What Was Patsy's Philosophy About Work?

It’s Labor Day 2023, and today’s topic is well-suited to the occasion. Patsy was an old-fashioned woman (I know that’s a shocker, but true). Her “philosophy” on work was simple - she believed in it like she believed the gospel is true, America is the land of the free, and motherhood is desirable above everything else. You could even throw in believing in the Hallmark Channel for good measure. 

Hard work was second nature to her. We have the pictures to prove her work ethic. Perhaps the most iconic was the one of her at my side up on the roof as we were nailing down the tar paper to dry it in when she was seven months pregnant. Who does that? Well, Patsy did that. She is also seen in other pics with a shovel in her hands digging in the ground between the power box across the driveway to the electrical panel mounted on the outside of the house. She was also handy with a paintbrush whenever we stained the outside of the cabin. Physical labor was not the least bit intimidating to her. She helped to plant the now-towering pine trees you can see on the property. She even helped me to nail the siding on the inside walls, and yes, those nails were all driven by a hammer one nail at a time (no nail guns in those days). She even cut the siding lengths with the circular saw as I measured and called out the numbers to her. She helped me pull wire through the walls before we were blessed with Tanner Venema. I was reminded as I was writing this chapter that she even chipped in her labor with all our lumberjack activities in the days when we cut our own firewood from the surrounding forest. She could split and cut alongside the best of us. The boys commented, “The only reason we did that was because you were teaching us how to work.” Right! And not only did she work alongside us, she always provided the delicious food for lunch and dinner. We really were engaged in building “the little house on the prairie” in those days, and we all loved it. We made quite a team as we worked together side by side.

That’s working for nothing in return, like she did in her work as a homemaker that involved cooking, making beds, endless piles of laundry, folding clothes into “piles” that were always contested, vacuuming and scrubbing the floors, cleaning toilets, taking out the trash, and sewing all manner of clothing and quilts for her children, grandchildren and other loved ones. She said she inherited her seamstress skills from Grandma Brazier, and her mother bought her the finest Bernina sewing machine back in the day, but she improved upon that talent through her diligence and hard work.

She worked tirelessly at all those tasks and loved it all because it was toiling for those she loved. She expected nothing in return for her labor. It was all given out of the abundance of her soul. I think it could be summarized by one simple sentence - she had the courage to work at the things she could change, and the patience to wait upon the things she could not change. In it all she coupled her hard work with prayer on behalf of everyone. Now that the burdens of mortality have been lifted, you can be assured she is working beyond the veil to bless us all spiritually with whatever gifts she is able to bestow.

There was a time in our marriage when she did go to work for money.
Diane and Jack Gardiner were expanding the operations of their 7-Eleven in Kamas to include a sandwich shop that opened for the lunchtime crowd. I was toiling away at trying to get Legacy Now launched, but it seemed to drag on and on without resolution. So at the invitation of Diane, Patsy went to work building sandwiches one at a time for the patrons who frequented their shop. Remember, this was long before the days of Subway and Jimmy Johns. They baked their own rolls and provided all manner of fixings for their custom sandwiches, and together they were a big hit in rural Kamas, Utah. Today, the Silver Summit Inn occupies that space in the rebuilt 7-Eleven store, but the pioneers in sandwich making were Diane and Patsy. She didn’t make much money in that enterprise, but she welcomed the challenge and they made a success at it. I would work at my desk at home, then often drive down at lunchtime to partake of their offerings. I loved her for her effort and her willingness to contribute to our family income while we were living off our savings.

It seemed Patsy never tired of working hard. In more recent years she spent increasing time with Grandma Julie as her principal caregiver. She would often drive down to the Wellington in Salt Lake City early in the morning, and it was not unusual for her to call me when she was running late in getting out of there to tell me where the dinner was in the refrigerator and give me instructions on how to heat it up and eat without her. It was another form of work, surely, but it could only be described as hard work, again given out of love for Julie and her father Lester.

St. Paul Minnesota Temple

It could be argued, and it would be hard to dispute, that she died working hard right to the end of her life. We were working hard for our deceased ancestors in the temples within days of her death. We had gone back to be with Andrew and Jessica and their children to celebrate Andrew’s completion of his five-year residency at the Mayo Clinic. We attended temples on the way out to see them, and we went to six more temples in six states in six days on our way home. She never tired of working for the salvation of the dead. In fact, she loved doing that work in the temples. We had so much fun together on that trip that it was unthinkable she was in the homestretch of her mortal journey. And it could be said that this work in the temples was anything BUT work - it was joy unsullied, and it was her final gift to me and her kindred dead.

We got news that Julie was failing after learning she had attended Dean Collette’s funeral (he was her colleague at Highland High School for many years) while we were away. We cut our trip short by a day, and hastened back home to find Julie was in a downward spiral from which there would be no return. Patsy stayed by Julie’s bedside through those remaining days and even spoke at her funeral with sister Nancy at her side. There seemed to be nothing to indicate that Patsy would soon follow Julie down to the grave. And yet, there it was right before us - two freshly dug graves within a month of each other, side by side in the Woodland Cemetery, a testament to the truth that mortal life has an expiration date for all of us, and we never know when our time might come. That said, our sorrow today is swept up in the anticipation of a joyful reunion someday in the spirit world. 

So, what was her philosophy about work? She embraced it, she thrived on it, and she taught us all by example what it looks like to work either for pay or for no pay. “Work we must,” wrote Hugh Nibley years ago, “but the lunch is free.” By that phrase Brother Nibley posited that work is a necessity of mortality, but our gracious and loving Heavenly Father provides a “free lunch” for all His children in the form of his love and grace for all of us regardless of our failings, sins and shortcomings when we do the best we can with what gifts we have received. 

No one embodied doing the best with what she had been given more than Patricia Brazier Hewlett Goates. She would say to all of us on this Labor Day, 2023, from her vantage point:

Improve the shining moments;

Don’t let them pass you by.
Work while the sun is radiant;
Work, for the night draws nigh.
We cannot bid the sunbeams
To lengthen out their stay,
Nor can we ask the shadow
To ever stay away. (Hymns, No. 226).

Helen Lee Goates: A Retrospective at 85

Lee Family (l to r) Fern, Helen, Maurine, Harold

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  It's also the anniversary of my mother's 85th birthday.  She passed away in April, 2000.  She was 74 years old, and we celebrated a Thanksgiving Day birthday at her home in 1999, where she was surrounded by family.  We held her funeral the day before Easter, 2000.  Flowers were blooming, spring was in the air, and the promise of life's renewal was everywhere present. 

Since then, I've been gently cajoled several times to write something in tribute to her life.  I've deferred far too long.  Today seems like a good time to tickle the keyboard of my laptop and reminisce a bit.  Bear with me, please.

Mom was the second daughter of Harold B. Lee and Fern Lucinda Tanner Lee.  She was born on November 25, 1925.  They had two daughters and Auntie Mar was the elder of the two.  As a result they were a close family.  Mom and Auntie Mar learned how to play the violin and piano respectively, and during the years they grew up were constantly sharing their talents with others.  They played together in every single Mormon chapel in Salt Lake City in those years.

My memories of my childhood begin and end with our shared times with the Wilkins cousins.  It seems every holiday was spent with them.  Those two sisters were inseparable and so were we as their children.  They lived in Provo, we lived in Salt Lake.  The BYUtah rivalry was played out in backyards and driveways with hoops in both cities in every sport as we grew up.  It was mostly innocent fun, not nearly as "life and death" as it seems to be nowadays.  The saddest time of all was the parting -- we begged for "trading cousins" every time.

My mother was an exceptional homemaker.  I'm not certain how the divine plan worked the way it did.  These two exceptional mothers, daughters of a prophet, were saddled with eight boys among them and only two daughters -- one for each.  That they patiently bore our schemes and antics as boys is remarkable, since neither had much experience with boys until we came along.  Jane and Martsy, however, became the embodiment of their respective mothers.  They were the leaven in the lumps of clay -- the older and younger brothers who tormented them.  We might justly take at least some credit for the way they both turned out.  They are angels, polished and burnished in the rough and tumble of obnoxious brothers, no doubt.

Mom was resigned at some point, I suppose, to the need for help around the house.  As her oldest son, I was shown the finer points of homemaking.  That included washing windows, scrubbing floors, cleaning toilet bowls, sinks, bathtubs and showers, vacuuming and even ironing sheets!  Her philosphy, instilled within me at an early age was to always leave things better than I found them.  That carried over into my work in my career and the Church, and even when I was in airplane restrooms.  I always heard that little voice, "Leave it better than you found it," which included cleaning the basin and the small counter so it would be better for the next person.  Back in the day before "permapress" was invented she had a roller iron contraption and taught me how to iron the bedsheets by feeding them into the jaws of the hot iron pressed against the roller, controlled by foot pedals and hand controls.  It was an interesting invention to have to master, but we boys did it in turn.  Taking the wrinkles out with that flat iron gave one the sense of accomplishment and measurable improvement.  It was a lifelong lesson in satisfaction for having done something to improve the way I found it.

We had a "Behavior Record" that was posted on a prominent cupboard in the kitchen for all to see.  "Good marks" were scored at the top of the list, moving down -- 1 through 10 -- each week.  A brief description was written by Mom.  "Bad marks" were scored from the bottom up, blacking out the numbers and subtracting a penny for each "bad mark" registered.  That's how the allowances were paid, and of course, because Mom was the sole adjudicator of what was right and wrong in our home during the day, Dad was able to ascertain by a quick glance at the "scorecard" how well his sons were treating their mother and their siblings.  It wasn't always a pretty picture.

At home night on Monday evening the pennies were counted out.  For extra good behavior noted during the week a subjective star was awarded beside the measured good work, and sometimes for extra, extra good behavior two stars were awarded.  In the early stages the stars were worth nickels.  It was good to be good in our house!  As inflation ravaged the assumptions through the years, the stakes increased from pennies to nickels to dimes and quarters.  Remember, a Three Musketeers candy bar was only 5 cents!  I remember some adults talking about the end of the world when the price of candy bars got bumped to 10 cents!  Tithing lessons were taught early and often, and only the brightest, shiniest pennies were fit for tithing.

I loved reading with Mom at night.  We had a tradition called "Night up with Mother."  That meant in rotation one child got to stay up later than the other siblings and read with Mom.  She was a reading advocate when reading just wasn't that cool and there weren't any contests at school.  We read the classics.  She had a collection of books from which we read, including the Iliad and the Odyssey by Homer (among others) that remain among my treasured memories with her.  Mark Twain, Robert Louis Stevenson, J. M. Barrie, Robert Frost, even Mary Mapes and Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) made the "play list."  The theater of the mind, as a result, is still more visual and valid to me than the movie or television screen, even though I was a child of the sixties raised on TV.

Perhaps my favorite part of the hot summer days was "Quiet Time," another Helen Lee Goates tradition.  She passed it off as a necessity to somehow stop the spread of polio.  I've never seen any authentication for that imperative medical prophylactic, but somehow she sold it to us as valid.  At any rate, we were called home in the heat of the day to pick up a book of our choosing and spend an hour in the shade reading.  I loved it.  I learned to love reading because of my Mother's invitations.

Mom was the perfect "ying" to Dad's "yang."  They complemented each other well.  Dad was the consummate hospital administrator and Church leader, gone from home a lot during those years, while Mom was the vigilant stay-at-home Mom -- always on scene and ever-present in our lives.  I became, she told me later, her confidant when Dad wasn't there to discuss whatever was troubling her that day.  It may be the origins of cooking up sibling strategies to keep two younger brothers in line, as she enlisted my support for her mothering.  I hope by now they've both forgiven my zeal for that assignment.  Before automatic dishwashers were in vogue, we would often do the dishes together -- she washed and I dried and we talked.  I'm not certain I had much wisdom to impart, but she told me years later what a good listener I had become.  If it's true, I learned it from Mom.  Once the remodeling of the kitchen was accomplished, the dishwasher replaced me and the long talks over dishes ended.

I remember lessons at the ironing board.  We ironed our own shirts and Levis -- yeah, you heard me -- Levis!  We used to put them on "pant stretchers" after washing them, then ironed out the wrinkles and put a crease in them.  Are you kidding me?  I swear it's all true!  She stayed up with me teaching me how to darn socks before I left for England on my mission, certainly a lost art today.  When I got to the mission field I was well-trained in all the necessary survival skills.  Everything she taught me was put to use.  Laundry was always a big item at our house, and learning how to do it was a necessity.  Folding clothes and putting them away were also part of the weekly rituals.  Looking back now, I realize I was raised as the daughter she never had to begin her mothering years.

President Boyd K. Packer

 No account of my relationship with my Mother would be complete without recalling the "apricot story."  I even got in on all the fruit bottling my Mother did in the fall.  President Packer in Teach Ye Diligently reminded us of how memorable the lesson was as a result of the story President Lee told about one of his daughters (Helen) and one of her sons (yours truly).  He described the power of the story this way:

For example, take the expression "everyone loves a story," and you may see what I mean. If you have a point to put across and can illustrate it with a story, all can be taught. If you tell it in simple terms, a youngster can understand it; at the same time the oldest person may draw a great lesson from it. That is one of the reasons the Lord taught in parables. By so doing, He was teaching everybody at once, but not all of them the same lesson.

Some time ago in a meeting the Brethren were discussing motion pictures, specifically those that would strengthen the family. Someone mentioned one featuring President Harold B. Lee. "Which one?" someone asked. "There were many produced in which he appeared." One of the Brethren identified it simply by saying, "You know, the one about apricots."

Everyone nodded. That identified the film from all of the others. Why? Because in it President Lee had told an incident about his daughter canning apricots. Not wanting to be interrupted, she had almost put off her little boys who wanted help with their prayers. "But, Mommy, what is more important," one of them had asked, "prayers or apricots?"

In that film President Lee had lectured forcefully on strengthening the home, but the film is remembered as the "apricot" film. We may have missed other things, but we all got that message. Each of us was alike in remembering that.  (Boyd K. Packer, Teach Ye Diligently, 124-25).

Thankfully, the more feminine part of my nature was supplanted with the blessed arrival of a cherished daughter!  All that "girlie stuff" programming gradually gave way once Jane finally arrived.  "Elizabeth Jane," she named her -- after Queen Elizabeth of Great Britain.  It was during the 50s, and the royal family was greatly admired and held up as role models in America.  I was routinely reminded of my mother's affinity for the Queen and Prince Charles, since they had been pregnant with each of us at the same time.  My mother was heartbroken when news of his antics spread a few years ago.  She anguished for the Queen.  But the monarchy survived apparently, as new hope arises in the announcement of Prince William's engagement and his logical succession to the throne someday when Queen Elizabeth passes.  That has to tell you something about how long the Queen has been on the throne of England!

Mom was a role model among women.  They loved her for her example of righteous and concecrated motherhood and womanhood.  She was a leader among her peers, serving as the Relief Society president twice in the Federal Heights Ward, then on the General Board (twice) later in life.  After that assignment concluded she was surprised by a call to serve late in life as the stake Young Women's President.  When the call came to her, she asked, "Don't you mean Relief Society?" because that was all she had ever known.  She was assured they hadn't made a mistake and she served for three years, seeking to "spiritualize" the young women in her stake.

When she contracted ovarian cancer, she quickly arranged a dinner for her children and their companions at her home.  The diagnosis hadn't been announced, but she had a premonition something wasn't quite right.  When the diagnosis was confirmed, she was trying to pull her family back together again.  We had a three-and-one-half year protracted farewell with her.  Major surgeries and chemotherapy extended her life.  She did all she could to heal the inevitable rifts among us.  We learned to love and forgive one another because of her example.  One by one on her death bed we spent time as she quietly gave her final counsel to each.

I love my Mother.  I continue to feel her influence.  She had a way with me, and she took full advantage.  Whenever I was tempted to lie to her, she would take my face in her gentle hands and say firmly but gently, "Now David, look me in the eyes and tell me the truth."  She was the perfect combination of velvet and steel.  I couldn't ever get away with anything, it seemed.  She could pierce through my eyes into my very soul.  Nothing escaped her.  I realize now it was the power of a righteous life that aided her.  Discernment came easily to her.  She was on familiar terms with her Father in Heaven.  Her testimony of her Savior was unwavering.  Her influence, her words, her gentle touch and her inspiration continue to affect me.  I am confident there is nothing in my life of which she is unaware.  She continues to minister among us.


President Thomas S. Monson

So on the eve of this next Thanksgiving Day, falling as it does on her birthday once again, I pause to give thanks for my beloved Mother, Helen Lee Goates.  On the back of her funeral program we reprinted a letter she had written for the time capsule that was sealed in 1980.  President Thomas S. Monson quoted from that letter in a talk titled, "If Ye Are Prepared Ye Shall Not Fear," when he beautifully described her passing at a General Relief Society meeting in 2004, in these words:

As I conclude my remarks, may I share with you an experience of several years ago which depicted the strength of you dear sisters in Relief Society.

During 1980, the sesquicentennial year of the organization of the Church, each member of the Relief Society general board was asked to write a personal letter to the sisters of the Church in the year 2030 — 50 years hence. The following is an excerpt from the letter written by Sister Helen Lee Goates:

“Our world of 1980 is filled with uncertainty, but I am determined to live each day with faith and not fear, to trust the Lord and to follow the counsel of our prophet today. I know that God lives, and I love Him with all my soul. I am so grateful that the gospel was restored to the earth 150 years ago and that I can enjoy the blessings of membership in this great Church. I am grateful for the priesthood of God, having felt its power throughout my life.

“I am at peace in my world and pray that you may be sustained in yours by firm testimonies and unwavering convictions of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Helen Lee Goates passed away in April of the year 2000. Shortly before her impending death from cancer, Sister Monson and I visited with her and her husband and family. She appeared calm and at peace. She told us she was prepared to go and looked forward to seeing once again her parents and other loved ones who had preceded her. In her life Sister Goates exemplified the nobility of Latter-day Saint women. In her passing she personified your theme: “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear.”

She was well prepared for her death when she quietly slipped away.  I pray it might be said of me and all of us.