Talk is Cheap.

There was a time in my life when the responsibilities of this world overwhelmed me and I no longer felt that I could stand and fight. My oldest son was about 9, our family had just moved to Cheyenne WY, and a company I was a partner in had close its doors leaving me with a 1/3^rd share of the company’s debt. During that time I went to the Lord and asked for help with everything I had on my plate. I could not cover everything that needed to be covered and despite all I could do I could see no way out. My mother had always told me that ‘the Lord helps those that help themselves’, and that is how I had always expected it to work. But this was different. I couldn’t plan, think, talk or work my way out of this. No matter how you added it up I came up short by a long way every time. Thus I could not “help myself” in my eyes. This would require a miracle. My mother also had told me about turning things over to the Lord. So I thought I’d give that a try. In my mind I couldn’t “really” see how God who is over all things in the great expanse of time and matter had time for me - but I went on anyway. I asked for Him to help me where I couldn’t help myself. As time went by I saw that things would “fall into place” or just plain happen that couldn’t be explained away. Time and time again it was an irrefutable answer in a miraculous way to (what must have been to Him) my little insignificant problems and little insignificant prayers. It was in fact a direct “miracle” answer to my prayer. This blew me away!!! Who knew that Father would hear and answer my prayers in such a direct and amazing way? Not amazing like flooding the earth, but amazing like all I did was ask? And who am I that he should know me? Or care enough about me to help me where I could not help myself? And to do it with no fanfare, just simply be there for me, for us. I felt as though I was humbled to the dust. Amazed that he would even know me… care for me… That he would act for me… That he would save me.

During this time of my life I was so grateful for all that he had done for me that I would pray on my knees by our couch in the early morning before anyone else was awake, before I would go to work. Sometimes I would be carried away in my gratitude for so long I would be late for work. One morning as the morning sun started to shine through the window and warm the house, I knelt to pray. In my soul singing praises and glorifying my Father as loudly (in my heart) as I could, it was as if the birds were chirping and the earth was singing with me, I was completely enraptured in my thanksgiving when a thought slammed into my head stopping my train of thoughts, forming words and those words were rolling in my mind as a loud thunderous echo, “Talk is Cheap!” I heard these words over and over, that thought stopped me mid sentence could not finish my prayer. It instantly burned in my soul and impacted every part of me. I felt that I had been scolded or reprimanded. I pushed up from the spot where I had been kneeling, and stood looking up. I pointed my finger heavenward feeling insulted. I was embarrassed and angry and said out loud with grit teeth “Are you saying that I? Me? Brent Case? is “All talk”.” I guess looking back I half expected an answer right there. It dawned on me that I already knew the answer. I had been called out. I lowered my finger, slowly gathered my things, and went to work without another word.

This bothered me so badly I did not return to prayer for over a week while I tried to figure this out. There was a kind of turmoil or wrestling match in my head that just kept boiling, and I couldn’t find rest. I would just review the still pounding impression “Talk is Cheap” over and over. At first it made me mad, and then it made me sad. The kind of sad that’s like a dark and rainy day, not a cold rain, just saturating wet and relentlessly falling on you wherever you go. With all of my soul I really was thankful and I wanted Him to not just know it, but to never doubt it. I was so sad that I hadn't shown Him how thankful I was.

What dose “Talk is Cheap.” mean? To me is means for example that anyone can say they are your friend but then turn right around and stab you in the back. You can say you’re a good cook but how does your food taste? I say I love you or respect you but how do I treat you? Actions are an outward expression of our inner commitment to how we really feel. Our true feelings are shown everyday by the way we act and they are always stronger than any words that come out of our mouth. My wife says “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.”

“Well” I’d tell myself “if talk is cheap he must want or need something else from me. What could my Heavenly Father, the creator of “everything” need from me? What can I, an Idaho farm boy, offer the God of everything? Everything I am everything I have He has given me. I became painfully aware that even the very breath I breathed was a gift from my loving Father.” It is true; I cannot even draw my own breath unless he gives me the power to do so. I would ask myself over and over, “Do I have anything He would want? Can I give anything he needs?” My mind churned day and night and there was no rest from these unyielding thoughts.

“What if I did something extra, like something really nice, something I wouldn’t normally do?” Would that surprise him? Then would he see that through my actions I am grateful? No! He knows I can’t surprise him. He knows everything. Even if I did, he would just bless me even more and in my head my ‘score card’ would show an even bigger deficit with me falling further and further behind. Brent 1/ God 1000000 How can I catch up? Can I ever get ahead? If I could, then he would know I was thankful.”

“It would have to be something he wouldn’t expect me to do. Something I haven’t done before, like what?” I would think.

He knows me too well; he knows my thoughts before I even think them. I’d guess I can never surprise him.

 That was my idea you see to surprise him with a gift of kindness or act of service to someone in need. But then I realized “I can’t do something for him that he can’t already do for himself.” So what then? What do you give to God? He has everything he needs.

I erred in my thoughts you see. Everything I could think of came from a place of pride within myself. I wanted to do… I wanted to fix it… I wanted to tell him how I would do it. “I” “I” “I”

Finally beaten by my lack of understanding and creativity and my inability to solve yet another problem on my own. The problem of how to repay my Heavenly Father, who had done so much for me and me unable to offer him anything in return. He had always come to my aide so readily, and so willing to help me, support and love me.

I was beaten, completely aware of everything I was lacking, and my inability to give back even the smallest token of thanks to the One I owed so much to. I finally a week or so later returned to that same spot by the couch in the early morning light to kneel in prayer, completely beaten and embarrassed by the fact that I couldn’t come up with anything to give Him in return. Now with tears in my eyes I begin my prayer. “Father I have nothing to give. But I am so thankful for thee and all thou hast done. I have tried to think of what I could give thee, or what I could do for thee and have again fallen short, and I come before you completely lacking. If thou would ask for something, I would give it.” I felt the warmth of his love start to fill me, like a warm breeze down the back of my cold neck. The kind of breeze that warms you up after standing out in the cold for so long. Slowly the thought filled my mind “If you would just come to my house to worship once a week, to be with me and my people, to learn of me and learn of my gospel. Then I would know that you are thankful” I felt his love for me filling me to full and then to overflowing, almost more than I could bare, but only in a good way, like you couldn’t feel one more ounce of love or you’d burst or like you have already burst and its ok.

(You see up till now I had stayed a comfortable distance from church, only going about twice a month. That was enough for me to say I was going but not enough to get and hold a calling or assignment or to feel obligated to participate.  I felt like church was for hypocrites. You know sinners just like me but feeling like they were better just because they would show up to church once a week and act like they weren’t the same as me. You see in my mind I was different because I knew I was a sinner and didn’t feel like I was trying to be anything I wasn’t. But to me, “in my mind” somehow the way I did it and the way they did it was different. I was real and they were somehow fake. So I told the Lord in my prayer that I was sure He didn’t want me to go there and hang out with those hypocrites. The feeling came again “If you would just come to my house to worship once a week, to be with me and my people, to learn of me and learn of my gospel. Then I would know that you are thankful” Well okay? If that’s what you want, then that’s what I’ll give.

I committed that I would go every Sunday so that He would know I was thankful, so every week in the beginning of the time following this. I would walk up to the doors of the chapel, look heavenward and in my mind say “do you see how thankful I am? I’m going to church. That is how thankful I am!” He would always answer with a “Thank you” and I would have a warm feeling. (I am always grateful for my Father’s love and patience with me as I learn, even when I am prideful.) A funny thing happened as I went week after week. I started to see my fellow worshipers in a different light. I saw they really were for the most part just like me. Just people trying their hardest to make it through life, falling often but willing to get up and try again, very aware of their own shortcomings. As time went on I even like being there, and loved to give service by participating in church duties. I like to show up help and be a part of what was planned. I was learning that “when we are in the service of our fellow men we are in the service of our God. And sure enough, the more I did the more I was blessed. I learned if we are willing to just “show up” Father is willing to use us. To serve in the church the main requirement is just showing up, He will enable us to do the rest. I also learned that one of the blessings that came from this experience was that from time to time there would arise strife in the congregation or ward. This did not seem to affect me; I didn’t care if someone was a trouble maker, a gossiper, a back biter, a crook or just hard to get along with. That’s not why I was there, I was there simply to tell my Father “thank you” and everything else became irrelevant. 

When we go to Father in prayer I have found out that it is best not to go with a list of things we are willing to do for Him but rather to go with a blank piece of paper and allow Him to fill it in. He has already told us what he expects from us. Doctrine and Covenants 59: 8 Thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord thy God in righteousness, even that of a broken heart and a contrite spirit.

After His Resurrection, Jesus Christ declared to the people in the New World:

“Your sacrifices and your burnt offerings shall be done away, for I will accept none of [them]. …

“And ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit. And whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart … , him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost” (3 Nephi 9:19–20). The Savior’s perfect submission to the Eternal Father is the very essence of a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Christ’s example teaches us that a broken heart is an eternal attribute of godliness. When our hearts are broken, we are completely open to the Spirit of God and recognize our dependence on Him for all that we have and all that we are. The sacrifice so entailed is a sacrifice of pride in all its forms. Like malleable clay in the hands of a skilled potter, the brokenhearted can be molded and shaped in the hands of the Master.

A great talk to listen to is here(click)

Happy 75th Birthday Dad!!!

I would like to share 3 important things that my dad taught me.

1.     Hard Work

My Dad just loves to work. If you know him, you know what I’m talking about. Well, honestly I don’t know that he loves it all the time, but he does it regardless of love, or praise. He does it just kuz it needs to be done.

When I was young he worked at a full time job, that he had to drive 2 ½ hours to then he’d come home and run our 600 acre farm. There was always work for us to do. The work never ended and we were always behind. Whenever we would finish one thing there were always ten more jobs waiting to be done. 

I remember on several Saturday mornings he would wake Bryan and me around 4:30 a.m. and our day of work would begin. When he woke us up that early sometimes we would complain about how early it was. He would inform us that he let us sleep in, and that he had started working at 3:30 a.m.. We would come back in the house about 8 and make a big breakfast for the family. I’d eat till I thought I’d burst then turn around and get back to work.  

In my youth, every Saturday for as long as I can remember, I worked with my dad. There was never a need to hire someone out to do the work - no matter what it was- Dad could always find a way or figure out how we could do it ourselves. (He is the original MacGyver.) I remember one Saturday replacing the cracked head on the old Case tractor as we listened to conference on AM radio. The talks would fade in and out of static as we worked. That task to me seemed impossible but we did it, and it worked. 

Most men would hire out a backhoe when the cesspool needed to be cleaned out. It was very nasty, full and deep. Why do that when you have rubber boots, 2 boys and 5 gal buckets? Yep that’s right we bucketed out that cesspool - 5 gallons at a time. I will never forget the feeling of the ooze running down my arm, under my armpit and into my shirt as I stood with a bucket full of unspeakable sludge lifted high over my head waiting for Bryan to reach down and take it to be dumped. 

All these memories bring me to lesson #2

2.     I Can Do It

Whenever I tried doing something that I didn't know how to do, my Dad would tell me “Think about it, step back and analyze it in your mind.  Take it one step at a time and be curious”. He lives by this statement and now so do I. To this day if I don’t know how to do something I learn how. I read about it, I find people that can teach me, I watch YouTube videos. And then I try. This lesson never made me an expert - really- at anything but it did show me that I could do what needs to be done. Above that, however, he knows his kids can do hard things. He doesn't “believe” we can do it. He simply knows we can, and that knowledge of his pushes us on as we have faith in his determination that we can do it.  

3.     Who God Is

The most important thing my Dad ever taught me was who God is, and how a man of God honors him. I believe that on that “Great and Terrible Day of Judgment” when we stand before God He will be more concerned with how far we traveled on our path toward Him rather than how far up the social, economic, or even the religious ladder we have climbed. It won’t be so much the dollars we gave or the positions we held that will be of any true worth. I believe that the length of our travel will be representative of how hard we have sought the Lord out in this life. If this is so, then, my Dad is a master traveler on this path I have referred to. 

He taught me this principle as I watched how he grew in his testimony and his constant desire for betterment of self. How he always made sure our family was taken care of. How he taught me about prayer, how he prayed for me, and how he prayed with me. He made me work with my hands and showed me that I could do anything that I put my mind to. He lived the word of God as best he could on a daily basis. He taught me how to meekly seek forgiveness when I mess up or when I go astray. He showed me who God is by his actions. He loves Heavenly Father.  He loves His teachings, his scriptures and he loves His prophets.  He showed me daily by his example, he loves God right in front of my eyes.

Happy 75^th Birthday Dad, I love you.

Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6

I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father; and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days; yea, having had a great knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God, therefore I make a record of my proceedings in my days.

(Book of Mormon | 1 Nephi 1:1)

 10-23-14

Downhill toward Disaster

 

07/10/90

Published in the Ensign September 1999

I had been working the last five weeks for my brother-in-law Teryl (what a great guy) who had just purchased a share in a logging company. We were logging up the Monte Cristo canyon just east of Ogden UT on the Wyoming border. I would help him on my days off from the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Office in Kemmerer WY.  This particular morning as I woke up early to go, my wife was even more persistent this morning that I not go.  She had an uneasy feeling and was worried about me. It just didn’t feel right she said. Later she had told me that after I had left she even prayed that I would get into a wreck or have car troubles, anything to prevent me from getting to the logging camp. I thought it was just because she was pregnant with our second son Shane and it was the first weekend she wasn’t going to come with me and spend the weekend at the logging camp.  Little did I know it was promptings to keep me safe. 

The long early, just before the crack of dawn drive up the canyon was beautiful but uneventful. I always love the world in the morning before everyone else gets up and moving. As soon as I got up to the logging camp I knew it was going to be a bad day.  When I got to the logging camp and opened my camper, I found that a raccoon had broken in and had eaten all my Cap’n Crunch and my Oreos. That was breakfast lunch and dinner all gone.  The work day started out as usual but went downhill fast.  Our equipment was old and we seemed to be plagued with small inconveniences and break downs.

Before I continue I need to explain how this logging operation works.  We were doing what’s called ‘highline logging’.  This is done when the mountain is too steep for any kind of equipment to go up or down.  The way we logged on this steep terrain was to string a heavy ¾ cable from a derrick on top of the mountain to a ‘spar’ tree (just a really big tree) in the bottom of the valley.  The main cable hangs 20 to 50 feet over the surface of the steep hill.  A second cable rides down the main line on a block with a series of pullies.  When the block hits what’s called a button or donut it stops and releases the second cable sending it down to the ground.  The 2^nd cable is then hooked to 3 or 4 logs.  The logs are then pulled or flown up to the “deck”, a level area where the equipment can work.  We can only get so many logs in one area on the hill until the button must be moved down the cable.  The button is essentially a large steel piece that weighed about 60lbs it locks on the main cable and prevents the block from going further down the cable.

Now back to the story.  As I said, we had had many breakdowns. One, of which, was our radios that we used to communicate to the guy running the cables, so we were using hand signals to communicate which was slow and inadequate at best.  This day I worked down in the brush hooking up the trees on the steep mountain side. We had cleaned up all the logs in that area and it was time for us to move the button to a new area full of lumber. We signaled for the main cable to be lowered and the main cable with the button was brought down within my reach, but still over my head. Usually I would have it lowered to the ground so it could be handed better and kept under control. But because of the difficulty communicating I decided to go ahead and unlock the button anyway. I walked the button downhill until I was standing on a very steep embankment that dropped off making it almost like a cliff. The weight of the button tried pulling me down the hill.  It took all my strength and body weight but I was able to keep it under control. I had my heals dug in to the soft mountain soil and I was leaning back into the mountain to prevent it from running away with me. I tried to tell them to lower the cable more but about that time the wind gusted causing the main line to whip, it was like a wave that picked me up and carried me off my feet and down the very steep hill faster and faster like some kind of out of control adrenalin filled high adventure zip line.

I was now heading down towards the spar tree at a break neck speed.  I looked for a place to jump off but I was already high in the air and all I could see were piles of limbs laying kriss-kross and sticking straight up. As I was flying by it looked as if all of the limbs had been sharpened to a point. I could just imagine one of them going right through my gut if I tried to jump off. Not knowing, or really thinking of what lay ahead I decided not to jump for fear of being gored. Anyway so far the ride was kinda fun, I remember chuckling to myself about this predicament had gotten myself into, kind of rolling my eyes thinking, well how are you going to get yourself out of this one? At the very beginning of this ride I even had to lift my feet to avoid some limbs, “WHY DIDN’T I LET GO THEN” I thought. Now I had a bird’s eye view of the whole canyon and I was blissfully unaware of how fast I was going or how this ride was about to end. When I looked up I saw that I was racing toward the spar tree.  I was about 50 feet off the ground and moving fast, the witnesses said about thirty to thirty-five miles an hour.  I did not have any time to think.

The spar tree was about eight feet in diameter at the bottom and about 3 feet in diameter where the cable was hooked to it. There was one large limb sticking out at one side that caught my attention.  I thought that maybe if I swung out to the side of the tree just before impact and wrapped myself around this limb it would save me from falling. I centrally didn’t want to just ride it to a head-on with the tree. I let go of the chain that was hooked to the button with one hand and prepared to hit/catch/wrap myself around the limb.  When I hit the first thing I saw was my feet, I hit so hard it caused a bruise across my chest, popped my ribs out of socket where they attach to my back and a bruised my heart, it also dislocated my arm my momentum flipped me upside down, wrapping me completely around the limb.  Then everything went black.  There were flashes of consciousness as I tumbled down the tree ping ponging through the limbs. I remember seeing my heard hat sailing like a Frisbee or a space ship across the canyon. I also remember hitting different limbs as I fell. I hit the ground sitting up with my legs straight out then bounced one last time about 60ft down the hill finally going unconscious. When I awoke I was laying face down in the dirt on my stomach unable to breath, with a mouth full of dirt. For a minute I couldn’t remember who I was or what had happened.  I heard a faint voice asking me if I was all right.  I felt like I could not breathe, so I asked to be rolled over.  The pain was so great that I blacked out again.

When I came to I was laying on my back in the middle of an old logging road about 20 feet from the tree.  I had no feeling from my hips down, cuts all over and was still having trouble breathing.  I said a simple prayer and asked the Lord to help me.  I opened my eyes and there was Ethan Call.  It was his first day with the logging crew.  I remembered my wife telling me that he had served a mission.  Up to that day I was the only priesthood holder on the crew. Relieved and realized Father had heard my prayer. I asked him to give me a blessing.

As he began, immediately a sense of calm came over Teryl, Ethan and me.  I had been unconscious for most of the blessing, but I did hear him bless me that my body would be made whole.  As I laid there I began to feel again the sensation in my legs and the pain became bearable.  The Holy Ghost bore witness to us that God had performed a miracle and we were each left with a testimony of what had just happened.

It became apparent that it was going to be a long time before medical help arrived.  Teryl told me that Rick Earling had already started down the mountain to get help.  I knew it was a two hour drive out of the canyon to the nearest phone.  I closed my eyes and said another simple prayer and asked for the Lords help again to speed up the help I so desperately needed.  My prayer was again answered in a miraculous way.  As Rick was speeding down the canyon he happened to run across a paramedic who was out for an afternoon drive. (this was a Thursday at 10:00am) The paramedic had a high power radio that he was able to reach across the mountains to the Weber County Sheriff’s Department.  They in turn were able to call McKay Dee Hospital and get Life Flight on its way.   The paramedic then rushed up the mountain to where I was laying, he started an IV and stopped all my bleeding.  God had again answered my prayer.  I was able to get the medical help and the transportation I needed within a fraction of the time we were expecting.

The helicopter was now circling overhead but after a few passes they radioed down that the only place they could land was a flat spot about half a mile up this old logging road.  When I heard this my blood chilled!  I looked to my side to see an old jacked-up Ford 4x4 on the heavily rutted road. The thought of a ride in the back of a four wheel drive truck over a rutted, dirt road was more than I could bear.  I again simply asked the Lord for help.

The helicopter circled one last time and radioed down they had decided to try to land closer.  They were able to land within 50 feet of where I was laying by balancing the helicopter with the tips of their runners on the road and the back half of the chopper hovering off the road.  Within 15 minutes I arrived at McKay Dee Hospital’s emergency room.  They started another IV, put a tube down my nose into my stomach and also started me on oxygen.  They pumped blood out of my stomach for three hours. 

I had four doctors and two specialist working on me for six hours.  They X-rayed me from the top of my head to my knees and were unable to find any broken bones.  This baffled all of them.  They stated many times that there was no possible way a body could have received that many blows, as I was flipped from branch to branch as I fell down the tree without having some broken bones or internal injuries.  I was given a cat-scan from my neck to my knees – scanned a half of an inch at a time.  This took about one hour.  Baffled again because they found nothing.  They were not even able to find out what had caused the bleeding in my stomach.

My brother Bryan was the first one to get to the emergency room and was there when they got me settled into a room in intensive care.

The doctors told me I had caused enough trauma to my body that I wouldn’t walk for a couple of weeks.  That night I asked Bryan to give me a blessing.  He did and then left.  On his way home he was unable to ignore the promptings to gather up another elder and return to give me an anointed blessing.  During the blessing the Holy Ghost again bore witness to me that I would be all right. I was filled with the confidence that I would be able to walk the next day…which I did!

I am thankful for the blessings I was given by those men who honored their priesthood.  I am also thankful for the continuous prayers in the hearts of those who are close to me.  I am thankful for miracles.  I know that God lives and answer prayers…no matter how simple they are.

 

 

10? Things I want my kids to know (Part 5)

 

10.       Evaluate the cost at the start; With all of your decisions in life if you want “A” you’ll have to pay “B” or if you get “A” you’ll have to give up “B” sad but true. Some will tell you this is not so, saying  “You can have it all” Or “It won’t cost you anything”, or “No one will know”  but every time they are trying to get you to leave behind or give up what is most valuable for something much less. To do this we must see the end from the beginning or in other words we must look ahead and see where this path will take us. We also need to look at where we will end up and what the cost is and seek good advice from the scriptures or prophets. Sometimes it is very obvious while other times it isn't so clear.

The Word of Wisdom for example. When it was first reveled it didn't seem to make much since. Some of the things we were asked to do without were even thought to be healthy back then.  Now year’s later science and good practice has proven that if we keep it we will live healthier and longer.

In the 70’s woman leaving their small children to claim their place in the work force was heralded as courageous and the best for all. WE were told it was “quality” not the “quantity” of the time we spent with our family that counted. Time has proven this not the case, it takes both. I still remember the sinking feeling I had deep in the pit of my stomach as we watched the serviceman install our new satellite dish that would give us over 400 channels and unlimited entertainment. I knew without a doubt deep in my gut as it was going in that it was not a good thing for my family. I wanted out of the contract I had just signed, but rationalized it away knowing I would love all the viewing choices. Now, I think of all the time lost sitting and veggin’, and wonder what we would have done if not entranced by the seductive lure all that entertainment. O the places we could have gone and the things we could have seen.

All I'm saying is look forward to where you'll end up and pray often about your choices. It’s the seemingly small things that I have found that have the biggest effect as time wears on.

11.       Life is not fair! Get over it This seems to be a reoccurring theme in my writing. I think it is because in my youth, I had hoped that life would be fair, of course that means with a strong bias to my needs and wants. I found out the hard way after feeling picked on and sorry for myself for a long time and beating my head against the wall that life isn’t fair and was never even meant to be. It has taken me a long time to learn this and a lot of hours wasted crying over spilt milk to come to this point of enlightenment. So I guess I would like to spare you the cost of finding it out for yourself because once you have come to this knowledge and accept it as the norm, life suddenly gets much easier to handle. J You can go about life not worrying about when or where it will start to be fair, and just get on with it.

Ø  “Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to just be people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old time rail journey…delays…sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling burst of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.” Gordon B Hinkley,

It may seem like you will always be expected to do more than your share; you should look for ways to help more than your share in every circumstance. Selfless service is a cornerstone to living a happier life.

 

12.       Forgive; To forgive is a divine attribute. It is to pardon or excuse someone from blame for an offense or misdeed.  This may be the hardest of all. It is healing to forgive and it is how we find peace. It is the single greatest  gift you can give yourself. That's right forgiving others is a gift to yourself! It is important to remember that we are commanded to forgive and if we do not then we cannot seek forgiveness ourselves. It does not require the other party to accept our forgiveness or even acknowledge it. When we forgive we are not saying that what they did is “ok” or “alright”, we are not excusing their behavior. You need to know also that forgiveness of others is not necessarily a feeling it is in fact, a decision and a choice. If and when we stick to that decision, then eventually the feeling will come. Ask for help from Father when you need to and he will help, over and over and over again if you are having trouble sticking to your decision to forgive. It is a tricky thing- I have found. And for me at least it can take some time. I will be driving along and a thought will sneak across my mind and the old pain will try to work its way back in. At those times when it dawns on me that I have relapsed into a negative way of thinking I again pray, I again turn it over to the lord. I again recommit to my decision to forgive. The fact that I would even have these little relapses use to trouble me, but not any more I think it’s just the devil testing my resolve. He wants that old pain to fester and grow within us. But with a lot of help from Father I’m now okay with this kind of test.

Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles:“ Forgiveness … allows the love of God to purge your heart and mind of the poison of hate. It cleanses your consciousness of the desire for revenge. It makes place for the purifying, healing, restoring love of the Lord”. (in Conference Report, Apr. 1992, 45; or Ensign, May 1992, 33).

Gordon B. Hinckley when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said: “There is no peace in harboring old grudges. There is no peace in reflecting on the pain of old wounds. There is peace only in repentance and forgiveness. This is the sweet peace of the Christ, who said, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of God’. (Matthew 5:9)” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1980, 88; or Ensign, Nov. 1980, 63).

 9 Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to ^aforgive one another; for he that ^bforgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.

10 I, the Lord, will ^aforgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to ^bforgive all men. (D&C 64:9-10.)

A great talk on forgiving is     Choosing to Forgive

Hardships make us if they don’t break us.

The first winter on the farm in Idaho in January of 1980 the water froze and froze hard. We got our water from a mountain spring that was just at the foot of the mountain about a quarter mile behind our house. The pipe that carried the water from the spring to the house was buried about 4ft deep. It had started to leak and the severe cold found its way down to the ,main water line and froze it. There was no chance for repair till late spring when the ground had unfrozen. The line would then have to be dug up and replaced. So our house just didn’t have any water. I’m telling you it was cold back then and record snow fall too.

The rancher that had a cattle feed lot next door said we could get water from the stock tank that the cows used. The water ran all the time and from the tap it was very clean. We would load up the tractor with grandpa’s old “Diamond T” flatbed trailer with all the old milk cans and 50 gal drums we had. We would fill all the milk cans from the tap that never stopped flowing that fresh mountain spring water. This was our drinking and cooking water. But it took too long to wait to fill everything that way. So we would break the ice and scoop up in 5 gal buckets of water from the trough for bathing, washing and flushing the toilet. We would then drive the tractor back to the house and unload as much as we could onto the back porch. Then every day we would chip through the ice to get the water we needed. We only flushed the toilet about once a day. The old adage “if its yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down” really meant something then. Baths were Saturday night in preparation for church on Sunday. The smallest would go first it seemed like, and would receive one large canning pot of hot water. The next child would go and a fresh pot would be added to the tub and so on. I remember looking down at the tub after mom had just added a fresh pot of hot water for me to the now half full tub, there was moss from the cattle trough floating in the dark gray water and I thought to myself “how can this dirty water get me clean?” but after a week of no bathing I really didn't even care. Truth be told it felt soooo good and I did feel better maybe even slightly cleaner after. Spring finally came and dad rented a trencher and a new line was installed to the house and water returned.

This taught us to be thankful for the things in our life that we normally take for granted. This was a hard time but we pulled together and made it through “none the worse for the wear.”

Remember Case family rule #1 Life’s hard but I’m tough!!

10? Things I want my kids to know (Part 3)



Alma (Tam) Wright on his horse at Kolob Utah

Lewis Martin Hodgkinson

7.     You come from a long line of great men and women and you are who you are in no small part because of them. Just think if you had a different grandfather you would be 1/8^th different than you are now. It was rumored that your great, great grandpa cut his toe off and just wrapped his toe up stuck his boot on and went back to work. He didn’t take his boot back off some time after that even sleeping in his boot. He just kept doing what he needed to do. His DNA is part of you. Also in the book From Tabernacle to Temple – the Story of the Vernal Utah Temple (ISBN 0-9665966-C-9) on page 22 William and Hephzibeh are mentioned in conjunction with a visit from the President of the Church, Joseph F. Smith for the dedication of the Uintah Stake Tabernacle. He tells that your 3rd great grandfather saved him from an angry mob and wanted to visit his family to tell them the story.  I can see parts of them in each of you.



Garrett Case Family

 



Maria Jackson Normington Parker

Thomas and Maria Jackson Normington were converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Burnley, Lancashire, England. They had three daughters and a year old son, having had two boys and their oldest daughter die there in England. They worked and saved money to immigrate to Zion. Finally, the sailed on the vessel, “Horizon” from Liverpool on May 22, 1856 with two of Maria’s brothers who had also joined the church. The ship reached Boston, Massachusetts six weeks later, on June 30 and the arrived in Iowa City, Iowa on July 8, 1856. The Normingtons learned that there had been so many converts preparing to cross the plains to Salt Lake City that all the handcarts were being used by earlier companies, so more carts had to be hastily constructed and all that was available was green wood. Precious time was lost making the handcarts, which should have been spent in traveling, and many provisions were used which should have been for their journey. At last, on July 28, 1856, the Martin Handcart company started westward. In spite of the lateness of the season and the advice of those in charge at Winter Questers, the leaders decided the company should leave. In their desire to go to Zion, the overlooked the fact that God moves in natural ways and expects us to respect natural laws. It was the fifth handcart company to leave that season and consisted of 576 person, 146 handcarts, 7 wagons, 6 mules, 50 cows and beef cattle. Usually the man would pull the handcart and his wife and children push or walked alongside. Thus, Maria and her family traveled the first lap of the journey, 300 miles to Florence, Nebraska, where they arrived August 11, 1856. At Florence, Nebraska the two sections of the Martin Handcart Company were consolidated into one as a protection against the Indians in crossing the mountains and plains, and on August 25th, the company rolled out of Florence. They reached Fort Laramie six weeks later in October, and were told Salt Lake was just two weeks away. Perhaps they would have made it to the Sale Lake valley before the sons but there were numerous delays. That hastily made handcarts and the use of the green wood combined to make the carts break down frequently resulting in a costly loss of time and provision. Maria and Thomas were expecting their eighth child in about three months but things hadn’t been overly difficult. Their three little girls and boy toddler were happy and she has a good singer with a jolly, cheerful disposition. Her favorite song was “Come, Come, Ye Saints” and it was a great comfort to sing as they pushed and pulled the cart. Each adult received a ration of one pound of flour a day, but even so there were still hungry, so when they reached Fort Laramie, they were glad to exchange their watches and other valuables for extra food. Maria and the other pioneer women were well organized and would have dinner ready a half hour after camp was made for the night. They made biscuits on the way by mixing soda with a cup of sour milk, pouring it into the top of the flour sack, adding a pinch of salt and quickly shaping biscuits which were cooked as soon as they stopped. Soon however, the flour rations had to be cut to ¾ a pound a day, later to ½ pound, and still alter to less and finally no flour at all. Still the company toiled cheerfully on. They were becoming weak from fatigue and lack of food. So it was with heavy hearts that any extra things from the handcarts were cached or simply abandoned along the road. Extra bedding, carefully guarded heirlooms, personal treasures, all were left behind to lighten the loads, but still, with rivers to ford and an early winter sapping their energy, progress was slow. Maria and Thomas’ little boy, about eighteen months old, dies, and she was permitted to ride half a day in a wagon with his little body until camp was made and he was buried. Soon after, Maria gave birth to a new baby boy, who soon died. On the morning of October 19, they awoke to a raging snowstorm. Already their beds were covered with four inches of snow. They were camped by the Platte River and had to cross it before the storm grew worse. The river was wagon-bed deep, and the men carried the children and those women who were too ill across, but most of the women tied up their long skirts and waded across. The storm continued for several days until the snow was fifteen inches deep on the level, but still they struggled on, strong in their faith and their hopes for a new life in Zion. Probably as a result of the exposure from the storm and freezing cold of the river fording, cholera broke out among the starving, suffering camp and one night Maria’s husband, Thomas, and sixteen other died and were buried in a common grave. A friend of the Normington family, James Bleak became so ill from the cholera that his family thought he was dying, and since the company had to move on, they wrapped him in a blanket and left him to die on the prairie. That evening when they camped for the night, Maria went to ask how their friend, James Bleak was feeling. When Mrs. Bleak told her they had left him back on the trail to die. Marie told her she should not have permitted him to be left because he had been promised in England by the gift of tongues that he should reach Zion in peace and safety. Maria then took her handcart and went back on the trail until she found him and brought him back to the camp, helping bring him back to health. James Bleak did live to reach Zion and became secretary to President Brigham Young. Their clothing and shoes were worn out. They had very little bedding and practically no food. Maria saved what food she had for the three little girls and she tried to eat dirt to satisfy the hunger pangs. She walked until her feet were so frozen and sore she could walk no more. Then she crawled along on her hands and knees, and when her hands were so frozen she could use them no more, she went on her knees and elbows. Years later, at the time of her death, there were great scares on them from this awful experience. Maria was so overcome with hardships, starvation and grief that when the relief wagons came, she was unconscious and remembered nothing of the last part of the journey. A company of missionaries, returning to Salt Lake City on October 4th, had reported the terrible conditions of the handcart company they had passed. Conference, which was in session, was adjourned and president Young called for 20 teams, loaded with provision, to leave the next day to meet the emigrants. John Parker furnished one team and wagon loaded with provisions, and his son William Parker drove the team. It was into this wagon that Maria and her three little girls were placed. On Monday, November 30, 1856, the weary survivors reached Salt Lake City more than four months after they started. Only about 300 of the original 567 reached the valley. Some turned back, but most died of privation along the trail. Maria and her children were taken to the home of John parker and nursed until she recovered, after which she helped with the house and farm work at the Parker farm near Taylorsville. She was sealed in the Endowment House to her dead husband, Thomas Normington and in 1857 married John Parker as a plural wife. Six years later, John Parker and his three families were called on a mission to southern Utah to raise cotton, fruit, etc. They left their comfortable homes again and moved their cattle and sheep to help build up and redeem a rough, desolate wasteland. At first, Maria lived in a “dugout” and later in a log house. She was thrifty and industrious, washing and scouring wool from their sheep, carding and dying it with dock roots or adder, then weaving it into cloth for their dresses and suits, which she also made. She sewed, knitted, tatted, and netted, making the most of she had, and was soon comfortable in their home. Maria was never heard to censure anyone for her trials, nor complain because her lot was hard. She was cheerful and faithful throughout her life and felt that the gospel of Jesus Christ, for which she had endures so much, was the most glorious of all blessings. Her family said her prayers reflected her great faith as she seemed to actually see and talk with her Father in Heaven as she expressed her gratitude and asked for the blessings they needed. She died in Virgin City, Washing County on March, 18, 1881.

Side note: One time on the farm when grandpa Case (far right in the 3rd picture) was visiting us and was helping me move the 4” sprinkler lines that kept our crops watered and growing. We had just turned on one of the sprinkler line after we had moved it and watched to make sure that the line had come to full pressure insuring that the job was done and all was well. We heard the distinctive clang as the pipe hit full pressure and all the sprinkler heads sprung into full production. (No greater sight for a farm boy in summer than a sprinkler line at full pressure after having just moving it) Satisfied that our work on this line was done I turned for his old red Chevy truck and met the soul searching gaze of my grandfather. He was just standing there looking at me, muddy and covered in sweat. It was getting a little uncomfortable, then with an intense look he said, “I’ve given your dad a good name and he has taken good care of it. He has given that name to you. What do you plan to do with it?” This has stuck with me throughout my life, sometimes it condemns me when I should have done better and other times it lifts me as I have done my best. Like it or not, we carry this name that has been defended and built up by all those that have come before us and we should do our best to honor it in our words and deeds.

Do what YOU do, because of who YOU are.

I was talking to my son today and he made the comment that he needed to call someone to apologize for being a jerk on the phone. He went on to say that his actions were in response to the way they had treated him earlier. It reminded me of a story that I have told my children time and time again. It goes like this…

Once upon a time; there was a young scout walking into a store he looked ahead and saw an elderly lady coming so he grabbed the door and dutifully held it open for her. She walked by without acknowledging him. He turned to enter the store as she turned to him and with a bitter tone snarled out “listen here little boy. I don’t need you to hold the door open for me because I’m old, or because I’m a woman.”  To which the boy simply smiled and said “mama I didn’t hold the door open for you because you’re a woman or because your elderly. I held the door open for you because I’m a gentleman.” With that he turned again and went on his way.

The moral of the story is this “Do what you do because of what you are” not for those around you, not because others are watching, not because it’s convenient but simply because that’s who you are.

This is a double edge sword however, if we act mean or rude we must own it as well. If that’s not who you want to be, than change. It’s that easy. But how we act is who we are, we can do better or worse, it’s up to us to decide. We cannot and should not blame others for the way we act, saying something like “well I only act that way because they are a jerk.” or “Well they cut me off.” Or “They made me so mad that I lost my temper.”  Nope! it won’t fly!  On that day when we stand before our Maker; He won’t, for a second’ buy that excuse. I am in charge and accountable for me and my actions! No one can make us act a certain way. It’s just an excuse and He expects better of us.

Good news/ bad news, no matter where you are or how you are treated, if you treat others with dignity and respect; you get to own it. (Winner, that’s who you are). If you are rude and intolerant of others regardless of the circumstances or worse because of the circumstances, you get to own that two (sadly, that’s just who you are).

 

 

My dad is a work horse and my ramblings

The other day as I was driving home I heard the question on the radio,” If you were an animal, what animal would you be?” After thinking this out with no real answer for myself, I began to think of others. Then my thoughts settled on my Dad I started to think what would he be if he were an animal? The thing that stuck as I reviewed all the possibilities was a “work horse”.

This thought brought to mind the first time I saw a real work horses in action. It was at the Idaho State Fair when I was in my teens. The announcer told us that these horses were in the light weight class. They were younger, smaller (still huge) horses and would come out nervous and prancing. They were hard to handle and you could feel their pent-up energy about to be released.  Farm hands would wrestle and pull or even some times drag on the reins trying with all their might to keep all that power under control. I couldn’t believe they were the light weight class. There was a large metal hook that was connected to the team of horses that was dropped into a ring on the weighted sled. This was what would connect them and they could then start to pull. The goal was to pull it a certain distance then they would stop. Each round more weight would be added to the sled making it harder to pull. When the sled was too heavy to be pulled the full distance, who ever pulled it the farthest was the winner. Sometimes the horses would hear the “clink” of the hook connecting them to the sled and they were off. Leaving men to jump out of the way scrambling for their life to get out of the way of the runaway weighted sled. I heard that fingers would be cut off if the guy hooking the team up wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes they would miss the hook and the team would take off without the sled and drag the handler down the track. Wide eyed I moved down to the arena fence and knelt down so I could get an up close look at these awe inspiring athletes work.  

 

Each class of horse brought out bigger and bigger animals. I remember still the impressive, mammoth creatures that came out as they introduced the heavy weight class grand champion team from last year as they entered the arena to make their pull. An older gentleman was handling them and he spoke softly to them as they moved. He called each of them by name and they would respond to his confidant quiet voice. These extra large athletes were calm and well mannered. It seemed to me that the three of them had a relationship probably from countless hours over the past years of working together day after day. Each knew what the other needed and wanted instinctively. The handler dressed in his warn out coveralls walked them in and backed them up to the sled calm as a Sunday morning. They stood there while they were hooked up and I noticed that the old guy never stopped talking to them. Always calling them by name, calm and reassuring he issued every instruction with the flip of this or that reign. They waited quietly for the command to perform.  When he was ready and everyone was out of the way he, calling them by name asked if they were ready, then just made a clicking noise. These two giants in perfect unison took a step forward and leaned into their harnesses. Up on their toes, with hoofs sinking into the soft arena floor, muscles bulging, veins popping the harness pulled tight into their skin and they began slowly to move the heavy overloaded sled forward. Slow at first then building speed, step for step till they crossed the finish line at a good pace. It was a sight I will never forget.

As I reflected on the animals attributes and likening them to my father I came up with the following;

Dad has always been a real eager go-getter. In my mind he is unstoppable when he puts his mind to something. Sometimes when I was young I would see him much like those strong, young, high strung horses. He would charge into a problem knowing he could do, or overcome whatever the challenges may be, and most of the time he could and would. Once in a while this high-strung approach would create a situation that… (Later much later) we could reflect on and get a little chuckle out of.

Raised a farm boy in Vernal UT he has worked hard his whole life, from early in the morning till late at night. It would seem like all those years of hard charging has extracted a toll on him. He gets up a little slower now with a few grunts, his joints don’t move like they use to and he doesn't heal as quick when he gets kicked or bucked off. But he still works hard and can out work most of the young guys in spite of the creaks and pain his body now offers him. He is calmer these days as he moves into a new project. Still sure he can and will come out on top. Time, a large Idaho farm and six teen age children have rode the rough off of him, smoothed out the edges of this old rolling stone. Now he is more like the seasoned grand champion team I witnessed that won the state competition so long ago.

As I made this comparison it got me thinking. I thought about the team of horses pulling together in perfect unison and their handler talking so softly. I could not get the memory out of my head, how they worked so well together knowing each other’s thoughts, moves, even intentions. The parallel was too close to home to be missed. My Mom, his partner, best friend, consultant, right hand and helpmate, I realized that he had lived his life with all the ups and downs as a team evenly yoked with her. That she was an intricate part of his success, no their success. She has always been there step for step in every situation in every success and setback. They move in perfect unison each pulling their weight, responding to the constant gentle commands of their master.

At least that’s how I see it. My parents are work horses!

 I love my dad and mom.