Thursday, July 24, 2014

Happy and Grateful for Pioneers - Happy Pioneer Day!

This wonderful story and poem was given in church last Sunday.  Walter Whipple is speaking.  He was the first mission president to Poland.  He is our ward organist.  He played the organ on a mission at the Jerusalem Center a few years ago.  He has a collection of carved Polish religious folk art and does woodworking himself.  Often on Christmas day he is the one who will play the organ concert on Temple Square.  Enjoy this message that touched me.

Walter Whipple:

My maternal grandmother, Mabel Atkinson, one of ten children, was the daughter of a Danish

immigrant who had sailed to America at age 9, accompanied by her 4­ year­-old brother, over whom

she was in charge. Grandma Mabel taught school in Dayton, Idaho until she took early retirement due

to ill health. In her final ten or twelve years she took up writing poetry. I remember her pacing the

floor as she tried various ways of fixing a “dead line” that didn't flow just right. When she finally

found the desired word, she celebrated by taking the hatchet to the chicken coop. Within a short time

she served delicious fried chicken with freshly baked rolls, apple pie, and even green Jello.

From the early 1950's until her death in 1962, her writings appeared regularly in the Relief Society

Magazine. Her epic poem, Miracle of the Gulls, seems appropriate for this occasion:

MIRACLE OF THE GULLS

Singing, they blazed a highway to the West –

The Mormon pioneers. The desert sod

They conquered, even to the mountains' crest,

To build a great imperium to God.

“Come, come, ye saints,

We seek the place where God would have us dwell.

Though hard to you this journey may appear,

With joy, gird up your loins, for all is well.”

A reverent people asking but to be

Allowed, in peace, to worship Him they loved –

Their right within a kingdom of the free –

Were driven by the lash of slander; shoved

From their ancestral homes with rams of hate:

To coax the dormant life from desert sand;

To keep their shrine of faith inviolate;

Release an Eden in primeval land,

Where high above the ravens of despair

White wings of hope would bid them build their dream;

Where, clarionb­clear, through elemental air

Tolerance would echo in the eagle's scream.

Day after day the covered wagons rolled

Across the startled prairies. Light hearts sang

With violins in gladness. Mourning told

Of graves beside the trail . . . Yet ever rang

The carillons of truth. A retinue

Of angels listened to their muted song,

“And should we die before our journey's through,

” they sang,

“nor labor fear.

All, all is well.” Hearts quailed to hear the long-
Drawn howl of hungry wolves . . . A prophet's death,

Mob violence, were left behind; ahead,

Cathedral mountains and the challenging breath

From desert­lungs. When their great leader said,

Viewing the valley­land,

All eagerly they plowed and sowed and reaped;

Laid plans for Templed cities. The embrace

Of toil was sweet, and life in earth's womb leaped

To greening beauty: Thirsty acres drank

From cool canals and “blossomed as the rose.”

“This is the place!”

Then came black wings of doom, and laughter sank

In depths of horror: Hordes of cricket­foes

Came swarming from the mountains till the sun

Was veiled in darkness by them flying, creeping,

And field on field was barrened, overrun

By the marauders. Wives and mothers, weeping,

Fathers and children fought with fire and flail

Unceasingly, while sending fervent prayer,

Pleading for Heaven to save. To no avail

They toiled, then waited: On expectant air,

There came the ominous sound of rushing wind –

Great whirring wings alighted like a cloud.

The gaunt, worn pioneers, grief­disciplined,

Saw death descending swiftly in a shroud:

Rising from waters of the lake came gulls,

Great white­winged birds that brought but added fears.

Could nothing save now but God's miracles?

The cup of joy became a cup of tears.

“All is well!” rang out the victory cry,

Then,

“God has delivered us! The crops are saved!

Great joyful wings!” Their paeans reached the sky –

“Praise God for mercy prodigally laved!”

The gulls would gorge, cast up, then gorge again.

Exhausted toilers stood in awe to see

The feasting birds eject the crickets, then

Refill their craws . . . Their dark Gethsemane

Was lily­beautified.

As strong men knelt

And wept like children, with new tenderness,

Mothers held babies to their breasts, and felt

Anointing hands of angels in caress.

Within God's shadow, weary hearts (grown old)

Leaped with the pulse of April. Pioneers,

Young as tomorrow, in a rescued wold

Sang,

“All is well! Dispersed are all our fears.

Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?”

For God's sure fingers held His world in place.

Their hearts returned unto love's harpsichord,

They joyed within the peace of His embrace.

Today, beside a timeless monument –

Great silent wings — their children's children tell

The sacred tale of how the gulls were sent,

And sing the stirring anthem,

“All is well!”

­­Mabel Law Atkinson (1956)

Monday, July 14, 2014

A night to remember!

I haven't posted anything since May.  I will have to go backwards for a while maybe.  June was a very busy month for us. But here is a grandpa's corner that should make us all happy!

A BIRD IN HAND!!!

On a recent Saturday night Nancy and I had just gone to bed. It was just after 10:00
PM. As I lay there something hit me in the head. The first thought I had was that Nancy
had bumped me with her elbow. But, I opened my eyes and saw this winged thing flying
across the room. The wing span was two feet wide. It flew to the wall opposite the bed
and perched on the frame of Sara’s wedding picture. My next thought was that it was a
bat. but it seemed to big to be a bat. It then flew off the photo and landed on a small
lamp on the dresser. I told Nancy that there was something large flying around in the
room. Then I got up and closed the bedroom door so that it would not fly out and
around the house. I turned on the light. There on the lamp was perched a small gray
owl 6-8 inches tall. I could tell it was an owl because of the round head  the round
eyes looking at us and the little hooked beak with the feathers ruffled around it.
Nancy left the room to look for her phone so we could take a picture. I thought, “How
can a catch it without hurting it”. I thought about throwing my robe over it, but the robe
is heavy and might hurt the bird and break the lamp. I thought of a towel, but decided
that a towel is too small. I got a sheet and folded it double. Nancy could not find her
phone so there is no picture. (She later found the phone right under the lamp where the
owl was perched). I held the folded sheet up in front of me and walked slowly toward
the bird. The light was still out. I walked right up to the owl and slowly laid the sheet
over the top of it then gathered the sheet at the bottom and lifted the sheet with the owl
inside off the lamp. As I carried it out to the back yard the owl moved a little and made some
clucking type noises but not much. I placed the sheet on the grass and slowly pulled it away.
The owl was freed and flew toward the trees next door in the Call’s back yard.

We wondered how the owl got into the house. The next morning I went into the living
room and saw that the screen in front of the fireplace was partially open and leaning
over. Then I notice that there were several black streaks on the ceiling and walls of the
living room. The mystery was solved! The owl had somehow come or fallen down the
chimney and into the house. As it flew around the house the soot on its wings left the
marks on the walls. We also found one small bird dropping on the back of the leather chair.

The next day in church I told Duane Call Jr, who lives one back yard from us, about the
incident. He told me that there are six Screech owls that live in a tree in his back yard. We hear
them hooting every day. He then said, “Every night before I go to bed I go out on our
back deck and whistle and the six owls fly to the railing on the deck. I talk to them and
even pet them. Last night only five came and I wondered where the other one was.
Now I have the rest of the story!”

We live in a wonderful world, full of beautiful creatures, plants and even people. I am
glad that we had a close encounter with one of those creatures.

Below is a link that shows what a screech owl looks and sounds like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOMCHegQA7A