From the Improvement Era, November 1945 –

The Friendship Formula

By John T. Cardall

Friendships, often a lifetime in the making, can be destroyed by a single thoughtless act. Then, if one of the parties makes a little effort, the friendship is welded together stronger than ever by the simple act of brotherhood. This is how it happened in one case.

Some years ago a certain, man lived on a farm in Canada. He had a good wife and some children old enough to help him with the everyday chores. Things were going fine with him.

“My neighbor was a good, honest farmer,” he related, “and we were the best of friends. Sundays we would go to church together and raise our voices in song as we stood side by side in the chapel.

“His farm bordered mine, separated only by a rickety old wire fence. We used to see each other in the field as we worked, and often we would stop plowing or cultivating long enough to walk over and see how everything was going on the other side. We took pride in everything the other did. Why, Hiram was as pleased about my record crop as was my wife. A prince of a fellow, Hiram!”

“One day some of Hiram’s cows managed to get through that rickety old fence that separated our farms, and into my garden they went, leisurely munching their way through about two months of my hard, earnest labors. Naturally, I was distressed. I don’t know of anything that upsets an individual more than to have the product of his efforts utterly destroyed.

“Well,” he went on, “I went over to see Hiram right then and there. And, believe me, I still had anger in my heart.

“Poor Hiram didn’t have a chance, I guess. One word led to another until we both had lost control of our tempers. Finally, I walked back to my side of the fence and immediately set about repairing the damage, making certain that the fence was strong enough this time to keep those cows in their own pasture land.

“Well, sir, Hiram and I had nothing to do with each other from that day on. We made it a habit to turn our backs on each other whenever we saw the other in the fields. Let me tell you, I was a very unhappy man those days. But I was too proud to do anything about it, and the situation continued.

“In fact,” he said, “Hiram even quit going to church. That alone should have made me try to patch things up with him, but hatred cuts deep if you just give it a channel to flow in, and those cows had made the channel and given it a start.

“When I think back on it now, I wonder how I could have been so small, so petty. And to think that a dozen cows could turn two grown men against one another. No, sir, it doesn’t make sense, yet it happened.

“Well, Hiram didn’t go to church any more, so he didn’t hear a sermon preached by Elder Ballard at one of our conferences. But that little sermon changed my whole life, and I think — no, I know it changed Hiram’s life, also.

“I felt that Brother Ballard was talking directly to me, as a matter of fact, he was. For what he said froze me to my seat, and I digested eagerly each word he uttered.

“‘Brethren,’ he said, ‘don’t let hatred enter your hearts. No man can be happy or serve God who holds bad feelings against his fellow men. If such feelings exist between you, patch things up, make amends!’

“You see,” this Canadian farmer went on, “what I mean about his talking directly to me? I felt as though he had been reading my thoughts.

“‘Let me tell you something,’ Elder Ballard continued, ‘If you want to love someone you hate, do a good deed for him. That’s all, brethren. Do a good deed for that person, and I tell you, you’ll never be able to hate that man again. Try it, brethren, try it. Eliminate hatred from your hearts.’

“But, I told myself, how can anyone do something good for someone he dislikes? We just don’t do things like that. It’s against human nature.

“Well, sir, I went home that night and thought about what Brother Ballard had said.

“About a week later, I was just finishing my chores on the farm. It was in the winter, and there was a terrific blizzard blowing outside. With my children to help me, I could finish the day’s work in the winter in a couple or three hours. Well, I was just finishing my work, feeling mighty happy about getting into a warm house and reading a good book, when I noticed that something was wrong over at Hiram’s farm. What made me notice it was that the cows were mooing in Hiram’s barn. You know, there’s a difference in a cow’s moo. Sometimes it moos just to be mooing. Other times it moos because something is wrong, like it hasn’t been milked, and it wants to let somebody know it.

“Then I noticed that Hiram’s wagon was gone. Now why, I asked myself, would Hiram leave his farm on a day like this with his chores still not done? It was a forty-four mile trip into town, and only something very important would take him out without having first taken care of his cows.

“Yes, sir, it puzzled me! Something was wrong over at Hiram’s place, I was sure. You see, Hiram didn’t have help like I did. He had only two small children, so every lick of work that was done fell upon his shoulders.

“Then I thought again about what Brother Ballard had said. Here was a chance to try it out. And, I thought, if it will work in this case, it will work in any case where ill-feeling exists.

“I made up my mind to go over and see if I could help. When my wife asked me where I was going, I stated simply that I was going over to Hiram’s. She didn’t say any more, but I thought I detected a pleased look.

“Well, sir, it was just as I had imagined. Hiram had to make an urgent trip into town, and he hadn’t done a thing around the farm before he left. And forty-four miles with team and wagon is no easy task, even without the added hardship of that storm.

“I asked his wife for the milk cans. And do you know, those poor cows hadn’t even been fed yet! I had to climb up into the hayloft to throw some hay down, and while climbing the ladder, I slipped and peeled every bit of skin off my leg.

“Boy, was I peeved! I started to tell myself what a fool I was to try to help somebody out. In fact, I came pretty close to giving up the whole job and going home. But then I said to myself, ‘No, sir, you came here to do a job, and you’re going to do it if it kills you.’

“Then when I got to the top of the loft and saw the circumstances under which Hiram had to work, I began to feel better about him. He didn’t have a solid floor up there like I had in my barn. I’d go walking around and almost fall through several places. There were only a few boards here and there, just what was necessary to keep the hay up.

“Well, sir, I thought, ‘No wonder Hiram is grouchy. I’d be grouchy, too, if I had to work with equipment like this.’ You see, I forgot that I had good children to help me, and Hiram didn’t have a soul.

“I fed the cows and then settled down to milk them. And do you know, before long I was singing some little tune. Yes, I was actually singing a song. Then I thought how funny it was for me to be in Hiram’s barn, doing Hiram’s work, and Hiram not knowing anything about it. And that’s when I chuckled to myself. I felt pretty good inside, let me tell you.”

“After milking and feeding,” he continued, “I had to take the cows out to water. And that was another very disagreeable task. I had to herd them up an icy slope, head on into the blizzard, to the watering trough. I slipped down a couple of times on the way up the hill, but I didn’t mind so much now. It was fun to do it.

“With the cows back in their stall, I took the milk and ran it through the separator. Then I straightened things up generally and went home.

“It was the next day while working outside that I saw Hiram.
“Meeting by the fence, we threw our arms around each other and wept. Yes, sir, we wept, but I don’t know when I have ever been so happy. Hiram and I were friends again.”