From the Improvement Era, October 1969 –

In the Season Thereof

By Amy Hillyard Jensen

From the journal of Catherine Wyman

September 19, 1966

We put Doug on the plane for Salt Lake this morning, and somehow I found the strength not to weep. But I wondered, as I have so many times these past few months, how did it happen? How did my handsome Protestant son end up as a Mormon missionary?

We were so “understanding,” Richard and I, when Doug came to us two years ago and said he wanted to join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His best friend, Alan Baker, was a Mormon, so we knew they were fine people. And maybe we really thought the whole idea would wear off, like some of his other teen-age fancies. I don’t know. All we asked was that he wait a few months to be sure.

But waiting only seemed to strengthen his determination. He went to church twice on Sunday and to every conceivable kind of meeting during the week. It was annoying, but we couldn’t really object. Then he was baptized.

I guess the turning point came when he decided to go to Brigham Young University. If only we had kept him here in Seattle! He could have gone to one of the community colleges or to the university. Instead, he went off to Utah with Alan, and his letters home were brimming with love for this new life of his.

What happened shouldn’t have come as a surprise, I guess. We knew the Bakers were planning to send Alan on a mission. But when Doug came home from college in June and told us he wanted to go too — well, I cried, and Richard was as grim as I’ve ever seen him.

“Doug,” he told him, “you know my business right now barely keeps the five of us going. I simply haven’t the money to finance your . . . whim!”

I’ll never forget the look on Doug’s face. “Dad,” he said, “this isn’t a whim. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I’ve saved a little from my job and my bishop says the members of the elders quorum want to help finance my way.”

So that was it. Summer has rushed by, the days filled with inoculations and new suits to buy — the nights, with a mother’s tears. Now both Doug and Alan will be at the Language Training Institute for a few weeks before going to South America — Alan to Argentina, and Doug to Brazil.

This morning before we left for the airport, we all stood for a minute under the old apple tree that’s sheltered our family for so long. Then Doug gave a shooting -for-a-basket leap and grabbed a ripe apple. “This’ll have to last me,” he said.

Yes, I thought, as in a minute he devoured what had been months in the making. It will have to last me, too. So I looked and looked and tried to memorize the lines of the face that has been mine to love for nearly 20 years.

Christmas Day, 1966

Elder Douglas Wyman
Caixa Postal 862
Sao Paulo, Brazil

Dearest Doug,

Merry Christmas!!! Dinner is over, and we’re each of us sitting here and writing you a letter, even Grandpa McFarland. We drove up to Bellingham and got him a few nights ago, and he’ll stay here over New Year’ s.

I can see the apple tree from where I sit. Right now the branches are so bleak and dead-looking it’s hard to imagine that spring will ever come again.

But in Brazil I guess it’s already summer now. We’re so anxious to hear from you, to know that you’ve arrived safely and that everything is fine.

It was so good to talk to you Monday morning when you called from the Salt Lake airport — if you can call it talking. I’m afraid we were a pretty tearful bunch. Even Randy, who never does anything “uncool” if he can help it, went off by himself after your phone call. Laurie and I must have used up half a box of tissue between us. And your dad-well, you know what an old softie he is!

The thing that was really the hardest to take-but the sweetest— was the prayer you said, right there on the phone. I don’t think we’ve ever felt closer as a family than we did at that moment.

We’re so proud of the way you’ve learned your Portuguese. It must be hard. But what an asset when you go back to college. I want to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted about your taking these two years away from your schooling. It’s your life, Doug, and we haven’t the right to criticize.

There’s just one thing, though, and I hope you won’ t think I ‘m too stubborn. Remember when you were little and used to sell Christmas cards and Little League stickers? Dad and I always ended up buying some to help you out.

Well, it may seem strange to say this, but I don’ t feel we should have the missionaries call on us right now. It wouldn’t be honest, Doug. If we listened to the lessons, it would only be to “help you out.” Do you see?

This doesn’t mean that we don’t have a great deal of respect for your church and its teachings. We’ve seen quite a bit of the Bakers lately, and they are wonderful people. It’s easy to see why Alan is such a fine boy. His little sister Tina and all the other children are so proud of him!

Well, I’ll have to finish this up now. Randy’ s having some of his friends over. I’m a little worried about him. There’s one boy he’s seeing a lot of that I can’t truthfully say I care for — Bud something-or-other.

I think this is the last winter we’ll let Grandpa stay alone. He’s grown so thin and frail-looking. Bless him, he seems to take pride in your new calling. “My missionary grandson,” he calls you.

Well, take care, Doug. We love you and miss you and pray that all goes well.

Bless you always,

Mom

May 16, 1967

Mr. Peter McFarland
Bellingham, Washington

Dear Daddy,

I’ve just come in from working in the garden, and I’m bushed! But it’s beautiful now. The apple tree is magnificent, like a great cornucopia of candied popcorn.

We so enjoyed our visit home last week. The kids always love it. But Richard and I both agree it’s too much for you now. Are we selfish to want you to come and live with us?

Anyway, you’ve promised to think it over, and we’ll do everything we can to make it easier. I know how it will be, leaving everything that reminds you of Mama. It hurts me, too. But it would hurt me more to have anything happen to you when you’re so far from us.

We’ve finally heard from Doug, after another of those long silences. The mail from South America is so unpredictable! He’s fine and has baptized another family. It makes me feel terrible to think that the one family in the whole world he wants most to baptize is us — and I won’t even listen to the missionary discussion. Well, I still may relent.

Daddy, plan on making the change soon, won’t you? Richard and I would take care of all the arrangements. You could start listing the things that need to be done. We’ll come up Sunday so that we can talk some more.

Our best love,

Catherine

October 19, 1967

Dear Randy,

This little note is just to say I’m sorry I blew up at you this afternoon. Forgive me for being such a grouch. But I was disappointed in the kind of language you were using on the phone when you talked to Bud. I don’t think you have to lower your standards just to be a part of the crowd. Doug has always set a good example for you, and I’d like you to set a good one for Laurie.

Now would you do something for me ? Laurie’s been feeling kind of blue lately, and Mrs. Baker thought she might like to go to a special activity at the church Friday night. Would you be a nice big brother and take her over? Consider this a hug and a kiss. I love you.

Mom

November 21, 1967

Elder Douglas Wyman
Caixa Postal 862
Sao Paulo, Brazil

Dearest Doug,

This is so hard to write, and I’ve waited until I could tell you the whole story. Grandpa died last Friday night, and we had the funeral service today. How I wish you could have been here.

He’d had a pain in his chest, but hadn’t said anything. When I realized he was ill, I got him right to the doctor. He sent him to the hospital immediately. That night he had a massive heart attack.

He was put on the heart monitor, under intensive care, and your father and I spent every minute with him that we could. It was so strange and unreal. They wanted him to rest, so we spent most of our time in the corridor, watching the electrocardiogram and the little light that registered his heartbeat. Off and on, off and on — uch a precarious link with life. A scoreboard, I thought. Who’s winning? Life or death?

Finally they told us to go home and get some rest. Your father said, “Do you want to go in and see him for a minute?”

I thought he was asleep, because they’d just given him a sedative. But he opened his eyes for an instant. Then he whispered, “Doug was right. ”

I could only nod. Then I kissed his forehead. It was so cool and damp. I said a little prayer, “Father, if he can’t live — if it be thy will— let him go quickly.” And Doug, that’s just how it was. Only a few hours later the hospital called.

The Reverend Wilson, who had been Grandpa’ s minister for so long, conducted the service. It was nice, I guess. He said all the right things. But something was missing.

When your Grandmother McFarland died before you were born, I was content with the usual platitudes. But I was a happy young bride then, with all my life ahead of me. I had your wonderful father. I didn’t realize then how mortal we all are, how quickly life speeds along. This time was different, somehow. I wanted Mr. Wilson to look me in the eye and say, “Catherine, I know that your father lives and is with your mother, and that you will see them both again.” Instead he talked about what “we hoped” and “it must be so.”

Darling, I ‘m sorry to burden you this way. I don’t know what Grandpa meant when he said “Doug was right.” Did he mean right that you decided for yourself what to do? Or something more?

God bless and keep you, Doug. Don’t grieve for Grandpa. He’d have hated being an invalid. Write soon. We love your letters.

All our love,

Mom, Dad, Randy, and Laurie

P.S. Daddy talked to the bishop and we’ve arranged to carry your full support from now on. I think it would please Grandpa.

From the journal of Catherine Wyman

January 1, 1968

I want to remember this New Year’s Day — the loneliness, without Doug and Daddy — but the snug and cozy way the rest of us have drawn together. Always there is the apple tree outside, measuring the seasons. We must prune it this spring. It’s like a loved but neglected child in need of a haircut.

Christmas was new all over again, when I thought it would be desolate. It was less frantic, more mellow . . . because of the Bakers. I’ll remember Christmas Eve at their place, a fire dancing. How good Ron Baker’s voice sounded reading the beloved story from St. Luke in that rich baritone of his.

Then Tina snuggling close to me. “Sister Wyman” — she always calls me that — “Sister Wyman, do you think we knew each other in the pre-existence ?”

My head may have had an answer ready, but my heart spoke up first. “Oh, I’m sure we did!” Strange that it sounded so true.

February 11, 1968

Office of the Registrar
Brigham Young University
Provo, Utah 84601

Dear Sir:

My son is considering attending Brigham Young University this coming year. He has already taken his American College Tests and would like to have the necessary application blanks to fill out. Also, we would appreciate information on housing, and a catalog for the school year. Enclosed is my check for $2.00.

Material should be mailed to:

Randolph Wyman
633 12th Ave. East
Seattle, Wash.

Thank you so much.

Sincerely,

Catherine Wyman

June 10, 1968

Elder Douglas Wyman
Caixa Postal 862
Sao Paulo, Brazil

Dearest Doug,

Your latest letter came today, and it was good to hear from you. You must be so thrilled to have finally baptized your landlady. She sounds almost as stubborn as your mother.

Well, Saturday night was commencement for Randy, and I wish you could have seen him in his cap and gown. He’s grown so much! Dad took a few pictures, which he’ll send later.

Now for the bad news. We thought it was all settled that Randy was going to BYU, but last week he announced that he had changed his mind. He said it was silly to go off to “the sticks” when there was a good university right here in Seattle. (I can remember when I said the same thing to you, to my everlasting shame. )

The thing is, the hippie element at the U is a little alarming right now, and though I trust Randy, he’s young. And now Bud Ellis (you remember his side-kick that troublesome junior year) has been after him to go to the U. They’re even talking about taking an apartment together in the university district.

Your dad and I tried to find out what had changed his mind. “A lot of things,” he said.

“Like what?” Dad asked him.

And then came the shocker. “Well, going to Mutual and everything has been okay, ” he said, “but I never really feel a part of it. After all, you and Mom hardly ever go. And if the Church is so great, how come you don’t join it?”

That stopped us cold, and it really made me think. Dad would have had the missionaries over long ago if it hadn’t been for me. So I know what I have to do. Perhaps there’s something you could say to Randy. I don’t know. But we still have Laurie to guide, and this time we want to do it right.

God bless you, darling. We’re having family prayer every night now, with your welfare always first in our hearts.

Love from us all,

Mom, Dad, and children

July 19, 1968

Elder Alan Baker
North Argentine Mission
Casilla #17, Sucursal de Correo #9
Cordoba, Argentina

Dear Alan,

How hard these past few weeks must have been for you, not knowing for sure whether Tina would recover or not. Now that you’ve had the good news that she’s out of danger, I wanted to write and tell you what a wonderful family you have, and what an inspiration they’ve been to everyone.

As your mother probably told you, the accident happened shortly after Tina left our house. Thank goodness Randy was home! When we heard the squeal of brakes, we both shot out of the house in a panic. When Randy saw what had happened, somehow he had the presence of mind to remember his first aid training. The doctor said later that he’d done exactly the right thing.

But we know that this isn’t what saved Tina’s life. It was the power of the priesthood, and the fasting and prayers of everyone who loved her.

Your family had the loveliest letter from your mission president. He said that after the cablegram arrived and you’d been called to the mission home to be told the news, you took it with the greatest courage and faith.

Alan, we want you to know that every member of your family reacted in that same way. You would have been proud of them. I’ve never seen such a demonstration of trust in the Lord and complete family unity. Its effect on all of us — and on Randy in particular — can never be measured.

May the Lord bless you in your labors. All of us can hardly wait until you and Doug are home again to stay.

Fondly,

Catherine Wyman

November 28, 1968

Elder Douglas Wyman
Caixa Postal 862
Sao Paulo, Brazil

Doug boy,

I was cleaning out my desk this morning and I found the funniest thing ! It was a list I made just after you left on your mission — a list of things I was going to do while you were gone to make the time go faster. I had planned to take up golf, refinish my mahogany chest , put all the family pictures in an album — and maybe even get a job!

And what am I doing instead? I’m singing in the ward choir, quilting in Relief Society, going with your dad to a million different activities, and loving every minute of it.

I guess I’m almost as busy as Randy. His letters from the Y are so happy. He loves his classes and is always talking about his family home evenings. The “father” of the family of students is a young returned missionary!

You know, looking back, there seems to be something almost inevitable about the way a testimony grows. It makes me think of the apple tree. To look at it now, dark and twisted against the sky, it seems without life. But its roots are buried in the moist earth, and within it lies the secret of leaves and blossoms and ripe fruit. The seasons change and the sap rises. Is there within each of us a remembrance of the gospel, learned in another time and place, that lies dormant until the seasons change? It seems it must be so.

Just a few more weeks now and you’ll be home. I’m going to miss those funny green and yellow striped airmail letters. But if we’re lucky, there may be many more missionary letters in years to come, for Randy says he’d like to fill a mission too.

But now we’re looking forward to Christmas, when our returning missionary son can baptize his most stubborn converts. How glad I am that we turned out to be “golden” contacts after all!!! Just one thing worries me. Can you perform the ordinance in English? We don’ t know any Portuguese !

Your loving family,

Mom, Dad, Randy, and Laurie