Our Lighthouse in the Storm #LIGHTtheWORLD

Today marks another anniversary in our family life. On a cold wintry day in December - the 9th - in 1992, we awoke to the tragic realization that our youngest daughter, Adrienne, had died unexpectedly during the early morning hours. I wrote about her death in an earlier entry titled "Losing" Adrienne. It seems impossible to imagine her now as a twenty-eight year-old woman, but that's what she would be had she lived. 

I asked Patsy this morning while we were greeting a new day in bed, "Tell me your memories of Adrienne this morning." Somewhat wistfully she responded, "I wish I had more memories of her." 

She came to #LIGHTtheWORLD in our family. Her headstone identifies her as "Our Lighthouse in the Storm." Her mortal flame flared quickly and brightly and then it was extinguished too soon. 

It was fifteen days before Christmas. After the funeral and burial we continued to stumble around in a stupor of thought, unable to gather ourselves to get Christmas ready for the children. I remember distinctly wandering aimlessly through the old Crossroads Mall downtown looking helplessly for Christmas gifts without success. Nothing seemed appropriate or meaningful to us. I think we finally settled on sweaters for everyone in one store, wide selection in sizes and styles, and I don't even remember the brand name but they were cool enough to satisfy my numbed mind. I'm sure we picked up more than that, but honestly it was all a blur. Our hearts weren't ready to move on from Adrienne.

I was stuck. It took me about a year to finally get back to some semblance of normalcy again. What happens in traumatic events like this one is a sense that you have lost control over the simplest of tasks. The brain is assaulted and then shuts down. For months afterward emotion would come welling to the surface over seemingly disconnected stimuli. The trauma would start afresh and the memories were still raw and sharp.

Everything about Christmas suggests light during the darkest time of the year - until finally around Christmas day we hit the winter solstice and the longest night of darkness in the annual calendar. We know the correct time of the Savior's birth was in the spring at Passover time in Jerusalem because of modern revelation and the statements of the living prophets (see D&C 20:1). But we celebrate Christmas in the darkest time of the year as a powerful symbol of light conquering darkness.

I have been asked many times in the ensuing years by many people what the most traumatic experience of my life was, and most would assume it was this time of our lives. However, after the events of this past year I would say without hesitation that brain surgery eclipses everything else that resembles a definition of "traumatic." The paradox is that through the adversity has come an abiding and deepening conviction of Christ's love for me and my family.

I remember one night shortly before surgery when I was comforted with the knowledge that my father and my mother were nearby and fully aware of my circumstances. Another night after surgery while rehabbing Dianne told me she called down Adrienne to provide comfort and protection in case I fell down getting to the bathroom in the middle of the night. In that same period of time my departed brother Drew also provided protection. I was being aided by help from beyond the veil and they embodied #LIGHTtheWORLD ministrations for me personally when I was so compromised I could not do much of anything for myself.

So which Christmas do I remember best? The year of 1992 will always remind me of the Light of the World, the birth of a Holy Infant in a lowly manger stall in Bethlehem. He brought peace to all who would come to Him throughout his mortal ministry and to those of us who can still come today. 

But perhaps the COVID-19 year of 2020 will also be memorable as I look back. Though Adrienne's mortal life was a short seven weeks, the life of our Lord and Savior spans infinity and will never be extinguished. He assures us that our eternal lives also involve infinite boundaries. 

He conquered death, spiritual and physical, for all the inhabitants of this Earth and all the other worlds our Father has created.

Thanksgiving Journal, Day 6

I #givethanks for Thanksgiving Day 2020. This morning I am grateful for the safe return of Elder Riley Bayles from his mission in the Washington DC South (Spanish speaking) Mission. He is pictured here on the left in this photo at a baptism of one of his converts. Because of COVID-19 restrictions, he taught his converts online, and often did not meet the people he had taught until their baptism face-to-face. In all likelihood he may never see most of those people again in this life. His faithful service has been a model for all missionaries in this new era of missionary work. 

He flew home last night, and is set to sit down with his family for a celebratory turkey feast today in their home in Pleasant Grove, Utah. His service as a missionary has blessed us all here at home, not to mention the many souls of those whom he taught and converted, literally from nearly every country in Central and South America. We are so grateful for a righteous posterity.

As promised, today I will focus on the Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square. I will begin with a Thanksgiving anthem familiar to all:

There cannot be a more blessed people on Earth than we who are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. President Nelson with his #givethanks invitation reminds us all how true that is. So today, let us come and #givethanks for the bounties of the Earth that are showered upon us generously from a gracious God. We have the physical and spiritual comforts despite all the troubles and uncertainty that surround us. Like the fruits and vegetables of the fall harvest that are safely gathered in, so may we be safely gathered in from all the storms that swirl about us if we gather to the stakes of Zion scattered throughout the world today.

Next is a favorite that never ceases to cause me to reflect on a story daughter Melanie told us about her time in the MTC prior to her departure for her mission in New Hampshire years ago. They were standing in the bottom floor of a stairwell rehearsing "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." I wasn't there, but I can imagine the voices of those sisters in that stairwell must have approximated the voices of a heavenly choir. Here's the Choir and Orchestra's version:

We attended the Pioneer Concert of the Choir and the Orchestra in the summer of 2019, featuring solo vocalist Sissel. She offered "Slow Down," a hauntingly beautiful and melodic tune that brings such peace in our current times of tribulation "when we're feeling so unsure." Kick back, take off your shoes and let the music inspire and bless your troubled souls. She brought the house down in applause that never seemed to end with her rendition. It was a heavenly moment:

Then she sang "Like an Angel Passing Through my Room," another sweet and comforting song to soothe the soul. Music has that power, doesn't it? Sissel is a jewel to be savored and appreciated especially now. I hope you enjoy her as much as we did that night:

No compilation of my favorite moments with the Tabernacle Choir would be complete without the signature set piece from Les Miserables, sung by Alfie Boe. Here is "Bring Him Home:"

One of the most pleasant surprises I experienced with the Christmas concerts of the Choir and the Orchestra was hearing David Archuleta's rendition of the carol "The Cat and the Mouse." I had never heard that tender melody with its tender words with so much meaning before. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I did when I first heard it. Truly, we can all #givethanks when "Love came down to the Earth:"

There are so many more rich and deeply inspirational hymns. I encourage you to tune in to the Choir and Orchestra's YouTube channel. I will end with "The Prayer." Again, this one brings back memories when Rich and Melanie learned it and performed it several times while they were in high school:

I encourage us all to accept President Nelson's second invitation to offer prayer daily in thanks for all our blessings. 

Enjoy your Thanksgiving Day today and #givethanks.

Thanksgiving Journal, Day 5

Will I ever run out of blessings for which I am grateful? I don't think so. My heart literally is filled to overflowing these days. It is the 95th anniversary of my Mother's birth today. I pay tribute and #givethanks for Helen Lee Goates today. She continues to inspire me every day, but especially this time of year whenever Thanksgiving rolls around. Her birthday often fell on this day, as it did the last year she was with us in 1999. She was a violinist and a vocalist. Thoughts of her lead me to my love of music.

I've been pondering this morning that one of the greatest gifts for which I am grateful is the gift of music. 

My love of music began around the age of 8, when my father introduced me to the piano. Grandfather Lesley Goates had purchased a baby grand piano for their small home in Sugarhouse when my father was a child. It nearly didn't fit into the front room of that home. No one played the piano, but Grandpa Goates was a gifted vocalist who led many choirs during his life, and was eager to introduce his fledgling son, Brent, to the beauties of music. I learned on that piano and #givethanks for the memory of that instrument that I had refinished when it found a place in our living room many years later. I am thankful my father persisted with me as long as he did with early morning wake-up calls to practice.

I had two great pianists who I loved to listen to in concert - Grant Johanneson (local Salt Lake City boy) and Van Cliburn. They were each at the pinnacle of their professional careers as concert pianists when I heard them play as soloists with the Utah Symphony in the Tabernacle before Abravanel Hall was built across the street from Temple Square. It was these two who first introduced me to the spectacular concert "workhorse," Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1. I am grateful for their musical prowess that always uplifted me.

I #givethanks for Cherry Brown and Charlene Snow, my two piano teachers in the Federal Heights Ward, who labored diligently to teach me the intricacies of the keyboard, harmony and music theory. I never rose to the heights of extraordinary proficiency, but I was adequate enough to accompany the congregational singing in every town where I served in England during my mission. 

At East High School in Salt Lake City, I was further tutored in vocal ensembles under the tutelage of Lorraine Bowman. I sang in her A cappella Choir, Madrigals and the Boys Quartet. Those were days never to be forgotten during our senior year. I was the bass in the quartet comprised of Mark Ethington, Steve Spencer, Doug Richards and me. I #givethanks today for those lifelong friendships. Especially during the Christmas season, those memories were made to last a lifetime because of the influence of music well prepared, well sung and long remembered.

After being tutored by Cherry and Charlene on the piano, I began to branch out and buy my own sheet music, which I loved to play for many years later. My children remember being accompanied to sleep each night with strains of "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face," from "My Fair Lady."

Speaking of that musical reminds me to #givethanks for my Nana Fern Lucinda Tanner Lee, who loved to play the original soundtrack recording from the Broadway production in New York. She and Grandfather Harold B. Lee had attended the production and still had the original playbill on their shelf. When I would stay with her on the weekends when Grandfather Lee was traveling for stake conference assignments, she would put the record on their large Magnavox stereo console and let me listen to it again and again as she described the action on stage. She introduced me to the theater of the mind. I would pick a spot on the plush white carpet in front of the stereo so the sound from the left speakers was evenly balanced with the sound from the right speakers. It was heavenly, and I was so familiar with the music that I managed to memorize every word of the lyrics. 

The original production featured Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews. Nana was always a little nervous when Rex Harrison as Professor Henry Higgins introduced his song about Eliza Doolittle with the expletive "Damn, Damn, Damn, Damn, I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face." The expletives were about his reluctant admission that he was falling in love, somewhat surprisingly and unwillingly. Knowing it was coming in the soundtrack, she would time her entrance into the room to turn down the volume when that part came up. She didn't want me tainted at such an impressionable age. 

Little could she have known when I entered the Army for basic training that I would hear much worse than that! I had drill sergeants who were skilled in the multifaceted uses of one particular four-letter word which was used interchangeably as a noun, a verb, a preposition, an adjective, and a gerund. Those who have been in the Army, Air Force, Marines, Navy or Coast Guard will tell you exactly the word to which I refer.

That formative introduction to Broadway musicals came from Nana. I would go on to collect the soundtracks of virtually all the productions, and had the chance to see many of them in person. I am so grateful for the uplifting inspiration they often provided. 

But if we're going to talk about inspirational music, how could I do any better than the Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square? Since Mack Wilberg took the reins of the Choir and the Orchestra, they have soared to the highest heights. His arrangements will live on forever. I #givethanks for a heavenly choir here on Earth that was recently named as one of the top ten choirs in the world.

Perhaps tomorrow I will single out some specific arrangements for which I am particularly grateful, but I will conclude today's post to #givethanks for music and its influence in my life.

 

Thanksgiving Journal, Day 4

This morning I awoke with an overwhelming feeling of peace. That still, small voice whispered that all would be well in the world. What a blessing the assurances of the Spirit have been to me during my lifetime. I am thankful for the gift of the Holy Ghost. It is an unimaginable blessing to have from an all-wise and loving Father in Heaven. The Holy Ghost's influence in our lives is described in several places in scripture. This is a favorite passage in a revelation given to Joseph Smith for the benefit of his brother, Hyrum:

"Behold, thou hast a gift, or thou shalt have a gift if thou wilt desire of me in faith, with an honest heart, believing in the power of Jesus Christ, or in my power which speaketh unto thee;

"For, behold, I am the light  which shineth in darkness, and by my power I give these words unto thee.

"And now, verily, verily, I say unto thee, put your trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good - yea, to do justly, to walk humbly, to judge righteously; and this is my Spirit.

"Verily, verily, I say unto you I will impart unto you of my Spirit which shall enlighten your mind, which shall fill your soul with joy;

"And then shall ye know, or by this shall you know all things whatsoever you desire of me, which are pertaining unto things of righteousness, in faith believing in me that you shall receive." (D&C 11:10-14).

Think what a comfort that revelation must have been to both brothers as you contemplate the challenges and the troubles they would face together in subsequent years. It can be so for us.

We learn so many lessons in the lives of Joseph and Hyrum. I express my gratitude for their example of brotherly love for one another. They were side by side during their lives, the older brother Hyrum supporting and giving succor to the younger brother Joseph. Perhaps John Taylor, an eyewitness to their martyrdoms at Carthage Jail said it best:

"Joseph Smith, the Prophet and Seer of the Lord, has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it. In the short space of twenty years, he has brought forth the Book of Mormon, which he translated by the gift and power of God, and has been the means of publishing it on two continents; has sent the fulness of the everlasting gospel, which it contained, to the four quarters of the earth; has brought forth the revelations and commandments which compose this book of Doctrine and Covenants, and many other wise documents and instructions for the benefit of the children of men; gathered many thousands of Latter-day Saints, founded a great city, and left a fame and name that cannot be slain. He lived great, and he died great in the eyes of God and his people; and like most of the Lord's anointed in ancient times, has sealed his mission and his works with his own blood; and so has his brother Hyrum. In life they were not divided, and in death they were not separated." (D&C 135:3).

I give thanks this morning for the blessing of knowing without seeing. It is that witness that permeates our souls in this life. I most often feel the Spirit of the Holy Ghost speaking to me when I open the pages of the scriptures. When I do, I often become a "see-er." Those words are always accompanied by the sweet fruit as spoken of so eloquently by Alma:

"But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.

"And because of your diligence and your faith, and your patience with the word in nourishing it, that it may take root in you, behold by and by ye shall pluck the fruit thereof, which is most precious, which is sweet above all that is sweet, and which is white above all that is white, yea, and pure above all that is pure; and ye shall feast upon this fruit even until ye are filled, that ye hunger not, neither shall ye thirst.

"Then, my brethren, ye shall reap the rewards of your faith, and your diligence, and patience, and long-suffering, waiting for the tree to bring forth fruit unto you." (Alma 32:41-43).

That chapter in Alma's writings is not as much about faith as it is about "the word," which is likened to the seed that must be nourished so our tree of knowledge in the word of God may flourish. 

When I was facing my brain surgery with an unknown outcome, and then as I emerged fully healed and restored to my former self as I was blessed by my sons to do, many have referred to me as a "miracle man." I have reminded those who say that that the miracle is not that I lived. I could have died and the miracle would still be valid. The miracle is the atonement of Jesus Christ, guaranteeing a universal resurrection and the hope of eternal life for the repentant. Whether in life or in death, His sacrifice for all the sons and daughters of God is the same on both sides of the veil. He is the true miracle that the Holy Ghost testifies about. Christ opens the doors of our spirit prison and our physical tomb.

And this morning the Spirit of the Holy Ghost is speaking peace to my soul about the plan of salvation. 

We will all someday die. We were born to die. The Spirit of the Holy Ghost testifies that through the power of an infinite atonement we may escape the effects of both spiritual and physical death. (See 2 Nephi 9:10-13)

I am grateful for the witness of the Holy Ghost that whispers peace to my soul.

Thanksgiving Journal, Day 3

 It's Monday morning. I'm grateful for Monday, as it signals the beginning of a new week filled with hope and anticipation for the week to come. I'm grateful for Patsy's suggestion last night that we could put up the Christmas tree today, something I was unable to even think about last year.

So today I'm grateful for health and the restoration of strength sufficient to begin welcoming the Christmas season with lights, trees, ornaments, and all the decorations that spell "festive." Nobody does home decorations for every holiday like Patsy - especially Christmas nativities that fill our home as a reminder of "the reason for the season."

Many years ago we learned that Patsy was allergic to pine trees and aspen trees, and guess where we live? That's right, in the middle of a forest surrounded by pines and aspens. It was then we learned not to bring a fresh cut pine tree into the house every Christmas season. The Goates Kids replaced that tradition with a 9 foot artificial pre-lit pine tree that we have enjoyed each season. It's green, it's sustainable, and much better suited to Patsy's allergies. So I am grateful for an artificial Christmas tree that looks better in that corner of the living room than anything we could have cut ourselves.

I am grateful for the beauty of nature that surrounds us. At a distance, especially after fresh-fallen snow, there is nothing to exceed the exquisite and intricate patterns of creation that renew their attractions with the change of each season. I love the scent of pine in the winter, especially now that I can smell again, so I am grateful for all five senses, especially smell and sight that were restored to their full spectrum this year. In the fall yellow leaves on the aspen trees produce a gorgeous contrast to the evergreen pine needles

I love looking out my office window up the Mirror Lake highway toward the majestic peaks to the north and the east of my vantage point. At 7,333 feet above sea level, I give thanks for the ever-changing vistas. We live in a beautiful place unlike any other. We share our location with fish, deer, elk, moose, fox, rabbits, Canadian geese, sand hill cranes and ducks. 

We are visited by the occasional black bears and cubs, coyotes, mountain lions (some fans of the school down south would call them "cougars") and pot guts, rock chucks, field mice, and birds of prey in all varieties including owls, eagles and hawks year around. You won't find that array of wildlife in any subdivision anywhere. (Didn't even mention the cows and horses.)

We are blessed as a people living in Utah to also be surrounded by temples. Daughter Dianne and her Bayles crew were on a field trip yesterday to see the new Saratoga Springs temple as it is being constructed on the western slope of Utah Lake. She calculated that they live within striking distance of thirteen temples now. 

I give thanks for not only easy access to temples, but also the priesthood keys that actuate all the ordinances for all God's children who desire the hope for an eternal family. I am thankful for the glorious opportunity Patsy and I had to serve as ordinance workers in the Salt Lake Temple during the final year before it closed for renovation. We will be eager to return to the temples as they reopen.

I am also grateful for good friends this morning. I had the chance to call many of them during this summer to tell them of my brain surgery and its successful outcome. It was so great to get caught up with many of them. I give thanks today for my long-time mentor, Leon Peterson, who passed away on Saturday. I have many treasured memories of our association with him and his family. 

Many of my friends and acquaintances are now moving on from this life, and a lot of us are having "near misses." I was almost in the ranks of the newly departed this year, but I am thankful for the renewal of the lease on my physical body for perhaps a few more miles.

Thanksgiving Journal, Day 2

 We have had a wonderful Sabbath day thus far. We attended our weekly sacrament meeting, and we are grateful for the kind and careful steps our bishopric is making during the COVID-19 pandemic to make the chapel a safe haven where all may come to worship together without fear of spreading the virus that is altering nearly everything we do these days. We are thankful for two speakers in our meeting today who offered comments and a review of Elder Matthew S. Holland's talk at the recent October 2020 General Conference. He entitled it "The Exquisite Gift of the Son."

We are thankful for the young men of the Aaronic Priesthood in our ward who administer the emblems of the Lord's agonizing atoning sacrifice for each of us. The bread and the water, simple symbols that are universal reminders of the Savior's body and His blood, allow us to bind our souls to Him, to remember Him, to covenant to keep His commandments, and to always have His spirit to attend us. 

We were thankful for a season this summer to have authorization to administer the sacrament in our home, and we enjoyed having the Pahnkes, our brother and sister from California, joining us in our home sacrament service. But now we have thankfully been able to return to the ward building to be served by our young men, who are masked, wear protective latex gloves, and making everyone feel loved as they serve us. There is power in worshipping at home, but there is also power in gathering at the ward building for the fellowship of our ward members from a safe distance. 

I give thanks that we live in a day when we can worship freely in the land of America, where religious freedom abounds. Except for those freedoms we enjoy here in America, the gospel never could have flourished and we would be unable to go into foreign lands and teach the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I am grateful for the blessing of the Constitution of the United States and for the Bill of Rights that offers the privilege of worshipping who, where and what we choose. I give thanks for the Constitutional right to choose.

I am thankful for my family members, most of whom are feeling somewhat disenfranchised this upcoming holiday season because of the counsel to avoid gathering too many people. That suggestion, of course, puts a damper on the traditional Thanksgiving dinner plans for everyone. I am thankful that we can still be offering our gratitude even with reduced numbers around the table. We love getting together with our family whenever we can, but this year we give thanks that we are so anxious to be together even though the restrictions make it more difficult. Count it a blessing, as we do, that our families desire to be together. How sad would it be if they were indifferent and didn't care to be together? I am grateful they love one another.

Traditionally, one of our favorite holiday events has been getting together to make our gingerbread houses the day after Thanksgiving. We are still doing it, but gathering in much smaller groups to remain safer. We are grateful for Grandma Patsy, who makes the gingerbread houses - this year around 40 - for all who want to come and put them together. There is definitely more candy involved than Halloween, and how grateful we all are for the continuation of the sugar fest into November and December.  

I express my thanks for the peace and tranquility of Pine Valley. The long dry summer and autumn is finally transitioning into winter. The snow is a welcome respite from the heat and the drought that often dominates the desert climate where we live. We are richly blessed with all four seasons. The water we drink in summer comes largely from the skies above in the form of the winter snow. I am grateful for the "greatest snow on Earth."

I give thanks for electricity, for propane, for a boiler, for a water pump that pumps fresh spring water into our home on tap. I am grateful for warm showers and baths, for firewood to burn in our free-standing stove in one section of the house, and for warm baseboards fed by the boiler that heat the whole house. These creature comforts, though we all seem to take them for granted, are better than the castles of old Europe that lacked even the barest of these necessities in years gone by. I am grateful that I live better than the crown heads of Europe used to live.

I am grateful for transportation to get me wherever I wish to travel when and if it is possible. Cars and trucks that work, airplanes that fly, trains and buses are readily available to us. We aren't that many years removed from horses and buggies.

I am grateful today for Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's talk in the October 2020 General Conference. We reviewed it in our Zoom priesthood meeting this morning. It is entitled "Waiting on the Lord," and Elder Holland emphasizes that we are not always privy to the timetable of the Lord. We often petition the Lord for blessings, and sometimes in the cases of chronic illness or physical pain those pleas seem to go unanswered for many years. I give thanks for the assurances that our prayers are always answered. 

"I offer you my apostolic promise that [your prayers] are heard and they are answered, though perhaps not at the time or in the way we wanted. But they are always answered at the time and in the way an omniscient and eternally compassionate parent should answer them. . .

"He administers that calendar to every one of us individually. For every infirm man healed instantly as he waits to enter the Pool of Bethesda (see John 5:2-9), someone else will spend 40 years in the desert waiting to enter the promised land. (See Numbers 32:13; Deuteronomy 2:7; Joshua 5:6)."

Give Thanks, Flood the World with Gratitude

 

Yesterday President Russell M. Nelson offered his prescription for dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic sweeping across the world and spiking here at home in Utah. His secret formula: 1) Flood the world with personal expressions of gratitude for the next seven days, and 2) offer up sincere and humble prayer daily.

That may sound too simplistic to some, but he explained in another news release that this idea hit him in the middle of the night and he followed through on the impression the next morning. He offered his own prayer for all the world to witness as he concluded his message.

So I will begin my personal "Thanksgiving Journal," Day 1: I #givethanks first and foremost to my beloved companion of over 50 years, Patsy. That's her, above (third from the left), in a four-generation picture on the snowy day of grand-daughter Ashley John's sealing at the Mt. Timpanogos Temple. She has the faith of a pioneer woman. I've often teased her that she was born 200 years too late. It was her leadership in mustering the faith of everyone in our family and our ward to see me through the episode of my meningioma diagnosis and subsequent brain surgery. She would have been at the top of my list in any event, but this latest example merely burnishes her place in all our hearts, especially mine.

I #givethanks for the knowledge of my Father in Heaven and His Only Begotten Son, our Redeemer Jesus Christ. But for the Savior's atoning sacrifice and Joseph Smith's humble prayer, we would be without hope in this world for the world to come.

I am constantly pondering what my life would be like without the Prophet Joseph Smith. As he opened the last dispensation of the gospel of Jesus Christ in these last days his faithfulness and persistence were astounding by anyone's calculations. Even his enemies seem to have been silenced to some degree as the monumental publication of the Joseph Smith Papers puts to flight so many of the specious and scurrilous allegations that now seem frivolous. I #givethanks to Joseph in this 200th anniversary year of his First Vision of the Father and the Son in the grove of trees near Palmyra, New York on a spring morning in 1820.

I #givethanks to God for the organization of His church, the only true and living church on the face of the earth today - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Its genius organizational design and flexibility for growth worldwide is expanding its reach day by day as we gather the house of Israel on both sides of the veil.

I #givethanks for a living and loving prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, who continues unabated to give guidance and loving counsel to all the world. His gentle "invitations" are just that - calculated to offer a welcoming hand of fellowship to all who will respond with obedience and sacrifice. He is absolutely a man to match the mountains that surround us in the tops of the mountains of Utah.

This Thanksgiving season will be different because we are living in a COVID-19 pandemic. I hope we can remember that it's not to be measured as successful based upon the number who normally would gather around our table for dinner. Rather, this year let us measure ourselves based upon the depths of our gratitude for all the blessings a loving Heavenly Father has showered upon us.

I am greatly blessed for the return of my brain this year. How grateful I am for the advances of medical science that made possible the intrusion into my skull to excise that meningioma tumor. I #givethanks not only for skilled physicians and a talented medical team to support them, but most of all for the Great Physician who has made the healing so complete and perfect.

I think I am ready to even #givethanks for the brain tumor, now removed, that has put me in remembrance as never before of all the blessings I have received.

Fate of America Not Riding on November 3rd 2020 Election

I have been restrained by a self-imposed aversion to politics in more recent years, but I want to associate myself with a recent poll conducted by Scott Rasmussen and published this morning in the Deseret News. He maintains in his polling that culture in America always leads and that politicians lag far behind, yet it seems the politicians always garner the most publicity and in my opinion it is unwarranted.

The title of the article is "The fate of America will not be decided on Nov. 3." We are all bombarded in election cycles by the Red Team and the Blue Team, and no, we're not talking here about the U of U and BYU. The transitory nature of politics is nothing we should be investing in if we are sane citizens. 

There are types and shadows of former inhabitants of this land documented for our review in the Book of Mormon, and as a Church we have recently studied their disastrous fates in the Come Follow Me outlines when those earlier inhabitants were decimated by internal civil wars. We can be smarter than they if we will choose a better path.

Rasmussen has a lot of interesting findings in this latest poll. Among them:

- many voters agree with my key underlying assumptions: 69% agree that politicians aren’t nearly as important as they think they are

- 57% share my view that the culture leads and the politicians lag behind

- earlier polling showed that 76% recognize that American society isn’t nearly as polarized as American politics

- 71% of white voters agree that politicians aren’t nearly as important as they think they are

- that view is shared by 67% of Black voters and 64% of Hispanic voters

- 58% of Democrats agree that the culture leads and politicians lag behind

- so do 56% of Republicans and 55% of independents

- a strong majority of every measured demographic group believes American politics is more polarized than American society.

"For me," observes Rasmussen, "those views are consistent with a belief that almost all positive change in America begins far from official Washington and outside of the political process. That’s the story of America. Whether we look at the struggles for independence, women’s suffrage, civil rights or any other great movements, they began and grew in the popular culture. They rumbled beneath the surface and gained strength long before overcoming the resistance of our political system."

How refreshing is that? A voice of reason at long last, reverberating through the souls of most Americans who know what politicians always seem to ignore. There is a collective wisdom associated with the average American that far transcends the collective wisdom of Washington insiders. 

Just take a look at what they did with Social Security. Remember the "lock box" that was designed to keep the funds invested by those average Americans out of the hands of the spendthrift politicians? Yeah, we all know how that worked out, don't we? Now those trust funds are nothing more than a part of the general fund for spending amounting to trillions in deficits with no end in sight. The runaway spending freight train will not stop, it now appears, until it comes to the end of the tracks overlooking that vast chasm up ahead. Nobody in this election cycle has even mentioned a balanced budget. 

But let's not focus on the negative, something that is so easy to do.

"So," concluded Rasmussen, "I am not counting on the Red Team or the Blue Team to swoop in and save the day. That’s not their job. Yes, elections do matter. But there’s more to life and the nation than politics and elections."

Let me underscore that conclusion by my own observations. The POTUS cannot be held responsible for everything that happens or does not happen during their administrations. George W. Bush was handed his head politically over the government's seemingly inept response to the Katrina hurricane that hit New Orleans several years ago. Lyndon Johnson was blamed for not ending the Vietnam War sooner, and decided not to run for re-election. Jimmy Carter was guilty of surrendering in the war against the American economy triggered by Middle East aggression over oil prices, and went on to lose in a landslide election to Ronald Reagan. More recently, Donald Trump has been pilloried for the government response to handling the COVID-19 pandemic? Who in their right minds could possibly ascribe responsibility for all these happenings to one occupant of the Oval Office? That is the very definition of insanity - to think that a single individual could muster that much power to affect events outside their control.

And yet, we want to believe in some altered parallel universe that it is still possible. That's insane.

We live in a day when we are among a diverse and culturally heterogenous society. As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints we are in the boat with everyone, and we are a tiny little faction in the whole fabric of God's tapestry worldwide. We will be in for a raucous and rough ride from here on in until the Second Coming of the Lord. Things will unquestionably get worse before they get better.

"These are days of great spiritual danger for this people. The world is spiraling downward at an ever-quickening pace. I am sorry to tell you that it will not get better.

"I know of nothing in the history of the Church or in the history of the world to compare with our present circumstances. Nothing happened in Sodom and Gomorrah which exceeds the wickedness and depravity which surrounds us now.

"Satan uses every intrigue to disrupt the family. The sacred relationship between man and woman, husband and wife, through which mortal bodies are conceived and life is passed from one generation to the next generation, is being showered with filth.

"Profanity, vulgarity, blasphemy, and pornography are broadcast into the homes and minds of the innocent. Unspeakable wickedness, perversion, and abuse — not even exempting little children — once hidden in dark places, now seeks protection from courts and judges. . .

"The sins of Sodom and Gomorrah were localized. They are now spread across the world, wherever the Church is. The first line of defense — the home — is crumbling. Surely you can see what the adversary is about." (President Boyd K. Packer, "On the Shoulders of Giants," BYU, J. Reuben Clark Law Society devotional, 28 February 2004, 7-8).

President Dallin H. Oaks in April of 2004, spoke at General Conference in a similar vein:

"We are living in the prophesied time 'when peace shall be taken from the earth' (D&C 1:35), when 'all things shall be in commotion' and 'men’s hearts shall fail them' (D&C 88:91). There are many temporal causes of commotion, including wars and natural disasters, but an even greater cause of current 'commotion' is spiritual.

"Viewing our surroundings through the lens of faith and with an eternal perspective, we see all around us a fulfillment of the prophecy that 'the devil shall have power over his own dominion' (D&C 1:35). Our hymn describes 'the foe in countless numbers, / Marshaled in the ranks of sin' (“Hope of Israel,” Hymns, no. 259), and so it is.

"Evil that used to be localized and covered like a boil is now legalized and paraded like a banner. The most fundamental roots and bulwarks of civilization are questioned or attacked. Nations disavow their religious heritage. Marriage and family responsibilities are discarded as impediments to personal indulgence. The movies and magazines and television that shape our attitudes are filled with stories or images that portray the children of God as predatory beasts or, at best, as trivial creations pursuing little more than personal pleasure. And too many of us accept this as entertainment.

"The men and women who made epic sacrifices to combat evil regimes in the past were shaped by values that are disappearing from our public teaching. The good, the true, and the beautiful are being replaced by the no-good, the 'whatever,' and the valueless fodder of personal whim. Not surprisingly, many of our youth and adults are caught up in pornography, pagan piercing of body parts, self-serving pleasure pursuits, dishonest behavior, revealing attire, foul language, and degrading sexual indulgence.

"An increasing number of opinion leaders and followers deny the existence of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and revere only the gods of secularism. Many in positions of power and influence deny the right and wrong defined by divine decree. Even among those who profess to believe in right and wrong, there are 'them that call evil good, and good evil' (Isa. 5:20; 2 Ne. 15:20). Many also deny individual responsibility and practice dependence on others, seeking, like the foolish virgins, to live on borrowed substance and borrowed light.

"All of this is grievous in the sight of our Heavenly Father, who loves all of His children and forbids every practice that keeps any from returning to His presence."

Those are but two examples from a host of prophetic warnings about the specific conditions in which we live. In my experience the living prophets among us have been warriors of truth, not counting the "political coin of the realm" before speaking out. It has ever been thus, and it will ever be so in the days ahead.

Here is President Russell M. Nelson giving counsel to us on the day he was sustained in a Solemn Assembly as the Prophet, Seer and Revelator:

"I urge you to stretch beyond your current spiritual ability to receive personal revelation, for the Lord has promised that 'if thou shalt [seek], thou shalt receive revelation upon revelation, knowledge upon knowledge, that thou mayest know the mysteries and peaceable things — that which bringeth joy, that which bringeth life eternal.' (D&C 42:61).

"Oh, there is so much more that your Father in Heaven wants you to know. As Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught, 'To those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, it is clear that the Father and the Son are giving away the secrets of the universe!' (Neal A. Maxwell, “Meek and Lowly” [Brigham Young University devotional, Oct. 21, 1986], 9, speeches.byu.edu).

"Nothing opens the heavens quite like the combination of increased purity, exact obedience, earnest seeking, daily feasting on the words of Christ in the Book of Mormon, (2 Nephi 32:3) and regular time committed to temple and family history work.

"To be sure, there may be times when you feel as though the heavens are closed. But I promise that as you continue to be obedient, expressing gratitude for every blessing the Lord gives you, and as you patiently honor the Lord’s timetable, you will be given the knowledge and understanding you seek. Every blessing the Lord has for you — even miracles — will follow. That is what personal revelation will do for you.

"I am optimistic about the future. It will be filled with opportunities for each of us to progress, contribute, and take the gospel to every corner of the earth. But I am also not naïve about the days ahead. We live in a world that is complex and increasingly contentious. The constant availability of social media and a 24-hour news cycle bombard us with relentless messages. If we are to have any hope of sifting through the myriad of voices and the philosophies of men that attack truth, we must learn to receive revelation.

"Our Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, will perform some of His mightiest works between now and when He comes again. We will see miraculous indications that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, preside over this Church in majesty and glory. But in coming days, it will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.

"My beloved brothers and sisters, I plead with you to increase your spiritual capacity to receive revelation." (President Russell M. Nelson, "Revelation for the Church, Revelation for Our Lives," Ensign May 2018).

And so, I end where I began this post - there is no need to get caught up in the rhetoric of the political free-for-all that pummels us each election cycle in America. Take for your guide instead the admonition of a living prophet and seek to increase your personal revelation through the Holy Ghost. I am a witness that miracles do and will happen as we petition the Lord in faith, even though it may take much longer than we anticipate. But the answers will and do come. 

President Nelson reminds us we must "patiently honor the Lord's timetable." Remember that America, for all her faults and weaknesses is made up of average folks like you and me who do their level best to make individual and wise decisions about their lives in the best way they know how. Let's respect one another despite whatever differences may exist among us.

Let us learn to disagree better, maybe not less.

Patience, Not Anger, Eventually Wins Out

 About thirty-one years ago we added a large two-story addition to our original cabin structure in Pine Valley. It was late in November when we commenced construction, and getting the addition framed up and closed in before winter was our primary concern. 

We contacted the power company (then Utah Power & Light, now Rocky Mountain Power) to move the buried primary power cable running through the valley, and waited a week after three failed attempts at getting a response from them. Each day the temperature dropped, and the footing and foundation contractor told me he would have to move ahead, or cancel and wait until next spring. He was getting worried about pouring the cement in the winter months because of falling temperatures. 

After no response from the power company, except for shallow promises, "We'll get right on that," we decided to move ahead with a work around solution. The cement contractor fashioned a PVC collar to fit around the two-inch power cable where it would go through the two foundation walls and allow the power cable to run through our crawl space in the new addition. Problem solved, or so we thought.

Construction proceeded, we did in fact get the structure finished and closed in before the winter's fury descended upon us, and for those thirty-one years we have lived with that power cable in our crawl space. These are the things one does when you live where we live.

Fast forward thirty-one years. Despite several additional attempts to get the attention of the power company over the years, nothing was ever done until last week. We heard a knock at the door, and opened to greet a crew chief from Rocky Mountain Power who let us know they were on our property to inspect where the main power line was so that additional work around us could be accomplished. Blue stakes had marked the existing line with red paint and little red flags, and the crew chief was simply asking if the markings that showed the line running under our addition could possibly be accurate. I assured him they were, then he asked, "Could we go down in the crawl space and take some pictures of the line?" 

He took the pictures back to the office, and his parting words were, "I can't believe the power company has left this situation unaddressed for thirty-plus years. I don't know if we can get to it right away but certainly by next spring we'll move that line out around your home to the east, cut the existing cable and remove it from under your home." 

Imagine my surprise when I awoke the next day to find trucks, track hoes, dump trucks, and a large crew of men from the power company's subcontractor who were ready to go to work on rerouting the line. We walked the ground and agreed on the new trench location for the cable, and they explained they would bury the conduit in the ground that day and a crew from Rocky Mountain Power would follow up the first of this week and pull new cable and install a new terminal transformer box on our north property line. The speed, efficiency and accuracy with which they worked was impressive.

Turned out, when he got back to the office with the pictures, it was concluded quickly by the crew chief's boss, Mitch, that this was a project that leaped to the top of the list of priorities. He was good friends with two of our sons, Jake and Rich, who had lived in Mitch's neighborhood over in Heber City, and they had played together on the same Church basketball team and won a regional tournament together. He said to me when we met, "You've raised two great sons there, who have become great men. When I learned this was your home and the home where they had been raised, I was determined to make this happen sooner rather than later." It is good be the father of great sons, I thought to myself once again.

Last night, Mitch and his crew from Rocky Mountain Power arrived around 6:30 p.m., and confirmed they were there to pull the new cable through the buried conduit and make the new connections. They worked on it for about four hours, and we were only without power for about five minutes while they made the connections at both ends of the new cable in the junction boxes. When Mitch came up from the crawl space with the cable neatly coiled up in his hands, he said, "Well, promise kept after thirty-one years - we've taken out that 7200-volt power line from under your house and moved it safely away from you and your family."

The point of my telling this story is simple. Sometimes life presents us with experiences where we have choices. We can either huff and puff and threaten to blow down someone's house, or we can choose to be patient and civil, waiting for future events to unfold as they always will when truth rises to the top as cream rises in a bucket of fresh milk. And no, I will not be suing Rocky Mountain Power any time soon, and no, sitting on that 7200-volt power line for 31 years did not cause my brain tumor.

In this political election season in America, let us all be patient with one another and our politicians. Let us not be pouters or rioters. Let us, instead, be civil and patient with each other. America is the land where God chose to set the events in motion that would be hundreds of years unfolding in the ongoing restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Israel is being gathered from the four corners of Earth's expanse, and that work will take some time to complete. Be patient. "Let God Prevail," as President Russell M. Nelson has reminded us recently.

And just like the power company that fulfilled all its promises some thirty-one years later, God will yet fulfill all His promises too. (See Doctrine & Covenants 1:37). America will not fail in this political season, just as it has not failed in prior election seasons. Sometimes it just takes a little while to fulfill the promises the way we had hoped.

Open Letter to My Family

Dear Family -

In the years ahead you will no doubt be telling stories about lessons learned during this COVID-19 laced year of 2020. What will you be telling each other twenty or thirty years from now? Will you recall how the world seemingly shut down over night because of that little virus cell that turned deadly? Will you recall how the pandemic seemed to split families apart or drove them closer together? Will you be saying that it was all over-hyped and that it was a government controlled hoax in an election year? Or will you be recounting the many advantages that you gleaned for closer family togetherness?

Whatever you envision happening to you in the future years as you tell your stories, I would hope that you found some pearls along the COVID-19-strewn pathway. Pandemics are nothing new. We have witnessed them before, and we have overcome them too. Those who have lost loved ones during this pandemic will not soon easily forget the memories. I read a story about a young daughter whose mother is now in the ICU on a ventilator barely clinging to life this week. The mother was a beloved school teacher who welcomed her students back, eager to re-engage with them, only to be struck down by the virus. When interviewed, the daughter admitted that neither she nor her mother had taken all the warnings very seriously about the deadly virus. Now the daughter is pleading for prayers and faith in a miracle that her mother's life might be saved.

I've had friends who contracted the virus and were hospitalized, only to die a few days later. I never thought I would be the one who needed brain surgery until it was me who needed brain surgery, and all that happened during the pandemic. I will forever remember 2020, not as a throw-away year, but as a year full of lessons to increase my faith and to return me to wellness. I will forever remember it as a year when I drew closer to my Savior and His healing power. I will remember the love and the solicitude of my family who fasted and prayed for my welfare, when hope for a full recovery seemed more like a Pollyanna wish than anything else. I will remember how valued our technology was so that we could remotely and virtually enjoy baptisms, baby blessings and welcome home missionaries. 

I will also remember a living loving Prophet, President Russell M. Nelson who has been uniquely qualified because of his medical background to lead the Church during this time. He has said of himself that he is a man of science, but he is foremost a man of faith. 

I will remember how precious the temple became to me as I recited the words of the temple ordinances I had memorized while I was serving as an ordinance worker. I heard those precious words replaying in my mind as I was recovering from surgery, and I was reminded how precious you all are to me. I will always remember how important each of you is to me, and I will forever cherish my relationship with each one of you.

As the Church has begun leading the way carefully back to more normalized worship services each week and gradually reopening the temples, and as governments continue to grapple with the best practices in health care advisories, I have also begun re-thinking what our approach should be as a family as we enter the fall and winter season of family traditions we hold so dear. 

I might have scared you all away with setting some boundaries over travelling to Woodland to be with us. I was responding to an abundance of caution suggested by the medical team who treated me. I have been growing stronger each day, and now feel it is time to consider easing restrictions for us too. Merilee hasn't seen us for a year. It's time to re-evaluate, perhaps, how we might follow the guidance of our living Prophet and still remain safe while interacting with one another.

I hope we may all continue to learn valuable lessons from this year that we can share in some future day with our children and grandchildren. Even in the most extreme circumstances we can exercise our faith in the Savior, have hope in a glorious future, make memories together, and develop the love of Christ in our hearts for all those around us. 

At the very least, let us love one another as never before. Sometimes that's even a virtual long-distance kiss over face time on your smart phone.

Love and blessings to all of you,

Mom and Dad

Hope In The Unknown Future

This morning I was led to the homepage of CNN. I scrolled through the stories to discover four major themes - wildfires raging through California and other western states, flooding in Washington D.C., hurricanes in record numbers forming out in the Atlantic Ocean with Hurricane Sally taking dead aim at New Orleans (again!), and the ongoing drama associated with COVID-19. All bad news. If we lived our lives daily by ingesting nothing but the cable news channels and knew nothing of Heavenly Father's love for His children, we would of all men and women be devoid of hope for the future. I didn't even mention the political divide in this country, nor the hundreds of earthquakes that happened last week in Yellowstone Park.

I am asked all the time about my views on the nearness of the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. I will say this about that - yes, there is a heap of bad news associated with the times of the last days. We read 3 Nephi 6-7 this morning in our daily study of the Book of Mormon. Types and shadows of our day, to be sure. The true followers of Jesus Christ were constantly trying to contain the Gadianton robbers without success. Converts were won, then lost as deceptions grew. Satan was at the heart of the dissensions. "Now the cause of this iniquity of the people was this - Satan had great power unto the stirring up of the people to do all manner of iniquity, and to the puffing them up with pride, tempting them to seek for power, and authority, and riches, and the vain things of the world." (3 Nephi 6:15). We learn in verse 14 that the inequality among the people was so great "that the church began to be broken up."

That's the first of the three great breakups we learn about in this portion of the history of the people of Nephi. Can you guess the second one? In 3 Nephi 7:2 we learn "they did destroy the government of the land." One wonders how close we might be to that fulfillment in our day. The Nephite record is but a type and a shadow of our own day. "Now all this was done, and there were no wars as yet among the people because they did yield themselves unto the power of Satan." (3 Nephi 7:5). 

The third breakup comes just before the coming of the Lord among the Nephites and the Lamanites. As one might suspect at this point, "the face of the whole earth became deformed, because of the tempests, and the thunderings, and the lightnings, and the quaking of the earth." (3 Nephi 8:17).

During those years in the Nephite history there must have surely been eye witnesses to the signs and the wonders going on all around them, yet we see how quick they were to forget and to be seduced by Satan's devilish minions who were sowing the seeds of discontent and unbelief and deceiving those who were the very elect of God if it were possible. (See D&C 45:56-59).

We who live in our time are also eyewitnesses to the miracles and the power of the Almighty. Whether it be fires, floods, earthquakes or overflowing scourges of viral pandemics, remember that all this shall be but a foretaste of that which will yet be on the earth before the Second Coming. You don't need me or anyone else to tell you how close they think the Second Coming might be. Get the Spirit of the Holy Ghost into your heart and let the Spirit guide you. If you do that the promise is that "they shall not be hewn diown and cast into the fire, but shall abide the day." (D&C 45:57).

I am a living witness that miracles are still happening in our day. We are on the covenant path as a people, and God will yet show forth many more signs and wonders than we can possibly imagine before He comes again. Our Father in Heaven loves His children - all of them - and He wants them all home with Him once again. He will lengthen out the days for as long as possible to allow as many of those as possible who are rebellious to come back into the fold. 

Prayer, The Access To Heaven's Portal

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed
The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast. (Hymns, No. 145)

The words of that familiar hymn have been impressed upon my mind this week. From the dawn of creation prayer has given all of God's children direct access to Him. Prayers do not go through some intermediary like the Virgin Mary, the Savior Jesus Christ, or the beads of a rosary. Prayers are direct communication with our Heavenly Father, even the Great Elohim. We pray to God the Father in the name of God the Son, by the power of God the Holy Ghost. Prayer is the universal language between God and His children. It matters not what color our skin, which nationality we claim or which denomination. The clean, the unclean, the rich, the poor, the mighty and the humble all have an open invitation to pray. All that is necessary is the desire to reach out to our Higher Power for help, anytime, anywhere, and in whatever circumstance we find ourselves.

It was the Apostle Paul who reminded us:

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." (Hebrews 3:16, emphasis mine).

Paul has admonished us to have faith in the perfection of Christ's atoning sacrifice for all His Father's children in these words:

"For verily he took not on him the nature of angels; but he took on him the seed of Abraham.

"Wherefore in all things it behooved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of the people.

"For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted." (Hebrews 2:16-18).

The Book of Mormon prophet Alma assures us, speaking of Christ's mortal ministry:

"And he shall go forth suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.

"And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities." (Alma 7:11-12).

The Greek equivalent of "succor" is literally "to run quickly to help." Christ descended below all things as a mortal so He would know HOW to succor us when we encountered situations in which we need to cry out in our desperation for help.

Of course, prayer is also a way in which we can thank our Heavenly Father for all our blessings in acknowledgement of His abundant blessings we enjoy during our sojourn in mortality. There are so many people who ignore this facet of the diamond of prayer. It's easier perhaps to cry out in need when things are going badly, but much harder to remember God in the days of our abundance and prosperity. The Book of Mormon is replete with stories about those who turned to God in need, then forgot Him in the very moment they were blessed and turned away.

Try this experiment sometime. When you kneel to pray, spend your time on thanking Heavenly Father for all your blessings, and name them one by one. Don't simply go down your checklist of prayer requests, instead, confine yourself to acknowledging all the blessings you have observed in your life. See how long you can stay in the attitude of prayer. Then when you arise from your knees go about your day with a song in your heart and continue counting your blessings. I would hope you develop a new appreciation for all that God has done to bless you, and cease to view Him as a heavenly vending machine for blessings.

One of my contemporary heroes was always Hugh Nibley. Toward the end of his interview called Faith of An Observer, Nibley concluded that all he learned during his life (and it was a prodigious amount of knowledge) could be summarized into getting really good at two things: repentance and forgiveness. When it is most difficult to forgive another, focus on your blessings and the gifts you have received from Heavenly Father. The first gift He offered to all of us was the Light of Christ, then later the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Those are gifts of inestimable value to assist us on our quest for eternal life. When you focus on gratitude and offer back that gratitude in prayer, it will be much easier to repent of our failings and to forgive others of theirs. 

"And now my beloved brethren, I have said these things unto you that I might awaken you to a sense of your duty to God, that ye may walk blameless before him, that ye may walk after the holy order of God, after which ye have been received.

"And now I would that ye should be humble, and be submissive and gentle; easy to be entreated; full of patience and long-suffering; being temperate in all things; being diligent in keeping the commandments of God at all times; asking for whatsoever things ye stand in need; both spiritual and temporal; always returning thanks unto God for whatsoever things ye do receive.

"And see that ye have faith, hope, and charity, and then ye will always abound in good works. 

"And may the Lord bless you, and keep your garments spotless, that ye may at last be brought to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the holy prophets who have been ever since the world began, having your garments spotless even as their garments are spotless, in the kingdom of heaven to go no more out.

"And now my beloved brethren, I have spoken these words unto you according to the Spirit which testifieth in me; and my soul doth exceedingly rejoice, because of the exceeding diligence and heed which ye have given unto my word.

"And now, may the peace of God rest upon you, and upon your houses and lands, and upon your flocks and herds, and all that you possess, your women and your children, according to your faith and good works, from this time forth and forever. And thus I have spoken. Amen." (Alma 7:22-27).

Today our youngest grandson was blessed and given his name by his father Michael Litchfield in a home of his aunt on the shores of Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. The blessing was attended by only a hand-fold of relatives from among a huge extended family on both sides. How grateful we were today for the miracle of face-time technology that permitted us to listen in  and watch remotely from many miles away. Nolan Michael Litchfield was blessed by his father in the authority of the Holy Priesthood, not merely prayed over, and it was a beautiful and powerful blessing. 

Tonight, as we do every night, we will thank our Heavenly Father once again upon bended knees in prayer for the blessing of a righteous posterity. Truly we have been blessed abundantly, and we rejoice!

(Look for Mark Pahnke, the handsome young man in a yellow tie, who is also our nephew).

Eternity in the Making

The morning of December 19, 1969 dawned crisp and clear in Salt Lake City, Utah. I picked up my bride-to-be, Patsy Hewlett, early on our way to the Salt Lake Temple to be sealed for time and for all eternity to each other. My Grandfather, Harold B. Lee, then one of the senior Apostles in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was scheduled to officiate at the ordinance that would bind us to one another. He was very emotional during the brief ceremony, sensing, I felt, the spirits of those who would come through our union. I believe he knew the identities of each one who would come to join our family.

On another December day fifty years later in 2019 we would gather as many of our children and grandchildren as we could to participate in a sealing session in the Salt Lake Temple just before it closed for what will be an extensive four-year renovation. We were assigned to the sealing room behind the old sealing office just off the Celestial Room to perform proxy ordinances of marriage for our deceased ancestors – all family names our family had prepared. One by one we took our turns at the altar in the center of the room and relived again the morning it all began with just the two of us in 1969. This time the altar was surrounded by our cherished posterity, all of whom had been sealed as couples in previous live ordinances for themselves. The realization of that blessing pronounced upon us fifty years earlier had come to pass, fifty years in the making.

Patsy and I have been through many wonderful and challenging times together over those fifty years. Perhaps the most humbling of all has been this last several years as we sought diligently to petition our Father in Heaven for answers to my deteriorating health. The downward slide accelerated in the last six months. I know it is good to be humble without being compelled to be humble, but this last six months especially we have been compelled to be humble. Our circumstances are not unusual for most people as they grow older. Few old people I have known are afraid to die, it’s just the getting there that is so difficult.

We simply could not find that elusive answer to why I was “off” from what everyone had known me to be earlier in my life. Then the meningioma brain tumor was diagnosed, and the answer to the medical mystery was staring right back at us from the doctor’s computer screen. It was the brain that had been squeezed and compressed over a long period.

So compromised had I become pre-surgery that I calculated I was at about a 2 on a 100 scale. I had my heart and my lungs that were still functioning well – everything else had been shut down as my brain’s way of compensating to keep me alive. Simple tasks in earlier years were now seemingly impossible to accomplish. My brain told me I could do these things – I had always done these things – but I had lost the ability to do them. My doctor had told me, “Anybody can exercise for ten minutes a day,” and I agreed in principle to that statement. I had gone for much longer periods of heavier exercise before. But I couldn’t do it anymore. I could barely get out of bed, and then I wobbled badly on my weak leg muscles.  

Post-surgery I wasn’t much better for three weeks. I was childlike. I had to master the control of my bladder and my bowels again like a little child in diapers, and I was wearing adult diapers. I was compelled to be humble. I had to learn to eat for myself again. I had to learn to balance and to walk again, at first mastering only a few steps to the bathroom and back using a walker for balance. I couldn’t do any of those things I had always done until my brain fog cleared and the blood clot that occupied the space where the tumor had been in my brain at the incision spot had dissipated. It took about three weeks.

Now our prayers have been fully answered. I have been cured and I have been healed. Humility is now once again a choice for me.

Fifty years is a long time to be married to the same person. It’s a golden time in our lives now. That’s why no one knew me better than Patsy, and why her instincts (impressions of the Spirit) could not be dismissed so easily. She knew me better than I knew myself, and she certainly knew me better than all the doctors and their scientific training. Once they listened to her and responded to her demands for the MRI, the source of our long struggle for answers was finally revealed.

We have been studying together the outlines of the Book of Mormon chapters in Come Follow Me. We are now into the book of Helaman. There is a constant ebb and flow among the Nephites and Lamanites at this point in their history. One year the Lamanites are repenting and receiving great blessings from the Lord, then they become prideful. Another year the Nephites are repenting, and they become more righteous than the Lamanites and they are blessed continually. Then this one verse leaps out as a pattern scripture for us to learn to live by, whether we are “Lamanites” or “Nephites:”

Nevertheless they did fast and pray oft, and did wax stronger and stronger in their humility and firmer and firmer in the faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation, yea, even to the purifying and the sanctification of their hearts,  which sanctification cometh because of their yielding their hearts unto God. (Helaman 3:34).

My children are old enough now to see some of their friends who were once faithful members of the Church begin leaving and taking their families with them into the wilderness of apostasy because they have “done their research” and learned about “facts” they were never taught in the Church. They often come to me with their stories about their friends who have left, and they are saddened by the stories they read on their friends’ social media pages about their reasons for leaving. I encourage my children to be patient and to try to be like Heavenly Father. Can you imagine Him pacing around His throne wringing His hands over every soul who turns away for a season? Having vouched safe the moral agency of His children from the beginning and put a Redeemer in place to assure the demands of justice are fully satisfied through mercy conditioned upon the repentance of His children, He waits patiently for the fruits of the vineyard to come forth in the glorious harvest He envisions for each of His children. That’s the perspective we must have too – be patient and wait for the harvest that will surely come.

Mormon uses a phrase “thus we see” as an editorial comment in his editorial work of summarizing the records:

Yea, we see that whosoever will may lay hold upon the word of God, which is quick and powerful, which shall divide asunder all the cunning and the snares and the wiles of the devil, and lead the man of Christ in a strait and narrow course across that everlasting gulf of misery which is prepared to engulf the wicked – And land their souls, yea, their immortal souls, at the right hand of God in the kingdom of heaven, to sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and with Jacob, and with all our holy fathers to go no more out. (Helaman 3:29-30).

Let us all “lay hold” upon the word of God, slow down, turn down the noise in our busy lives, take a deep breath, ponder and pray, follow the pattern given to us as cited above, and land our souls at the right hand of God.

 We are in a war for our souls. Believe me I know that as never before. In the varied battles of life Satan takes many prisoners and inflicts many injuries and even deaths. But if we are true and faithful, we will prevail in the final battle of this war, for so it has been written and the scriptures are true. We are building for the eternities, and we are just now beginning to discern the light at the end of the long tunnel of sin and deception.

Meningioma: My Odyssey to Wellness

I am a reborn man. I have managed to live my entire life without much concern about my health. Until a car accident a few years ago I had never spent a night in a hospital. I certainly had never encountered the condition that is the subject of this blog post - MENINGIOMA.

A meningioma is a tumor that arises from the meninges - the protective membranes that surround the brain and spinal cord. Although it is technically not a brain tumor, it is included in this category because it may compress or squeeze the adjacent brain, nerves and vessels.

I learned recently that most meningiomas grow slowly over a period sometimes of many years without causing symptoms. However, in my case as the tumor grew there were never any headaches associated with my symptoms and the symptoms were manifested so randomly that I had dismissed them as simply signs of old age creeping up on me. The reality was so subtle to me that the effects on nearby brain tissue, nerves or vessels were beginning to cause serious disability. My wife Patsy is the true heroine in this story, since she could discern what was happening to me so much clearer than I.

Many visitors to this page will be aware that I have not posted for a very long hiatus. I had lost my ability to find the motivation to express my thoughts on paper. My desire to write again since my retirement has been virtually gone.

My first symptom of note was the loss of my sense of smell some seven years ago. Then I fell asleep at the wheel while driving and totaled my car against a sturdy cottonwood tree, breaking six ribs in my back. No headaches were associated with the accident so all the imaging focused on my ribs and my chest. Had they checked for brain damage in that accident with a CT scan of my brain, perhaps the tumor would have been discovered back then. But no headaches pointed to no brain involvement.

There are a number of other symptoms associated with meningioma, and I checked nearly all the boxes. At one point I was unsuccessfully treated for depression. I called on one of my dear friends who is a psychologist and we had some great conversations, but none of it was leading to a cure.

I began to experience weakness in my arms and legs. Last October as temple ordinance workers we ascended the winding staircase leading up to the Solemn Assembly Room in the Salt Lake Temple for a devotional before it closed the end of December. When I reached the top step my left knee buckled completely and I nearly fell down. Fortunately, someone reached out to catch me and steady me while I regained my balance. Again, another sign, but easily dismissed as a fluke.

Then my vision in my right eye went suddenly blurry and I had some double vision similar to the condition I had experienced before my successful intraocular lens implant surgery to remove my cataracts. A visit to the ophthalmologist and then a retinal specialist yielded no answers. They simply had no explanation for the change in vision, but at the time my optic nerve was being impacted by the meningioma tumor.

Patsy started attending my appointments with me, since she was not satisfied we were making any progress. For months she suggested to the doctors that perhaps my brain was involved somehow. But they dismissed her suggestion of a possible brain tumor since, again, I never experienced any headaches. It was a true medical mystery to most who were trying to help us unravel the meaning of the symptoms, and not seeing them tied together did not point to a single source.

By March of this year I was going downhill fast. She began keeping a log of what was really going on with me. At one point I was sleeping for twenty hours a day, eating one meal a day when she could get me up, and I failed to shower for twenty-one days in a row. Those facts, once she showed me after I was recovering from surgery appalled me. I began growing a beard. something I have rarely done in my life. I just didn't care about my personal appearance. I would learn last that loss of motivation and personality were two of the first things to go when the tumor begins taking hold.

Patsy was a model of patience and consistency throughout this long odyssey. I was unable to communicate with her on even an elemental level. Finally, in an appointment in May she insisted that the doctor order an MRI on my brain. I was becoming increasingly agitated that we didn't seem to be doing anything but experimenting with possible outcomes that were ineffective. "I am tired," I explained to the doctor, "of being treated like an experimental lab rat chasing symptoms down first this rabbit hole, then another one, and hitting dead ends." He finally relented to Patsy's demands for an MRI, and wrote the order that day.

The hospital scheduled it for Friday. We had the result on Monday. Staring back at me from the screen in the doctor's office was a large round meningioma tumor in the center of my forehead about three and a half inches in diameter. Our primary care physician apologized profusely to Patsy when he showed us the imaging. He could not be faulted, however. No one but Patsy could have thought the brain was at fault. And, remember, I never had a headache, either before surgery, during surgery or in the aftermath. I thought other people had brain tumors, certainly not me.

I was scheduled with a wonderful neurosurgeon at the University of Utah Medical Center for a consultation, and simultaneously our son Andrew, who is a resident at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, also scheduled a consult with one of his experienced neurological mentors so we could make an informed decision about how to proceed. Both doctors concurred with the diagnosis of the meningioma, and both recommended that surgery to remove the tumor as soon as possible was the right course of action. They even agreed on the methodology of how the operation should be conducted. It lasted for twelve and a half hours. When one of my old friends offered that it must have been a "minor" brain surgery since the tumor was benign, I said, "What I have learned about brain surgery is that there is no such thing as 'minor' brain surgery."

I was for three weeks afterwards in a "stupor," stumbling around blindly, unable to adequately express myself..My brain and my body refused to communicate. My son Rich was named as my personal representative for medical decisions in my advanced medical directive some years ago in the event of my incapacity. He was magnificent in his inspiration into my situation during those three weeks. Patsy, Andrew, Joe (a physical therapist son living in Washington state, who provided expert advice repeatedly), Rich and Dianne effectively helped to save my life, not to mention a cast of hundreds of medical personnel and those who fasted and prayed for our deliverance. Emily selected a surgery rehab wardrobe for me that drew rave reviews from the nurses and aides for the Hawaiian shirt she included. She also cut my hair pre-surgery and post-surgery. That's tricky when the incision extends over the top of your head from ear to ear, but she made me look presentable. My growing hair now covers the almost indiscernible scar. Allie brought pizza to Dianne's one night (which I didn't remember), and visited me every day through the window at the rehab center. To say that I had the support of my children, spouses, grandchildren and great-grandchildren would be an understatement. One of the "littles" prayed that Grandpa's brain would get fixed and that his scary face would be nice again. Those who weren't able to come to visit compiled a "scholarship fund" for Grandma and Grandpa to use for all the incidentals.

Andrew was present for both calls, and he was instrumental in helping us to decide what to do. The months and years of praying and fasting for a conclusive answer had finally arrived. "All these symptoms," explained the neurosurgeon at the U of U, "can be explained by the presence of this tumor in your brain. Once it is removed you will begin day by day to feel better. It will be some time as you regain your strength, but you will be cured." The day after surgery he declared that indeed I was cured ("We got it all"), and as he left my room after his rounding with me he thanked me for the cure. Strange, I thought, shouldn't I be thanking you for the cure?

I wanted to hug and shower him with kisses, but I didn't - you know, the COVID-19 pandemic had something to do with that. He scheduled surgery two weeks hence and May 21st was the first day of the rest of my life. There are a thousand more details, but I will spare you the drama.

Suffice it to say that I am thoroughly reborn. I have my motivation and my personality back. For those who always thought I was something of a numb skull that won't be such a good thing perhaps, but I am just now beginning to realize how wonderful life really is and how significant our relationships are. I have been talking to my friends and family, and have begun calling it "the 2020 apology tour," as I recount the withdrawn and dismissive old me who probably seemed aloof and disinterested. Some even said they thought I now hated them. But I have a ready explanation - it was the tumor talking (or not talking), not me.

I have brushed against the veil in this experience. I know that God loves all His children. I know that He is merciful, as we are reminded in Moroni's last chapter (see verse 3). I know that I have been rescued from this experience, not unlike those wonderful Book of Mormon characters like Alma and King Lamoni, who spent days in slumber, then arose to a new life. I have a renewed appreciation for our ancestors, particularly those in our immediate families who minister to our needs from the other side of the veil. I have experience with them and they are closer than you have any imagination. The atonement of Jesus Christ is real. He truly did descend below all things so He could raise us up from the depths of our sufferings in this life. All He asks is that we trade our sins for His deliverance.

As we were studying The Book of Mormon in our daughter Dianne's home during my rehab while I was working with the physical therapists, she handed me this quote from Steve Jobs, co-founder of Apple:

"You can't connect the dots looking forward, you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future."

Elder Neal A. Maxwell said it this way: "Faith in God requires faith in His timing."

I have a greater understanding of the great plan of happiness, even the plan of salvation since this latest episode in my life. Our deceased relatives are never really gone, they are as close as the next room and they are watching over us and protecting us when needed. I believe in guardian angels. I do know these things are true. I thank God for extending the expiration date on my mortal body a little longer through the expertise of skilled surgeons and the healing of the Great Physician. I hope my experience can be instructive to others who may be walking a similar path.