MarShel Erickson

MarShel Erickson, daughter of my dear friends, Darwin and Carolee passed away yesterday after a long painful bout with cancer.  I only got to meet her once.  She wasn't having a very good day.  Still, on that day, she was positive and cheerful, despite the misery she was enduring.  She was a friend of my daughter's who told me that you couldn't go see her with out coming away cheered up.  That was MarShel's way.  She loved making others happy.

Between, or after a Conference session, last week I watched a little presentation about the miraculous recovery of a young man who had been at death's door.  Some of the commentary made me shudder.  The interviewer seemed almost boastful at the miracle that had come to him.  I thought of dear sweet friends of mine, whose outcomes were nothing to boast about.  Friends who loved their spouse or child every bit as much as this man's family loved him.  The interviewer sounded as if this fine young man was just too special to be taken and I thought of broken hearts who felt the same way about loved ones who were just as special, but didn't survive.

Years ago, Elder Marvin J. Ashton was here for Stake Conference.  A Sister, spoke.  At the conclusion of her talk, she told of the number of her children who had gone on missions, married in the temple, graduated from college; and while, thankful, was also boastful.  When she finished Elder Ashton stood, out of turn, approached the pulpit and admonished the Sister to go home, kneel in her closet and thank the Lord for her many blessings and then ask for His forgiveness for all the hearts she had broken there that day, including his own.  It is so important that we are careful about the manner in which we receive God's blessings.

On another occasion I heard a sweet Sister bear her testimony in Church.  She'd just had a baby.  She thanked everyone for the out pouring of love manifest in the delivery of more food to their home, during the days which followed the birth, than they could consume.  Another Sister was in attendance that day.  She too had just had a baby.  I later, became aware, that in her case, no one dropped by with or without food.  No one even noticed.  She was no less deserving, no less in need.  I don't know if there is an adequate explanation when we mortals overlook someone.  But I know that no one is overlooked by God.  The fact that Marshel must go, while another stays is neither a condemnation of Marshel or something to brag about for the other.

I said that the interviewer seemed boastful, as did the theme of the whole program, but the young man, who had been permitted to tarry a while, was far from boastful.  When asked about what he'd learned in his ordeal he humbly said, (paraphrasing) that he'd gone, "from hope, to faith, to submission."  He knew, what we all must learn, that we each, in the end, must submit to whatever the Lord sees fit, in His wisdom, to inflict upon us.  I probably wouldn't be so brash as to mention this principle at such a tender time as this, except that this is the central theme taught to me over the years by MarShel's dear father.  Darwin, and I'm sure Carolee, have learned that true joy and peace in this life can only be had when we submit our will to God's.

MarShel was too precious to lose, but we lost her.  There is no explaining it.  It isn't a punishment.  It isn't a deserved outcome.  It just is.  And though we must wonder in sorrow - why - perhaps for the rest of our lives; we may rest assured that she was not, nor is she, overlooked by a neglectful God. Her loving Father in Heaven has taken her home to his loving embrace, where I'm sure she is happy and full of joy.

Let's Read The Book of Mormon Together!

Tomorrow, I'm going to begin reading The Book of Mormon again.  I'd love to have you join me.  I used to comment on what I've been reading in that great book on this blog.  A couple of weeks ago I decided to remodel things and make a separate blog expressly for the purpose of reading The Book of Mormon.

You can visit that blog by clicking on the tab above, labeled The Book of Mormon Today.

I sure hope to see you there.

Growing Up In Himni, Utah - Episode 8

Brer Rabbit, Brer Bear and Brer Fox

I was always pretty scrawny. Consequently, I got picked on quite a bit through Elementary School and Junior High. It was pretty unpleasant but I learned to keep clear of the bullies for the most part and managed alright.

When I got to ninth grade though, I really met my nemesis. Gavin Richardson was his name. Gavin was one of Butch Farley’s minions. Gavin was small and smart enough to befriend Butch because Butch could easily have whooped him. But, he was big and dumb enough to pick on me. Those intermediate bullies were the worst.

Butch for example never picked on the little kids. He had nothing to prove. Picking on us puny ones was the realm of bullies who didn’t dare pick on anybody their own size. There was one exception. One day Butch got crossways with my seventh grade brother, Todd. I really don’t know what made him mad but he slammed Todd up against the back wall of the auditorium so hard that Todd’s head ricocheted off the wall and head-butted Butch right in the nose. Blood splattered everywhere. Todd came out of it unscathed and Butch cut him some slack after that.

Gavin, however, wouldn’t cut me any slack. Going to school became a nightmare. I hardly slept at night for the dread. One day I happened to see the great Disney movie Song of the South. In it, Uncle Remus told the story of Brer Rabbit and how he out witted Brer Fox and Brer Bear. About the time the fox and bear tossed Brer Rabbit into the briar patch it occurred to me that I, like Brer Rabbit shouldn’t have all that much trouble out smarting Gavin, or Butch for that matter.

A couple of days later, I got my first chance to test my theory. We were showering after gym class. My locker was uncomfortably situated right between Butch and Gavin. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Gavin winding up a towel with which to pop my bare backside. The Brer Rabbit in me began to emerge. I kept my cool and made like I hadn’t noticed. Just as Gavin let the towel fly, I moved and that towel snapped like a firecracker on Butch’s exposed rear end. All I had to do then, was quietly, discreetly, get dressed while Butch cleaned Gavin’s clock
.

Things quieted down for a few weeks.

The next semester though, I took Mr. Hocker’s typing class. Gavin took it too. My assigned seat was near the door at the side of the room. Gavin passed my desk every day and with an extended knuckle whopped me on the shoulder blade as he entered the room. It wasn’t three days before that became intolerable. There was no such thing as “Safe Schools” back then. I was pretty much on my own to solve this one. Gavin was clearly meaner and tougher than me, but I had already concluded that I was smarter.

The next day I kept a wary eye out for his approach. When he arrived and went to thump me, I exploded out of my chair, shoved him over a desk, typewriter and all, and came down on top of him swinging for all I was worth. The element of surprise gave me the initial advantage and I calculated that Mr. Hocker would be there to break thinks up before Gavin recovered enough to kill me. It worked! We got sent to the office where neither of us confessed the reason for the altercation. After a warning, we went back to class, Gavin subdued and Jinx quietly triumphant. Gavin never bothered me again.

In today’s schools the aggressor is automatically considered guilty and I’d most likely have been threatened with expulsion. That would prevent me from daring to defend myself against such subtle bullying. And that would tacitly give Gavin license to pick on me for the rest of my life. The old ways are sometimes better.

Other bullies have prevented Disney from distributing Song of the South anymore. The Sista Rabbit in my wife, however, found it for sale in Europe over the internet and bought us a copy on DVD.

Zippity Doo Dah!

There Am I In the Midst Of You

I just read an article about former Latter-day Saints who have begun to gather.  One reason, they say, is to help them with their loss of the culture.  They don't miss the gospel, but miss the culture.  I found it interesting, because I lean a bit in the opposite direction.

For five and a half years, I've served in the Branch Presidency at the local Juvenile Detention Center.  Our gatherings are simple and I have often described them as the gospel without the culture.  We don't have much in our little Branch that resembles a typical Ward, but what we do have is the sweet, comforting, need for and companionship with the Savior.  During that five plus years we've served under two Stake Presidents.  Each of them, in an expression of love and encouragement has told me of his conviction that if the Savior were here, He'd be ministering at the Detention Center.  On both occasions, this was my reply, "President, He is and He does."

This is not to say that the Savior is not actively present in a typical Ward.  I'm sure He is.  But sometimes, I've found the clutter, commotion and flurry of activity around programs and meetings and expectations and disappointments and anticipations and meetings and competitions and rumors and reports and guilt trips from the pulpit, and comparisons and cliques and did I mention meetings?.........

I've found it what?  Disconcerting?  Disappointing?  Unfulfilling?  Can't really put my finger on it.  Can't really even criticize it.  Don't really miss it.  Can hardly bare to live without it.  I guess it's kind of a love/frustration relationship.  Both, I suppose because, despite that earlier list, there is love and service and compassion and friendship and inspiration and meetings and brotherhood and companionship and fellowship and meetings and encouragement and understanding and rejoicing and testimony and refreshments and meetings and instruction and spirit and Spirit and did I mention meetings?.......

I attended my home Ward yesterday for the first time in months.  It was all there, including the gospel.  It was a joy to greet and worship with old friends and new ones.  It's amazing how a Ward can change in five and a half years.  Wards, like people, have their imperfections and their flaws.  This is how it was intended.  Wards are like hospitals only the doctors and nurses and paper pushers and custodians are also patients in every sense of the word.  If your doctor has a cold, is his diagnosis and treatment any less needed or precious?  Of course not.  If you gave him a mug of chicken soup would the service you return be of any less value than what he offered you?  Probably not.  We each bring ourselves to the table of the Lord by participating in a Ward.  Inevitably we each bring our strengths as well as our weaknesses.  Who's to say which is the greater blessing to the whole.  Both are God given (see Ether 12:27) and both bring a dynamic to the Ward that invokes the necessity of the Grace of God, not only in our individual lives but in the entirety of our Ward, our Stake and indeed the Church.

In our own lives, weakness is an opportunity to learn, grow and be strengthened.  If it frustrates us it is because we have excluded God from the equation.  The same is true of a Ward.  Weakness, there too, is an opportunity to learn, grow and be strengthened.  If is frustrates us it is because we have excluded God from the equation.  His Grace is sufficient for all men and all Wards too.