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