Last year, I was teaching once a month in our women's meetings at church. The leaders would choose a talk given by one of the church's worldwide leaders (usually from the twice a year global "General Conference"), and ask teachers to prepare a 45 minute lesson on the topic.
One month, the talk given to me as the theme of my lesson was this one. The theme was "To The Rescue," and talked about both physical and spiritual ways to "rescue."
Other than giving you a talk as a topic, the local leaders really give teachers a lot of latitude in how they present the topic. Teachers are supposed to pray, study, consider the needs of our congregation, then present a 45 minute lesson. Nobody asks for a rough draft or outline; they trust you to develop your lesson, and know that each person would do it differently.
I remembered hearing this talk in General Conference, and it really resonated with me at the time. One of the stories contained in the talk was from Alejandro Patania, sharing an experience that his brother, Daniel, had.
Daniel captained a fishing boat. One day, the boat received word of an approaching storm, and made the decision to head for land. They came across another fishing vessel that was in distress, with its engines having failed. Daniel's crew hooked up a tow line to try to pull the disabled vessel into port.
They radioed in their position and circumstances, asking for help. On land, the navy, the coast guard, and the fisherman's association sent representatives to a meeting to discuss how best to help. Should they send out a rescue vessel? Which one? Should they wait? What was the best course of action?
Here's a quote from the talk: "While those in the storm continued pleading for help, the representatives continued meeting, trying to agree on the proper protocol and a plan. When a rescue group was finally organized, one last desperate call came."
Oh, my. I cannot describe to you how that makes me feel. I am terrified of water, sincerely terrified by the fear of drowning, and the thought of holding a meeting while ships were asking for help is just too terrible to contemplate. It's a horror.
It also had predictable results. The tow line broke, the boat without power started to sink, and Daniel's vessel radioed that they were attempting to pull survivors from the water. Then, there were no more messages. Both boats, and everyone aboard, were lost.
Men died because people in safety and security couldn't decide on the correct protocol to save them.
It is a horror.
For my lesson, I decided to tell stories of calls for help that had a different ending than Daniel's story. I immediately thought of two - the rescue of the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies and the Titanic.
My main points, in referring to times when others needed help were: 1. Go quickly, and 2. Give your best.
Go Quickly
The Willie Company and the Martin Company were two groups of pioneers headed to the Salt Lake Valley. Instead of horse or cattle drawn wagons, they had handcarts - essentially, trailers pulled by humans. You could only bring as much as your family could physically pull - which, really, wasn't much, since these were some of the poorer emigrants (hence the lack of wagons or livestock). A Wyoming history website notes, " Rations were one pound of flour per person daily, plus any meat shot on the way. The carts were pulled by one or two people while other family members pushed behind or walked alongside."
They also, like the ill-fated Donner Party, left late in the season, and were affected by winter storms that came early in their season. By October, in what is now Wyoming, they were cold, hungry and literally starving, with rations having been slashed. Deaths would eventually be up to 25% of the companies. History notes, "It was by far the worst non-military disaster on the emigrant trails."
This was a time and place in which messages could not be readily sent. The pioneer companies couldn't telegraph or send letters - the only long distance communication available in those days. The only way the settlers in Salt Lake would know what was happening was for messengers on horses to go from the companies to Salt Lake.
On October 4, 1856, word reached Brigham Young that there were companies still on the way, and that some were in distress. The next day, October 5, he was scheduled to speak in General Conference, which, at that time, might be the only time that families who had traveled considerable distances would hear the leaders speak. (Today, we have live satellite broadcasts, the Internet, and published copies of the talks; back then, you heard people in person, or you got a second, third, or even fourth hand, account, often weeks or months later.)
When President Young (his title as church president) got up to speak, he cancelled the prepared remarks, telling the assembled worshippers that the people struggling to reach Salt Lake should be everyone's highest priority. He said, “I will now give this people the subject and the text of the Elders who may speak to-day and during the conference. It is this. On the 5th day of October, 1856, many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them...
I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor until the next day, for 60 good mule teams and 112 or -15 wagons...
I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom (heaven) of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains."
The townspeople began loading the wagons immediately; the first wagons left the valley on October 7. More left on October 22, October 31, (a nearby fort sent some on October 22) - they weren't content to say, "We sent help, and now we wait," they sent it as soon as the wagons could be loaded, and they kept sending it.
"I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor the next day;" that's a true leader. Keep in mind, October 5, 1856 was a Sunday, but there was no talk of resting that day, because someone needed help.
That kind of leadership was also displayed by Captain Arthur Rostron, captain of the RMS Carpathia, the ship that rescued the Titanic survivors. (Read details in "A Night to Remember" by Walter Lord.)
On April 15, 1912, the Carpathia received the Titanic's distress signal. There were other ships who received the call who thought it must be a mistake, or a hoax, and at least one ship, the Californian, just barely in sight of Titanic, testified that they had her radio off, and that they never received the middle of the night call. (Rumors, then and now, whispered that the Californian heard the call, but ignored it, as they were stopped in an ice field, and paralyzed by fear. If so, I totally understand - as I said, fear of drowning overwhelms me. Plus, I'm not worried about a crew, vessel and cargo for whom I have resposibility. So, I get it; it's understandable. But understandable does not mean desirable or beneficial.)
On the Carpathia, wireless operator Harold Cottam went immediately to Rostron's quarters - the captain was already in bed. Sitting up in bed, the captain gave the order to turn the ship around immediately, and head for Titanic's coordinates. He also ordered extra lookouts to watch for ice. Only after those orders were carried out did he seek out Cottam and say, "Are you sure?"
The Carpathia was a passenger ship. Diverting would put them behind schedule, which could mean angry passengers and an angry Cunard line, the ship's owners. And, if the captain or the wireless operator had misheard the news, there would undoubtedly be excessive ribbing from the crew. Yet, he ordered the new course before he confirmed that there actually had been a distress call from Titanic. He was willing to act on the need immediately, and confirm later, because if the need was real, there was not a moment to spare. Turn the ship first; ask, "Are you sure?" second.
Give Your Best
We humans have a tendency to give "what we can spare" when helping others. Either with good intentions or just exhibiting carelessness, often in our day, people will send wildly inappropriate items to victims of fire, flood, or other disasters. Winter coats arrived in Indonesia for tsunami victims. In recent months, the victims of devastating California wildfires started issuing requests through various agencies - "Stop sending us your old stuff." Sure, when you have nothing, you appreciate any gesture, but when you keep getting used towels and sheets and you need beds and chairs, it can be adding insult to injury. Our local food bank frequently reminds us that a food drive is not a chance to clean out and donate the expired items in your cupboard - they're not allowed to distribute expired food. (Whether you agree or not doesn't change the policy.)
Steam ships, like the Carpathia, could not just speed up, like a car with someone pressing harder on the gas. In order to go faster, the steam engines needed more steam - and they didn't have the option of getting more fuel. Captain Rostron diverted steam from heat and hot water, in order to send it to the engines. (Imagine having no heat or hot water on a passenger ship today, no matter what the reason!) The ship went almost twice as fast as its normal speed, reaching the survivors in 3 1/2 hours.
All told, Rostron gave 23 orders before they reached the survivors. (source: "Titanic Hero: The Autobiography of Captain Rostron of the Carpathia") After they loaded the survivors, they were given blankets, food, tea, beds... they severely crowded the ship, but no one complained. The Carpathia had been headed to Europe, but she turned around and went back to New York. The needs of the shipwrecked survivors outweighed the needs of the other travelers.
In Salt Lake in 1856, the women leaving the church building after hearing about the handcart companies in need began peeling off their stockings and petticoats, tossing them onto the piles of relief supplies, hoping to keep warm some women that they had never met. The clothes on their bodies were the first items donated - their own comfort or modesty was a dim secondary concern.
From the pulpit that day, Brigham Young said, "I do not want to send oxen. I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them. Also 12 tons of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams... First, 40 good young men who know how to drive teams, to take charge of the teams that are now managed by men, women and children who know nothing about driving them. Second, 60 or 65 good spans of mules, or horses, with harness, whipple trees, neck yokes, stretchers, lead chains, etc. And thirdly, 24 thousand pounds of flour, which we have on hand."
Notice, he repeatedly asks for good horses, good men, good everything. Not, "Do you have a spare in your barn?" or something else that left room for second best. He notes that the things he wants are "in this Territory" or "on hand" - no "take time to look around, see what you can find." He wanted the best, and he wanted it now - and he got it. The people gathered things quickly and willingly.
There were approximately 650 survivors of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. There were between 701 and 713 survivors of the RMS Titanic; counts vary.
I did not include in the lesson another hero of mine, Captain Bernie Cooper of the SS Arthur M. Anderson, because that story does not have a happy ending. The Anderson was a cargo ship on the Great Lakes; in 1975, she was the last ship in contact with the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, a freighter lost in a storm on Lake Superior on November 10, 1975.
The Fitzgerald and the Anderson, along with other ships on the lake, were caught in a ferocious storm. Both were headed to Whitefish Bay and the safety of the port. Captain Cooper was in contact with Captain Ernest McSorley of the Fitzgerald as the storm progressed. The Fitzgerald was taking on water, but the last message from her bridge, sent to the Anderson, was, "We're holding our own." That message came in at 7:10 PM. Then she was gone, so fast that no mayday was sent, no lifeboats launched.
Capt. Cooper repeatedly radioed the shore and other vessels to express concern for the Fitzgerald, starting at 7:39 PM, asking if anyone had been in contact with McSorley, as he now couldn't reach the Fitz by radio, or see them on radar. He officially reported the Fitz missing at 9:03 PM. When the Anderson was sailing into port, the Coast Guard asked Captain Cooper to go back and look for the Fitzgerald; they feared that her communications were out, and she might be adrift. Cooper had just experienced sustained winds of 58 MPH, and gusts up to 86 MPH. The waves were as high as 35 feet. Yet they turned and went back out into the storm, the same storm that had swallowed the Fitzgerald. An hour and a half later, the Coast Guard asked other vessels to assist. But the Fitzgerald was gone, and all 29 crewmen were dead.
Sometimes, your best efforts won't be enough.
But, always, go quickly, and give your best.
