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Apr 2008 Issue
By Marilyn Richardson
Pale and withered, 78-year-old Orval Bawden lay on the narrow bed in the nursing home. Just six months ago he had been a vigorous man who had continued to work past retirement age as an engineer for the state highway department. Now, diagnosed with inoperable cancer, he had been moved to a nursing home in Pleasant Grove, Utah to make it easier for his daughter, Jodie, the one who lived closest, to visit. In that same facility was a woman, also dying of cancer. The husband of this woman came to visit her daily. One day he stopped to see Orval.
Years ago Orval had been named to be bishop in a small town in central Utah. He was a good man and a good bishop, but there was jealousy in that tight knit community—some considered themselves better, financially and in other ways—and when it came time to sustain Orval at the yearly stake conference, a man raised his hand in protest.
Orval could have become bitter. He could have left the church and turned his nine children against it. But he didn’t do that. He didn’t challenge the man or complain; neither did his wife.
And his nine children were too young to know that anything unusual had happened.
Now, in the nursing home, the man who had voted against Orval those many years before entered his room, sat close to the bed and asked for forgiveness. “I was wrong to do what I did. You were a good man and I was wrong.” Orval forgave him.
A few days later another man came to see Orval. This man, too, sat by the bed, his head in his hands and admitted that he had been the one behind the plot to have Orval ousted as bishop. “It was my idea and I was wrong. Will you forgive me?” he asked. Orval had grown weaker and couldn’t respond.
The next day Orval rallied enough to tell his daughter about the two men and their confessions. “I want you to write that man a letter,” he said. “I couldn’t speak yesterday, but I want him to know that I heard his request and I do forgive him.”
The next day Orval died.
Jodie was busy with the funeral and with family meetings to decide about pressing matters.
But her dad’s request continued to haunt her. Jodie checked with the nurses at the care center in case her father had been hallucinating. They had documented the visits, so she wrote the letter.
A week later came a phone call from The Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. “We want you to know,” said a woman on the other end of the line, “that a substantial amount of money has been donated in your father’s name. We will be placing a plaque on our donor’s wall with his name on it.”
Jodie, when she recovered from the shock, said over and over again, “I will be so proud to take my grandchildren and stand before that bronze plaque. ‘Your grandpa was a good man,’ I’ll tell them. ‘A good man.’”
One can only imagine how the positive influence of this man’s noble actions will influence his progeny.
“Of all the traditions we should cultivate within ourselves and our families, a “tradition of righteousness” should be preeminent. Hallmarks of this tradition are an unwavering love for God and His Only Begotten Son, respect for prophets and priesthood power, a constant seeking of the Holy Spirit, and the discipline of discipleship which transforms believing into doing. A tradition of righteousness sets a pattern for living which draws children closer to parents, and both closer to God, and elevates obedience from a burden to a blessing.
In a world where traditions often confuse right and wrong:
• We are inspired by the courage of each young person who has honored the Sabbath day, kept the Word of Wisdom, and remained chaste when popular culture has established the opposite as not only acceptable but expected.
• We are inspired by the wisdom of each man who has molded a career which properly supports his premier responsibility to spiritually lead his family when wealth and power are more highly valued by the world.
• We are inspired by the nobility of each husband and wife who have established a relationship of equality and kindness when one of selfishness and indifference is so common.
As the supernal nature of our life begins to be understood and experienced, we desire nothing temporal to impede our celestial journey.”
Donald L. Hallstrom, “Cultivate Righteous Traditions,” Ensign, Nov 2000, 28.
