Tuesday, October 31, 2006 Observation:
Each year when Halloween rolls around I am reminded of my mom and dad, long since gone from this earth. They were married in Abraham, Utah on October 31, 1925 -- Halloween. At the time of their marriage my dad was 17 and my mother 18. My dad had only an eighth grade education, but my mother had graduated from Hinckley high school, near Delta, Utah, as valedictorian.
They couldn't make a living by farming in Abraham, so when my 17-year-old dad heard that there was work in the mines in White Pine County, Nevada, he went there to investigate. He traveled to Ruth, Nevada, a very small mining town, and went to the Star Pointer Mine, an underground copper mine, owned by Kennecott Copper Corporation. The day he went to the mine there was a large line of men also seeking work. Dad was only 5'4" and weighed, at that time, probably 125 to 130 pounds. The hiring boss took one look at him and told him there was no way that somebody so small could do the hard physical labor required of a miner. Dad, never lacking in confidence, told the boss that he could out shovel any man he had working for him. The boss liked his spirit and said he would give him a chance to prove what he said was true. That began dad's career as a "mucker" in the Star Pointer Mine. A mucker is one who shovels ore into little ore cars after blasting takes place in the tunnel in which they are working. True to his word, dad was a world-class mucker as I learned later in life in trying to keep up with him shoveling anything.
Dad sent for mom and they began their life together in Ruth, Nevada and working for Kennecott which dad did until the day he died in 1970. On his 34th birthday he was walking home from work one day and realized that he had spent exactly half of his life working underground. He applied for a new position above ground which he was granted and eventually began working in the warehouse where his expertise with numbers and handwriting stood him in good stead. He was working in the warehouse at the time of his death.
Mom and Dad had one message for their boys; "Go to college, and don't end up in the mines." We must have paid attention because all four of us graduated from BYU and went on to receive graduate degrees. Both mom and Dad were instrumental in inspiring us to go on to college and to a better lifestyle, but mom was the driving force. It was not until I was paralyzed and living on life support that I truly appreciated what my mother did for me as a young boy.
She was a voracious reader all of her life, and instilled a love for reading in me and I believe in all of my brothers as well. Almost every year for Christmas and my birthday I would be given a beautiful book of some kind. I remember receiving and reading such books as Kidnapped, Treasure Island, Heidi, Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, The Bobsy Twins, and a series about a great fictitious athlete by the name of Chip Hilton. Chip Hilton was a fabulous baseball and basketball player and through this series I followed him from high school through college. I could hardly wait to get my next Chip Hilton book.
Mom was the cultural refinement teacher in Relief Society for many years. Her love was to teach great literature which she shared with me and my younger brother, Kim. She introduced us to Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and a host of other great writers. In the early 1950s before the civil rights movement began she had us read a book entitled "Black Like Me". I still remember how horrified I was as a young boy to read of the plight of African Americans in the United States. My mom was forward thinking with regard to these kinds of things.
However, she was not only a voracious reader but she loved music and sports as well. She never forced me into music but once I signed up to play the clarinet in the fourth grade and then to take piano lessons when I was 12 years old she would never let me quit. I can still remember her standing behind me and counting out loud while I practiced the piano. She was a pretty tough taskmaster. As the years went by I began to love music and had always loved sports of any kind. She was a knowledgeable sports fan and won a little money by entering the Ely Daily Times football prognostication contest for college football. In her 80s when she would be living in our home for several months out of the year, we would watch every Lakers game we could together, and she knew what was going on and had a few insults for the referees if the call went against the Lakers, or especially her hero, Magic Johnson.
When I had my accident it took only a few days to realize that my life from that point on would be a life of the mind and spirit. Because my mother had instilled such a love of reading and music in me, and because of her constant encouragement for me to do my best as an athlete I discovered that my life could be very fulfilling and satisfying because I loved so many things that I could do with my mind. Of course I couldn't play my instruments anymore or participate in sports as I had once done, but I could listen to music, and watch sports, and especially I could read and write with my voice recognition software. Reading the scriptures and other great books has been so fulfilling and rewarding during the 17 years I have been paralyzed, but I have also enjoyed great music, great baseball, basketball, and football games, as well as Turner classic movies.
The mother of a teenage boy who had a spinal cord injury called me to ask me if there was any hope for a good quality life for her son. I began telling her enthusiastically about the computer and the blessing it is to someone in my condition to be able to read and write and have access to the Internet and etc. There was a pause and then she said "I'm afraid that won't do my son any good. All he has done during his lifetime is to play and ride motorcycles. I don't think he has ever read a book." That was one of the most tragic statements I have ever heard.
Elder Neal A. Maxwell once spoke of traps that we might fall into during mortality if we are not careful. "[one trap]... is that some of us neglect to develop multiple sources of satisfaction. When one of the wells upon which we draw dries up through death, loss of status, disaffection, or physical ailment, we then find ourselves very thirsty because, instead of having multiple sources of satisfaction in our lives, we have become too dependent upon this or upon that..." (Neal A. Maxwell, But for A Small Moment, 1 Sept.1974, BYU Devotional)
Thanks mom and dad on this Halloween for having blessed me in so many ways to deal with my physical ailment because of the multiple sources of satisfaction in life to which you introduced me as a young boy.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Sword of Damocles
Thursday, October 12, 2006 Observation:
I have a friend whose e-mail name is "Sword of Damocles". He has studied classical literature and was in a Ph.D. program studying philosophy at Columbia University in New York City for several years. When I first saw his e-mail name I was intrigued by it, but at the time did not know of its significance. However, in doing a little research I found out the following regarding the "Sword of Damocles".
Damocles, in classical Greek mythology, was a courtier at the court of Dionysius I. He so persistently praised the power and happiness of Dionysius that the tyrant, in order to show the precariousness of rank and power, gave a banquet and had a sword suspended above the head of Damocles by a single horse hair. Therefore, because of this ancient Greek myth, over the centuries the expression, "the sword of Damocles" has come to mean "an ever-present peril".
I don't think my friend is paranoid necessarily, but why would he choose the "Sword of Damocles" as an e-mail moniker? I must ask him some time. As I have thought about it though, I believe it is his way of stating a fundamental truth regarding his mortality. In a sense, we all have the Sword of Damocles dangling over our heads. My expression for the Sword of Damocles -- "an ever-present peril" -- is "living on the edge". I have been especially sensitive to the "Sword of Damocles" philosophy while living on life support for 17 years. I have had numerous brushes with death, all of them convincing me that I indeed am living in "an ever-present peril". You may think this is a very negative way of looking at life, but I don't think so. Realizing that I am "living on the edge" and under the dangling "Sword of Damocles" helps me to appreciate and value each good day I am given. It motivates me to make the best of every day of life I am granted.
You may not want to believe it, but we are all "living on the edge" and directly under the dangling "Sword of Damocles". I personally believe it is a healthy thing to realize how fragile life is, but I don't think the Lord wants us to face the present or the future with fear and trembling. To feel at peace and secure each day of our lives is what living the Gospel should do for us isn't it?
A while back I was speaking on the phone to my good friend, Jim Carter, who lives in Ogden, Utah. Jim has some health issues at this time in his life, and as we were sharing our medical histories with one another -- a sure sign of old-age -- I said to him, "Jim, when do we get to start living happily ever after?" He laughed and said that sounded like a question for one of my observations. Well, I suspect that the Lord did not place us on this earth to really ever live "happily ever after".
Elder Boyd K. Packer put it beautifully in comparing the plan of salvation to a three act play. “There are three parts to the plan. You are in the second or the middle part, the one in which you will be tested by temptation, by trials, perhaps by tragedy … Remember this! The line ‘And they all lived happily ever after’ is never written into the second act [of a play]. That line belongs in the third act, when the mysteries are solved and everything is put right...Until you have a broad perspective of the eternal nature of [the plan], you won’t make much sense out of the inequities in life...When you know the plan and the purpose of it all, even these things will manifest a loving Father in Heaven”. (The Play and the Plan [satellite broadcast, 7 May 1995], 1–2)
And so, really only in fairy tales do princes and princesses live happily ever after. That is not to say that life is not to be filled with peace, joy, and fulfillment, but that peace, joy, and fulfillment -- fruits of the Spirit -- will come from righteous living, exercising faith in Christ, and being strengthened by Him to deal with the vicissitudes of mortality.
I think we must be careful not to give our children a false impression regarding life. They need to understand at some point in time that seemingly bad things can come into the lives of everyone. A careful reading of the parable of the house built on a rock, as opposed to the house built upon the sand, will reveal that the full fury of the storm came to both houses. Just because one house, or life, was built upon the rock (Christ) did not protect it from the full blast of the wind and rain. However, because it was built upon Christ, it did not fall!
The storm sooner or later will come to all of us. It is not a matter of if, but of when. However, if our lives are built upon the sure foundation of Christ, "... when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall." [Helaman 5:12]
Whether we want to believe it or not, living under the dangling "Sword of Damocles" or "On the Edge" is a reality for each one of us. I think we will have to wait a while, at least until we enter the spirit world, to begin "living happily ever after!"
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
I have a friend whose e-mail name is "Sword of Damocles". He has studied classical literature and was in a Ph.D. program studying philosophy at Columbia University in New York City for several years. When I first saw his e-mail name I was intrigued by it, but at the time did not know of its significance. However, in doing a little research I found out the following regarding the "Sword of Damocles".
Damocles, in classical Greek mythology, was a courtier at the court of Dionysius I. He so persistently praised the power and happiness of Dionysius that the tyrant, in order to show the precariousness of rank and power, gave a banquet and had a sword suspended above the head of Damocles by a single horse hair. Therefore, because of this ancient Greek myth, over the centuries the expression, "the sword of Damocles" has come to mean "an ever-present peril".
I don't think my friend is paranoid necessarily, but why would he choose the "Sword of Damocles" as an e-mail moniker? I must ask him some time. As I have thought about it though, I believe it is his way of stating a fundamental truth regarding his mortality. In a sense, we all have the Sword of Damocles dangling over our heads. My expression for the Sword of Damocles -- "an ever-present peril" -- is "living on the edge". I have been especially sensitive to the "Sword of Damocles" philosophy while living on life support for 17 years. I have had numerous brushes with death, all of them convincing me that I indeed am living in "an ever-present peril". You may think this is a very negative way of looking at life, but I don't think so. Realizing that I am "living on the edge" and under the dangling "Sword of Damocles" helps me to appreciate and value each good day I am given. It motivates me to make the best of every day of life I am granted.
You may not want to believe it, but we are all "living on the edge" and directly under the dangling "Sword of Damocles". I personally believe it is a healthy thing to realize how fragile life is, but I don't think the Lord wants us to face the present or the future with fear and trembling. To feel at peace and secure each day of our lives is what living the Gospel should do for us isn't it?
A while back I was speaking on the phone to my good friend, Jim Carter, who lives in Ogden, Utah. Jim has some health issues at this time in his life, and as we were sharing our medical histories with one another -- a sure sign of old-age -- I said to him, "Jim, when do we get to start living happily ever after?" He laughed and said that sounded like a question for one of my observations. Well, I suspect that the Lord did not place us on this earth to really ever live "happily ever after".
Elder Boyd K. Packer put it beautifully in comparing the plan of salvation to a three act play. “There are three parts to the plan. You are in the second or the middle part, the one in which you will be tested by temptation, by trials, perhaps by tragedy … Remember this! The line ‘And they all lived happily ever after’ is never written into the second act [of a play]. That line belongs in the third act, when the mysteries are solved and everything is put right...Until you have a broad perspective of the eternal nature of [the plan], you won’t make much sense out of the inequities in life...When you know the plan and the purpose of it all, even these things will manifest a loving Father in Heaven”. (The Play and the Plan [satellite broadcast, 7 May 1995], 1–2)
And so, really only in fairy tales do princes and princesses live happily ever after. That is not to say that life is not to be filled with peace, joy, and fulfillment, but that peace, joy, and fulfillment -- fruits of the Spirit -- will come from righteous living, exercising faith in Christ, and being strengthened by Him to deal with the vicissitudes of mortality.
I think we must be careful not to give our children a false impression regarding life. They need to understand at some point in time that seemingly bad things can come into the lives of everyone. A careful reading of the parable of the house built on a rock, as opposed to the house built upon the sand, will reveal that the full fury of the storm came to both houses. Just because one house, or life, was built upon the rock (Christ) did not protect it from the full blast of the wind and rain. However, because it was built upon Christ, it did not fall!
The storm sooner or later will come to all of us. It is not a matter of if, but of when. However, if our lives are built upon the sure foundation of Christ, "... when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall." [Helaman 5:12]
Whether we want to believe it or not, living under the dangling "Sword of Damocles" or "On the Edge" is a reality for each one of us. I think we will have to wait a while, at least until we enter the spirit world, to begin "living happily ever after!"
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Friday, September 29, 2006
Mornings
Friday, September 29, 2006 Observation:
I believe it happened in February when I was spending an inordinate amount of time in bed because of a pressure sore. Thankfully, when I spend time in bed I am able to work on my laptop computer making the downtime not as "down" as it would be otherwise. For some reason I was spending a lot of time reading the Old Testament. I just couldn't seem to get enough of it. I was reading 2 Samuel one afternoon when some words just leaped off the page at me. These words were David's final words recorded by the author or authors of Samuel, preserving a metaphor regarding Jehovah, Christ, The God of Israel. "Now these be the last words of David...The God of Israel...the Rock of Israel spake to me [saying]...And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds..." [2 Samuel 23:1-4]
I think David's metaphor concerning Christ struck such a responsive chord in me because of my love for the precious rising of the sun I have witnessed and enjoyed during my lifetime. For the past 17 years I generally haven't arisen until the crack of 10 a.m., but before my accident I was very much a "morning" person. I believe my love of the morning began when I worked for Kennecott Copper Corp. each summer as a young man. I would make enough money each summer working for Kennecott in Eastern Nevada to pay for two semesters at BYU the following fall and winter. I invariably worked what was known as the "Graveyard Shift" which began at 11:30 p.m. and ended at 7:30 a.m.
The summer I worked as a drill helper I will never forget. The drill was mounted on a rig that could be driven slowly from site to site depending on where holes needed to be drilled. We would drill holes all night and then in the morning the powder crew would come and fill the holes with explosives, ignite them, and the entire town would shake, rattle and roll for just a few minutes during the moment of explosion. Immense electric shovels would then scoop up the shattered earth which contained the precious copper ore, and deposit it in large trucks for ultimate transport to the smelter.
Once the drill began its work the driller and his helper didn't have much to do but watch the drill and correct any problems that might occur. The Liberty Pit in Ruth, Nevada, where I worked is located in a mountainous area which is more than 7000 feet in elevation. I remember standing and shivering outside in the very cold Nevada night air, hour after hour and night after night, anxiously awaiting one thing -- the arrival of morning. The Nevada nights were beautiful, full of stars, but I felt a great joy inside me as I looked at the Eastern Mountains and could discern them against a graying sky. The dark would reluctantly and imperceptibly give way to the powerful light of the rising sun. The morning star would still be visible, and then the sun would just seem to explode above the mountains and bathe me in its warm, life-giving rays. The long, cold night was over, and one of God's greatest gifts to his children, a new day, had dawned.
In the mission field I became an "early morning Nazi"(translation -- fanatic). I made it part of my mission to always be out of bed before any of my companions. I felt so righteous (self-righteous) as I would sit at my desk studying Spanish and searching the scriptures for an hour or so before my companions would begin to stir. Those hours, undisturbed by the awakening world, became precious to me. I would always make a point of going outside, or looking out the window as the sky would begin to gray to witness another glorious morning burst upon the world.
Arising early did not end with my mission. My most productive time of day was in those early hours before the sun would break over the horizon. While I served as bishop my two oldest children were in early morning seminary, but not old enough to drive. We had an old Volkswagen bus and I would take my two children and pick up three or four of their friends and drive them to the chapel each morning. While they were in seminary I would run from the chapel up Browning and into the foothills. My run would begin in the dark, but as I would return, the sky would begin to gray and by the time I reached the chapel to pick up the kids, the warming rays of the sun heralded that indeed, once again, a new day had been born.
I could go on with many more sunrise experiences, but suffice it to say, I think I know why David chose to describe Christ the way he did: "... He shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds..." David was a shepherd boy who cared for his father's sheep in the hills surrounding Bethlehem. How many long nights did he spend guarding those precious sheep, anxiously awaiting the glorious sunrise and dawning of a new day? How he must have enjoyed the warming and life-giving rays of the sun that would come each morning bringing life to him, the sheep, and to the earth.
Christ himself said: "... I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." [John 8:12] Christ disperses darkness, the darkness of sin and of death. Light and darkness cannot occupy the same space at the same time. David's metaphor is very powerful in teaching us that Christ is as the "light of the morning, when the sun rises, even a morning without clouds", dispelling the cold darkness of night and symbolically reassuring mankind that just as the night of death will come to each one of us, so will their come a glorious and literal "morning" of resurrection.
The scriptures reveal the following significant truth as well: "... Christ...is in the sun, and the light of the sun, and the power thereof by which it was made. And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings... Which light proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space— The light which is in all things, which giveth life to all things..." [Doctrine & Covenants 88:7,11,12-13]
I believe when Christ comes to usher in his millennial reign he will come as the "light of the morning, when the sun rises, even a morning without clouds." I hope we will all be "morning" people then.
Yes, mornings are special as they remind us of the "light and life of the world".
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
I believe it happened in February when I was spending an inordinate amount of time in bed because of a pressure sore. Thankfully, when I spend time in bed I am able to work on my laptop computer making the downtime not as "down" as it would be otherwise. For some reason I was spending a lot of time reading the Old Testament. I just couldn't seem to get enough of it. I was reading 2 Samuel one afternoon when some words just leaped off the page at me. These words were David's final words recorded by the author or authors of Samuel, preserving a metaphor regarding Jehovah, Christ, The God of Israel. "Now these be the last words of David...The God of Israel...the Rock of Israel spake to me [saying]...And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds..." [2 Samuel 23:1-4]
I think David's metaphor concerning Christ struck such a responsive chord in me because of my love for the precious rising of the sun I have witnessed and enjoyed during my lifetime. For the past 17 years I generally haven't arisen until the crack of 10 a.m., but before my accident I was very much a "morning" person. I believe my love of the morning began when I worked for Kennecott Copper Corp. each summer as a young man. I would make enough money each summer working for Kennecott in Eastern Nevada to pay for two semesters at BYU the following fall and winter. I invariably worked what was known as the "Graveyard Shift" which began at 11:30 p.m. and ended at 7:30 a.m.
The summer I worked as a drill helper I will never forget. The drill was mounted on a rig that could be driven slowly from site to site depending on where holes needed to be drilled. We would drill holes all night and then in the morning the powder crew would come and fill the holes with explosives, ignite them, and the entire town would shake, rattle and roll for just a few minutes during the moment of explosion. Immense electric shovels would then scoop up the shattered earth which contained the precious copper ore, and deposit it in large trucks for ultimate transport to the smelter.
Once the drill began its work the driller and his helper didn't have much to do but watch the drill and correct any problems that might occur. The Liberty Pit in Ruth, Nevada, where I worked is located in a mountainous area which is more than 7000 feet in elevation. I remember standing and shivering outside in the very cold Nevada night air, hour after hour and night after night, anxiously awaiting one thing -- the arrival of morning. The Nevada nights were beautiful, full of stars, but I felt a great joy inside me as I looked at the Eastern Mountains and could discern them against a graying sky. The dark would reluctantly and imperceptibly give way to the powerful light of the rising sun. The morning star would still be visible, and then the sun would just seem to explode above the mountains and bathe me in its warm, life-giving rays. The long, cold night was over, and one of God's greatest gifts to his children, a new day, had dawned.
In the mission field I became an "early morning Nazi"(translation -- fanatic). I made it part of my mission to always be out of bed before any of my companions. I felt so righteous (self-righteous) as I would sit at my desk studying Spanish and searching the scriptures for an hour or so before my companions would begin to stir. Those hours, undisturbed by the awakening world, became precious to me. I would always make a point of going outside, or looking out the window as the sky would begin to gray to witness another glorious morning burst upon the world.
Arising early did not end with my mission. My most productive time of day was in those early hours before the sun would break over the horizon. While I served as bishop my two oldest children were in early morning seminary, but not old enough to drive. We had an old Volkswagen bus and I would take my two children and pick up three or four of their friends and drive them to the chapel each morning. While they were in seminary I would run from the chapel up Browning and into the foothills. My run would begin in the dark, but as I would return, the sky would begin to gray and by the time I reached the chapel to pick up the kids, the warming rays of the sun heralded that indeed, once again, a new day had been born.
I could go on with many more sunrise experiences, but suffice it to say, I think I know why David chose to describe Christ the way he did: "... He shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds..." David was a shepherd boy who cared for his father's sheep in the hills surrounding Bethlehem. How many long nights did he spend guarding those precious sheep, anxiously awaiting the glorious sunrise and dawning of a new day? How he must have enjoyed the warming and life-giving rays of the sun that would come each morning bringing life to him, the sheep, and to the earth.
Christ himself said: "... I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." [John 8:12] Christ disperses darkness, the darkness of sin and of death. Light and darkness cannot occupy the same space at the same time. David's metaphor is very powerful in teaching us that Christ is as the "light of the morning, when the sun rises, even a morning without clouds", dispelling the cold darkness of night and symbolically reassuring mankind that just as the night of death will come to each one of us, so will their come a glorious and literal "morning" of resurrection.
The scriptures reveal the following significant truth as well: "... Christ...is in the sun, and the light of the sun, and the power thereof by which it was made. And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings... Which light proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space— The light which is in all things, which giveth life to all things..." [Doctrine & Covenants 88:7,11,12-13]
I believe when Christ comes to usher in his millennial reign he will come as the "light of the morning, when the sun rises, even a morning without clouds." I hope we will all be "morning" people then.
Yes, mornings are special as they remind us of the "light and life of the world".
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Cuffed Trachea
Thursday, September 21, 2006 Observation:
I believe one of the most frustrating and terrifying experiences a person can have is not to be able to communicate, and because of it, to not get the help or reassurance needed to be comforted, and at peace. The Lord gives little babies the ability to cry, really the only way they can communicate their needs, in order for them to receive the help or reassurance they need to be comforted and at peace. A baby's cry, though oftentimes annoying to adults, eventually gets their attention and is a vital tool of communication given to each baby by a wise Heavenly Father.
While I was in the hospital a week or so ago the doctors felt it important to put me on a "cuffed trachea" while they put the scope down my throat to see what was going on inside my stomach. A cuffed trachea has a little balloon-type device which when inflated allows no air to escape between the ventilator and the lungs. The problem with it is that no air goes by the vocal cords making it impossible to speak, nor can one eat when on a cuffed trachea.
Being paralyzed from the neck down and on a cuffed trachea makes any form of communication almost impossible, except for the blinking of the eyes which doesn't really work very well. Approximately 18 years ago I was on a cuffed trachea for almost a month, and not being able to communicate almost cost me my life several times. Early one morning, for example, I was running a fever and when I get overheated I begin to experience an anxiety attack similar to claustrophobia. I was in the ICU of a trauma center and nurses were everywhere, but because I couldn't communicate my need to them, they really weren't paying much attention to me. I got to the point that I thought I would die if I did not get some kind of relief. Just at that moment a good friend walked in, came to my bedside and looked into my eyes, felt my face, and instantly knew the problem and how to resolve it. She got a container of ice water and with a washcloth began to bathe my face, arms, and legs. The nurses quickly caught on and began to assist as well, and as my temperature went down so did my anxiety and I was soon comfortable and at peace once again.
It is impossible to describe the desperate feeling that accompanies the feeling of needing help badly, and not having the power to express that need. Several weeks ago now when they put me on a cuffed trachea to do the scope it was "deja vu all over again". The doctors felt it would be wise to leave me on the cuffed trachea until the next day in case I started bleeding profusely once again. Imagine being totally paralyzed, unable to communicate in any way, and then having Jo Anne finally asked by the nurses to go home. The nurses were attentive thankfully, but I felt extremely vulnerable all night long -- a very long night -- and was so grateful that I did not experience any pressing need or life-threatening situation. What joy to finally have the cuffed trachea removed later that day, and to be able to talk and even cry out for help if the need were to arise.
Our good friend Ken Rogers, fellow Central American missionary, BYU roommate, and best man at our wedding, during a conversation several months ago, perceived how dangerous it was for Jo Anne to leave me alone in the van while running into a store, even for just a few minutes. Ken, an electrical engineer, wanted a day or two to think about the problem, and then he drove to our home in Tustin from San Diego with some small handheld radios that are able to transmit an astonishing distance. Mine is voice-activated as I speak into the microphone which is part of my headset. Now, Jo Anne can leave me in the van with confidence for a few minutes, while she takes care of business in her favorite stores. It is comforting to me to be able to say, "Jo Anne, where are you?" More often than not she replies, "I'm at the return desk!" I ask, "How long will you be there?" She responds, "Just a couple of minutes" -- translation -- probably 20 or 30 minutes. We are even getting the hang of radio talk. I usually say "ten four" (I have heard radio people use that phrase; I'm not sure what it means but it sounds very authoritative and knowledgeable). Jo Anne responds with "seven eleven" which to me makes more sense than "ten four". When I am finished talking I always say "Roger, over and out!" I don't know what that means either, and I like Jo Anne's response better than mine as she counters with, "Roger, In N Out".
As I have thought about our need as human beings to communicate, to be heard, and to receive a response, the principle of prayer has come powerfully into my mind. Even with a "cuffed trachea" we can thankfully communicate our gratitude, and the needs we have to a loving Heavenly Father. When on a "cuffed trachea", my prayers, though silent, have been fervently offered, and I have been blessed with peace and comfort beyond my ability to describe.
One of my favorite biblical figures is Joseph who was sold into Egypt by his brothers. He was a young teenager at the time, torn from the loving arms and influence of his father, and placed in a radically different and worldly culture from which he was accustomed. I would imagine there were those days that Joseph would have given anything to have talked to his father, Jacob, and to have received his assurance that all would be well. However, Joseph was in Egypt and Jacob was in Israel, and no communication between them was possible. Joseph prospered in Egypt as we know. Although the scriptures are silent regarding the frequency and intensity of Joseph's prayers, there is one verse that explains his success, and I believe the peace and comfort he must have experienced as a slave and prisoner: "And the Lord was with Joseph..." [Genesis 39: 2]
I believe the Lord "was with Joseph" because Joseph plead with the Lord in faith for his help. Prayer can bring to us the comfort, sense of well being, and assurance we need so that we never have to experience the terror of not being able to communicate our urgent needs to someone who can help. Not even a "cuffed trachea" can keep us from calling upon Heavenly Father from the depths of our souls.
What the Lord told ancient Israel applies to all of us today: "But if ... thou shalt seek the LORD thy God, thou shalt find him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all thy soul. When thou art in tribulation ... if thou turn to the LORD thy God, and shalt be obedient unto his voice...he will not forsake thee..." [Deuteronomy 4:29-30]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
I believe one of the most frustrating and terrifying experiences a person can have is not to be able to communicate, and because of it, to not get the help or reassurance needed to be comforted, and at peace. The Lord gives little babies the ability to cry, really the only way they can communicate their needs, in order for them to receive the help or reassurance they need to be comforted and at peace. A baby's cry, though oftentimes annoying to adults, eventually gets their attention and is a vital tool of communication given to each baby by a wise Heavenly Father.
While I was in the hospital a week or so ago the doctors felt it important to put me on a "cuffed trachea" while they put the scope down my throat to see what was going on inside my stomach. A cuffed trachea has a little balloon-type device which when inflated allows no air to escape between the ventilator and the lungs. The problem with it is that no air goes by the vocal cords making it impossible to speak, nor can one eat when on a cuffed trachea.
Being paralyzed from the neck down and on a cuffed trachea makes any form of communication almost impossible, except for the blinking of the eyes which doesn't really work very well. Approximately 18 years ago I was on a cuffed trachea for almost a month, and not being able to communicate almost cost me my life several times. Early one morning, for example, I was running a fever and when I get overheated I begin to experience an anxiety attack similar to claustrophobia. I was in the ICU of a trauma center and nurses were everywhere, but because I couldn't communicate my need to them, they really weren't paying much attention to me. I got to the point that I thought I would die if I did not get some kind of relief. Just at that moment a good friend walked in, came to my bedside and looked into my eyes, felt my face, and instantly knew the problem and how to resolve it. She got a container of ice water and with a washcloth began to bathe my face, arms, and legs. The nurses quickly caught on and began to assist as well, and as my temperature went down so did my anxiety and I was soon comfortable and at peace once again.
It is impossible to describe the desperate feeling that accompanies the feeling of needing help badly, and not having the power to express that need. Several weeks ago now when they put me on a cuffed trachea to do the scope it was "deja vu all over again". The doctors felt it would be wise to leave me on the cuffed trachea until the next day in case I started bleeding profusely once again. Imagine being totally paralyzed, unable to communicate in any way, and then having Jo Anne finally asked by the nurses to go home. The nurses were attentive thankfully, but I felt extremely vulnerable all night long -- a very long night -- and was so grateful that I did not experience any pressing need or life-threatening situation. What joy to finally have the cuffed trachea removed later that day, and to be able to talk and even cry out for help if the need were to arise.
Our good friend Ken Rogers, fellow Central American missionary, BYU roommate, and best man at our wedding, during a conversation several months ago, perceived how dangerous it was for Jo Anne to leave me alone in the van while running into a store, even for just a few minutes. Ken, an electrical engineer, wanted a day or two to think about the problem, and then he drove to our home in Tustin from San Diego with some small handheld radios that are able to transmit an astonishing distance. Mine is voice-activated as I speak into the microphone which is part of my headset. Now, Jo Anne can leave me in the van with confidence for a few minutes, while she takes care of business in her favorite stores. It is comforting to me to be able to say, "Jo Anne, where are you?" More often than not she replies, "I'm at the return desk!" I ask, "How long will you be there?" She responds, "Just a couple of minutes" -- translation -- probably 20 or 30 minutes. We are even getting the hang of radio talk. I usually say "ten four" (I have heard radio people use that phrase; I'm not sure what it means but it sounds very authoritative and knowledgeable). Jo Anne responds with "seven eleven" which to me makes more sense than "ten four". When I am finished talking I always say "Roger, over and out!" I don't know what that means either, and I like Jo Anne's response better than mine as she counters with, "Roger, In N Out".
As I have thought about our need as human beings to communicate, to be heard, and to receive a response, the principle of prayer has come powerfully into my mind. Even with a "cuffed trachea" we can thankfully communicate our gratitude, and the needs we have to a loving Heavenly Father. When on a "cuffed trachea", my prayers, though silent, have been fervently offered, and I have been blessed with peace and comfort beyond my ability to describe.
One of my favorite biblical figures is Joseph who was sold into Egypt by his brothers. He was a young teenager at the time, torn from the loving arms and influence of his father, and placed in a radically different and worldly culture from which he was accustomed. I would imagine there were those days that Joseph would have given anything to have talked to his father, Jacob, and to have received his assurance that all would be well. However, Joseph was in Egypt and Jacob was in Israel, and no communication between them was possible. Joseph prospered in Egypt as we know. Although the scriptures are silent regarding the frequency and intensity of Joseph's prayers, there is one verse that explains his success, and I believe the peace and comfort he must have experienced as a slave and prisoner: "And the Lord was with Joseph..." [Genesis 39: 2]
I believe the Lord "was with Joseph" because Joseph plead with the Lord in faith for his help. Prayer can bring to us the comfort, sense of well being, and assurance we need so that we never have to experience the terror of not being able to communicate our urgent needs to someone who can help. Not even a "cuffed trachea" can keep us from calling upon Heavenly Father from the depths of our souls.
What the Lord told ancient Israel applies to all of us today: "But if ... thou shalt seek the LORD thy God, thou shalt find him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all thy soul. When thou art in tribulation ... if thou turn to the LORD thy God, and shalt be obedient unto his voice...he will not forsake thee..." [Deuteronomy 4:29-30]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Friday, September 8, 2006
ICU stay
Friday, September 8, 2006 Observation:
Yogi Berra, the great philosopher, baseball player, and manager, said to one of his malingering players, "Are you dead yet?" About a week ago in the ER I put that question to the doctors in the first person and asked them "Am I dead yet?" Thankfully they assured me that I wasn't which was very comforting. They asked me what my blood type was before giving me a transfusion and I told them "Ephraim". This threw them off for just a minute but they quickly recovered and got me the blood. Thanks to good doctors, marvelous medicine, and lots of fasting and praying by family and good friends, coupled with priesthood blessings, I am home and out of the hospital with a positive prognosis for the future.
However, a terrible thing has happened during the week I spent in the hospital. Black Strap Molasses sales have plummeted in health-food stores all over the United States. My week in the hospital even damaged the sugarcane market in the Caribbean and a number of plantations are on the verge of going under. A consortium of health-food stores has asked me to rise up in defense of Black Strap Molasses. I also think my son-in-law, Matt Riley, was a little off base in writing that Jimmy Durante, Groucho Marx, and Danny Kaye were not reliable nutritional experts. They all lived to a good old age by eating "Black Strap Molasses and the wheat germ bread", and they all lived so long that others probably wished they were dead.
I have already told you more than you would ever want to know about blackstrap molasses, but to strengthen the sugarcane market, as well as blackstrap molasses sales in health-food stores across the nation, I must punish you with the following information.
"The George Mateljan Foundation is a non-profit organization free of commercial influence...Our purpose is to provide you with unbiased scientific information about how nutrient-rich World's Healthiest Foods can promote vibrant health and energy and fit your personal needs and busy lifestyle."
"Blackstrap molasses is a sweetener that is actually good for you. Unlike refined white sugar and corn syrup, which are stripped of virtually all nutrients except simple carbohydrates, or artificial sweeteners like saccharine or aspartame, which not only provide no useful nutrients but have been shown to cause health problems in sensitive individuals, blackstrap molasses is a healthful sweetener that contains significant amounts of a variety of minerals that promote your health. In addition to providing quickly assimilated carbohydrates, blackstrap molasses can increase your energy by helping to replenish your iron stores. Blackstrap molasses is a very good source of iron."
I promise never to mention Blackstrap Molasses again -- unless sales in health-food stores have been irrevocably and permanently damaged.
On a more serious note, let me share with you some random observations regarding my latest brush with death as a result of a bleeding ulcer that the doctors described as Mount St. Helens.
My faith and testimony in the "tender mercies" of the Lord has been strengthened. The day the ulcer erupted was the day Jo Anne and my daughter Rachel and her two little girls were to fly to North Carolina to join Rachel's husband Matt who has begun a new career there. Due to some extenuating circumstances, the trip was postponed and Rachel, an RN, along with her perceptive mother called 911 when I didn't think it was necessary. Had I been put to bed that night without going to the ER, I doubt I would have lived to see the morning. Some would say these were just coincidences, but I call them the "tender mercies" of the Lord.
My appreciation of my fellow human beings has been greatly expanded as a result of this experience. I have never been treated so well by so many people for such a long period of time, that I can recall. All of my nurses were from the Philippines -- I call them the Filipino Relief Society. They treated me with great love, tenderness, and respect. They couldn't do enough for me. They were also very teachable, and although they were highly trained ICU nurses, they let Jo Anne teach them how to care for somebody in my condition. The doctors were competent, compassionate, and did everything in their power to get me over the hump. There are lots of good people out there! Yes, we live in a very wicked world, but I believe there are still so many more goodhearted people then there are evil. Instead of my injury making me cynical it has had the opposite effect. I have a great love for people of all races and religions. I have been treated so kindly by so many for so many years that to not love my fellowmen would be a sad reflection upon my own character.
My love and appreciation for my family was greatly enhanced as a result of this experience. My sons and daughters and sons-in-law and daughters-in-law rallied behind me and were an incredible source of strength. My son John, the ER doctor, was with me for three days questioning everything the doctors did, but I think really keeping the doctors on their toes. My son Mike, the district attorney and prosecutor, was constantly cross examining the doctors, and I learned some things about my case through listening to those conversations that I would have not known otherwise. It was reassuring to have all my children care so much. In the ER room, my sons, Richard and Mike, gave me a special blessing that was very comforting at a very uncertain and difficult time.
The highlight of my stay in ICU however, was when my four oldest grandsons -- two priests, a teacher, and a deacon -- held a special sacrament meeting for me last Sunday afternoon. They are all in the same ward and my son Mike is their Young Men's President. Two of the boys are Mike's and two are my oldest daughter Jolene's oldest boys. For me, it was one of those paydays that are unanticipated and therefore that much the sweeter. They sang hymns, blessed and passed the sacrament, and then each one bore their testimony. Each one recounted a sacred experience in which the Spirit had come to them and powerfully touched their hearts in such a way that they knew The Church was indeed true. I do not have the verbal ability to accurately recount this experience, but it was one of the highlights of my life. It was worth a bleeding ulcer to have had such an experience with my grandsons. These kids are light-years ahead of where I was at their age.
I was also touched by the many friends that have expressed love and concern. I have had reinforced in my heart that the only thing that really matters in life is the relationships we have with family, friends, and the Lord. Nothing else really matters much at all.
Life is precious. Each day is to be savored. The most common things are really very special.
If there is a theme to this observation, in my own mind, it is that we have a kind, loving, Heavenly Father who pours out his "tender mercies" upon us constantly. "And in nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things..." [Doctrine & Covenants 59: 21]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Yogi Berra, the great philosopher, baseball player, and manager, said to one of his malingering players, "Are you dead yet?" About a week ago in the ER I put that question to the doctors in the first person and asked them "Am I dead yet?" Thankfully they assured me that I wasn't which was very comforting. They asked me what my blood type was before giving me a transfusion and I told them "Ephraim". This threw them off for just a minute but they quickly recovered and got me the blood. Thanks to good doctors, marvelous medicine, and lots of fasting and praying by family and good friends, coupled with priesthood blessings, I am home and out of the hospital with a positive prognosis for the future.
However, a terrible thing has happened during the week I spent in the hospital. Black Strap Molasses sales have plummeted in health-food stores all over the United States. My week in the hospital even damaged the sugarcane market in the Caribbean and a number of plantations are on the verge of going under. A consortium of health-food stores has asked me to rise up in defense of Black Strap Molasses. I also think my son-in-law, Matt Riley, was a little off base in writing that Jimmy Durante, Groucho Marx, and Danny Kaye were not reliable nutritional experts. They all lived to a good old age by eating "Black Strap Molasses and the wheat germ bread", and they all lived so long that others probably wished they were dead.
I have already told you more than you would ever want to know about blackstrap molasses, but to strengthen the sugarcane market, as well as blackstrap molasses sales in health-food stores across the nation, I must punish you with the following information.
"The George Mateljan Foundation is a non-profit organization free of commercial influence...Our purpose is to provide you with unbiased scientific information about how nutrient-rich World's Healthiest Foods can promote vibrant health and energy and fit your personal needs and busy lifestyle."
"Blackstrap molasses is a sweetener that is actually good for you. Unlike refined white sugar and corn syrup, which are stripped of virtually all nutrients except simple carbohydrates, or artificial sweeteners like saccharine or aspartame, which not only provide no useful nutrients but have been shown to cause health problems in sensitive individuals, blackstrap molasses is a healthful sweetener that contains significant amounts of a variety of minerals that promote your health. In addition to providing quickly assimilated carbohydrates, blackstrap molasses can increase your energy by helping to replenish your iron stores. Blackstrap molasses is a very good source of iron."
I promise never to mention Blackstrap Molasses again -- unless sales in health-food stores have been irrevocably and permanently damaged.
On a more serious note, let me share with you some random observations regarding my latest brush with death as a result of a bleeding ulcer that the doctors described as Mount St. Helens.
My faith and testimony in the "tender mercies" of the Lord has been strengthened. The day the ulcer erupted was the day Jo Anne and my daughter Rachel and her two little girls were to fly to North Carolina to join Rachel's husband Matt who has begun a new career there. Due to some extenuating circumstances, the trip was postponed and Rachel, an RN, along with her perceptive mother called 911 when I didn't think it was necessary. Had I been put to bed that night without going to the ER, I doubt I would have lived to see the morning. Some would say these were just coincidences, but I call them the "tender mercies" of the Lord.
My appreciation of my fellow human beings has been greatly expanded as a result of this experience. I have never been treated so well by so many people for such a long period of time, that I can recall. All of my nurses were from the Philippines -- I call them the Filipino Relief Society. They treated me with great love, tenderness, and respect. They couldn't do enough for me. They were also very teachable, and although they were highly trained ICU nurses, they let Jo Anne teach them how to care for somebody in my condition. The doctors were competent, compassionate, and did everything in their power to get me over the hump. There are lots of good people out there! Yes, we live in a very wicked world, but I believe there are still so many more goodhearted people then there are evil. Instead of my injury making me cynical it has had the opposite effect. I have a great love for people of all races and religions. I have been treated so kindly by so many for so many years that to not love my fellowmen would be a sad reflection upon my own character.
My love and appreciation for my family was greatly enhanced as a result of this experience. My sons and daughters and sons-in-law and daughters-in-law rallied behind me and were an incredible source of strength. My son John, the ER doctor, was with me for three days questioning everything the doctors did, but I think really keeping the doctors on their toes. My son Mike, the district attorney and prosecutor, was constantly cross examining the doctors, and I learned some things about my case through listening to those conversations that I would have not known otherwise. It was reassuring to have all my children care so much. In the ER room, my sons, Richard and Mike, gave me a special blessing that was very comforting at a very uncertain and difficult time.
The highlight of my stay in ICU however, was when my four oldest grandsons -- two priests, a teacher, and a deacon -- held a special sacrament meeting for me last Sunday afternoon. They are all in the same ward and my son Mike is their Young Men's President. Two of the boys are Mike's and two are my oldest daughter Jolene's oldest boys. For me, it was one of those paydays that are unanticipated and therefore that much the sweeter. They sang hymns, blessed and passed the sacrament, and then each one bore their testimony. Each one recounted a sacred experience in which the Spirit had come to them and powerfully touched their hearts in such a way that they knew The Church was indeed true. I do not have the verbal ability to accurately recount this experience, but it was one of the highlights of my life. It was worth a bleeding ulcer to have had such an experience with my grandsons. These kids are light-years ahead of where I was at their age.
I was also touched by the many friends that have expressed love and concern. I have had reinforced in my heart that the only thing that really matters in life is the relationships we have with family, friends, and the Lord. Nothing else really matters much at all.
Life is precious. Each day is to be savored. The most common things are really very special.
If there is a theme to this observation, in my own mind, it is that we have a kind, loving, Heavenly Father who pours out his "tender mercies" upon us constantly. "And in nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things..." [Doctrine & Covenants 59: 21]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Blackstrap Molasses
Wednesday, August 30, 2006 Observation:
A number of months ago the doctors did some blood work on me and discovered that I was running a little anemic. There was no apparent cause so they suggested I go on iron pills to build up my blood. I don't do well on iron pills because of some side effects I would rather not mention. About that time Jo Anne's sister Judy was also having a problem being anemic and her doctor had recommended 2 tablespoons of blackstrap molasses each morning. She said it had done her a world of good and that I should try it. I frankly admit I am not into health food healings and was very skeptical, but then the lyrics of a song from my youth suddenly came into my mind. It was sung by Jane Wyman, Jimmy Duranty, Danny Kaye, and Groucho Marx. I am sure you will be grateful beyond measure to receive the lyrics to the great old song "The Blackstrap Molasses".
Black strap molasses and wheat germ bread
Makes you live so long you wish you were dead
Add some yogurt and you'll be well fed
With black strap molasses and the wheat germ bread
As wonderful and impressive as those lyrics are I was still a little bit leery about blackstrap molasses so I went to the Internet and discovered that blackstrap molasses comes from sugar cane, but from what is commonly known as the "third boiling". The "first boiling", or "first molasses", has a high sugar content because comparatively little sugar has been extracted from the juice. "Second molasses" is created from a "second boiling" and sugar extraction. The third boiling of the sugar syrup gives blackstrap molasses. The majority of sucrose from the original juice has been crystallized by now and the blackstrap molasses contains significant amounts of vitamins and minerals. Blackstrap molasses is a source of calcium, magnesium, and iron. One tablespoon provides up to 20 percent of the daily value of each of those nutrients. Blackstrap is often sold as a health supplement..." [Wikipedia Encyclopedia]
Guess what? I tried it and it works! My blood count went up dramatically, the anemia disappeared, and who knows, maybe I'll live till I wish I were dead!
You are probably thinking -- "Poor old Jack has finally lost it! Can you believe an observation about blackstrap molasses?"
Actually, it was a statement made by Elder L. Tom Perry that I heard while listening to BYU TV the other day that started me ruminating about blackstrap molasses. I cannot remember the audience he was addressing, but it seemed to be a BYU student devotional. He said he felt that one of the sad characteristics of our society is that so many of us are suffering from "mental malnutrition". The thought then came to me that perhaps another way of saying it is that we are in so many cases "spiritually anemic". We partake too frequently and too much of only the "first boiling", "first molasses" that is shoveled into us by the media -- too much sugar and empty calories! And then I remembered Elder Holland cautioning us that we are feeding our people from the pulpit, in the classroom, and even our children at home, too many "Theological Twinkies". Twinkies just won't do it for the body or the spirit -- it's that "first boiling" -- too full of sugar! I thought that the "spiritual blackstrap molasses" we need each day is contained in the Scriptures. The Scriptures are the "third boiling", "third molasses"; the inspired, concentrated distillation of truth, prophecy, wisdom, and teachings of the ages that if ingested constantly and consistently will eliminate "mental malnutrition" and "spiritual anemia" as nothing else can. It actually even tastes better than a Twinkie.
Nobody ever said it better than Book of Mormon Jacob: "Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy... and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted..." [2 Nephi 9:51]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
A number of months ago the doctors did some blood work on me and discovered that I was running a little anemic. There was no apparent cause so they suggested I go on iron pills to build up my blood. I don't do well on iron pills because of some side effects I would rather not mention. About that time Jo Anne's sister Judy was also having a problem being anemic and her doctor had recommended 2 tablespoons of blackstrap molasses each morning. She said it had done her a world of good and that I should try it. I frankly admit I am not into health food healings and was very skeptical, but then the lyrics of a song from my youth suddenly came into my mind. It was sung by Jane Wyman, Jimmy Duranty, Danny Kaye, and Groucho Marx. I am sure you will be grateful beyond measure to receive the lyrics to the great old song "The Blackstrap Molasses".
Black strap molasses and wheat germ bread
Makes you live so long you wish you were dead
Add some yogurt and you'll be well fed
With black strap molasses and the wheat germ bread
As wonderful and impressive as those lyrics are I was still a little bit leery about blackstrap molasses so I went to the Internet and discovered that blackstrap molasses comes from sugar cane, but from what is commonly known as the "third boiling". The "first boiling", or "first molasses", has a high sugar content because comparatively little sugar has been extracted from the juice. "Second molasses" is created from a "second boiling" and sugar extraction. The third boiling of the sugar syrup gives blackstrap molasses. The majority of sucrose from the original juice has been crystallized by now and the blackstrap molasses contains significant amounts of vitamins and minerals. Blackstrap molasses is a source of calcium, magnesium, and iron. One tablespoon provides up to 20 percent of the daily value of each of those nutrients. Blackstrap is often sold as a health supplement..." [Wikipedia Encyclopedia]
Guess what? I tried it and it works! My blood count went up dramatically, the anemia disappeared, and who knows, maybe I'll live till I wish I were dead!
You are probably thinking -- "Poor old Jack has finally lost it! Can you believe an observation about blackstrap molasses?"
Actually, it was a statement made by Elder L. Tom Perry that I heard while listening to BYU TV the other day that started me ruminating about blackstrap molasses. I cannot remember the audience he was addressing, but it seemed to be a BYU student devotional. He said he felt that one of the sad characteristics of our society is that so many of us are suffering from "mental malnutrition". The thought then came to me that perhaps another way of saying it is that we are in so many cases "spiritually anemic". We partake too frequently and too much of only the "first boiling", "first molasses" that is shoveled into us by the media -- too much sugar and empty calories! And then I remembered Elder Holland cautioning us that we are feeding our people from the pulpit, in the classroom, and even our children at home, too many "Theological Twinkies". Twinkies just won't do it for the body or the spirit -- it's that "first boiling" -- too full of sugar! I thought that the "spiritual blackstrap molasses" we need each day is contained in the Scriptures. The Scriptures are the "third boiling", "third molasses"; the inspired, concentrated distillation of truth, prophecy, wisdom, and teachings of the ages that if ingested constantly and consistently will eliminate "mental malnutrition" and "spiritual anemia" as nothing else can. It actually even tastes better than a Twinkie.
Nobody ever said it better than Book of Mormon Jacob: "Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy... and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted..." [2 Nephi 9:51]
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Friday, August 18, 2006
Camp Sheanee
Friday, August 18, 2006 Observation:
Back in the seventies -- some of us can remember that far back -- I was a full-time Institute teacher/director in Southern California. In those long-ago days we signed a nine-month contract with CES (Church Education System) and were basically unemployed from June through the end of August. Many of us did a variety of creative things to try to bring in some income during that three-month period.
Along with several other Institute teachers, I spent several summers working at a day camp as a counselor. Each of us was assigned an old Volkswagen van, and each summer morning we would drive through the beautiful streets of San Marino, picking up little rich kids that we would then entertain all day long. When we were doing this, San Marino had the highest per capita income of any community its size in the United States. For those of you who don't know, San Marino is adjacent to Pasadena. The kid's parents had gone to the same Summer Camp -- Camp Sheanee, an Indian name for "Summer People" -- when they were young. I'm sure they paid an arm and a leg to have their children entertained all summer, and because of it they did expect their children to be entertained!
Camp Sheanee was a concept more than a place. We used many venues each day: public parks, an archery range, a horseback riding stable, a very large swimming pool at the back of a very large home in Pasadena, etc. The owner of Camp Sheanee, earning the bulk of his yearly income during that three-month period, was anxious that the little rich kids have a great experience each time they came to camp. I thought what he had us do at the end of each day was pretty savvy. Our final activity of the day took place at the swimming pool. After the kids were dressed and ready to be delivered to their mansions, we would have them sit in a circle around us and begin to review all of the great activities they had just participated in, as well as how much fun they had all had. When they were dropped off at home a few minutes later, and a mother asked them about the day, they were well-prepared to give a glowing report about their experience at Camp Sheanee. If they had fun, in the eyes of the kids and their parents, Camp Sheanee was a great success.
Through the years I have frequently thought how different Camp Sheanee is compared to the program our Heavenly Father has designed for us during our lives in mortality, which is a little bit like an extended day camp. I think it's OK with Him if we have a Camp Sheanee experience from time to time, but I doubt He measures His success by how much fun we have in mortality. At the end of the day I don't think his first question to us will be, "Did you have a good time?" So many of us however, much of the time, have a "Camp Sheanee" mindset regarding life.
I'm sure many of you have had the experience of reading a passage of Scripture a number of times without thinking too much about it, and then on another reading have it leap off the page at you. This happened to me several months ago as I was reading Doctrine & Covenants 24:8 for who knows how many times. "Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days." Of course, the Lord was directing his words to Joseph Smith, who was a very young man at the time. It was not really a "happy" prophecy regarding his future, but as it turned out it was very true. The thing that leaped off the page at me this time around is the Lord's words about Joseph's impending afflictions: "... but endure them..." He didn't commiserate with Joseph and tell him how sorry he was that he would have many afflictions and that He was sorry they wouldn't be much "fun", He simply told him to be patient and to endure them! He didn't seem to be very concerned that Joseph have a Camp Sheanee experience. It was like He was saying to Joseph, "Your life is going to be pretty tough but "buck up ", "gird up your loins "; you will get through this and I will tell you why: "... for, lo, I am with thee unto the end of thy days!" Joseph needed to know that he would be able to get through any difficulty or affliction that life would bring his way because the Lord would be with him always. Later in life Joseph was taught that "even if the very jaws of hell gaped open wide after him" that all of these things would give him experience and be for his good. [Doctrine & Covenants 122] However, they would only be for his good, if through his afflictions, he patiently sought the Lord, experienced His power and love in his life and in doing so came to know Him better.
We have been counseled to "liken" or "apply" the Scriptures to our own individual circumstances. I believe what the Lord told Joseph about being patient in afflictions because he would have many, probably applies to all of us. As afflictions come to us, and they will be different for each individual, the Lord is not lacking in empathy, pity, or sympathy, but with great wisdom He simply says "... endure them..."
I feel too often as parents we want our children to be happy, and feel that happiness comes through enrolling them in a perpetual Camp Sheanee experience. Are we successful as parents if our children are only happy? I believe we could learn a great deal about parenting from the counsel the Lord gave Joseph so many years ago.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
Back in the seventies -- some of us can remember that far back -- I was a full-time Institute teacher/director in Southern California. In those long-ago days we signed a nine-month contract with CES (Church Education System) and were basically unemployed from June through the end of August. Many of us did a variety of creative things to try to bring in some income during that three-month period.
Along with several other Institute teachers, I spent several summers working at a day camp as a counselor. Each of us was assigned an old Volkswagen van, and each summer morning we would drive through the beautiful streets of San Marino, picking up little rich kids that we would then entertain all day long. When we were doing this, San Marino had the highest per capita income of any community its size in the United States. For those of you who don't know, San Marino is adjacent to Pasadena. The kid's parents had gone to the same Summer Camp -- Camp Sheanee, an Indian name for "Summer People" -- when they were young. I'm sure they paid an arm and a leg to have their children entertained all summer, and because of it they did expect their children to be entertained!
Camp Sheanee was a concept more than a place. We used many venues each day: public parks, an archery range, a horseback riding stable, a very large swimming pool at the back of a very large home in Pasadena, etc. The owner of Camp Sheanee, earning the bulk of his yearly income during that three-month period, was anxious that the little rich kids have a great experience each time they came to camp. I thought what he had us do at the end of each day was pretty savvy. Our final activity of the day took place at the swimming pool. After the kids were dressed and ready to be delivered to their mansions, we would have them sit in a circle around us and begin to review all of the great activities they had just participated in, as well as how much fun they had all had. When they were dropped off at home a few minutes later, and a mother asked them about the day, they were well-prepared to give a glowing report about their experience at Camp Sheanee. If they had fun, in the eyes of the kids and their parents, Camp Sheanee was a great success.
Through the years I have frequently thought how different Camp Sheanee is compared to the program our Heavenly Father has designed for us during our lives in mortality, which is a little bit like an extended day camp. I think it's OK with Him if we have a Camp Sheanee experience from time to time, but I doubt He measures His success by how much fun we have in mortality. At the end of the day I don't think his first question to us will be, "Did you have a good time?" So many of us however, much of the time, have a "Camp Sheanee" mindset regarding life.
I'm sure many of you have had the experience of reading a passage of Scripture a number of times without thinking too much about it, and then on another reading have it leap off the page at you. This happened to me several months ago as I was reading Doctrine & Covenants 24:8 for who knows how many times. "Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days." Of course, the Lord was directing his words to Joseph Smith, who was a very young man at the time. It was not really a "happy" prophecy regarding his future, but as it turned out it was very true. The thing that leaped off the page at me this time around is the Lord's words about Joseph's impending afflictions: "... but endure them..." He didn't commiserate with Joseph and tell him how sorry he was that he would have many afflictions and that He was sorry they wouldn't be much "fun", He simply told him to be patient and to endure them! He didn't seem to be very concerned that Joseph have a Camp Sheanee experience. It was like He was saying to Joseph, "Your life is going to be pretty tough but "buck up ", "gird up your loins "; you will get through this and I will tell you why: "... for, lo, I am with thee unto the end of thy days!" Joseph needed to know that he would be able to get through any difficulty or affliction that life would bring his way because the Lord would be with him always. Later in life Joseph was taught that "even if the very jaws of hell gaped open wide after him" that all of these things would give him experience and be for his good. [Doctrine & Covenants 122] However, they would only be for his good, if through his afflictions, he patiently sought the Lord, experienced His power and love in his life and in doing so came to know Him better.
We have been counseled to "liken" or "apply" the Scriptures to our own individual circumstances. I believe what the Lord told Joseph about being patient in afflictions because he would have many, probably applies to all of us. As afflictions come to us, and they will be different for each individual, the Lord is not lacking in empathy, pity, or sympathy, but with great wisdom He simply says "... endure them..."
I feel too often as parents we want our children to be happy, and feel that happiness comes through enrolling them in a perpetual Camp Sheanee experience. Are we successful as parents if our children are only happy? I believe we could learn a great deal about parenting from the counsel the Lord gave Joseph so many years ago.
Dad/Grandpa/Jack
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