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.