Author: Tim Frodsham

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Grandchildren

My daughter in Sacramento, (California, USA for my far flung foreign followers) has four off the wall nuclear powered dynamos of the male persuasion who define the term intensity. They range from 7 to 2 years old, with a set of twins lodged somewhere in the middle. When they take the time to drop below the sound barrier, I get a video call from one or more of them, missing their papa and wondering when I am coming to visit. More often than not, these calls come at bed time.  It’s hard to go from 0 to 600 miles per hour in the length of a twin bed, though for them, not for lack of effort and I have the tiniest of suspicions that these calls are a subtle attempt to delay bringing it all in for a landing.

I visit my children and grandchildren as often as practical, and with airline rates today, it’s far cheaper for me to fly. My daughter brought these four little dynamos to the airport, with strict instructions to stay in the car when they picked me up at the terminal as there were lots of cars around and it would be dangerous. It must have been all the years of supersonic wind blowing past their ears because in spite of her caution, the moment the car stopped, and perhaps a few fractions of second before that, two doors blasted open and the twins broke the sound barrier (again) before latching on to my airline damaged knee caps. Popping open the rear hatch was a sign for the two in the back to vault over the seat in stunning Olympic fashion to complete the tackle. Sorry Super Bowl fans, no instant replay.

I adore these amazing progeny, their love is as intense as the velocity of their lives. I could go on with a lecture on how important it is for us grandparents to assist in molding and directing their lives, but if you have read this far, I think you get that. Besides, I covered that topic in one of my essays. To me, it is just as important to simply love them. Make them a part of our lives. They should feel comfortable around us, comfortable with us, and comfortable following us from project to project as we move through the day. St Francis of Assisi is attributed the quote “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” Love your children and grandchildren, teach them to live, love and worship Him, and use words only when necessary.

Papa and helper fixing a sink
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Annals

To the Temple

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

Yesterday was Saturday morning and time for my weekly engineering shift. I arrive before dawn, change into my whites and walk the temple, waking up and checking the various systems behind the scenes. Not being an ordinance worker, I don’t attend the morning prayer meeting and devotional and usually time my rounds to avoid the chapels during these meetings. I decide then, however, to follow though on a new commitment to be more social and sociable, and take the time. Besides, it has been a difficult weekend and I need the spiritual quiet and reflection.

The topic is the the baptismal font, and how we (yes I know I’m not an ordinance worker, but I’m feeling very inclusive) ordinance workers can make the temple a more positive and inviting experience for the patrons. As we discuss the temple encounter and follow the experience of a special needs child through the proxy baptism ceremony, I reflected on my own grandchildren. The thought came to me softly and sweetly that a crucial way to help my grandchildren cling to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is to bring them to the temple.

 There is power in the temple. We can testify to our children and grandchildren; teach, lead, expound, cajole, discipline and instruct. Our goal is to help them feel and follow the spirit. The most effective way I know to do that is to bring them to the temple. This does not replace the a fore mentioned strategies, but culminates them. When it comes to feeling the spirit, I am probably one of the most hard-hearted people ever to infest this planet. A room can be filled with the spirit and I am clueless. The one place I can go, however, to feel His presence is the temple. I have written about temple experiences in other essays here, and this Saturday adds to the repertoire. As I sat in the calm of that prayer meeting, I felt His plea, to help His children, my grandchildren, feel his spirit by bringing them to His house. The home court advantage is overwhelming.

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Most Memorable Scripture

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

The full time missionaries for our church stopped by for a visit this week. They are both new to the area and are introducing themselves to each family in our church congregation. One of the missionaries is waiting for his visa to France, where he was originally called to serve. We chatted for a few minutes in French, and he has done surprisingly well in learning the language, and in keeping it for the months he has been assigned to Portland, Oregon, a bastion of “Le monde francophone”.

As part of their visit, they asked me about my most influential scripture in the Book of Mormon. That of course changes for me depending on need and circumstance: King Benjamin, stories of the 2000 stripling warriors, the conversion of Alma the Younger, the Christ visiting the Nephites; and numerous other accounts in the Book of Mormon vie for my favorite. For the last few months, I have been contemplating the story of the Ammonites, or the people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi who laid down their swords in advance of their fellow Lamanites bent on their utter destruction. They were cut down in the very act of supplicating the God who created them, and from Whom they were granted forgiveness and peace. They had no idea that their sacrifice would inspire thousands of their brethren to lay down their swords, and that their story would reverberate through the ages.

Whether scriptural, historical or personal accounts, we have all been touched by such stories. I am sure that the surviving members of the Willie and Martin hand cart companies were wondering why the Lord would require such sacrifice of them and were not thinking of the hundreds of thousands who would retrace their steps and emulate their faithfulness in the decades and centuries to come. The personal suffering and examples set during my wife’s passing have and continue to inspire her descendants, her relations and numerous friends and acquaintances.

In the years to come, we will face unprecedented persecution and hardship. The years leading up to His first coming as described in the Book of Mormon are but a type of the events that precede His second. The Lord, in His perfect wisdom and power, will transform each of the tragedies we suffer in His name to triumph. Not all however, will be suffering. As described in Alma 50, “But behold, there never was a happier time among the people of Nephi, since the days of Nephi, than in the days of Moroni”. This was the same Moroni who organized the people in a prolonged war for their very existence.

World events now transpiring will test the hearts and strength of even the very elect. The joy we feel personally depends solely on how we rejoice in Christ.

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The Temple

Portland Temple, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

For members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the temple is the most sacred of edifices. It is a place of ordinance, covenant, learning. Some years ago, after loosing my wife, I considered serving in the temple as an ordinance worker, but felt uncomfortable. At the time, single men, divorced or never married, were barred from serving in the temple. The only exceptions were widowers like me who were single, but sealed in the temple.

I wanted to serve in the temple, but it did not feel right to serve when men, more worthy and righteous than I, were barred from temple service simply because they were single. After considerable thought and prayer, I requested and accepted a calling as a temple engineer. I arrive early Saturday mornings, wake up the audiovisual equipment, then check out and log the boilers, chillers, air handlers, fonts and fountains. It takes about two hours for this process, then I wait in the engineering office for calls or wander the temple for the rest of my shift. While sitting by the phone, I tally a lot of indexing.

During my shift, I trouble shoot audiovisual problems, change light bulbs, plunge toilets (yum) and provide backup for security during emergencies. When the temple is shut down for periodic maintenance, I rewire fixtures for LED bulbs, and anything else the full time engineers need. This last shutdown, I worked in the ordinance rooms, pulling apart chairs to reupholster. The fabric used was a bit thicker than the original, and it took some gentle persuasion with a large mallet to convince the newly upholstered chair backs to slip into position. I stopped to ponder the incongruity of this situation. Here I was in one of the most sacred rooms of the temple, wailing on the back of a chair with a mallet. I apologized for the noise, then sat quietly and took the time to listen.

Under normal circumstance, the noise and tumult I was causing in the temple would be inexcusable, but there is a time and place for everything. Even His house needs maintenance, and at times, it is appropriate for bedlam to reign. I gathered my thoughts for a few moments. Here I was, in the holiest of rooms, white clothes smudged with dirt and grease, dripping sweat and pounding on a chair that would soon sit people experiencing the most sacred of His ceremonies. I felt the spirit and power of that room. His house. I was filled with the need to clean and repair my own life. A little chaos and commotion was appropriate, and even necessary to right so many wrongs in who I am and things I have done.

As imperfect and out of place as I was, hammering on those chairs, I was welcome in His house. I need to make Him welcome in the chaos of mine.

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Annals

Comfort Zones

Recently, as restrictions have eased, I have come to realize how much a hermit I had become. I arrive at church and head directly for my pew. After church, I head straight to the door. On walks, I will acknowledge a hello, but never instigate one on my own. The same for grocery stores and other public places.

I decided the last few weeks to step out of my comfort zone again and rejoin with my fellow saints and citizens of this fair planet. I make it a point to get to church early, then linger at the back as others come into the chapel. After church, I strike up a conversation with at least two people, and that usually turns into more. I delight in renewed friendships, and the fledgling promise of new ones. I find myself smiling more and listening more intently. It is a two mile walk to church, during which I was engrossed in my own thoughts. Now, it gives me time to contemplate friendships new and renewed, and what I can do during the week to further those relationships.

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

On walks and other public places, I greet others that pass with a smile and hello, good morning or good evening. Most respond favorably, though there are still a few curmudgeons out there, focused far too inward to acknowledge. I have yet to stop and engage in conversation with a total stranger, but I am figuring out how to do even that. And yes, comfort zone is a tiny dot in the rear view mirror.

An interesting and unexpected side effect of all of this is that I spend more time looking around as I walk. While searching for those to greet, I find myself admiring cloudscapes, gardens, yards and ponds along the way. Working on my sense of belonging has heightened all my senses. The pandemic may not be over, but we can still take every opportunity to cast off the pall that has settled over us the last year and renew our place among family, friends and strangers.

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Families

I just returned from spending a month with family. Time with my daughter and her family who live two hours South. Two other granddaughters also came to stay, and we toured the city and spent time at the beach. I then spent another week with my children at the family cabin in Bear Lake, Utah. During these family interactions, I thought briefly about all the things I could be doing at home; working on articles, working on websites, working on my home, tending my garden.

My 18 month old grandson Gavin brought me back to reality. He adores his Papa and I adore him. He watches me carefully to make sure I am not leaving him, and constantly tracks me down with outstretched arms to be held.  There is nothing more important in this world that we can do than hold a child. Why he clings to me so fiercely, I do not know, except I believe these Tiny Ones can see into our souls. Fresh from the presence of God, they see us as God sees is. The love they extend to us is a brush of the hand of our Divine Creator.

It takes me several days to recover from these family excursions. Tired, yes, and a sadness to be back to my empty house and away from the bedlam and chaos generated by a gaggle of posterity rampaging the premises. Time at the cabin is the most bitter sweet, the childhood home of my late wife LaNae, the place I proposed to her decades ago, a place of engaging memories, past and present that I can no longer share with her, but bind her to me. I am pleased that my children are making memories with their own spouses and children. Bonds to tie them together and to me.

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Motivations for this site

Other than my mission, I have not kept much of a journal. During my wife’s illness and after her death, I was not willing to or even able to share much and there were so many stories that need to be told. During this pandemic, I decided it was time to write down some of my family stories and to capture my observations on the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and life in general. I wanted to learn how to build a web site, so posting these essays and photos here was good motivation.

I love stories, it is my favorite way of learning as well as teaching. Some of these stories I have been noodling for many years, others I started during this pandemic. In writing these stories I have come to recognize how often the Lord has intervened in my behalf, and in behalf of my family. Writing down the events of our lives is more than keeping a journal for posterity. For me, it is a way of remembering. As I write these stories, memories flood back, insight is sharpened and lessons relearned.

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Infrared Photography

Photo by Tim Frodsham

The early infrared images in this website were taken with Kodak HIE infrared film and processed using TMAX chemistry. Additional pictures were processed using Kodak’s negative B&W to slide chemistry. The film and the slide chemistry are no longer available.

Kodak HIE film was originally used for industrial purposes such as crop surveys. The green deciduous leaves, when healthy, reflect back most of the infrared light, and one can detect diseased or infested crops or forests long before the damage shows up in visible light. The lack of an anti-halation layer also makes for an interesting artistic flair for landscape and portrait photography as well. With Kodak infrared film no longer available, I switched to digital cameras converted to the infrared spectrum. With both mediums, exposure and focus are a guess. With a digital camera, we can at least look at the results in the field.

The film images were scanned and digitized using Epson scan technology and lightly toughed with Adobe Lightroom to clean up dust and adjust the images to better match the pictures originally printed from the negatives.