Line upon Line

For years, I had heard General Authorities encourage all the Saints to write their personal history. That always sounded good, but for someone else. In drip, drip, drip fashion, the words of wisdom rained upon me and rolled off like water on a duck’s back.

While attending a friend’s ward somewhere in California, the Gospel Doctrine teacher asked people if they’d ever written down a “spiritual experience.” I was instantly taken back in time a few years before, when my brothers and their spouses were at Sunday dinner with our parents at their home in Auburn, CA. Apparently my sister-in-law had had a similar lesson in Sunday School that day and had a great deal to say about spiritual experiences.

Our father, Loren, tired quickly of people talking one subject or another to death and said, “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a spiritual experience.” I knew he was playing devil’s advocate – a task he always performed with stoic indifference. He certainly stimulated the conversation, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

“Dad, you’ve got to be kidding. Do you not recall when you were shot down over Saipan, and your water landing in the B-24 went kerflooey when the bomb bay exploded, ripping your plane in two, throwing you and the others up front through the plexiglass window with your heavy winter clothing still on, and you were still strapped to your seat that was steel-plated. It had been ripped from the plane, and you were sinking rapidly in the water straight to the bottom?”

“Yes,” he said, knowing I had him.

“And as you sank into the water’s dark depth – it was pitch black at night – you said, “Father, I need your help, and I need it NOW!” And the next thing you knew, you were coming to the surface without any of your winter clothing, the heavy steel seat was gone, and you were just in your summer khakis when you broke the surface, your head hitting the rubber life raft. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, but somehow, in the huge Pacific Ocean, your head hit the life raft that you couldn’t have seen!”

“Yes, that’s true,” he had to agree.

“THAT would seem to qualify as a spiritual experience!” Everyone voiced their agreement with me…except my father.

“Not really. I was taught to say my prayers, I did, He answered them, and I lived.” A typical pilot/engineer mentality. “One plus one equals two.”

With that background, one might understand why the Sunday School lesson on Spiritual Experiences and the great number of sincere people sharing their stories didn’t motivate me to share anything. However, then the teacher took over and issued a simple challenge of, “Today, when you go home, take five minutes in a quiet place and write down in just a few words, a spiritual experience you’ve had.”

For some reason, that resonated.

When I got a moment of peace and quiet from the wonderful boisterousness of multi-families visiting, I tried to think of any spiritual experience that I’d ever had.

I was about to give up after rewinding the movie of my life, year by year to try to find the first such experience. Nothing. I thought a bit more and a brief image came to my mind of being in the station wagon sitting with two of my brothers in the middle seat. Up front Dad was driving and Mom comforted my youngest brother, Kim, age 3 in her lap. An infection or something had swollen his ear and puffed up that side of his face. He was in agony. Dad had called the hospital, and the doctor was quite concerned. Said Kim had something or another — I wasn’t paying attention.

On the way to the hospital in Champagne, Illinois, that was 30 miles away, we stopped at our bishop’s home where the bishop anointed my brother’s head. Dad then gave Kim a priesthood blessing. I don’t recall anything about the blessing, but my mother was in tears – a normal occurrence.

Kim was asleep when we got to the hospital. We didn’t stay long and soon were making the trek back to our farmhouse in Mansfield. All the boys slept as we drove home. At home, Kim woke up and wanted to walk with mom to the front door. The swelling was gone. His ear was back to normal – even the redness had disappeared. Mother shed more tears, but this time with a giant smile on her face. It struck me hard, as I recalled it, that I knew I’d seen a miracle. It felt good as I wrote, to recall that feeling just the same as I had decades before.

Indeed, the affliction was gone and Kim, without medication, went to sleep. In the morning, he was overactive, busy being a pest.

As I finished recalling this story in more detail than I had recalled before, I realized there was a distinct warmth within me, a clarity of mind and a strong affinity for my Father in Heaven. I realized then it was the Spirit that had blessed me with this inclusive recollection.

In an instant, I recalled another experience and wrote that down, then another and another and another spiritual experience came to my mind.

When we have severe pain, the great blessing is that when the pain ceases, immediately we no longer feel the pain. We do recall having had the pain, but the pain is not felt. In recalling that first spiritual experience I felt the same spirit and warmth and comfort that I’d felt when I saw Kim was healed.

As I recalled the next experience and wrote it down, the Spirit enlightened my mind and helped me recall not only the details, but the same spiritual warmth I’d experienced during that experience.

I had other pressing matters, so I had to put my pen down and get on with life. When I returned to our home I went to my computer and typed in the stories. I barely needed to consult my written words. They came back quickly. And again, as I typed in my experience, the warm glow of the Spirit testified to me that indeed I had been blessed to receive the administration of the Comforter.

I proceeded to write down one experience after another. I added historical context and personal details so that when my children would eventually read these stories, they would be more meaningful.

Every night I’d add more.  I relished the chance to get back to my computer and relive those experiences and discover more and more blessings I had long since put aside as just portions of life.

When I finally decided I was up to date, I found I had written 240 pages. I titled my recordings as “My Spiritual Odyssey.”

I challenge you to sit down and think of one possible spiritual witness to you and write it down. I believe you’ll discover the hymn, Count Your Blessings, is true:

“When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.”