I haven't spent much time in the Book of Job. I am familiar with the story, but remember from my seminary days that 42 chapters seemed awfully long for telling that a good man lost everything, but through faith it was restored double. Maybe it is time to read it again, with a little more of my own life experience to reflect on.
In any case, the story of Job was brought to my attention recently when Daniel was preparing his lesson for Primary class. We started talking about friendship and judging. In the story, Job's friends come to him in his misery and do what friends do - they tried to help. I imagine them having the best of intentions as they offered counsel and support. They knew that God is just and that blessings come through keeping the commandments, but somehow in the process they became accusers. Maybe they were repeating what others were saying. Maybe they recognized his afflictions as specific judgments that resulted from breaking commandments. Whatever the situation, they did not believe him when he declared his innocence. As a result, God required Job to offer a sacrifice on their behalf - for they were the ones, who as false accusers, were now guilty of offense.
Because the timing of this Job lesson came as the LDS church's essays on polygamy were getting nationwide attention, I began to wonder whether or not we, as modern day friends of the Prophet Joseph are guilty of this same offense before God. Why, as his friends, do we believe the rumors he publicly denied throughout his life?
I have no claim to specific knowledge on the subject. I have read more than some people and much less than others on the topic of polygamy. What weighs most on my mind is that the person on trial here is not Joseph, it is me. When given two sides of an event which I have no personal knowledge of, sheer volume of "evidence" is not enough to convict anyone. "For the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man [judgeth] on the outward appearance, but the Lord [judgeth] on the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7) My ability to accept Joseph as a prophet of God is dependent on him having the character to say what he means and mean what he says, or else he would be an unreliable witness. If I am willing to parse together an interpretation of his words that mean something totally opposite to what he said publicly (in order to believe what Brigham Young, or Eliza Snow, or anyone else said about him years after his death when he couldn't defend himself), then that standard of interpretation would also apply to everything Joseph taught. I'm not willing to subject the restoration of the gospel to that standard, or it would be completely meaningless. If I am wrong in my opinion, I would rather err on the side of mercy than otherwise, knowing I will be judged by the standard I use to judge others.
I am not writing today to convince anyone of anything. To my knowledge, my mom will probably be the only one who reads this .(Hi, Mom. I love you.) I have even been told that putting opinions online that dissent from the church teachings is wrong, even if they are personal opinions on a personal blog. However, I want to be the friend of Joseph and Job who came and sat by their side when everything else had been taken. In order to do that, I am posting here for anyone to read who might care what I think. I wouldn't be much of a friend and comfort by staying quiet amid the gossip, would I?
I've heard my entire life that the family is central to God's plan - and it is true. The family is a workshop, or a bite-sized piece of society, a laboratory just large enough to practice the social skills necessary to build Zion one member at a time. However, I think the focus on family sometimes misses the point that "the heart" is also central to God's plan. Hearts are the treasures being fought over, and families are where they are kept, defended, or lost.
One of my recent projects is to learn what happened to my great-grandfather, Ernest Kohler, after he was last seen by his family in April 1918. He was a German immigrant, living in the US. At the time he disappeared, he had a wife and son, almost two years old. The US had officially entered World War 1 one year earlier. Some former friends now considered him an enemy, and he could not find work in Ogden to support his small family. I don't know what happened in the hearts of that little family, but generations have been affected. As the history is recorded, Ernest returned to his family in Ogden after finishing some work in Wyoming. Not having employment opportunities in Ogden, he planned to stay in Salt Lake City to look for work there. Before leaving on the train, he arranged to meet his wife at the station the following morning. She would be traveling to Salt Lake with her mother to attend General Conference. (The newspapers confirm that the trolleys would be running early to accommodate the early conference-goers.) She says she awoke to a foot of snow and was unable to attend. She waited for letters which never arrived, and never heard from him again.
As I read some of the documents recording events of the next few months, I feel like a ghost in an old movie - you know, when you see someone take actions you know won't end well, but can't communicate to them to stop what they are doing?
Edith Kohler filed for divorce on June 13, 1918. Why? The documents themselves say she didn't have money to pay the attorney or the court costs. She didn't remarry for another 10 years, and that was at the request of her son. According to the documents, the charge against Ernest Kohler is "although an able bodied man and capable of earning sufficient means to which to provide plaintiff and her minor child with the common necessaries of life, had wilfully and neglected to do so." She also signed a document stating "that to the best of her knowledge, information, and belief, he has been employed during the last sixty days, or could have been employed had he been willing to work." (dated June 13, 1918). There was no mention that her husband was missing or had wilfully abandoned the family, only that he was not paying their expenses and was assumed able to do so.
Once the petition had been filed, the court needed to notify the defendant of the charges. The court required that Ernest Kohler appear before the court on June 24th to answer charges. By the 21st of June, the sheriff of Salt Lake County notified the court that Ernest Kohler could not be found within the state of Utah, but was "reliably informed" that he was living in Evanston, Wyoming. The decision was made that publication of the summons in the Ogden paper and a letter directed to the post office in Evanston was sufficient notification of the court summons. The Ogden newspaper ran the notice in every publication between August 15, 1918 to September 19, 1918. He was given 30 days from receipt of the summons to appear in court. On October 21, 1918 the judge decided in favor of the plaintiff because the defendant had never responded to the summons, stating, "this decree shall not become final and absolute until after the expiration of six months from the entry thereof; when it shall then become final and absolute unless proceedings for a review are pending before the court before the expiration of such period and for sufficient cause, for its own motion, or upon the application of any party, either interested or not, otherwise ordered."
One day after the war ended (November 12, 1918) the judge again ordered judgment dissolving the marriage - "not to become absolute until the expiration of six months from the entry thereof." The following day, Edith Kohler testified that Ernest Kohler was an alien enemy, not a citizen of the United States. She last saw him in April 1918 when he stated a desire to leave the country, believing there would be trouble before the war ended. She heard indirectly that he was in Salt Lake City, and also that he had been interred in a prison camp. She heard nothing else until the first of November when her brother showed her a letter from San Diego stating that Ernest Kohler had been held as a prisoner in San Diego since he had arrived there in early June and was now on parole.
Other sources I am trying to verify state that Ernest Kohler was arrested by US marshals and interred in the San Diego County Jail as an enemy alien in San Diego on June 20, 1918. He was paroled in September, but violated parole to seek work in Yuma, AZ. He was re-imprisoned on returning to San Diego and was again paroled when determined not to be a threat, possibly as a result of registering for the draft, which he did in San Diego on September 12, 1918. His last reporting date was November 13, 1918 - the same day the Ogden paper announced his divorce. I wonder how he heard the news and how that information changed his feelings about the end of the World War.
I don't know where he went from there. My grandfather, Ernest Kohler, appears to have kept the name of his father (Kohler) until he married Virginia Andrew in 1940 when he became Ernest Bowman Wheeler. Since then, the mystery of Ernest Kohler has sparked the interest of many of his descendants, including my father, who studied German and went to Germany in college to see if he could locate any information from relatives on that side of the ocean. Both my sister, and a cousin have sons named "Kohler". I am saddened by events that served to divide a young family, to think of a little boy sitting at home listening to recordings of "O My Father" wondering about the father he didn't remember. I am grateful he found a loving step-father to fill that role and make him part of a larger family unit. I hope Ernest Kohler Sr. found peace and love in his life. I don't know if he ever had another family, but I do know God loves all his children. I am grateful that as I have turned my heart to seek for a long lost great-grandfather, I have been reminded of a Heavenly Father who was watching over each of the participants in this family of broken hearts.
Still waters run deep.
Maybe it has something to do with being 40, or perhaps pregnancy. In either case, this past year has been very deep water for me to swim in. I feel like I am learning, growing, waiting, and praying that everything will turn out I did a lot of that last year. The pregnancy itself was pretty uneventful, but fears of higher risk because of age were always in the back of my mind. There was also a lot more emotional chaos in my life than I am accustomed to, and I still don't know if that was pregnancy-related, or something else. I had an excuse to let myself go, to spend more time thinking instead of trying to keep on top of the chores, to focus on myself instead of everyone else. It was okay, though, because creating a new life is important enough to let go of the old one. The day by day growth was imperceptible to me, but the results were unmistakable. Something was going to change forever, and I had a fair idea of what that would involve. You can't really know what it is like to give birth until you have done it. You know that event is ahead, but worrying about it doesn't help anything. It can only be gone through one moment at a time until the process is complete and you are holding the new creation you have been daily working toward for what seems like forever.
The birth of Christian was a little different than my usual pattern. His was a slow and steady labor effort, lasting over twice as long as his siblings. The contractions maintained a consistent distance apart (about 8 minutes) until nearly transition time. I was much more active this time, like I was the one making the adjustments necessary for him to gradually make his way here. When he did, his cord was around his neck, and it was short. His dad made the adjustment needed for him to finish birthing, but he wasn't pink, and he wasn't moving. We continued to work with him until he responded - a small movement and then a long yell. Boy, was he angry! His color started coming in then, but it took at least another day before the color in his face and head matched the rest of his body. Since then, he has been a healthy, happy little boy. He sleeps well, eats well, and loves to look at faces and smile. He seems pretty undisturbed by the noise an chaos that surround him, I guess choosing to enjoy the good times and let the other go by unnoticed.
Did I mention this past year has been hard? I feel like I am learning, growing, waiting, and praying that everything will turn out. I've read books about learning to come unto Christ, and perhaps these are just the aches and pains associated with being "born again". That feeling I can handle things on my own? Gone. The perception that I'm doing everything I can and that my difficulties are because other people are too focused on themselves? It turns out I've still got a lot to work on before I can point fingers. Come to find out, I've got a Laman and Lemuel-like tendency toward toward murmuring about the difficulties of life, even if only to myself. I sure hope that works itself out before I end up like them, trying to beat the messenger who will lead me to Zion.
I've heard birth experiences can reflect other things going on in life. If I am the Christian still waiting to be born, do I need to be still while the Savior patiently guides the birth process for me and removes the cords that would hold me back and choke me? Or do I need to be the one moving more than I am accustomed to move? In either case, it hurts. Fortunately, now as then, I have the assurance and peace that God is mindful of me. There are angels nearby to lend support when I need comfort and guidance. Now as then, I can remember the counsel given me to "be patient with the process, and you will be satisfied with the outcome."
16...12...40...8.
This is a big year for milestone birthdays in our family.
Jared turned 16 on Saturday. The last few weeks have seen him behind a steering wheel, and cleaning the basement. He has also been staying busy with play practice and school, but those activities are old friends. Turning 16 means it is time for Mom and Dad to turn their time and attention back on him again. Daniel has been taking extra time after work and on the weekends so Jared can practice driving. I insisted he plan a party and invite guests, both male and female - just for the experience.
Ever since the announcement was made to change the missionary age to 18, I've been fully aware that Jared will be facing the world soon. Growing older can be done in his sleep, but that is no way to prepare for the life he came here to live. As parents, I think we want our children to know everything we have learned, but without the hard experiences which taught us. If I could give him one thing in these next few years, it would be an understanding that God loves him, even more than I do. When his challenges seem overwhelming or too hard to bear, to recognize that God is mindful of him. The things we struggle with most may be the very means of obtaining life's precious lessons and gifts. This is the process of growing up.
I remember life before personal computers and mobile phones. Maybe that is why I love pencils. In the days before word processors (and backspace), my thoughts were collected letter by letter, line by line. Writing by hand was slow enough that I could usually edit my thoughts before they reached the page. The commitment of words on the paper was sufficient motivation to continue building on the foundation I started with, but having a good eraser on hand was comfort enough to me to override my desire for perfection and start creating without knowing the direction or quality of the end result. (Come to think of it, given a choice, I will seldom use a pencil without an eraser.) With a pencil, I am free to create. In contrast, this post has no evidence of my many starts and edits just to think of a topic to write about. With the backspace it is as if it never existed. Unlike writing by hand, it is easier to delete than create, so I find most of what I spend time writing is gone without a trace, and no incentive to keep it and explore where those thoughts would have led.
My pencils have entertained me through many hours of church meetings. I notice that a persistent lack of floral arrangements has shifted my purpose from drawing to note-taking, but in either case the end result is as much my own creation as it is representative of the original subject. On long, hot summer days, a pencil was as good company outside as a book was inside.
So why am I nostalgic about pencils today? It is a symbol representing creation for me. I have been through a normal share of life events recently that have left me feeling disconnected from my routines and purpose. I have found I feel more alive and engaged with life when I create. While some people create with objects, manipulating colors or textures until they are satisfied, my creations usually begin as fleeting thoughts which need to be captured before they escape or nurtured word by word until they take form.
