Ray and the Rhododendrons

A week from last Saturday one of our neighbors who is moving away and did some major home rennovations before getting his house ready to put on the market, went in with us to rent a dumpster. We had a number of things we needed to throw away and we thought it would be a convenient and pretty cheap way to get rid of them. Little did I know I was about to embark in the adventure of a lifetime. An adventure which would threaten life and limb!

Anyone who's been to our home knows that we have more rhododendron bushes than you can shake a stick at, and well, a couple weeks ago I hired a couple of the 16 year olds from church, who were trying to earn funds for camp, to dig them up. They did a great job making a massive clearing of dirt in my backyard, but we had a huge pile of dead branches and debris from the excavation that they stuck between the hedges at the side of our house.

One good way to get bugs eating your house is to stack dead wood against it, and so I was somewhat eager to get rid of this pile. So when the prospect of filling the dumpster with these branches came up, I determined to get rid of the pile.

However, after taking a few walking trips to the dump with an assortment of junk, and after dragging the pile to the front driveway I started to brainstorm for an easy way to transport this huge mass of branches and rootballs to the dumpster that wouldn't involve so much manual labor. I consider myself something of a genius at taking the easy route when it comes to hard work, and so I soon had a plan. We had an old bedframe, the kind with the web of springs you find in a sleeper sofa that we were also throwing out. The kids were playing with a piano dolly, too. Soon a plot began to boil in my little brain about how I could get all the sticks and stumps down to the dumpster in one easy trip.

I placed the bedspring across the piano dolly. To my delight the springs were tight enough that it formed a large springy platform about the length and width of a small car. Then I proceeded to stack the heavy rootballs clumped with dirt, thick stumps and twigs on top of this platform. We stuck a long stick on the front and the back, and created something of a giant stick monster out of the pile. The girls had a blast creating this tangle of debris, and we laughed as it grew to the volume of a small car.

Now my house is atop a hill. On one side, to get to my house, there's a very steep road, that curves its way up to my house. The road that leads to my house from a very busy road at the bottom of the hill, climbs up the side of a steep cliff, of sorts, and then turns at a right angle straight up the steep, steep hill to come to my house. All along this steep road on either side of the hill are houses build on what might be terraces where they've cut into this steep hill.

The dumpster was in the driveway of a house about 3/4ths of the way up this very steep hill. Of course if you've been to my house, you know about this hill, because as you come off the busy road you have to take what is more or less a blind turn to make that right angle turn and people drive up and down it all day and night like idiots. People have been killed on this hill, and it's something of an annoyance to most of us, because of how narrow the road is. Sometimes as you come up the hill and make that right turn to go straight up the hill to my house, cars will come down, and it is BARELY two lanes.

In the winter this road is regularly closed because it is too steep to safely navigate, and because of the right turn, if you slipped on the ice, you'd plow through the trees and plummet off of the cliff onto the busy roadway below. This would probably result in damage to your car... if not death.

But no worries. My house is atop the hill. It's flat atop the hill. It forms a sort of plateau. It's easy to push a piano dolly laden with sticks the size of a car upon this flat surface without any troubles.

Then I started down the hill. I was playing that the whole thing was getting away from me. "Look Becca! Oh no! It's getting away!" I'd say, and then I'd grab it, or jump in front of it the way Superman might jump in front of a train to save a puppy. The twigs plowed into me, but I could manage the cartload without too much trouble.

And of course, as you're all guessing by now... I managed to safely get the whole mess to the driveway of the dumpster without a problem. It did not go careening down the hill. No. After some effort I managed to push the whole rhodo-vehicle to the gravelly driveway and began to unload the mass of sticks.

After unloading a few twigs, I grabbed one of the larger sticks and suddenly the whole mass of twigs shifted. The place where it was firmly planted had shifted too. I watched in horror as the pile of heavy rootballs and sticks left the driveway without my permission. I tried to grab a branch, but the mass continued to head down the hill, and I was left holding a rather long branch that did nothing to stop the whole mess from picking up more and more and more deadly speed. I ran after it, but by now it was too late.

What had seemed like a really good idea at the time, had become my worst nightmare. I watched as this mass of metal and dirt and stumps hurled down the roadway, barely missing a parked red sports car. I cried out to God in a voice as loud and clear, "Please God, Don't let anyone get hurt. Please let it stop!" I imagined a car coming around the blind right angle curve. There would be NO WAY to avoid this thing that was not going what I would estimate would be about fifty miles an hour. It struck an embankment covered in ivy, spun and then smacked securely against the house as the base of the right angled curve against a wall of railroad ties, with a deafening crash! A cloud of dirt and dead leaves from the plants flew out like fire and smoke in what looked like a hollywood explosion.

The house owner was there weedwhacking. He had his walkman on over his ears. He'd just whacked the ivy that had been where my cart of death landed, and now was busy working on the interior of his home. The sudden appearance of a giant car-sized tangle of branches and stumps and twisted metal gave his heart a start. I trundled down the hill panting and out of breath and the man told me as much. I said, "I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I just thank the God of Heaven and Earth that no one got hurt. We are so lucky."

They just stared as I grabbed the whole mess, which was now not nearly as steady as it had been when I'd crafted my brilliant plan. The dolly was off to one side, and the metal frame dragged on the roadway. I looked up the steep hill. I had a long ways to go and all that weight I was hoping to avoid carrying to the dumpster was now easily as far away from me as my house had been from the dumpster in the first place... only now it was at the bottom of the hill of death.

I started to push the weed contraption up the hill. I'd made this mess, I was going to clean it up. Only it was not nearly as easy to push up the hill. You see the mass of twigs really has no surface against which to push. You just have to kinda tug at it, and guide it as it goes easily down hill. Now that I was at the bottom of the hill, I would attempt to push it up the hill, only to have the whole mass move in an arc sideways across the road, attempting to finish its journey to the bottom of the hill. I struggled with my mess. Meanwhile cars were also attempting to use the road. As I pulled my unwieldy mass of junk to one side of the road so that a car could pass me. I looked up at the the work I had above me, and realized there was no human way I could possibly get this mass up the hill.

Some of you are in good physical shape. Perhaps this would be easy for you. I applaud your efforts to keep yourself in good physical shape. At the time I could not stand without feeling dizzy. I think I had heat exhaustion, to tell you the truth, because it was a very clear and very hot day, and I'd spent most of my strength carrying other objects to the dumpster and running down a very steep hill.

I had made this mess. It was mine. I had tried to do something good, but it had turned into something I could no longer control. I prayed for help.

As I let a car pass me, the driver stopped and said, "Do you need help?" I said, "Oh yes!"

He was a young man in his mid twenties, named Andrew. He was in very good physical shape. He had a tattoo of oriental characters on his arm, but was otherwise clean-cut and looked like he could be a soldier. I didn't have a lot of breath for conversation, but he mentioned to me that he did volunteer work with a group, I think it was World Conservation. I relayed to him what had happened and how his help was greatly appreciated.

I'd never seen him in the neighborhood, and I've not seen him since, but he took one end of the cart, while I took the other and together we towed and pushed that whole mass all the way up that hill. And with my help we threw the metal frame and the heavier rootballs into the dumpster, then I thanked him and he drove away.

By the time I got to the dumpster, I was completely out of energy. I still had a pile of sticks to put in the dumpster, but I just couldn't do it. I put the dolly aside and told the girls to help me get the twigs in the dumpster. They did what all children do when there's a chance to move dirty sticks. They disappeared. I think I told Becca to just get rid of the piano dolly, and she took it up the hill with her sister, but by this time I was so out of breath I could not think straight.

As soon as I was all alone, I found a shady spot on the side of the house and laid down on the cool cement walkway. My heart was exploding. My lungs felt stretched, gasping for air that seemed not to bring any relief. My whole body ached. Some of you have witnessed this part of me, from a certain ill-fated hike I took up Mount St. Helens. It was the very same level of exhaustion. I remember laying in the shade on the cold pavement thinking about how nice it would be if I died, cursing all those pizzas I ate in college, and pleading with God to forgive me for the mess I'd made of myself.

As I was thus pleading, a scripture came to my mind. It was from the book of Mosiah, the story of Alma the Elder, who had led a group of believers into the wilderness to flee the persecution of King Noah, because he believed the words of Abinadi. A few years later, who should come knocking in their land, but a lost army of Lamanites who took Alma and his followers captive and set one of the Priests of Noah (Amulon) in charge of making Alma and his people work. Alma and his people suffered great affliction and had burdens put upon their backs, and they prayed to God, but were put to death if they were caught praying. God blessed Alma's people, though. He lifted their burdens, and made them light, as though they could not feel them.

Mosiah 24: 11-15
11. And Amulon commanded them that they should stop their cries; and he put guards over them to watch them, that whosoever should be found calling upon God should be put to death.
12. And Alma and his people did not raise their voices to the Lord their God, but did pour out their hearts to him; and he did know the thoughts of their hearts.
13. And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.
14. And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.
15. And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

As I thought of this story, I felt some strength return to me. I could do it. I could clean up the remaining branches in the driveway, so that it wasn't a mess and our neighbor could sell his house. I walked out from the shade into the piercing hot sun. I walked to the base of the driveway where the pile of sticks waited.

I looked up the hill, and who should be coming but Becca with the piano dolly, loaded up with some Little Tykes Playground equipment. There was a car behind her, impatiently waiting for her to move out of the way, and she was behind the dolly, pushing it down the hill. As I noticed her, her whole load shifted, and she jumped on the dolly trying to save her load, but it slipped and again the dolly with some rather large pieces of plastic started down the hill.

I arrived just in time to stop the load from going down the hill. I don't know that we would've been so lucky the second time. Perhaps it would've taken a different path, and clobbered the red sportscar, or hit an oncoming car, or missed the railroad ties altogether and launched itself off the cliffside onto the busy road below.

Thankfully I don't have to tell you what would've happened. I credit the Book of Mormon story with saving me from that.

I've also exiled the piano dolly from coming anywhere near the hill.

I've been thinking about this experience for a week now. I've been thinking about how lucky I was. About how what seems like good ideas, can turn really bad. About how little control we have over the basic laws of physics--though we all think we're so smart, or that bad things will happen to others but not to us. I have thought about how God does love us, and how he blesses us even when we don't deserve it. If we turn and trust in Him, He provides a way to help us out of our troubles and affliction. People we least expect might be helpful, can turn up just when we need them. I think about how my daughter thought she could do what I did, and get away with not making the same mistake, yet ironically she made exactly the same errors I did. And I thank God I was able to be there for her, to help her up, and catch her mistake before it spiraled out of control.

Hopefully the above experience doesn't seem boastful, but I feel like I should, as the scripture above indicated was the purpose of Alma's afflictions, "stand as a witness" that God loves us and helps us in real life.

I am grateful to God for providing a Savior for all of us. He loves us very much. He has seen to our needs, will be there for you if you remember to call upon His name. I am trying to be more loving and more forgiving. I don't want doubt or the darkness of my own challenges root out the hope I have in Christ, because His love is real, and a gift extended to all of us, no matter where we are in life. We may have made spiritual messes with the best intentions, or perhaps like me, I was just lazy and trying to find a way to avoid doing real work. We may have to do some heavy lifting to undo them, but if you keep your faith in God, He will provide a way to get through the pain and make the burdens of your duties easy to bear.

--Ray