Rahab

Rahab by Jeanne Gomm of Gomm Stain Glass Studio 2016

Rahab

Rahab is probably my favorite woman of the Old Testament. She was a heroine, a harlot, a refugee and an immigrant. She was also smart, kind, caring, courageous and full of faith. Rahab saved the Israelite spies from certain death and in turn they saved Rahab and her family.  Rahab had grown up worshiping false gods but had gleaned a fervent testimony as she learned of Him whom she came to know as THE living God, the Creator of heaven and earth, the God of strength and miracles.

I wonder how Rahab was treated. She had given up her homeland, her occupation and her faith tradition. Was she accepted or was she shunned? When she came to gather water from the well, did the other woman speak to her kindly or did they turn away and speak about her? After all, Rahab’s past could provide plenty of fodder for wagging tongues. Was she considered a threatening stranger or was she invited in to the circle and comfort of loving sisterhood?

We will probably never know, but either way,  Rahab stayed the course. If there were those who mocked her, she like Nephi of old, “heeded them not” (1 Nephi 8:33). My favorite quote from her is, “…for the Lord your God, He is God in heaven above and earth beneath” (Joshua 2:11). To me, Rahab's story is one of grace and redemption. It reminds me that "no matter what our past has been we have a spotless future" (Brown).

Rahab’s story becomes more fascinating as we learn of her posterity. According to Jewish tradition it includes seven kings and eight prophets. In Matthew chapter 1 we read that one of those is He who is known as King of Kings and Lord of Lord’s.

Bible King James Version 

Brown, H., B. 1883-1975.

The Book of Mormon Another Testament of Jesus Christ 

Gomm, J., (artist) Gomm Stain Glass Studio 

A Boy, a Dad, the Game of Baseball and a Tender Mercy

On Thursday October 13, 2016 the annual Heritage Gala took place.

At the end of the Gala when all were gathering to leave, one of the clergy volunteers, Steve Lineback,  showed me a Hall of Fame postcard. It was signed by Ralph Kiner, and Steve had won it in the silent auction. Kiner is one of the baseball greats who played for the Philadelphia Pirates, the Chicago Cubs, and the Cleveland Indians. Ralph Kiner was also an announcer for major league baseball and did so for 53 seasons. That was a great card to win in a bid!

I was happy for Steve. It's fun to become the owner of some American baseball history. However, when he said, "My dad and Ralph were friends. They played baseball together in high school. My dad used to pitch to him." My heart took a little leap.

Steve Lineback's dad John, was a Naval Pilot in WW II. After the war he taught high school, coached, started a family, and was in the Naval Reserves.  Fifty-five years ago while on a routine Naval training mission, he and his plane were lost at sea. Neither the plane or the pilot, were ever heard from or seen again. Steve Lineback was a boy of fifteen when he and his family received the tragic news. Their lives were forever changed.

To receive a tangible reminder of the past,-- to connect in a little way to a loved one through an auctioned item, can only be described as a tender mercy. For me it was a gentle reminder that a loving Heavenly Father not only knows when a sparrow falls to the ground and how many hairs are on our head, (Matthew 10:29, Luke 12:7) but also understands when we could use a little boost in the form of a connection to someone we love, someone we have missed.
I've reflected on this again and again since Thursday night.
God is good.


Post Script: 
 Nationally recognized collector and historian Brent Ashworth, donated the autographed item spoken of here. This along with other items donated by Brent, were to help raise funds for the programs at Heritage. In his vast collection of items Ashworth "just happened" to choose something of significant personal meaning to one of 250 people in attendance. As "luck" would have it Brent and Steve also sat at the same table that evening.

...As a Hen Gathereth Her Chicks

     We have a hen who gets broody. Her greatest desire seems to be a good mama. As city ordinance prohibits us having a rooster to accommodate her desire for motherhood, we bought two, day old chicks. That night when she was sleeping on her barren nest, we put those babies beneath her wings. The next morning when we checked on the three of them, she seemed as pleased as punch to show us her babies. It was if she were saying, "Seeeee, I told you I was going to be a mama."
     She took such pride in her wee ones. She taught them to scratch, led them to the raspberry plants, showed them the newly mowed grass clippings, water sources, and most importantly, to come when she would call. They stayed by her side and she protected them. If there was danger in the form of a summer storm, or a prowling cat or skunk, she would call to them with her special cluck. They would come running under her wings and were kept safe. They thrived under her loving care.
     She is now on her second set of baby chicks. These too were placed under wings in the dead of night. Once again she seemed thrilled to be a mama. However, these babies would not heed to her special cluck. She would call and call while watching and waiting for them to come to her and they would not. These independent babies did not understand the peril they were in nor did they seem to care. Eventually we intervened and put them in the rabbit cage. There they eat, drink, and watch from captivity the antics and abilities of the free range hens. They have no idea what they are missing.
     If we can keep them safe one day they will be large enough to join the others. However, they will have missed the protection of a loving mama. They will have to figure things out on their own. They will struggle. Not because they didn't have a mama,  but because they refused to heed her call. She often lingers by their cage, hoping perhaps they will show an interest in her and her wisdom, but they never do.
     As I watch these chicks I think back to the book of Matthew chapter 23:7 where Jesus says, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not."
     He will call. He will gather. He will protect. He will love. But He will never force. We are forever invited to come unto Him. My little red hen has underscored for me the importance of agency and the never ending love of the Savior.  Jesus gently calls to us with arms outstretched. His protection will see us through the dangers and storms of this life which will surely come. --as we come unto Him.
    
    
    

National Healing

     There is a scripture in the book of Chronicles which has been on my mind lately. The Lord is speaking to Solomon and says, "If my people which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land." ( 2 Chronicles 7: 14 KJV)

     George Washington must have been familiar with this scripture.  He often called for times of prayer, fasting, the keeping of the Sabbath Day holy, and repentance with his troops. The commander taught without Divine intervention liberty would not prevail.

     Washington called for a national day of fast to be held on May 17, 1776. The next year he issued   the following directive:
     All the troops... except the guards, are to attend Divine Worship tomorrow morning during the second bell; the officers commanding corps, are to take especial care, that their men appear clean, decent and that they are to march in proper order to the place of worship...The honorable Congress having recommended it to the United States to set apart the 6th of May next to be observed as a day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer, to acknowledge the gracious interpositions of Providence; to depreciate deserved punishment for our sins and ingratitude, to unitedly implore the protection of Heaven...the Commander-in-Chief enjoins a religious observance of said day and directs the Chaplains to prepare discourses proper for the occasions." 

George Washington, Headquarters, April 12, 1777

    

     If attention to Divine Worship, humility, and prayer was needed in 1777, it is surely needed now. May God bless us as we seek Him and may our land be healed. 

                                                                               Reference

Shea, M., A. (2012). In God We Trust: George Washington and the spiritual destiny of the United   States of America. Derry, NH: Liberty Quest.

Are There Any Sick Among You? James 5:14

 For this post, I have a guest writer, my daughter, Jodi Harris Brimhall. It is taken from a talk she gave in her congregation in Red Rock Arizona, June 19th, 2016.

"Are there any sick among you? Let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with the oil in the name of the Lord."

James 5:14

I was asked to speak to you today about the Priesthood. When I think of the Priesthood, I first think about my Father in Heaven, and how He loves us all so much, and wants to help us through our journey here on Earth. Heavenly Father allows men to hold His Priesthood power, and all men, women, and children are able to receive the blessings from it. This Priesthood power allows us to be baptized, confirmed, receive our temple endowments, and be sealed as families. We are also able to take the Sacrament every week, just as we did earlier today, because of the power of the priesthood.

     I also think about the many times in my life I have asked for priesthood blessings, and the comfort they have given me, or the miracles that have happened because of those blessings. I want to share a few stories with you about those priesthood blessings.

     I’ll start with a story about my husband. When Rick was a young kid his parents noticed he had a lazy eye. They took him to the eye doctor and the doctor told them that they had caught it way too late and it was too severe for any treatment to be effective. Normally they would try to treat it by putting an eye patch over the good, healthy, eye, which would then force the bad eye to have to work harder. His mom insisted that they at least try it. The doctor said they could try it, but assured her it wouldn't help. They gave him the eye patch, which he wore for several months. His dad gave him a blessing and in that blessing he blessed him that his lazy eye would correct itself. It slowly got better, and by the time he went back to the doctor nearly a year later it was completely healed. The doctor told his parents that he had never seen an eye that bad, on a child that age, correct itself, and he said it was a complete miracle.

     When I was 5 years old I got an infection, which then caused my kidneys to fail. I had to be up at Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake and I wasn't getting better. I was in the hospital for about a week and my kidneys were getting worse. I asked my dad if he would give me a blessing. He found another priesthood holder in the hospital, and they were able to give me a blessing.

     I don't remember a lot from this experience because I was so young but I do remember they had to draw my blood several times a day to see how my kidneys were functioning. After I received the blessing from my dad, they drew my blood and my numbers started to improve immediately. I was released from the hospital days later, having made a full recovery, and I have not had a problem with my kidneys ever since. One other thing I remember from my hospital stay was on the day I was checking out I could see the nurses station from my room, and there were 2 nurses standing there talking about me. I heard one of them say that it was a miracle that I recovered completely and so quickly, and they couldn’t believe I was well enough to go home. The healing process only began after my priesthood blessing.

     During my time in the hospital, there was one day where my parents took me into a small room where other sick children and their families were gathered together. I wasn’t sure why we were there until I heard a familiar prayer start, and I looked up to see a few men blessing the sacrament. We were too sick to be home, taking the Sacrament in church, so these wonderful Priesthood holders brought the blessing of the sacrament to us.

     Rick is the priesthood holder in our home, but he is gone a lot for his job. Last year Rick was working in Nebraska for 3 months and our son was having terrible night terrors every night that would take him hours to snap out of. I felt helpless as everything I tried to do to help my son didn't work, and I grew exhausted as I was unable to sleep at night, and had no husband there to help me. I reached out to our Home Teacher Scott Allred, and he and Brad Rasmussen were able to come give Logan a blessing. The night terrors became shorter each night, until they stopped completely, and we were all able to get the sleep we needed. The priesthood is not available only to those who have worthy father’s or worthy husbands. Anywhere you go, you can find priesthood holders to help you, and this has been a huge blessing in my life.

     In preparation for this talk I have been thinking a lot about the men in my life who hold the priesthood and as today is Father's Day I've been thinking a lot about my Dad.  Two weeks ago my dad suffered a heart attack. Miraculously he is doing okay and is recovering well. My dad is the rough and tough cowboy type. He grew up working on a farm and he started working when he was 8 years old. 
     While I was growing up, I can't ever remember a time in my life when my dad sat with my family on Sunday's. He was in the bishopric, then he was the bishop, then he was in the stake presidency. He was always up on the stand, watching over the people he served. I remember nights when the phone would ring and he would rush off in the middle of the night to help someone in the ward who was in a crisis. My dad is always the first person to offer help and the last person to ask for it - to a fault. When he had his heart attack he was home alone, and really didn't want to bother the neighbors or home teachers, so he thought it would be a good idea to drive himself to the hospital. 
     The hospital parking lot was under construction when he got there, so he had to park a few blocks away, and then hobble himself into the hospital in excruciating pain. Nearly 2 hours later, after he had been admitted to the ICU, given medication, and received test results that confirmed his heart attack, he decided he should let his family know where he was and he did so by sending my mom a text that said "I had a heart attack, I will be spending the night at the hospital.” My mom frantically rushed to the hospital to be with him. After she got there, it was around 10pm, and she called both of my brothers, who live in Utah. My brothers left immediately to go to the hospital. When my mom told my dad that my brothers were coming he said, “Good, I need them to give me a blessing.”

     The next morning I was able to talk to him. I called my dad on FaceTime so I could see him. He was laying in a hospital bed hooked up to IVs and heart monitors, and wearing very tired eyes. I asked him why he didn't call anyone or at least call my mom to tell her he was at the hospital and he said, "well she was in a movie and I didn’t want to bother her." After assuring me he was fine he asked "hey Jodi, how's your car running?" We have been having problems with one of our cars recently and that's what he was currently worried about, apparently.

     This whole experience with my dad has opened my eyes to 2 things. The first, my dad is not as smart as I thought he was. My siblings and I have since reminded him that he needs to let people help him, and that 911 exists for a reason.

The second, and most important thing I have learned is how seriously and reverently my dad treats the Power of the Priesthood. Throughout this entire experience, the only time my dad ever asked for anything, was to ask for a priesthood blessing. This speaks volumes to me, and has shown me that if my dad won’t ask for help getting to a hospital while he’s having a heart attack, but will ask for a priesthood blessing to recover, there are few things in this life as precious and necessary as the power of the priesthood.

     Priesthood blessings can come to you no matter your circumstances, and I know that everyone here has different relationships with their Father's and the men in their life, and the priesthood holders in their life. I also know that for some people Father's Day can be a day of hurt, for various reasons, but one thing that is the same for all of us is our Eternal Father, and the love that he has for each of us. He is our true Father, and he loves us so much that he has given us his priesthood power on the earth to help us and to heal us.

     Elder Ballard taught, “ Our Father in Heaven is generous with His power. All men and all women have access to this power for help in our own lives. All who have made sacred covenants with the Lord and who honor those covenants are eligible to receive personal revelation, to be blessed by the ministering of angels, and to commune with God.”

     I know that our Heavenly Father loves us, and wants us all to have access to the blessings of the Priesthood. I have a testimony of the Power of the Priesthood, and have seen it work miracles in my life.

Habitat for Humanity Builds Hope AND Homes

This week I had the wonderful opportunity to be a part of the Utah County Habitat for Humanity Women's Build. Five staff from Heritage assisted as did five of our wonderful students. While I was prepared to work hard, sweat, enjoy the students and get to know them better, I was not prepared for how much my heart would be touched. As I shoveled road base and visited with Krystle, the young widow whose home we were helping to build, I was inspired. 

     Krystle is in her early 30’s, is a mother of two children, and was recently widowed. They are a family rebuilding their lives. This home gives Krystle and her children, community. This home gives them safety and stability. This home is rebuilding their hope and their faith and allows them to share that hope with others.

 One of the things, which was shared with the Heritage Team, was that as the home’s foundation was being laid, Krystle placed a Bible in it. She wanted her children to have the visual that their home would have a foundation based on biblical principles.  Krystle shared with those in attendance that their home would be a home of faith, hope, and love. As Krystle tearfully thanked the students and staff for their efforts on behalf of her family, hearts were touched. Character, faith, empathy, kindness, and part of a home, were all built that day.

    

Hold On 

In 1998 my husband and I decided to take our two oldest sons and their cousins on a rafting trip down the Colorado River. As their cousins “knew a guy,” we borrowed life vests, rafts, and skipped hiring a guide—after all, who needs a guide? The river only flows one direction. With confidence born of the ignorant and thrifty, we were on our way.

It didn’t take us long to realize the raft our sons were in, was holding air, and our raft was holding water. We bailed and planned to pull to shore as soon as we got through the whitewater, which was directly ahead. A moment later, I was tossed face first into the bottom of the raft. I knew I was drowning. No sooner had that thought entered my mind than I was again tossed with great force in another direction. I tried coming up for air but to my dismay, I realized the raft was now on top of my head and I had been thrown under the raft. I tried to bob, push the raft, move a different way, but each time just hit my head on the raft. I could not breathe. I was beginning to panic.

After what seemed like an eternity, the raft moved, I was able to breathe, was rescued by a boat filled with European tourists, and made my way to the sandy shore. Everyone was there but my husband. He had been missing as long as I had but was nowhere in sight. Prayers were uttered and we all watched upstream. In just over a minute Randy came floating towards us, very much alive. He had been sucked into a whirlpool, had felt close to blacking out but had instead come to the surface.

Later as we processed that day’s events we discovered our sons had made it through the white water without incident. What had been a terrifying experience for us they described as “exciting” The difference? They had held on. Although I am embarrassed to admit, much like our not seeing the need to rent rafts, good life vests, or hire a guide, we felt trying to paddle around the white water seemed prudent. We were wrong. Sometimes you just need to hold on and stay the course.

Occasionally when we are in the middle of rough water, holding on is the key to survival. We may be tossed about, we may get wet, we may feel as if we cannot breathe, and we may experience something we never want to repeat, but hold on. Don’t let go. Don’t give up. Hold on.

The pictures are from the actual event described above. Photographers in the Moab area caught it on film. 

"I was in Prison..."

In 1989 my Uncle Paul Fitzgerald (My dad's look alike brother) served in the Jordan River Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

After Uncle Paul's shift he was approached by someone who was also working there that day.

“You must be Crozier's

brother." he asked

"Yes," Paul replied, “Where did you know Crozier?"

"I knew him out at the prison."

"Oh, did you work with him there?" Paul asked.

"No," came the reply," I was an inmate."

This was a story I knew I needed to hear in person. 

On May 29, 1993 my husband Randy and I went to the home of

Roger Callings Anderson, formerly known as the Silk Stocking

Bandit--the same man my Uncle Paul had met in the temple. 

This is his story:

"I was in prison for armed robbery. If you were a little older you probably would have heard of me. I was pretty famous. They called me the Silk Stocking Bandit.  I was sentenced to five

years in prison in 1959 and soon earned the reputation of being a renegade. I had attempted several escapes and had planned another but this one was different. This time I got down on my knees and begged the Lord to help me be free. That was all I wanted. I wanted to be out of prison and I wanted to be free. I thought that maybe if I prayed the Lord would help me this time and my escape would be successful. 

 I did it. I escaped. It only lasted for three days though and it was the three worst

days of hell I had ever experienced.  I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, and the whole time I was hunted by the prison dogs. They eventually found me at a friend’s home. To this day I don't know, if I was turned in or not. 

I was placed in isolation, (solitary confinement) and given one meal a day.  After about two months I was sent to B North.  That's still in isolation but you get three meals a day and are allowed visits from the prison chaplain.  It was at this time that I met your dad Crozier.  He came to visit me and invited me to come to church when I was out of isolation and in

A Block, where I would be allowed more freedom. Once I got off lock up (isolation) I decided to give it a try. One Sunday it was mentioned that they needed a Sunday School

Secretary.  My buddies, somewhat as a joke, nominated me for the job. I told them, “No," that I didn't want to and wasn't interested.  They may have listened to me, but the Chaplain

didn't.  I explained to him that I was illiterate and would not be able to be a Sunday School secretary if I could neither read nor write.  He said "Roger, let the Lord decide what you can and cannot do." And then asked me if he could give me a Priesthood blessing. Crozier gave me the blessing. It was beautiful. I was told that I would be able to fulfill my secretarial duties and that everything needed to fulfill this responsibility would be given to me. 

I did it!  I gradually learned to read, and from the beginning was able to keep the rolls for Sunday School. There were other blessings he gave me. I had smoked for years and he gave me a blessing that I would find a way to quit my habit. I would usually need to hurry out after church to have a smoke.  This time one of my buddies saw me and said, "You know what you are Roger, You're a hypocrite.  Every Sunday you go to church and every Sunday you can't wait to get out of church so you can smoke.  You are Roger, you're a hypocrite."  This was

the way I found to quit.  His words angered me so much that I threw the cigarette in my mouth at him, threw the pack in my hand at him, threw down my lighter and never smoked again. (This was in the days where were cigarettes were sold in the prison commissary.)

The last Priesthood blessing he gave me was just before I was released. In it I was told that I would be able to get out of prison and stay out.  I was twenty five years old and had been

behind bars for five of those years. I went to prison inactive in the church and came out  active. The prayer that I had prayed before my escape had been answered.  I was finally free.  I was free from walls that kept me in and from bad habits that kept me hooked.  I was going home.

I became involved immediately in M Men and Gleaners or what would now be the Young Single Adult program of the church. They seemed to have known I was coming (Crozier had contacted them) and kept me very busy with dances and plays.  It was there that I met Jolene. We were married on August 26, 1965 and were sealed in the temple on April 15, 1966. I got a job with the Granite School District as a custodian and worked for them until a few years ago. We have three wonderful children, two sons and a daughter.  Both of our boys served full-time missions for the Church. One in Texas and the other in Iowa.  I've had many callings in the church. My first calling after being released was as Young Men’s President.  I have also served as Scout Master, Deacons Quorum Advisor, Elders Quorum President, and most recently as a temple worker in the Jordan River Temple.

Reminiscing...

Crozier used to say, “I don't care what your reasons are

for coming to church.  If you'll just go, the Lord will rub off

on you eventually."

“He was a guard before he was made chaplain.  It didn't seem to

matter much.  He won the inmates over.  His advice was always

good."

“I was in prison and ye came unto me"... 

Matthew 26:36

     

  Roger warmly welcomed us to his home where we met his sweetheart and one of their sons. In their humble home he showed us his prison scrapbooks and shared with us his story of finding Christ in prison.  Roger and his dear wife have since passed away leaving a legacy of faith for their posterity. 

Mothering Day

     Today is Mother's Day. It's a day I like to refer to as Mothering Day. Aunt's, teachers, sisters, Sunday School teachers, loving neighbors, whether they have been given the opportunity to bear children or not, have been mothering to me and mothering to my children. I love and appreciate their nurturing ways.
     My own mother is in her 80th year. She is in the twilight of her life. She is becoming frail, forgetful, and yet remains full of faith. My mom was born in 1936 to George and Katherine Boyce in what then was known as the Riverbottom but is referred to now as the Riverwoods of Provo Utah. She was christened Barbara Ann Boyce in St. Mary's Episcopal Church in Provo Utah. The same church I attend today for meetings and services as a part of my membership in the the Utah Valley Interfaith Association.
     The home she was raised in was an old railroad shack. My grandpa purchased it and transported down Provo Canyon with a wagon and team of horses to the Boyce property. To this day the little home remains, and is a bit northwest of University Ave behind Will's Pit Stop.  When my mom was young an addition was made on the shack turned home, which included a bathroom. The first bathroom for that home.
     Mom, though a member of the Episcopal Church was the speaker at her graduation from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Seminary in 1953. Grandpa and Grandma Boyce both attended. They thought it was pretty cool their Episcopal daughter was giving the graduation speech at a Mormon Seminary graduation.  At age 18,  mom moved away from home to a job and apartment in Salt Lake City.  There she was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a gutsy move, one that changed the dynamics of the relationship with her parents and siblings. It's now been 62 years since my mom kept her faith while at the same time changing her religion.
     As much as I owe my dad for his influence on my chaplaincy, I owe my mom for my love and appreciation about other religions especially those considered High Church.  I experienced the beauty of religious art, cathedrals, and sanctuaries from the times she took me out of school for my religious  education when we lived in Europe. It was my mom who signed me up for Catholic Vacation Bible School.
     On this Mother's Day I pay tribute to my mom. She's a one in a million kind of mom. I love her.

      

     Yesterday was my dad's birthday. He would have been 84. Crozier Kimball Fitzgerald was born in 1932, and complications from his birth caused his mama to die 3 days later. By the age of 17, his childhood home had been destroyed in a fire, and his father had passed away from a stroke, leaving 13 children and their new mama, with big bills, great sorrow, and very little in the cupboards. Dad grew up in absolute poverty. At one point after the fire, he and his older brothers lived in the barn. (Pictured here with his younger sister Betty Ruth Fitzgerald (Bell) and brother Nephi Fitzgerald)
 
    My dad joined the Air Force right out of high school, during the Korean War. He thoroughly enjoyed Boot Camp and told me, "It was lots of fun and much easier than work on the farm" (Who says that?!) He is also the only person I know who loved military mess hall food, and thought it to be, "delicious." Dad had a cheerful nature and was always one who looked on the bright side of life. He was impatient with whiners, and those who could not put in a hard days work. Everyone else he was patient with and worked tirelessly to help them. He had patience with the addict, the imprisoned, and the sick, but zero tolerance for those who were lazy. (Lazy for my dad was someone wouldn't work at least a 10 hour day, -Ha!)

Dad left us a legacy of faith. He loved, and knew he was loved by, his Father in Heaven and his Savior. He lived and and loved the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Family meant the world to him and he taught us that the hard things we went through would end up being, "a good experience." Dad didn't know it at the time, but he was a living, breathing, example, of Posttraumatic Growth. Dad felt life could be sweeter, more lovely, with a greater connection to God, because of the trials in our life. Current research supports Dad's theories.  He nailed it!

Prayer

Prayer

 

As a baby I was diagnosed with a rare skin disease, urticaria pigmentosa. It is a glitch with the mast cells in the body.  It left me with brownish red spots of varying sizes and shapes, much like a cat or a dog has. They were everywhere on my body except for my face and hands. These spots would become raised if I was introduced to anything I was allergic too and the itching would be nearly unbearable. The most painful thing was not how they felt but how they made me feel.  

      My parents were very faithful believers, and called upon the elders of the church to pray over me, and anoint me with oil in the name of the Lord (James 5:14).  I was given a Priesthood Blessing. I do not remember this experience. However, I was told about it many times throughout my life. In this prayer I was blessed that, “If you are faithful, by the time you are old enough for it to be important to you, you will be healed.” I thought it was “important” when I was in kindergarten and asked to come up in front of the class where the teacher pulled up my dress, and pulled down my socks to reveal spotted legs. She then warned my classmates to never call me Spot or Leopard Girl. Up until that point I had not been called those names. In Jr high school when we had to shower and change clothes in front of others for PE, I really thought that would be the time when it was “important.” During high school I lived in the Philippines and it seemed every Youth Group activity was set around a swimming pool or the beach. Once again, I felt it was “important,” to be free from spots.

     During this time my parents continued to work with doctors for answers, treatment and a cure. As my dad was in the military we moved often. Each new doctor seemed very interested in seeing something so rare and did their best to come up with answers and help. Twice I was hospitalized after their attempts at treatment, which caused anaphylactic shock. 

     One doctor, suggested sunbathing when weather would allow and when it wouldn’t, the use of a sunlamp. Something so easy was the most helpful treatment to have been suggested. My spots slowly started to fade. By my senior year most could be hidden by a modest bathing suit. I continued to pray that in God’s timetable they would disappear. A week before my wedding, when it was very “important” to look normal, I only had one spot remaining. It was on the inside of my upper arm hidden from view. By the end of that year I was spot free. 

     Perhaps it’s a simple thing to write about or consider. However this experience was life changing and transforming for me. As a child and youth I hated being so very, very, different and the cause of whispered concerns by strangers of  “catching THAT girls disease.” I cried many a tear because of how different I was. Yet, I am a better person from the experience. I have great compassion for others who feel, look, or act, different. Perhaps it’s the closest I will come, to understanding the feelings of the Biblical Leper.  I too was healed.

     I came to know that prayers may be answered right away, in twenty-two years, or in the next life, but they will be answered. 

The Steps to Chaplaincy

One of the reasons I started writing this blog was to answer the frequent question, "How can I become a chaplain?"
Here are a few thoughts.
1. Have a love for God and His children.
2. Enjoy, find beauty in, and have respect for the world's religions.
3. Get a minimum of an Associates Degree in Religious Studies or a field in Human Services. (Masters Degree preferred)
4. Get your Clinical Pastoral Education--1600 hours
5. Seek ecclesiastical endorsement
6. Become Board Certified
7. Remember it's not about you. To be an effective chaplain, it is the faith tradition of your client which matters, not what your religion/spiritual community/faith background may be.

Mary's Faith

     Easter morning has dawned. The sadness and sorrow of Good Friday and Easter Saturday have been replaced by the joy of an empty tomb and the Risen Lord. For some, Good Friday and Easter Saturday are quiet and reflective. For others, they try not to think of what happened on those days, and look only to the promise today brings of Everlasting Life. For me, all of those thoughts combine in my mind and heart. However, during Holy Week, I also tend to reflect on Mary's faith.
     We don't know when or how her dear Joseph died. We only know that in Jesus's last moments He is concerned for his mother and asks John the Beloved to care for her. If Joseph were alive this request would not have been needed. We also know Jesus had the power to heal the sick and raise the dead. He had done so for others, many others. Why not Joseph?
     That's where Mary's faith amazes me. She knew of her son's Divine Heritage and power, yet for Joseph, --healing was not to be. Did she wonder why? Did she experience a faith crisis? Was she angry at God? I don't know for certain, but I imagine Mary grieved that the answer to her prayers was a "no." I also believe Mary trusted, loved, hoped, and remembered. She remembered who her Son was. She remained a woman of faith.
For while she was His mother. Mary knew, He was her Redeemer.


     

Purim

Hamantaschen cookies, the traditional treat of Purim

   One of my favorite things about chaplaincy in the residential treatment center setting, is helping my students celebrate the holy days and holidays of their many faith traditions. Today is Purim, the day which commemorates the Jewish people in Persia being saved from extermination. You remember the story. Esther is asked by her cousin to not fully disclose her identity--that of being Jewish. However, through a series of twists and turns in the plot, the time comes where Esther is counseled by her cousin Mordecai to no longer keep silent. ..."who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14) Esther calls for all of the Jews in Persia to fast and pray for three days and then risks her life to go unsummoned before the king. Prayers are answered. Esther is able to speak to the king, and the Jews of Persia are spared.
     Have you ever been asked to do something really hard? Have you been Divinely prompted to do that which seems next to impossible? Perhaps you like Esther have been "brought to the kingdom for such a time as this." YOU were born for a reason. Your life has purpose and YOU and I can do hard things. The same Heavenly help which was there for Esther will be there for us as we seek to understand His will. Cross my heart.

Palm Sunday and a Temple

It's an exciting time of year to be a chaplain! It's Lent. It's nearly Purim-- the holiday which celebrates the Jewish people in Persia being saved from extermination, and today is Palm Sunday. Holy Week is here!
     Palm Sunday commemorates the Triumphal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem where palm fronds were waved, and clothes and palms were strewn in His path. (See Matthew 21:8 KJV) Those green palms symbolized Everlasting Life and were a sign of goodness and victory. The victory of He who IS truly good.
     I've always thought this is where the "red carpet treatment" may have had its beginnings. Today when "important people" pull up in front of a fancy place, for a grand event, the red carpet is placed in their path and people wave in excitement. In the era of the cowboy, and the taming of America, a coat or cloak would be placed along the way of a dirty or muddy path, to protect someone of esteemed importance from becoming soiled. Was it from this day known as Passion Sunday or Palm Sunday that those traditions came to be? We will probably never know for certain.
     Today a new temple of the Lord will be dedicated in Provo Utah. I love the symbolism and the timing. That this House of the Lord is being dedicated on Palm Sunday which ushers in the holiest week in Christianity, is significant. In today's temple dedication ceremonies, white handkerchiefs will be waved symbolizing the palm fronds waved during Jesus's Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, and the Hosanna Shout will be heard. Goodness and victory will be represented in this House of the Lord and all who enter will be reminded of Everlasting Life. With those handkerchief's waved and hosanna being shouted in adoration and praise, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords will be welcomed to a temple built in His name. It's an awesome day to be an Interfaith Chaplain who also happens to be Mormon.
    

Chaplain Tami's Spot

      In 1989, my father, Chaplain Crozier Kimball Fitzgerald, was dying of cancer. As he became increasingly ill, he worked to find someone to take his place in the residential treatment center where he served as chaplain. The position was posted, but months went by without the facility having any applicants. One Saturday evening in May, my father called to ask if I would be willing to substitute for him should he become too weak to continue. As I had grown up attending Catholic Vacation Bible School, Protestant Youth of the Chapel, Nondenominational Services, and had been a mentor of youth from my youth, I felt comfortable and happy to help should it be needed. My dad then asked, "Can you meet me there tomorrow? I want to introduce you to the students. " I met him at the facility where I thoroughly enjoyed witnessing his warm and loving interaction with the youth. Two days later, one of the best and noblest of men died. He was only 56.
     My chaplaincy was launched that day and since then I have had the wonderful opportunity to serve as a chaplain to at-risk teens. In some way I have hoped to honor the legacy of faith left to me by my father. I didn't know it at the time, but agreeing to help my dad made me a first. Because of that day in 1989 where I said, "Sure Dad, I'll help," I became the first female chaplain in the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
     In October of 2015 I found out from collector, historian, and friend,  Brent Ashworth, that my 2nd great uncle, Elias Kimball, was commissioned in 1898 as the first LDS chaplain ever. How cool is that? Apparently chaplaincy is in my blood. And to think I just thought I was Irish.