...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.