"Dad wrote this poem after he had gone through one of the darkest times of his life. He worked for his brother and sacrificed to help build the company and the company prospered. His brother turned against him, fired him to make room for my cousin, who was fresh out of college, which precipitated a proxy fight, a court hearing, and eventually the sale of the company. My father was hurt and humiliated that his own brother would turn against him and he spent many sleepless nights. It took years, but finally my father forgave his brother. For years I held a grudge against my uncle, but my brother pointed out that when he went off to college, Dad was strict, driven, demanding, and hard-hearted. When he moved back to Salt Lake, Dad was gentle, compassionate, and tender, but always driven and became more successful in business on his own." She continued with an addendum to this:
"When my nephew [Cameron Cook] was married in the temple, I was shocked when my cousin came in [the son of the uncle mentioned above]to perform the sealing. I admit I was preoccupied by how awkward I thought it was, which consequently didn’t allow me to feel the spirit of the ordinance. Afterwards, I asked my brother, Philip, who was father of the groom what he thought about the situation. He replied, “I heard a voice that said, ‘Don’t let anything come between family [members].” That was a healing time for me. Later, we found out that my cousin actually sought permission to perform that particular sealing. I’m glad he did.
Trials refine us, bring us to our knees, and mold us into better people if we look to God for help. So, years after our trials, we can look back and see God’s hand molding and shaping us."
I was younger, so, although aware that my father went through a significant trial, was unaware of how serious and difficult it really was. I didn't hold that grudge. However, later, when I read my father's autobiography (which I understand he had really toned down for the final edition of the book), I felt that maybe I needed to take a lesson from my dad and forgive.
I watched my dad over my lifetime. He had already softened by the time he raised me and Christine (older siblings say I was raised by a different man than they were), but he softened even further as his grandchildren came along. After caring for my mother I felt my father had nearly reached perfection, although I'm sure he would say differently. My mother was always patient and kind, and my dad, though always a good man, learned to be much more patient and kind through his trials.
My grandmother Cook also wrote a poem titled "In Retrospect." Although not about forgiveness, it was about trials.
If I could number only happy hours,
I should, perhaps, name all that I have known.
For days when clouds hung low, and grief engulfed
Me with its surging flood, when hope had flown
And doubts obscured the way, have now passed on--
Ameliorated by Time's gracious hand.
Today I know that blessings ofttimes wear
A strange disguise; I better understand
The need for clouds and tears and shattered dreams.
A maze of hues will hide the rich design
Of master-works of art, when seen too near-
A distant view full beauty will define:
The somber tones accentuate the bright.
Give warmth and depth to modify the light.
My grandmother lost a child to blood poisoning. He was twelve years old.
In my dad's book he says, At the young age of 12 1/2, Glenn was already driving a team of horses to pull the plow. One day the plow hit a rock and bounced him off. As he fell, he cut his knee on a rock. At first it looked as though the cut had healed up, but one day my brothers were out running races, which they often did; and Glenn's pet lamb was running right along with them. It darted in front of him and tripped him and, as he fell, he again tore open the wound on his knee. This time it became infected and his condition deteriorated rapidly. When the doctor came he could see Glenn was in serious trouble, but misdiagnosed his condition as pneumonia and ordered that a mustard plaster be placed on Glenn's chest. This misdiagnosis and remedy did nothing to prevent sepsis. The infection spread everywhere including to vital organs like his heart. Because there were no antibiotics available at the time, my brother, Glenn, died."
My grandmother also wrote a poem about his death that is worth repeating.
You Left Us With A Smile
You walked always in pleasant paths,
Nor needed to be sad
For there were many lovely things
That helped to make you glad.
You found the early buttercup,
The lark's ways well you knew;
You made friends with the furry things,
They loved and trusted you.
But you slipped quietly away
While heaven spilled her tears,
For you were young and strong and gay,
And wise for your brief years.
The lightning flashed in fierce dismay,
The thunderous protests ran
From peak to gale and back again,
For earth had lost a man.
The wild winds lashed and moaned aloud
Their sorrow to convey
That one who filled life to the brim
Must now go far away...
The angels must have come that night-
You left us with a smile-
The fearful storm could show its might,
Peace beamed on you the while;
But on our hearts the cold rain fell
For many a weary mile.
After Thomas died, I read all of my grandmother's poems and felt a strong bond with her. I realized that all of them had been written to help her heal over the years.
Roy and I had planned to drive up to Flaming Gorge this weekend to retrieve and winterize the trailer. Sadly, we were only able to use it two or three times this summer. When Roy read the weather report at the first of the week, he decided we couldn't wait for the weekend, so he drove up Monday morning, loaded the trailer and headed back. He said the drive was interesting because they were doing a controlled burn up near the campground. The smoke was so intense he wondered if the controlled burn had somehow become uncontrolled.
My week was still pretty booked, I had a sewing class on Wednesday and Thursday to learn how to further utilize my sewing machine. It was a little slow at first, but I learned a lot by the end. I also realized I need to spend some time to continue to learn all the things it can do.
Friday I received a call while at Costco. The Rasband's (below) had come to rake my yard and they couldn't understand why grandma was not at home. It was nice to have a mini service project done in our behalf.
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| It was a little bit cold, I'm not sure why Dojin felt it necessary to remove his shirt. Maybe to show off those pecs. |
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When you live right by grandma Catharine, you can walk over and borrow baking soda. Hyeji and Yuna found this large pine cone on their way over. |
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| Lounging in the tent made by Grandma Catharine |
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