But a Small Moment

Liberty Jail Week 3

“The Liberty jail, one of the few and certainly one of the more forbidding of such structures in that region, was considered escape proof, and it probably was. It had two stories. The top or main floor was accessible to the outside world only by a single small, heavy door. In the middle of that floor was a trapdoor through which prisoners were then lowered into the lower floor or dungeon. The outside walls of the prison were of rough-hewn limestone 2 feet thick, with inside walls of 12-inch oak logs. These two walls were separated by a 12-inch space filled with loose rock. Combined, these walls made a formidable, virtually impenetrable barrier 4 feet thick.

In the dungeon the floor-to-ceiling height was barely 6 feet, and inasmuch as some of the men, including the Prophet Joseph, were over 6 feet tall, this meant that when standing they were constantly in a stooped position, and when lying it was mostly upon the rough, bare stones of the prison floor covered here and there by a bit of loose, dirty straw or an occasional dirty straw mat.

The food given to the prisoners was coarse and sometimes contaminated, so filthy that one of them said they “could not eat it until [they] were driven to it by hunger.” On as many as four occasions they had poison administered to them in their food, making them so violently ill that for days they alternated between vomiting and a kind of delirium, not really caring whether they lived or died. In the Prophet Joseph’s letters, he spoke of the jail being a “hell, surrounded with demons . . . where we are compelled to hear nothing but blasphemous oaths, and witness a scene of blasphemy, and drunkenness and hypocrisy, and debaucheries of every description."”[1]

It was under these conditions that the prisoners were to spend the next four months.  Being frustrated at the injustices forced upon them by the state and U.S. governments, by the intolerable conditions in the jail, and by their separation from family, friends, and church, the prophet began to show his true strengths.

There may be times in our own lives when it seems as though all is lost; that which we love and hold dear has been taken from us and there is nowhere to go, no one to turn to.  At times like this I want you to know that we are never alone. The Savior will help you see and understand the vision He has for you. We are His beloved children. He knows you personally and has a plan for your life. He has promised that as you live worthily, His Spirit will always be with you.  

It was in the Garden of Gethsemane when our Savior, in his hour of greatest darkness said, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death,” he then plead with the Father “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt”. Matt 26:38, 3.  But he was not left alone, “And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him”. Luke  22:43. 

When we seem most alone, we too can have angels around us; angels from heaven on high, angels in the form of family, friends, or fellow saints; even from a nudge, nuzzle or cold wet nose of your favorite pet.

After months in the Liberty Jail, Joseph wanted the work of the Lord to move forward, but he was being frustrated by his incarceration.  He wanted to be able to lead the saints, to be with his friends and family during these hard times of persecution.  Under these circumstances he pleads with the Lord for the suffering saints;  " O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?  How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, yea thy pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, and thine ear be penetrated with their cries?  Yea, O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful oppressions, before thine heart shall be softened toward them, and thy bowels be moved with compassion toward them?  O Lord God Almighty, maker of heaven, earth, and seas, and of all things that in them are, and who controllest and subjectest the devil, and the dark and benighted dominion of Sheol--stretch forth thy hand; let thine eye pierce; let thy pavilion be taken up; let thy hiding place no longer be covered; let thine ear be inclined; let thine heart be softened, and thy bowels moved with compassion toward us.  Let thine anger be kindled against our enemies; and, in the fury of thine heart, with thy sword avenge us of our wrongs.   Remember thy suffering saints, O our God; and thy servants will rejoice in thy name forever”. (D&C 121:1.)

In response to Joseph’s pleading the Lord answered “My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes”. D&C  121:7-8

“Thine afflictions shall be but a small moment”.  In the depths of our misery, grief, or misfortune, time seems to move by ever so slowly.  There is no suspension of our pain, the discomfort or agony; yet after it is all over, when we have finally crossed the chasm of our distress, we can often look back and see the truer measure of time, and that it was indeed but for a “small moment”.

Then in verse 9 the Lord tells Joseph: “Thy friends do stand by thee, and they shall hail thee again with warm hearts and friendly hand”.  Our friends are of such great comfort to us during our times of tribulation.  How often do we cry out for the acceptance, confirmation or help from a friend, and how often are we greeted with their warm hearts and friendly hands?

Within past months I have so often seen this scenario played out, where one of our Facebook friends reaches out in despair, with a cry for help or support, and time after time there are a multitude of friends who will post their “warm hearts and friendly hands”. The Lord has touched my spirit time and again, and more often than not, His touch has reached me through the hand of a friend.

Joseph wrote of his experiences in the Liberty jail; “I think I could never have felt as I now do if I had not suffered the wrongs that I have suffered”.

READ D&C Section 121:  -  http://www.lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/121?lang=eng

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[1] Jeffrey R. Holland; Lessons From Liberty Jail

Bullies

Liberty Jail Week 2

 

As seen from the Dec 1 post, the early Mormon saints suffered many persecutions during the early days of the church.  While there were various causes for these persecutions, for the most part the actions against the church were carried out by the mobs.

Mobs, gangs and bullies have these things common; they hurt, frighten, threaten, intimidate or tyrannize those who are smaller or weaker. Much of the persecutions the Mormons suffered were the result of inciting to violence by particular individuals or groups.  It is true that the local residents had some valid reasons to dislike the Mormons, but those differences were of such a nature that they could have been worked out and solved by working together and within the law.  It was a lawless element of the frontier which found opportunity to plunder and ravage for personal gain which incited the mobs and resulted in much of the persecutions.

Where are the accusing politicians of that day who persecuted the saints?  Where are the mob bullies who tyrannized without just cause; who were the members of the mob; husbands, fathers, and everyday citizens who would rather follow the inciting dialect of an enraged bully rather than even slightly scratch the surface of discovery to find truth for himself; gone, they are all gone, delegated  into the fine print of history.

“When people hurt you over and over, think of them like sandpaper. They may scratch and hurt you a bit, but in the end, you end up polished and they end up useless.”
― Chris Colfer

 

Bullying

 

Recognize Bullying

Bullying is aggressive behavior that involves unwanted, negative actions.
Bullying involves a pattern of behavior repeated over time.
Bullying involves an imbalance of power or strength.

Respond to Bullying

Stop it on the Spot
Don’t’ give Bullying an audience
Help those who are being bullied to get away
Find out what happened
Support the Kids
Be a good example

Don’t get caught up in rumor, gossip or malicious comments.

 

“You can’t be right by doing wrong,
You can’t be wrong by doing right”.
              Pres. Thomas S. Monson

 

 

Joseph Smith and the Liberty Jail

Thoughts on Liberty Jail - 1

In the early spring of 1820, Joseph Smith, a boy of 14 years of age, knelt in earnest prayer and received a vision of God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in answer to a prayer Joseph had offered as to which church he should join.

Later, after the appearance of other heavenly messengers, Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery received the proper authority from God to organize the Church of Jesus Christ again on the earth.

1830

March : Joseph Smith finished the translation of The Book of Mormon and the first copy is published.

April 6: Joseph Smith officially organizes the Church at Fayette.  (See Doctrine and Covenants 20.)

The church grows and thrives as the Lord blesses the saints, but, they are not always looked upon favorably by the surrounding communities.

The recent influx of Mormons into the state of Missouri gave the local residents cause for concern; in the summer of 1938 the number of saints in Missouri totaled fifteen thousand. 

The local residents did not know much about their new neighbors, but they could see the changes they were making to their community.

• The huge co-operative farms the Mormons had started were disturbing to the local farmers.
• Distorted reports circulating throughout the region that the Mormons were “Abolitionists” was of great concern to the Missouri slave holders.
• The bitterness of the Protestant ministers concerning the Mormons and their religious practices did much to arouse the prejudices of the community.

1833

November 22: Joseph Smith learns of the expulsion of Saints from Zion (Jackson County, Missouri) and the tragic consequences of Missouri mob action.

 

1838

Problems of various kinds had been building and by October of 1838, all-out war seemed inevitable between Mormon and non-Mormon forces in Missouri.

October 27: Responding to false and inflammatory reports that the Saints are committing aggressive actions, Governor Boggs issues his “extermination order” against them at Jefferson City, Missouri.

 

1838

November 1,

Under false pretenses Joseph Smith and other church leaders were gathered together and then turned over to General Lucas of the Missouri state militia.  The Prophet Joseph and six other church leaders were held in a military “court” convened by officers of that militia.  The decision was made that Joseph Smith and five other leaders of the church all be taken to the public square at Far West and summarily shot to death.

The order was never carried out.  General Doniphan, to whom the execution order was given, made a curt refusal:

“It is cold blooded murder.  I will not obey your order.  My brigade shall march for Liberty tomorrow morning at 8:00 o’clock; and if you execute these men I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal;, so help me God”  - A. Doniphan, Brigadier General

The execution orders were dropped but the prisoners were instead marched and ridiculed before the general populace. 

December 1

Joseph smith, Lyman Wight, Caleb Baldwin, Hyrum Smith, Alexander McRae, and Sidney Rigdon were sent to the jail at Liberty, Clay County, to await trial for treason and murder.

Wallace, Idaho

It didn’t take us long to find that Wallace is ATV country.  I guess our first indication came when we pulled into the small, narrow camping area of the Wallace RV Park, boasting 43 spaces for RV parking; there were easily forty ATV’s alone, more than a dozen mountain bikes, I counted seven children’s bikes and one golf cart, probably belonging to the park owner.  The ATV’s were either arriving, covered with dust from a hard day on the trail, getting the days dirt cleaned from it, or just parked, anticipating tomorrows trail adventure. 

Our destination in the historic town of Wallace is to take the walking tour of this historic town checking out the turn of the century architecture, such as the Northern Pacific Railroad Depot and Railroad Museum with its “elegant brick and concrete edifice, “ornate and picturesque””; the marvelous display of cast-iron cornices and pilasters; the Wallace Carnegie Library, sporting three inch thick heavy entry doors adorned with prismatic leaded glass, and then, possibly take a tour of the Oasis Bordello Museum, not to be confused with the Best Little Hair House in town, which is just across the street.   

They, on the other hand would be revving up the 350cc engines of their 4-wheel ATV’s and riding off onto the more than 1000 miles of dirt ATV trails in the area; eating dust, jumping stumps, fording the creeks, or perhaps just doing a wheelie on their Suzuki RMZ 250 as they race up the main road out of town.  We will go into the D & G Bakery and eat a pasty cinnamon roll, while they will go out on the trails and eat dirt, raw Mother Earth.

I diverge for a moment to tell you about the highlight of my whole trip; Mike Gilk.  Mike has a construction dump truck business in Winlock, WA. He, with family and friends were here for the week to eat their share of dirt on the Wallace trails.  When I first saw Mike he was knocking some of the dirt off of his Honda 350 Rancher ATV; his wife had just pulled up driving her Honda 300 FarTrax. She was so dirty that she looked like a dirt clod on wheels; must have been riding at the end of the pack. I talked with Mike for a minute, and after hearing that he was from Winlock, I couldn’t help but ask him about “the world’s largest egg”. 

Back in the old days I used to ride the Seattle to Portland bicycle ride; the STP.  The route was from the City Hall in downtown Seattle to Holladay Park in northeast Portland, a distance of 200 miles.  The “STP in a Day”, a grueling, wasting, fanatic’s ride through the picturesque backloads of Washington. One of my fond memories of the ride is when we would pass through Winlock, the “Home of the World’s Largest Egg”. http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/4033  The egg had been constructed by the city to promote the chicken farming industry.  But as Mike tells the story, there was a lot that I had missed.

The small town of Winlock had a sheriff; the sheriff had a daughter, and as most sheriffs’ daughters, she was, shall we say, a bit on the adventuresome side.  One night she had some friends steal the egg and transport it over to Mike’s and lay it on his front lawn.  Now this egg is 12 feet tall and weighs 1,200 pounds.  Then she told her dad that that dirty Mike had stolen the egg.  The trouble was that Mike and family had taken a small vacation and would not return for a week; needless to say that the joke backfired.

For the several years I had ridden the STP bike ride and I have accumulated more than one picture of me and the egg.  To have this additional history of the egg just puts the icing on the cake.

 

 

My first choice of destinations in the historic little town of Wallace was to stand right smack dab in the center of the intersection at Bank and 6^th Street; the “Center of the Universe”.  Since Wallace had humbly declared themselves to be the “Silver Capital of the World”, they had no problem also declaring that they were the probabilistic “Center of the Universe”.

One good thing we found in Wallace was the Stardust Hotel and the Red Light Garage.  I guess it was the mock UFO they had displayed out front that attracted us to it originally, but our eyes quickly focused on a large sign for “Huckleberry Ice Cream”.  We had seen about all of the “elegant brick and concrete edifice, “ornate and picturesque”” that we could take for one day, and now it was time for ice cream.  I went for the Huckleberry shake, made in one of the old time soda fountain blenders; it tasted great.

After our daily ice-cream break, we embarked on something a little different; Geocaching.  Al Hopwood pulled out his Smart Phone, equipped with all of the necessary apps, gadgets, and GPS equipment to find even the most cleverly hidden geocach treasure.  Our quest would be to find the coveted “cowcatcher” prize.  With the proper equipment and a keen sense of direction it wasn’t long before we were standing right out front of the Northern Pacific Railroad Depot and Museum, staring down at a miniature train engine, complete with cowcatcher.  Cleverly hidden out of sight under the cowcatcher was the prize.  We had won!




 

 

 Of course when Wallace you must do as the Wallaceites do; go mining.  We didn’t actually go mining; it was more like a mine tour.  The Sierra Silver Mine was initially discovered around 1900.  What seemed like a good idea at the time turned out to be a bust.  At the time all mining was done by hand, resulting in the penetration of just seventy feet into the mountainside during the first seven years of labor.

In the 1970’s the mine was used by Wallace high school as a vocational class to teach mining techniques and mine safety skills.  During just a few semesters, using modern equipment, the students extended the mine another 700 feet and opened it up as a prime tourist destination.

 

 

On our tour we were with a young mother with her two teenage sons.  She was from a long line of miners who had worked the many mines in the region.  I think that she was trying to impress upon her kids just how hard their grandparents had to work to get them where they are today and also to tell them that if they ever set foot in a mine, other than this tour, she would knock them up alongside their fool heads.

Our final destination for the day was to be the Wallace Carnegie Library.  Its Neoclassic design, a portico live bay brick structure with low-pitched roof and three inch-thick heavy entry doors adorned with prismatic leaded glass not only proclaimed that Wallace could architecturally stand head to shoulder with the rest of the world, but that Wallace was the “Silver Capital of the World”, and that it was indeed the “Center of the Universe”.

 

 

 

FISHING BRIDGE

 

Those many years ago, when I was just a little nipper, about nine years old, our dad had taken my older brother Bob and me on a camping/fishing vacation up to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming.  Dad would find us a suitable camp ground and then busy himself with putting up the tent.  Dad was a master camper and consequently I don’t ever remember him asking us boys to help set up the camp; somehow it would just miraculously appear.

Once the camp was all set up, we would immediately go out to go fishing.  Dad was an avid fly-fisherman, but before he went out for himself he would find us a good fishing hole and then he would plop Bob and I down near the bank, give us some bait for our hooks, and then we would get a short fishing lesson; “Now just toss your line in by that deep hole over there and let the bait drift down river for a while.  Why, you’ll have yourself a fish in no time”, and then he would leave us to go out and do his number one passion, fly-fishing.

Well, on this particular trip, he took us over to Yellowstone’s famous Fishing Bridge.  I say that because today we passed over that very same Fishing Bridge as we were heading for our camp site for the night.  Today though, there was not even one person fishing from the bridge.  In fact there was a sign that said “No fishing”.  I hope this is just a temporary thing; it seems a shame to name a bridge “Fishing Bridge” if you don’t allow anyone to fish from it.

 

As usual, dad took Bob and I to what he thought was the best place available on the bridge where his boys could catch a fish.  I don’t know how he decided where that spot was, since both sides on the entire length of the bridge were packed shoulder to shoulder with fishermen; grizzled old men who had been fishing all their lives, their wives who needed someone else to bait their hooks, and their kids who would get their hooks tangled up in your clothes more often than not.

After setting us down with our poles and bait, he gave us the same instructions, “Now just toss your line in there by that deep hole over there and let the bait drift down river for a while.  Why, you’ll have yourself a fish in no time”, after which he would go off and find himself a prime fly-fishing spot.

As we waited there, intent on detecting any kind of action that would indicate that there was a hungry fish sampling that tasty Salmon egg on our hooks, we listened to the other fishermen telling of how no one had even gotten a bite all day, let alone actually caught a fish. We were not to be deterred though, dad had selected this spot for us and we were going to catch ourselves a fish.

We had been there about fifteen minutes; casting our baited hooks out into the current just as dad had told us to do, then letting the line drift down stream.  As I was standing there dreaming about “the big one”, I felt an almost indiscernible tug on my line.  “I’ve got one” I yelled, immediately setting the hook and wildly starting to reel him in, all in contrast to what dad had taught us; “Let the fish savor the hook, give him a few nibbles and then one clean jerk to set the hook.  Then slowly reel him in”.  No, this was my fish and I was going to show all the rest of the fishermen on that bridge that my dad knew how to catch fish. 

That fish was literally skipping across the top of the water as I reeled him in.   “A fish”, I thought, “I’ve got myself a fish”.  As the fish was being tugged across the top of the water towards the bridge, everyone around was giving me their expert advice.  I didn’t need their advice; after all, I’m the one who caught the fish.  I finally got him up to the bridge and started to pull him up the twelve feet between the water and the top of the bridge.  He was a beauty; a flashing, twisting Rainbow, about ten inches long.  What a catch.

I had him up about four feet out of the water, soaking in every cheer and congratulation that was offered, when all of the sudden he was no longer there. He had flipped off the hook.  A collective “Oooh” arose from the entire group of fisherman on the bridge.  In that one instant, all of the instructions my dad had ever given me on how to land a fish were now racing through my mind.

That’s about all I remember about that trip; the fact that I was the only one to catch a fish off of Fishing Bridge that day.  Me, just a little kid.

If I had landed the fish that day, it probably would probably have been lost with all the other memories I have of all the other fish I have caught over the years; but that was the fish that I caught from the Fishing Bridge, the fish that no one else was able to catch that day. 

So what if he got away?  Today’s fishermen follow the catch and release rule; you catch the fish for the sport of it;  after you have landed the fish, then you let him go to swim again for another day.  I guess I was just a fisherman ahead of my time.

2012 Puget Pullers 2 Dakotas Long Trip - Day 3

Day 3

We stay two nights at Jim & Mary’s RV Park, so today we will be out and about in Missoula.  Our first destination will be the Smokejumper Visitor Center in Missoula.  With all of the forest fires in progress this summer, the place was a hubbub of activity.  As we pulled into the Visitors Center there were several jumpers outside making a final check of their gear prior to taking off in the airplane to fight a fire.  Smokejumpers are called to fight those fires that are not accessible by road or foot.  They are used in remote areas where air is the only viable means of access. 

We went on a tour of the facilities with a firefighter named Burks; very personable, very knowledgeable, and willing to share it all with us.  He had been involved in some phase of firefighting for over ten years.  He went over some of the requirements with us and we found that there is a great amount of physical stamina involved.  It is little wonder that he had such a good physique.  One requirement was that you had to be able pass a 110 lb. pack test on flat terrain in 90 minutes; both the men and the women.

Our tour through the facilities included the parachute rooms where the chutes were tested and packed, and after use they were inspected for tears and repacked.  All of these maintenance activities were shared by all firefighters, so the level of proficiency of each individual had to be of high quality.

Besides the 110 lb. pack they may have to carry, there is also the 25-30 pounds of clothing, ropes and tree climbing equipment.  When you jump out of a plane at 1300 feet in the forest, chances are that you are going to be landing in a tree.  Consequently, all jumpers also have to be skilled in tree climbing; both to get down, and also to climb backup again to retrieve the parachute.

 

 

 

As  Burks was telling us about the different jobs and responsibilities of the jumpers, the crackling from the squawk box began to  run off the list of the next round of smokejumpers to be put on the ready f or the next jump; “Marshal, Banfil, Gilman. Burks,………” 

A grin of satisfaction and anxiety crept over Burks face.  “Well after this tour is finished I guess I should start packing”. 

2012 Puget Puller 2 Dakotas Long Trip - Day 2

Day 2

The first ones in our household to get up in the morning are the dogs, and today was no exception. Even though we were on vacation, they still got us up at 6:30 AM.  Actually they got me up at 3:45 AM by letting me know that they needed to go outside and use natures restroom.  Even though we arise early we were still the last of our group to leave for our next destination.  Our departure time was 10:00 AM, at least two hours after the rest of our group had gone.  There were two routs we could take to our next campground, Jim and Mary’s RV Park in Missoula, MT.  The scenic route was 253 miles while following I-90 was just 197 miles; we opted for the shorter and faster route, a no brainer.

Leaving Cour dAlene, the road follows the shores of Lake Cour dAlene for many miles. Nestled in between hills of white pine, the crystal blue waters made this part of the route made it feel as if this route was the scenic route.  There were miles and miles of heavily wooded lush green pine trees.

Many  years ago we had taken this route on a trip to Missoula and I have vivid recollections of passing through Wallace, ID,  Wallace was a silver mining town and at the time and we passed through the sky was grey with smoke from the smelting stacks.  I was looking for the dirty town I remembered from our earlier trip, but it never appeared.  Instead was a clean, picturesque town that oozed of the kind of inviting charm that makes you want to stop in and stay a while, which is exactly what we are going to do on our return route at the end of the trip.

We had to climb over a few mountain passes on this route, the 4^th of July Pass, and Lookout Pass.  The 4^th of July pass had no fireworks and Lookout Pass was too wooded to give us much of a panoramic view of the area.  Despite the disappointment the names gave us, it was a beautiful scenic drive over both passes, even with the additional elevation climb we had to make.   Well  they say that what goes up must come down. Wheeeee! 

As we started the descent of lookout Pass I noticed a sign alongside the road which read “White markers represent Highway fatalities”.  Excuse me for a while now while I pay attention to the road.

We pulled into the Jim and Mary RV Park and parked our rig right alongside the rest of our group. 
That is the benefit of making all reservations far in advance.  One more benefit was that as I entered into the office to pay for our stay, I noticed a sign on the door that said “Sorry Park Full”.



 Jim and Mary's was one of the nicest parks we have stayed in; a flower garden had been planted at every corner and there were  flower beds along with some kind of artwork displayed at most every RV site. 

The park had arranged for an Evening of Music with LeGrande Harvey and Rod Brod, a great guitar/banjo group.  They looked familiar and after talking with them for a while, I realized that we had seen them both perform at this very RV Park on a Lewis and Clark RV trip we had made with our RV group back in 2004. Their performance was great, and they played one of my favorites, which they played back on our 2004 trip, “Pocket Change”.

We had a great night’s sleep with the crisp Montana air keeping us snuggled up in our nice warm blankets.  

Goodnight for now, talk to you tomorrow.

2012 Puget Puller 2 Dakotas Long Trip - Day 1

Day 1

Let the travels begin.  Our Puget Pullers RV Club is heading off for the clubs “2 Dakotas’ Long Trip”  We will travel through the states of WA, MT, ND, SD, & WY and back home to WA again of course.  There will be several of the big rigs involved, so it looks like we are going to have a great time 

As we drove along I-90 out of Moses Lake, WA we could see an in-progress forest fire that had devoured all the vegetation off the face of the hill which we could see, as well as laid claim to at least 62 homes.    Despite the devastation, the resulting smoke filled the afternoon sky with a grayish haze that translated into a beautiful sunset, full of hues and pastels of red, orange and purple, offset by silver lined orange-grey clouds.  The rays of the sun had been diffused by the smoke into a pallet of soft dusty colors. 

Driving thru the wheat fields of eastern Washington in 99 deg. Heat I found that a couple of drops of doTerra’s “Citrus Bliss-Invigorating Blend” placed on a small sponge and then stuck into one of the air vents, made it quite bearable.  The sweet smell of citrus gave us the sense that we were off on Hawaiian holiday.  Go doTerra.

After pulling the big rig 335 miles from Gig Harbor, WA, to Post Falls ID, we pulled into the Coeur d’Alene RV Park where we met up with the rest of our traveling companions.   It looked as if every RV owner in the state had the same as we did, filling up the later part of August with an RV trip, as out of the 189 RV sites, we managed to snag the last available one.

The rest of the group had already arrived and the finger food pot luck that they were enjoying  was a welcome feast after a long day of Coke,  Snickers bars and Peanut M&M’s.

There is always something that goes wrong with someone’s rig on a trip like this.  I had the honor of claiming one such problem.  If it is a particularly hot day and I run the Chevy DuraMax diesel all day in a hot temperature of above 80 degrees, when I stop and turn off the engine, it won’t always start again.  I had taken it into the Chevy dealership in Federal Way WA, and they replaced the fuel filter and miraculously pronounced the problem solved.  Don’t you just love it when you pay $300 plus for a job that ends up as just slightly better than throwing some pixie dust at the problem and yelling “be healed you demon”.

 In the meantime I have found that if I prime the fuel system,  by pressing up and down on the fuel filter priming pump,  I can get the beast started; and it didn’t cost me a cent, nor an intensive class in diesel mechanics at the local trade school.  Well we shall be paying that dealership a visit again as soon as I return. 

Dinner with Grandpa

Dinner with Grandpa      January, 2011  Gary Hyde

When my brother Bob and I were both just a couple of young kids, less than ten years old, we would occasionally go to visit with our grandma and grandpa Hyde for Sunday dinner.  Mom would load us in the car and drive the 1 ½ miles from our house at 79 R St. in Salt Lake City, downtown to their little apartment at 320 East 1^st South.  We entered into the red brick apartment building through two large glass front doors which took us into a small lobby with a bank of mailboxes mounted on the entire right hand side of the wall.  Bob used to tell me that there were tiny little men in there that would hand the mail out to you when you opened the mailbox door.  After passing through the lobby there were several stairs which lead us down to the lower level where grandma and grandpa lived.  The long hallway was dimly lit and had the smell of stale cigarette and cigar smoke. Grandpa was a pipe smoker, so I guess he contributed his share of smoke to the place, although the pipe smoke is a sweeter smell and much more pleasing than the old stale cigarette smoke.

We walked down the hallway to the third door on the right, knocked, and as soon as the door opened we would be swept into the open arms of our grandma Ruby and grandpa Frank, not to be released until an ample supply of warm hugs and kiss were bestowed upon us.  After our greetings and hellos, mom would start helping grandma set the table and then they would both disappear into the kitchen to start preparing the meal.  Grandpa would sit back in his well worn, overstuffed, brown leather chair and start fiddling with his pipe.  The chair had big round arms on it; the kind that would invite two young boys to climb up onto it and snuggle back into grandpa’s lap.  This was our favorite time of the visit, and it was here, in that overstuffed leather chair, that I formed the very best memories that I have of my grandfather.  Grandpa would settle back, wrap his arms around both of us and look at us through half closed eyes and ask us if we had ever heard the story about …….....;  then he would then start to spin us a tale.  Grandpa was a master story teller.  He told the kind of stories that would immediately grab our attention and then keep us motionless, glued to the arms of that wonderful big overstuffed chair, wrapped up in grandpa’s great big loving arms, with our eyes and attention sharply focused on his every word.

The first thing that had to happen, before any serious kind of story telling could begin, was to light up his pipe.  I guess it made him think better; and when he told a story he would blow those perfectly round smoke rings that would float upwards towards the ceiling, drawing our eyes and attentions right up with them.  Just as those smoke rings would draw us in, so would his stories.  He would describe in detail how everything looked, felt and tasted, tricking our imaginations into believing that these stories were about us, and that we were right there in the story.

He would often talk about the place where he worked; down in the boiler rooms of the old Judge Building in Salt Lake City.  Grandpa was a self employed mechanic and had worked maintenance on the boilers in that building for years.  Some of his favorite stories he had to tell were about that boiler room and his faithful dog Boots.  Boots was about the most intelligent dog ever known to man.  He would fetch grandpa’s slippers, the newspapers, he would feed himself, pick up after himself, and even light grandpa’s pipe for him.   We could listen to those stories that grandpa would tell of his dog Boots for hours. 

Boots would go to work with grandpa down in the boiler room every day; they were inseparable.  Grandpa told us that he had even taught Boots how to take over the boilers for him in case he ever got sick.  One of grandpa’s friends was a metal worker and had made grandpa a small metal casting of Boots, which to this day I still proudly display as a doorstop for my office door.

Grandpa would tell us a few mild stories about his work, his dog Boots, or any other subject that would pop into his mind, and then he would settle back and get down to the serious business of telling the real stories; the scary kind of ghost stories that make you wish you could run away, but had you so engrossed that you could barely breath.  The kind of tales where witches would eat little children and ugly, warty trolls would hide under their beds. As he talked, his voice would get low and very intense.  His eyes would narrow and before we knew it we were sucked right into the story as an active participant.  As the suspense of the story increased, so would the size of our eyes.  As the witch started to cackle, as the wolf would let loose his blood curdling howl , or as the bear started to raise up on his hind legs and let out his deafening roar, our mouths would hang open and our fingers would dig deep into grandpa‘s arms out of sheer terror.

Just as the punch line was about to be delivered, grandpa would talk ever so softly, lean his head slightly forward, and then he would let out a blood curdling scream, “Arrrgh”; he would pop his false teeth out and grab the both of us in his big arms and draw us in close to him; then we would all laugh and scream with delight.

Those wonderful stories came to an end when my grandpa Hyde died at 76 years of age; I was just 17 years old.  I still remember the funeral; the family was all seated together in the front row of the chapel with the casket right in front of us.  I can still see the sorrow on my dad’s face as they wheeled the casket out from the room.  In one last bid of farewell and affection he lurched forward from his chair with tears in his eyes to hold on to the casket, longing for just one last time to be wrapped in those great big loving arms of my grandpa Hyde.

Book of Mormon missionary tool

The Book of Mormon

Another Testament of Jesus Christ

A soon to be sister missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of latter Day Saints reads from an original 1830 edition of the Book of Mormon, owned by Helen Spencer Schlie.  Sister Schlie has shown this book at firesides, in her bookstore, and has used it as a powerful testimony of the Book of Mormon.  The book is old and worn now, but has been instrumental in the conversion and strengthening of testimonies in hundreds of individuals.

Rather than let this old and worn book sit in some musty old museum to viewed by a handful of curious visitors, Sister Schlie has chosen to dismantle the book page by page for those who desire to have  their favorite scripture framed and displayed on an authentic page from this original 1830 printing of the Book of Mormon.

I had such a desire, to have my favorite scripture, Alma 17:18-38, which can be found on the page 271-272 of this original Book of Mormon, framed so that I could demonstrate to others the truth and power which can be gleaned from the Book of Mormon.

Page 271-272 from Helen Spencer Schlie’s original 1830 edition of the Book of Mormon

This page contains the text from Alma 17:18-38, the story of Ammon and King Lamoni.  There is a power of scripture, and a power of conversion in this page, as it is read, handled and contemplated.  This page has the power to build testimonies and change lives, just as “the shadow of Peter” could heal the sick as told in Acts  5:15; “they brought forth the sick into the streets, and laid them on beds and couches, that at the least the shadow of Peter passing by might overshadow some of them”.

Why this page?  Why this particular part of scripture?   As we read in Alma 17, we learn of how the sons of Mosiah “had waxed strong in the knowledge of the truth; for they were men of a sound understanding and they had searched the scriptures diligently, that they might know the word of God”. (Alma  17:2), “they had given themselves to much prayer, and fasting; therefore they had the spirit of prophecy, and the spirit of revelation, and when they taught, they taught with power and authority of God” (Alma  17:3).  “They fasted much and prayed much that the Lord would grant unto them a portion of his Spirit to go with them, and abide with them, that they might be an instrument in the hands of God to bring, if it were possible, their brethren, the Lamanites, to the knowledge of the truth, to the knowledge of the baseness of the traditions of their fathers, which were not correct” (Alma  17:9).

Now, Ammon went to the land of Ishmael (Alma  17:19), but as he “entered the land of Ishmael, the Lamanites took him and bound him, as was their custom to bind all the Nephites who fell into their hands, and carry them before the king; and thus it was left to the pleasure of the king to slay them, or to retain them in captivity, or to cast them into prison, or to cast them out of his land, according to his will and pleasure” (Alma  17:20).  After interviewing with the king, King Lamoni was much pleased with Ammon, and caused that his bands should be loosed (Alma  17:24).  Ammon told the king that he would like to be his servant, and” was set among other servants to watch the flocks of Lamoni”  (Alma  17:25). 

“And after he had been in the service of the king three days, as he was with the Lamanitish servants going forth with their flocks to the place of water, which was called the water of Sebus, and all the Lamanites drive their flocks hither, that they may have water—“ (Alma  17:26), when “behold, a certain number of the Lamanites, who had been with their flocks to water, stood and scattered the flocks of Ammon and the servants of the king, and they scattered them insomuch that they fled many ways” (Alma  17:27).

“Now the servants of the king began to murmur, saying: Now the king will slay us, as he has our brethren because their flocks were scattered by the wickedness of these men. And they began to weep exceedingly, saying: Behold, our flocks are scattered already. Now they wept because of the fear of being slain. Now when Ammon saw this his heart was swollen within him with joy; for, said he, I will show forth my power unto these my fellow-servants, or the power which is in me, in restoring these flocks unto the king, that I may win the hearts of these my fellow-servants, that I may lead them to believe in my words” (Alma  17:28-29).

This single sentence of scripture; “that I may win the hearts of these my fellow-servants, that I may lead them to believe in my words”, is the reason that I desired to have this particular page from the original 1830 edition of the Book of Mormon.  In this sentence, Ammon declares the very essence of missionary work, “that I may win the hearts of these my fellow-servants, that I may lead them to believe in my words”. 

We have been admonished by latter-day prophets to:

President David O. McKay advised, “Every member a missionary”;
President Kimball: “Lengthen your stride” and “Do it now”;
President Benson: “Flood … the earth with the Book of Mormon”;
President Hinckley: Increase the number of converts and retain them.
President Monson: Restore the gospel to the inactive members of the churchl.

Through this scripture Ammon has shown us the way; he has given us the means of declaring the gospel to those who will “believe in my words”.

The story goes on to show how Ammon restores the flocks to the king, and does indeed find favor with King Lamoni such that the king says “whatsoever thou desirest I will give unto thee; and if it were needed, I would guard thee with my armies” (Alma 18:21).  Ammon “said unto Lamoni: Wilt thou hearken unto my words” (Alma 18:22)?  “And the king answered him, and said: Yea, I will believe all thy words” (Alma 18:23).

“And it came to pass that there were many that did believe in their words; and as many as did believe were baptized; and they became a righteous people, and they did establish a church among them.  And thus the work of the Lord did commence among the Lamanites; thus the Lord did begin to pour out his Spirit upon them; and we see that his arm is extended to all people who will repent and believe on his name” (Alma 19:35-36)

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I MISSED IT !!!

I was so excited with the message of pages 271-272, the story of Ammon and King Lalmoni, and Ammon’s powerful missionary message in Alma 17:29 ”that I may win the hearts of these my fellow-servants, that I may lead them to believe in my words”, that I just left the story there, but as I was out walking the dogs this morning, I reviewed the rest of the story in my mind.

After the servants of the king returned and relate the story of how Ammon had rescued the kings flocks from the Lamanites, the king can but wonder who this man is. “Behold, is not this the Great Spirit who doth send such great punishments upon this people, because of their murders?” (Alma 18:2).

When Alma is brought before king Lamoni, the king ponders him in his mind; it is a full hour before the king can even speak to Ammon (Alma 18:14). When Ammon perceives the thoughts of the king he says: “Is it because thou hast heard that I defended thy servants and thy flocks, and slew seven of their brethren with the sling and with the sword, and smote off the arms of others, in order to defend thy flocks and thy servants; behold, is it this that causeth thy marveling”?  (Alma 18:16).

“Now when the king had heard these words, he marveled again, for he beheld that Ammon could discern his thoughts; but notwithstanding this, king Lamoni did open his mouth, and said unto him: Who art thou? Art thou that Great Spirit, who knows all things”? (Alma 18:18).

“Now Ammon being wise, yet harmless, he said unto Lamoni: Wilt thou hearken unto my words, if I tell thee by what power I do these things? And this is the thing that I desire of thee. And the king answered him, and said: Yea, I will believe all thy words. And thus he was caught with guile”. (Alma 18:22-23), thus fulfilling Ammons desires expressed in Alma 17:29.

And now comes Part II; Ammon’s desires to have them “believe in my words” has been met. Now the Lord would desirethe same thing, that king Lamoni believe with a surety that He is the One True God, and believe in Him that he might believe in His Words, for when Ammon asks the king “Believest thou that there is a God”? the king answers him “I do not know what that meaneth”. (Alma 18:24-25).

Ammon rehearses to king Lamoni who God is, and tells him of His wondrous works from the beginning of the creation down to the present day. When Ammon had finished these things the king “ began to cry unto the Lord, saying: O Lord, have mercy; according to thy abundant mercy which thou hast had upon the people of Nephi, have upon me, and my people. And now, when he had said this, he fell unto the earth, as if he were dead.” (Alma 18:41-42).

For the space of three days “king Lamoni was under the power of God; … the dark veil of unbelief was being cast away from his mind, and the light which did light up his mind, which was the light of the glory of God, which was a marvelous light of his goodness--yea, this light had infused such joy into his soul, the cloud of darkness having been dispelled, and that the light of everlasting life was lit up in his soul, yea, he knew that this had overcome his natural frame, and he was carried away in God—“ (Alma 19:6).

When, by the power of God, king Lamoni is raised from his sleep, he begins to “to teach them” (his people) ”the words which he had heard from the mouth of Ammon; and as many as heard his words believed, and were converted unto the Lord”. (Alma 19:31).

And now through His power, God has taught king Lamoni that He is the One True God, and now King Lamoni is ready to believe all his words.  And thus a great work was done in the land.  This was a pivotal point in the teachings of God unto the Lamanites.

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The following is a full size reproduction of an original typeset page and page detail for the first sixteen pages of the Book of Mormon as printed by Mr. E. B. Grandin.  Each typeset page contained sixteen pages, front and back, which were printed on a single sheet.  There were 185,000 sheets that would eventually be folded, cut, and bound to create the 590-page Book of Mormon.

5000 copies of the book were printed at the cost of $3000 and sold for $1.25 apiece. 

 

What is your favorite Book of Mormon scripture?  Choice scriptures are still available from this original 1830 edition of the Book of Mormon. 

Contact Helen Spencer Schlie at http://facebook.com/helenspencerschlie