible pressure sores, the poor man with his family's support and permission went through the necessary legal paperwork so that he could be disconnected from his life-support system. He was finally injected with a sedative and the doctors "pulled the plug" as he had desired.
There is no way I can describe my sorrow as I have experienced these needless deaths and miserable lives. What contributions to family, friends, and society at large could these men have made had they received the family support they needed, had some great goal to work toward, and had greater faith and hope in a loving and kind Heavenly Father?
Thankfully, there are many more positive examples that we all are aware of. How proud I am of the many individuals I know who, for example, are battling cancer with great courage, or courageously fight other difficult health challenges, who never give up, and bless so many other lives in the process.
One of my favorite historical characters is Winston Churchill. The essence of his life is captured in the words he spoke to his countrymen during the dark days of World War II, "NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, GIVE UP!" Hopefully his words will be the essence of our lives regardless of what circumstances life may bring our way.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Giving Up Something Good For Something Better
Last Sunday Jo Anne and I had a sweet experience that many of you grandparents are fortunate enough to have as well. Our 16-year-old grandson, Garret Jack Stratford, was ordained a priest and we were able to be there to participate in this wonderful event. Garret is a good boy, a great athlete -- starting quarterback on his JV football team -- a good student, and most importantly as I mentioned above, a good boy -- just like your grandsons.
During the course of the evening our granddaughter, Allora Stratford, played the piano for us. She is a gifted pianist and also has been blessed with a beautiful soprano voice. She played a piece she had memorized for a competition -- an eight minute number written by Franz Schubert. It was technically difficult and she played beautifully and with great feeling.
As I sat there listening to her I had a little pang, a nostalgic feeling, come into my heart. One of the things I truly miss in my current physical condition is that I can't play the piano anymore. I took piano lessons from the time I was 12 years old through my sophomore year at BYU where I was majoring in music with a music scholarship. Allora is much more gifted than I was but I had a great love for the piano. In the mission field, although I took no music with me, I was still able to play Chopin's Revolutionary Étude, Franz Liszt's Lebestraum, The Dream of Olwen, and a few others as well all by memory. It always brought me great joy to sit down at the piano and play. I especially enjoyed playing the hymns and singing my heart out while nobody was around to hear me. Although I didn't pursue studying the piano after my mission I dearly enjoyed being able to play up until my accident.
I think one of the things I miss the most from my former life is not being able to play the piano or sing anymore. Don't get me wrong, I am not eating my heart out about that, but once in a while, as when I listened to Allora last Sunday, I get that little pang in my heart.
Sometimes in life, either by accident or by conscious choice, we have to give up something good for something better. I lost so much because of my accident but gained even more because of the unique experience I have been privileged to have over the past 20 years. My situation was forced upon me. I honestly think those who make the conscious choice to give up something good for something better are the truly blessed ones.
Most of the people I know have pretty well mastered many of the commandments like not committing murder, or lying or cheating, and etc. I believe however, that if we are to step up to a higher level and better quality of life our challenge may be not so much repenting of deep, dark, sin, but realizing we must give up something good for something better. Let me give you some examples of what I am trying to say.
One of my heroes has always been Joseph Fielding Smith. I love the following story he told about himself to the youth of the Church. He wrote: "[Late in my life I came to realize] ... How hard it frequently is for some people to give up something they really love and enjoy. I have always loved sports and particularly enjoyed playing handball with my brother David. One day I came off a handball court perspiring heavily and with my face flushed. A nonmember friend of mine, Dr. Plummer, was standing near my locker. He looked at me and said, “Brother Joseph, if you don’t stop that, one of these days you will drop dead on the floor, just as So-and-so did.” It was hard for me. Every day I wanted to play some handball. Whenever I would look out my office window, I’d see the Deseret Gym next door and want to go and play. But I kept my resolve. I visited Dr. Plummer a short time later, and he said, “Brother Joseph, are you still playing handball?” I said, “Doctor, when you told me to quit, I quit, and I have never been back on the court.” ... I enjoyed that game more than I can say. I almost hungered to play, but I had learned that it was not good for me at my age. At that time I gained a little more perspective on how difficult it is for [us] to give up some activity or habit [we] may have enjoyed for many years... I’ve learned from my own experience that when you want to change, really want to change, you can do it." [Joseph Fielding Smith, January, New Era, 1971]
I can identify with that Joseph Fielding Smith experience. Had he not had the discipline and willpower to give up something good for something better; in this case his life, he may never have become president of the Church.
A story written by Karen Nolen, which appeared in the New Era in 1974, is one which should never be forgotten as we think of giving up something good for something better.
"Benjamin Landart, in 1888, was 15 years old and an accomplished violinist living on a farm in northern Utah with his mother and seven brothers and sisters. In late 1892 Benjamin was asked to travel to Salt Lake to audition for a place with the territorial orchestra. For him, this was a dream come true. After several weeks of practicing and prayers, he went to Salt Lake in March of 1893 for the much-anticipated audition. When he heard Benjamin play, the conductor, a Mr. Dean, said Benjamin was the most accomplished violinist he had heard west of Denver. Benjamin was told to report to Denver for rehearsals in the fall and learned that he would be earning enough to keep himself, with some left over to send home.
A week after Benjamin received this good news, however, his bishop called him into his office and asked if Benjamin couldn’t put off playing with the orchestra for a couple of years to serve a mission. We can only imagine what Benjamin must have felt knowing that if he accepted the call and he would lose this once in a lifetime opportunity to play in the territorial orchestra. Benjamin however, told the bishop that if the family could raise the money to support him in the mission field that he would go. When Benjamin told his mother about the call, she was overjoyed. However, when they discussed the financing of the mission, her face clouded over. Benjamin told her he would not allow her to sell any more of their land. She studied his face for a moment and then said, “Ben, there is a way we can raise the money. This family [has] one thing that is of great enough value to send you on your mission. You will have to sell your violin.” Six days later, on March 23, 1893, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “I awoke this morning and took my violin from its case. All day long I played the music I love. In the evening when the light grew dim and I could see to play no longer, I placed the instrument in its case. It will be enough. Tomorrow I leave [for my mission].”
Forty-five years later, on June 23, 1938, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “The greatest decision I ever made in my life was to give up something I dearly loved to the God I loved even more. He has never forgotten me for it.”
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