Author: Peter Watkins

A Prayer of the Heart

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2003Leave a comment

Dear Will:

Recently you may have heard news reports concerning an emergency angioplasty performed on Phil Jackson, coach of the Los Angeles Lakers. One of the main arteries leading into his heart was apparently 90% blocked. The procedure opened up the artery and Phil was back at work within a few days. Amazing.

About this same time, I was also hearing of several friends who found themselves with serious, life-threatening maladies, including one who had had (you guessed it) a heart attack.

With these events swirling in my mind, I found myself one morning reading a discourse given by Elder Russell M. Nelson, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve who, prior to his call into full-time church service, made his living as a heart surgeon. Apparently (as you shall see) he was a surgeon of some renown.

I share with you a story he related concerning the power of prayer. I hope you find it inspiring, as I did:

Many of us have had experiences with the sweet power of prayer. One of mine was shared with a stake patriarch from southern Utah. I first met him in my medical office more than 40 years ago, during the early pioneering days of surgery of the heart. This saintly soul suffered much because of a failing heart. He pleaded for help, thinking that his condition resulted from a damaged but repairable valve in his heart.

Extensive evaluation revealed that he had two faulty valves. While one could be helped surgically, the other could not. Thus, an operation was not advised. He received this news with deep disappointment.

Subsequent visits ended with the same advice. Finally, in desperation, he spoke to me with considerable emotion: “Dr. Nelson, I have prayed for help and have been directed to you. The Lord will not reveal to me how to repair that second valve, but He can reveal it to you. Your mind is so prepared. If you will operate upon me, the Lord will make it known to you what to do. Please perform the operation that I need, and pray for the help that you need.”

His great faith had a profound effect upon me. How could I turn him away again? Following a fervent prayer together, I agreed to try. In preparing for that fateful day, I prayed over and over again, but still did not know what to do for his leaking tricuspid valve. Even as the operation commenced, my assistant asked, “What are you going to do for that?”

I said, “I do not know.”

We began the operation. After relieving the obstruction of the first valve, we exposed the second valve. We found it to be intact but so badly dilated that it could no longer function as it should. While examining this valve, a message was distinctly impressed upon my mind: Reduce the circumference of the ring. I announced that message to my assistant. “The valve tissue will be sufficient if we can effectively reduce the ring toward its normal size.”

But how? We could not apply a belt as one would use to tighten the waist of oversized trousers. We could not squeeze with a strap as one would cinch a saddle on a horse. Then a picture came vividly to my mind, showing how stitches could be placed—to make a pleat here and a tuck there—to accomplish the desired objective. I still remember that mental image—complete with dotted lines where sutures should be placed. The repair was completed as diagrammed in my mind. We tested the valve and found the leak to be reduced remarkably. My assistant said, “It’s a miracle.”

I responded, “It’s an answer to prayer.”

PW

Feeling Truly Connected

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20031 Comment

Dear Will:

Today my kids and I took a hike up into the hills that give Cannon Street its character. If you’ve never been up there, it makes for a nice little hike. The terrain is only occasionally precarious, and you’re pretty much guaranteed to have the entire place to yourself. If you’re looking for benches to rest on and signs explaining the flora and fauna, forget it. But if you just want a chance to get away from the city in the midst of the city, you could do a lot worse.

What I especially like about this particular location (aside from the fact that I can walk there from my house) is that it allows you to perch above the city (above the county on a clear day) and get an almost bird’s-eye view of the place. From a single spot we could see the entire reservoir (isn’t it great to see it full of water again?), the new Grijalva Park over off of Prospect, the rows of homes along Rockinghorse Ridge, and just about any other landmark we had wished to see. We picked out the Christensens’ house over on Snowbird, the place on Country Hollow where the Novaks will be moving in next week, the schools, the playgrounds, the grocery stores. With just a little less haze we’d have had a clear view of Edison Field and, with a little imagination, the Matterhorn over at Mickey’s place.

(A few years ago, I took Bryn—then 5 or 6—up the same hill to watch the fireworks on July 4. Ostensibly we were there to see the annual event at Fred Kelly Stadium, but what we got was truly unexpected: From that spot on the hill, we watched five different shows simultaneously, including the big blow-out at Disneyland, the one at Edison Field, and a couple of smaller shows around the Southland. Very cool.)

Besides the view, today we enjoyed some favorite sights and smells: sage, rosemary, anise, all sprinkled amidst the cactus and mustard flowers there on the hilltop. We saw volcanic rock, the footprints of coyotes, and one truly remarkable phenomenon: almost no evidence of litter or graffiti. Seth, my four-year-old who often goes hiking with his mother Dana at Santiago Oaks a couple of miles east of where we stood, kept remarking: “This is the best hike ever!”

What made it special for Seth, I believe, is that he was out and about with his big brother and sister doing what he usually only gets to do when they are in school. Today, for a change, they were hanging out with him, and as an added bonus (I like to think) Dad was there too. It would have been the whole family had Dana not been feeling ill. At any rate, Seth spoke for all of us when he gushed enthusiastically about our little adventure. We were feeling truly connected—to family, to nature, to our community—and enjoying immensely the chance to see it all—both literally and figuratively—more clearly. The perspective was both enlightening and energizing.

So do yourself a favor. One of these days soon, climb up to the top of that hill and have a look around. I think you’ll be glad you did.

PW

They Will Remain Within His Care

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2003Leave a comment

Dear Will:

Try as I might, I can’t seem to think about much else but war these days. It leaves me sad and troubled, especially as I allow myself to imagine the worst of where all this could lead. I am by nature an optimistic guy, but I confess that my disposition is being tested.

I catch myself looking at my kids a lot as I seek unsuccessfully to quell my inner turmoil. My oldest son is 12, too young to be threatened by all this, but still—I can’t help but wonder, What if . . . ? I see teary parents on the news who have lost a son already in this conflict, and when I put myself in their place, I feel the tears start to come.

I am reminded of the words of a favorite hymn, never more appropriate than now:

Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice,
I draw myself apart, searching my soul?

Where, when my aching grows, where when I languish,
Where, in my need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand? He, only One.

He answers privately, reaches my reaching
In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace He finds for my beseeching.
Constant He is and kind, love without end.

                                                –Emma Lou Thayne

As I transcribe these words it occurs to me that I may have shared them before. But no matter. They give me some comfort, and so I share them without reservation. More than anything I hope that you remember that in troubled times our faith in God transcends our earthly struggles. Although in times of war I may look upon my children with some sadness, I also do so with some measure of reassur­ance, knowing that ultimately they will remain within His care. I pray that our soldiers may feel that as well.

PW