Words of Rescue

Posted by Michelle L. | December 3, 2008 | 7 Comments

We’re lucky today to have another Guest Post from Leslie at Heaven’s Overlook.

Last Saturday I biked through the desert in Las Vegas, Nevada. The only strip my eyes saw was a thick strip of red rock lacing its way through the mountain range, far west from Sin City. With my husband beside me, the sun in my face, and the wind at my back, it lent for the most charming way to end a perfect Thanksgiving feast of soul, until I got a flat tire.

There is a certain etiquette that takes place when a biker gets a flat. When other bikers pass they often call out “Do you have everything you need?” or “Do you need a rescue?” Fortunately for me, when two bikers rode past and asked the usual questions, I sat on the warm cement and sunned my face as my husband of almost nineteen years rescued me one more time. I thought about this idea of rescue and wondered what your stories would be if you gave them words.

My first memories of rescue belong to Lake Powell. When I was growing up, there were twenty families in our ward who boated every summer. We water-skied to the morning light, shot lizards with BB guns, played cards during the day, went cliff-jumping, and star-gazed at night. But boating at Lake Powell wasn’t always paradise. There were occasional accidents, bad weather, family squabbles, and worst of all—boat troubles. I remember other families pulling our boat with their boat to the marina because of some electrical problem, the fuel line, or the alternator. I also remember my father pulling other boats with our boat. Everyone took turns being rescued, and everyone took a turn rescuing someone else. It was no easy task, ate up a lot of gas—which, by the way, was a lot cheaper than it is today—and most of all, the rescues took a long time. This was when I really learned about the word rescue.

It’s captivating to look back at some of the rescues that have happened in the world around us. Remember the Jessica Lynch rescue? She was the nineteen year old supply clerk held as a POW for ten days in an Iraqi hospital. Many of you will remember the rescue of “Baby Jessica” in October of 1987 in Midland, Texas. She held the attention of the nation while crews struggled for 58 hours to rescue the little 18-month-Jessica McClure from the abandoned water well, an eighteen-inch-wide pipe. Rescues of lost Boy Scouts pepper the summer newspapers, where some are rescued and others are not. Rescue stories of 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina will mark our history books forever. Still, the question remains—Why is there rescue for some, but not for others?

Our church history is filled with stories of miraculous rescues. The Quilt Walking rescue (a must Google if you need a reminder of this one), the Sweetwater rescue, and the Handcart Company stories of rescue. Even though many of you have heard the stories of the pioneers, repeating their words breathes the very essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The handcart pioneers did everything they could on their own to get to Salt Lake, but it wasn’t enough. They needed help from Jesus Christ. So it is with us.

Another great rescue was when Adam and Eve were given the gift of the Savior’s atonement as they were exiting the Garden of Eden. This rescue allowed them and also us to return home once again to Heavenly Father through the atonement of Jesus Christ.

President Gordon B. Hinckley says:
“In our helplessness, the Savior becomes our rescuer. In times of despair, in seasons of loneliness and fear, He is on the horizon to bring succor and comfort and assurance, and faith. He is our deliverer.”

Each of you can probably look at your life and wander back through scenes of rescue—as you were rescued or as you rescued someone else. Whether it is a physical rescue or an emotional rescue, we carry these experiences within us. Will you share? How has the gospel of Jesus Christ rescued you? I love our conversations about laundry and love, children and family, but today I love having friends who I can share the spiritual with.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

7 Responses to “Words of Rescue”

Zannah
December 3rd, 2008 @ 9:41 am

Googling the Quilt Walking rescue mostly just pulls up this post… anyone have an actual link?
Leslie R
December 3rd, 2008 @ 9:58 am

Here’s the scoop on the Panguitch Quilt Rescue.

I am not sure if that is the actual title, but it is the title that I have given it in the context of the post today. Basically the small rescue party placed quilts on top of the snow so that they could walk on the quilts instead of sinking in the snow. Hence–instead of snow shoes they used quilts.

Here is a blurb from one of the Panguitch sites:

Panguitch, Utah, basks in the summer sun in a lovely valley between high, forested plateaus along scenic U.S. 89. Central to many scenic and recreational attractions, Panguitch makes a handy hub from which to explore national parks and monuments, state parks, national forests and scenic side roads.

Panguitch lies about 240 miles from Las Vegas. The shortest route follows Interstate 15 north from Las Vegas into Utah through St. George and Cedar City to the Highway 20 junction.

Highway 20 follows the pass through the foothills used by the first Mormon settlers sent out from Parowan in the spring of 1864. They labored to build shelter and carve fields from the pretty little valley. They nearly starved the following winter because at 6,600 feet elevation late frosts killed their crops. A small rescue party struggled through deep snows to bring help from Parowan. They used the handmade quilts they all carried to walk over the snow, an event celebrated the second week of June annually during the Panguitch Quilt Walk.
Mrs. H-B
December 3rd, 2008 @ 10:35 am

I love the imagery of each family taking turns rescuing other families at Lake Powell. Isn’t that how our church is supposed to function? We each take our turn rescuing others having faith that we will be rescued when the time comes. (Though I suppose we are supposed to rescue for the sake of serving and not because we want something in return.)

I am especially grateful for caring Visiting Teachers and Bishops/Branch Presidents who took the time to rescue me when I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be rescued. I hope that I will someday be ready to continue the chain of rescuing.
Emily M.
December 3rd, 2008 @ 2:56 pm

I had never heard the quilt story before–wow.

Why do some people get rescued and others don’t?
I don’t know. It is a humbling thing to admit that you need rescue from someone other than God. Humbling and terrifying. Allowing yourself to be rescued requires that you trust the rescuer.

Interesting thoughts–thanks, Leslie.
robyn
December 3rd, 2008 @ 8:34 pm

Our family experienced a rescue of epic proportions in 1985. My husband, 3 daughters and I were living in North Wymount Terrace (BYU Married student housing for the uninitiated), my husband had just graduated. We were waiting to pack up and move back to our lovely California. I say waiting, because like most of our peers, we were waiting for our tax return check to arrive before we could move.

The Friday before the Saturday of our rescue I had called the IRS to find out how much longer we would have to wait to receive the funds. I was told by the clerk that our check would not arrive for at least five more weeks. I decided to spend the weekend enjoying Provo rather than packing as we would not be moving for a bit.

Saturday morning was spent sunning and swimming at DT pool. The single students were mostly gone, Education Week and EFY were in full swing, and married student children filled that pool every day.

We returned home hot and sun burned early in the afternoon. The phone was ringing as we entered the apartment. My husband paused, and turned to me, said it was my mom with bad news. As I picked took the phone mom said it was very bad, that my only brother and his oldest son had died in an accident on a small road leading out of town that morning. The rest of the day became a blur. We needed to go home. Today. Not a few weeks from now.

My husband called our Relief Society president, a good friend to me, and everyone in the ward. Joan Palmer is a saint. I know that without a shadow of a doubt. She had lost a brother some time past, and knew just what I needed. First a big hug, then she rounded up all the families in the ward who had yet to move. In the span of two hours our home was packed and loaded on to a truck. A lunch had been prepared and placed in a cooler for our long drive across the desert. Joan said she’d call the housing office for us on Monday and let them know we had gone. And why.

In the hustle and bustle of the day, the mail still needed to be retrieved. There in the box was the tax return check we were told a day ago would not arrive for five weeks.

We were rescued that day by our Father in heaven, and some choice and wonderful people acting as his agents. I’ll never forget the BYU 110th married student ward, and certainly never Joan Palmer. It seems like only yesterday, yet the faces of all of them rendering service like it was no big deal, is etched upon my memory. The loss of my brother and nephew was terrible, but made better because of the ward and their kind act. How does one ever say thank you properly? By rescuing someone else, is the only answer I’ve ever found that seems adequate.
dalene
December 4th, 2008 @ 12:40 am

When I think of rescue I think of at least two times I remember the strong arms of my father reaching down and pulling me away from and out of danger. One was when I was in the ocean and I walked into a hole and was in way over my head. The other was when my legs fell asleep while I was kneeling on an overgrown young bull while my father was performing–um–a certain procedure and I couldn’t move when he was done and the bull started to break free. Both times he saved me from certain harm.

I still like to ponder the image of a loving father reaching down and pulling one of his children away from and out of harm’s way.
Carrie
December 5th, 2008 @ 3:29 pm

One of my favorite hymns is “I Stand All Amazed” because of one line… the line that says the Savior has rescued a soul like mine. This is how I feel about the Atonement. I feel rescued. What wonderful thoughts shared by all. At 27, I feel like I have many rescues to aid in and to need left in my life, but already know that there have been times of struggle where I have been rescued.

The most recent of these was in February of this year. My husband broke a foot at Church ball and then, three days later, broke his other foot. Doesn’t sound too bad, but when you think of the implications they are huge! He literally couldn’t walk or drive. We had to rent a wheelchair, buy medical equipment for disabled and install bar in the bathroom so my husband could just get on the toliet to use the bathroom. We also had to build a wheelchair ramp. When I think of the brothers and sisters in our ward who gave us the lumber then built the ramp, who brought us meals, who watched my children, I am humbled. My life was turned upside down as I became the sole means of transportation for all of our family. The help that was provided rescued me from being overwhelmed.