Watchmen

My mother always told me “hate” was a strong word and to be careful how I used it.

CAREFULLY CONSIDERED LIST OF THINGS I HATE:

1. I hate when I’m scraping mayonnaise out of the bottom of the jar and some rim mayo accidentally smears on the edge of my hand. Mayo makes me cringe.
2. I hate swimming above scuba divers. Occasionally I’ll swim in the deep end at the rec center when scuba training is occurring at the bottom of the pool. It’s totally unnerving to tread water with black masses swirling below and someone else’s bubbles surfacing against my skin. I swam in Midway’s famous crater for the first time at night and was enjoying myself until a scuba diver surfaced a foot in front of me. I thought some bottom feeding nocturnal nessie was about to gnaw my toes off.
3. I hate flights that take off before 6 a.m.
4. I hate lip gloss and stinky dishrags.
5. I hate when church members speak ill of their bishops. (And church leaders in general, but especially bishops.) Porter Rockwell’s death left an opening for bodyguards and I have filled his position for bishops. Ain’t nobody hurting my bishop. For people who are not of my faith let me enlighten you: Mormon bishops are called by revelation—they don’t audition for the role. They are not paid for their service, often serve over five years, and their time card is punched well past part-time hours for the good of their congregation. They counsel, advise, love, lead, and stand as the shepherd of their flock. They sleep little, age quickly, attend too many meetings, and bear confidential burdens because they love the Lord and would sacrifice anything for their sheep.

A story once told about Joseph Smith and how he treated children is close to my heart. Margarette Burgess and her brother Wallace were walking to school on a muddy road. They got stuck and the harder they tried to get loose they deeper they went. They began to cry because they thought they’d be stuck forever. The children saw Joseph coming from his store. He pulled them out of the mud, put them on drier ground, and cleaned the mud from their shoes. The prophet talked to them kindly and used his handkerchief to wipe the tears from their faces. Soon they were better and able to go off to school.

When RE was four she donned a poofy, purple dress to church every week. She named it "Purple Pearl." This particular week she had new white patent leather mary janes to wear with Purple Pearl. She was exceptionally fond of them. Somehow I happened to be in the hallway during the second hour and caught this little scene with my own eyes. RE had been excused from Primary to get a drink (that faker) and was crying by the water fountain. Bishop Matthews came around the corner from his office, bent down on one knee in his western suit, and asked her at eye level what was the matter. She lifted her white shoe and pointed down; it had a scuff on the toe. He put her on his knee and wiped the scuff off with his tie. She leaned her head in on his neck and he squeezed her shoulder. Then she hopped down and skipped back to class. I’ve never forgotten this.

Bishop Matthews, like Joseph Smith, was a man of large stature and physical strength. He was skilled with a rope, an excellent shot, could tame and ride wild animals, and almost broke my ribs with a congratulatory hug in his daughter’s wedding line. A bona fide cowboy, he is famous for saying COWBOY UP the year we tried to quit girls’ camp a day early due to heavy rain and messy mudslides. He had a thick skin and could be tough as leather but was soft as chick’s down when he cleaned RE’s shoe.

Bishop Matthews loved his moustache but shaved it for six years. He hated wearing a tie. I often saw him walking home from church (hours after I left) with his tie in hand and the top two buttons of his white shirt free at last, all before his stride had taken him out of the parking lot.

Other Things I Learned From Bishop Matthews:

• He loved the youth of the ward. He managed a tire store and was throwing tires once when a sudden weight fell on him. He said he just knew one of the youth was struggling at that moment so he said a prayer right then and there for them
• “Beware of evil with smiling eyes”
• His two favorite scriptures: 1 Nephi 3:7 and D&C 130:20-21
• Three ways the Spirit instructs: 1)D&C 9:7-9, 2)through other people, especially priesthood leaders, and 3)the “duh” method: when you already know what to do because the Spirit is your constant companion from keeping your sacramental covenants. His analogy: when he was first married he kept bonking heads with his wife in the night because he wasn’t used to her. Fifteen years later he went camping with the scouts and tossed and turned all night because she wasn’t beside him. He realized over time he had become used to her and couldn’t sleep without her. When you are used to the Spirit the thoughts and answers you get from it won’t seem as strong and directed as you think they should be—but the quiet impressions are still right.

When Bishop Matthews was released his wife was asked to say a few words. I loved Kim because she was just as tough as Martin, had a prettier head of red hair than The Pioneer Woman, and survived on bottled deer meat the first year of marriage. But I loved her more after I saw a glimpse of what she endured all those years. I have never forgotten what she said that day. She talked about trying to stay awake at night with Martin when he was first called. The Lord finally told her, “I’m trying to teach him. You don’t need to fix this. This is how he will learn.” She then went on to say many times over the next six years she woke up in the middle of the night, felt his empty side of the bed, and then realized he was kneeling in prayer on behalf of someone in the ward.

That was the first time I realized I had underappreciated my bishop. I knew I had been one of those prayers one of those nights. It’s the same feeling I had when I grasped, as a semi-adult, what my parents had truly done for me. Sometimes you are completely ignorant of the sacrifices made in your behalf. These men among men and the (often lonely) angels they are married to!

This is a picture of my son, Archer, being held by three bishops on his blessing day. I can't put a value on this image. It represents ten years, thrice-repeated promises, and priceless divine interventions from worthy, selfless men who acted as agents of the Lord* in strengthening, helping, and causing me to stand. 

As a woman in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints I have been magnified, not marginalized, by those with priesthood authority. I am not empty or inferior because I do not hold the priesthood. In fact, my cup (and nursery) runneth over because of priesthood power. I am eternally indebted to these bishops who, through their faithfulness, changed my eternity.

Three noble men who couldn’t have been more different in real life (a cowboy, a coach, and a conductor) were equally capable watchmen on the tower. I benefitted from their tireless shifts of inspiration and revelation. My son would not be here without their nick-of-time-right-place-right-time stewardship; I simply would have given up. Greatest of all, they opened my eyes to the Savior’s method of ministering to the one. I was that one multiple times and because of my rescues I have a lifetime soft spot for the humble men who serve in this huge capacity.

*D&C 64:29