Perseverance, determination and being constant are three words that would describe my dad perfectly. At the end of his mortal life there was not a pot waiting at the end of the rainbow for him or a million dollars directly deposited into his banking account. He left this world with an abundance of silent lessons and experiences that he passed onto his five children. I am sure there were a few others sprinkled around him that learned from his steadiness. When we try to persevere in our lives and push forward with determination we will find joy and success. 

  J. Golden Kimball (1853-1938) was a leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (LDS Church). He served as a member of the first council of the seventy. Our family would read his narratives and laugh loudly at his profanity over the pulpit. “I won’t go to hell for swearing because I repent too damn fast!” He boldly stated. He had a way with words and cursing was how he got his point across. I enjoyed his strategy of directing the early saints. He was comical yet stern and direct. I never missed the emphasis on his words.  

At this time I have not said my first swear word. I hear lots of different curse words. I am almost 11 years old and I don’t think my time has come to speak a little vulgarity. I hear plenty of words when we are running the cattle through the chute, herding cows, or looking for strays. There are some words [I guess you call them that?] that I have never heard before. I try to conjure up in my mind what my brother is talking about but I just dismiss the words and trail behind him. When we gather with my cousins and grandparents, ‘damn’ and ‘hell’ are just apart of most of the adults’ speech. It feels normal and natural when it rolls off of my Grandpa’s tongue. It feels like.…home. 

Although some curse words don’t phase me too much. Other vulgar words almost wound my soul. There is one person I have never heard swear in all of my ten years. My dad. Sometimes I wonder why he doesn’t curse because I have never seen him stand up straight, had him walk by my side, or run to me when I needed help because he is handicapped and has been since before I was born. My dad should have been given a personal ticket tucked in his diaper from heaven that said, “‘swearing approved”.    

With this in mind I need to give you a few more context clues on why he should have had this ‘personal ticket’. He slept in a basement with a dirt floor [insert curse word here] next to his dads hired men [whom he loved]. A hay bale fell on the back of his neck when he was newly married with three young children. [insert curse word here] He was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and the hot summers drained a lot of his energy. He continued to walk with one crutch and then to two crutches. Eventually he was wheelchair bound. [more cursing] He owned land and cattle and had to feed on his hands and knees, [I would add a little more profanity here] dig out ditches to irrigate on his knees, dig post holes on his knees, [maybe some here too] fix fences on his knees, fix electrical problems, service pivots, and at last he used those knees for praying. He would slowly walk with crutches through the frozen backyard in the winter to the corrals to feed. There were times when there were imprints of his body in the snow where he had fallen and gotten back up to carry on. When dad played with us in the backyard he was on his knees playing baseball in the catcher’s position. He would sit in a lawn chair and watch our family play volleyball and basketball and run the football all over the yard.  

My dad was also a man of routine. Before he came to the dinner table he washed his hands and combed his hair. He sat at the same place at every meal. He never ate too much food. He also never wasted anything on his plate. After each meal he drank a big glass of water. His breakfasts’ consisted mostly of eggs and rye toast. He consistently watched the six o’clock news. He was up early every morning and sat in his large open closet and slowly put one arm in his ironed snap button shirt. Then he carefully put on his pants. He reached for his white socks and picked up his leg and he steadily pulled on his socks. He inserted his feet that struggled to move and point into his stiff leather ankle boots and he zipped up the sides. He unsteadily stood up and made sure his shirt was tucked in neatly and his belt was fastened. As he maneuvered out of his closet ‘nick’ was embossed on the back of his leather belt. He walked slowly to the den that was adjacent to my parents bedroom. He sat at the desk and read his scriptures, wrote in his journal, and started the day with prayer. He was meticulous in his financing and budgeting. Every church calling he was given he showed up early and stayed late to complete the task. Everything he did took longer than normal, it was harder and more complicated, and he chose to persevere and complete every task given to him without a complaint.  

In the light of all the previous curse words I walk out the back door in the hot afternoon sun to see if I can find dad. I left my shoes on the back porch and I felt the cool green grass between my toes. I get to the edge of the lawn and I see dad’s blue chevy parked by the irrigation pump. I stopped to see the best pathway to take. I could go along the fencepost and the sand filled ditch where the tumbleweeds loved to play and roll around. There are sometimes cactuses and other weeds that could poke my bare feet. I also could go over by the horse corral and the barn but that was too far out of my way. I just as well follow the sandy road that dad followed in his pick-up. The sun is beating down on my head and there is no breeze to roll the weeds around the sand today. They are all balled up against the fence. I hate those big ugly weeds. I don’t even know where they come from or when they will blow away. My feet have never been callused or hardened from walking barefoot. I feel like they are as sensitive now as they were when I first started walking on them. I almost curse myself for not putting on my shoes. I hold back. I shut my eyes tightly as I hobble across the stretch of road that has small rocks that jab at my feet with every step. As I slowly and painfully make my way across the jagged small rocks I finally land on the sand. The heat quickly penetrates from the hot sand to my bare feet and I painstakingly look around for a green flat weed to stand on to help cool my burning feet. I don’t see one and so I jump from foot to foot and find my way to the little shade the pickup is lending me. Dad is on his knees about 25 feet to the left of me. Sweat pours down his wrinkled forehead. Dads forehead always makes visible lines when he is either angry at the boys, surprised, or enthusiastically smiling at a small child. I always like to look at his head and count the wrinkles. His glasses are slid down his nose and I can tell he has been working for a long time near the pump. The big irrigation pump irrigates about 75 acres of our land and pushes out a large amount of water. The pump is protected by cinder blocks and there is a small manhole with a rickety ladder that you could climb down in if you wanted to be eaten by spiders, mice, badgers and snakes. I always walk as far away from the dark pit as I possibly can. I can tell from here that he has been working on the irrigation system for a while now. I sit and watch in silence and I move my feet to find another cool spot for my feet to rest. Dad never sees me standing by the rear view mirror of his Chevy. I have been here for about 20 minutes in the heat and I am starting to get thirsty and my shade is disappearing. I finally see dad crawl down from the mound the pump is on and onto the hot sand on his hands and knees. His felt hat has sweat stains around the brim from lots of long days in the sun. Today’s sweat is just adding to the soiled band around his head. His shirt has long sleeves snapped down to his wrist. His pants have grease stains and he is moving more slowly than usual. His steady movements come to a halt as he stops and he sits up on the back of his legs to rest. He sighs heavily in disgust. I still don’t think he sees me standing and staring at him. I don’t say a word because I want him to see me first. Even though he is not feeling his best and he has had a long afternoon in the heat I wait for him to look up and smile at me. The sweat keeps pouring down into his eyes and around his head. I can tell his breathing is labored and he needs to get out of the direct sunlight. He looks past me and stares for a moment. I wonder if he is okay? I start to get a little concerned by the way he is acting. I turn around and look behind me. I hear him say one word…a word my ears have never heard coming from his mouth…he blatantly says, ‘SHIT!” My mouth opens in awe at the curse word that traveled from his mouth to my ears. I look around for something that might be wrong. I finally notice that his rear driver’s side tire is flat. I put together the problems he has been dealing with all afternoon. The electrical problem on the pump combined with the flat tire and the heat that is wearing him down. I want to jump up and down and cheer him on! I have never been so proud of my dad. He has finally let out a little bit of profanity that has probably been bottled up in him since he was a teenager sleeping on the dirt floor. I am elated to hear that one singular word fly out of his mouth. In fact I want to jump out of my hiding place in the disappearing shade and shout, “Say it again Dad! In fact-we can say it together!”  

Dad crawls slowly to where I am and says with a slanted smile, “Hello Dari, I guess I need to get that tire fixed.” We sit in the shade together as he cools down in the shade and his breathing normalizes. He gets on his knees and struggles to pull himself into the seat of the pick-up. I stand behind him in case he falls. I know I am too small to hold his weight if he falls backwards. I know one thing, If he can curse like that…I am willing to break his fall.

  Of course you might say that this man couldn’t have done all he did. It’s a myth. Some might suggest that he has become a legend and that he has been made larger than life. He really did run a cow/calf operation, feed cattle on his hands and knees, irrigate with a shovel, and raise a family by his quiet examples of perseverance. He is a legend that helps me to carry on when my own life gets complicated, messy, and hard. He has since passed away and now he stands tall guiding his family with from another place. A place that is filled with peace, understanding, love, and true grit. 

Watching my dad push forward with determination and perseverance has helped me throughout my life. It has helped me get through a trial, to be more accomplished, and to work harder. 

Here are three things you can try that could help you find determination in your life: 

1.  Be positive. Anytime my dad was hurt, exhausted, or had a lot of work to do he never responded with a complaint or a negative remark. 

2. Stay focused. There are always going to be ups and downs in our lives. Keep reminders around you (sticky notes or an object) that will remind you of where you want to be in the next couple of years. Move steadily towards your goals. 

3. Don’t get overwhelmed. Learn to rest and relax and then hit it hard again. My dad taught us how to rest and then get right back on task. When you pace yourself one day you will look back and see how far you have moved. If you take consistent small steps you will be able to achieve greatness. Keep going! 

In loving Memory of Nick R. Mickelsen 1948-2016

Nutritious meals like Rye toast and eggs, pot roast and veg., and hamburger stew were dishes we ate a lot of growing up. The right nutrients help us to focus and have more energy. These are things we need in our body when we want to be at our best physically, mentally, and spiritually. 

One key ingredient in the following recipe is eggs.  Eggs have 6g of protein. They are a low carb food and they contain healthy fats. They have nutrients and minerals that help turn fat into energy. 

Another interesting fact about eggs is they promote healthy eyes and brain development. 

Enjoy this recipe any time of day. 

Recipe:  

Pan Germans 

Mix in a separate bowl

1 ¾  219g cup all purpose flour 

¼ tsp nutmeg

½ tsp. cinnamon 

½ tsp salt

Mix in a separate bowl 

1 ½ cup milk (room temperature) 

6 eggs (room Temperature)

1 tsp. vanilla

1 tsp. almond extract

3 Tablespoons honey

Melt in an oven-safe lg. frying pan

4 Tbls. Butter 

1. Mix the first four ingredients into a separate bowl and combine altogether. 
2. Mix the next five ingredients into a large bowl and whisk the ingredients together until they are well blended. 
3. Then add the flour mixture to the eggs/milk mixture and whisk until all the lumps are removed. 
4. Heat a large frying pan (that can also go into the oven) on the stove top with four tablespoons of butter until melted. 
5. Pour the batter over the butter and into the pan and insert into a cold oven 
6. Turn the oven to 375 degrees and cook for 30-35 minutes.

The german pancakes should rise on the edges and the tips of the edges should be golden brown. Serve with apples and caramel sauce, fruit syrups, maple syrup, or fruit and whipped cream. To add more nutrients to this recipe you could also do a 50/50 mixture on the flour. Whole wheat/All purpose flour. Enjoy!    

Resources: 

https://quotefancy.com/j-golden-kimball-quotes

https://www.betterup.com/blog/characteristics-of-a-determined-person#:~:text=Becoming%20a%20determined%20person,-By%20now%2C%20you&text=They%20require%20hard%20work%2C%20focus,you’re%20working%20so%20hard.

https://www.verywellfit.com/hard-boiled-egg-calories-and-fat-3495628