A Celebration of Life

My beautiful father, Newell John Law, was laid to rest today in the Bountiful, Utah Cemetery.  What a life well lived.  

Someone gave me this thought, and it rings true for my siblings and I:

"The paper says our father died, but we know he lives.  We'll see him each time a son squares his shoulders to accept responsibility, each time his children laugh at their discouragements and refuse to give up.  We'll see him in his daughter's compassion, in his son's honesty.  Our father lives, and his lessons have changed our eternities."

My brother Brian's life sketch of dad follows:

Newell John Law was born the 9^th child of Samuel Charles William Law, better known as Charles Law,

and the 3^rd child of Ruth Ann Ashby in Bountiful, Utah on March 27^th, 1932.  It was Easter Sunday.  Ruth was Grandpa Law’s second wife, an independent and strong willed woman in her own right.  Following the admonition of the prophet at the time, Charles Law had moved to the United States from Bradley, Staffordshire, England where he and most of the family were converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by missionaries serving there.  Ruth Ashby was born into the church as a third generation member.  When her grandfather Benjamin was a boy he lived in Nauvoo and had occasion to be acquainted with the prophet Joseph Smith, Jr.  Dad is survived by four of his siblings Wendell, Loraine, Gladys and Albert.

Dad’s family lived in a modest home at 730 North Main, Bountiful, that they built with their own hands.  By hand they dug the foundation, nailed the walls together, and laid the red brick.  Grandpa Law ran a small family farm of about 5 acres and also worked as an electrician.  Dad grew up in an atmosphere of hard work, modest means, and righteous examples.  The family attended church on a regular basis and participated in numerous church callings. 

Shortly after birth dad developed an abscess diagnosed to be “mump like” on the left side of his neck.  The abscess was lanced from which he carried a scar his entire life.  I never noticed it, but he wrote about having it in his journal. 

As a child he didn’t start talking until somewhere near the age of 4.  He surprised his uncle Dale Ashby, and everyone else, when one day dad asked him a question.  No one had ever heard him talk before.  From then on he spoke in full sentences.

In his journal he wrote that others had told him that he was of a mild personality, easy to please, and mostly unnoticed.  In Grandpa Law’s history he wrote that dad was somewhat of a tease as well.  One day while helping his father hoe some long rows of vegetables dad got quite a bit ahead of grandpa.  Upon seeing how far behind grandpa was, dad whistled to him like a dog to hurry along.  As a young child dad was said to have had white to very light blond hair.  He lived long enough to get most of the white back. 

In 2 Nephi 5:17 it states: And it came to pass that I, Nephi, did cause my people to be industrious, and to labor with their hands.

Grandpa Law also taught his children to be industrious with their hands and work hard.  Dad had chores to share in every day.  Milking the cow, tending to the other animals, working in the family farm, and working at other jobs filled his youth.  He enjoyed the farm and especially the horses.  The first horse he wrote about was “Old Chub.”  I think he didn’t cared much for him as in his journal he wrote the horse was mean and lazy.  However, when he was 15 years old they got a 5 year old horse named “Pet.”  Dad was very fond of this horse and felt like he grew up with her.  Although grandpa used her on the farm for pulling plows, dad wore out numerous pairs of britches riding her bareback around town and in the mountains. 

In 2 Nephi 9:29 in states: But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God.

Dad attended grade school, middle school and high school like all kids should.  His mother was a teacher before she married, so I am sure she insisted all her children be educated.  Dad graduated from the only high school in Davis County, Davis High School.  He did quite well academically and participated in sports on the football and basketball teams.  As a side note, my mother, my siblings and I, my wife, and all my children graduated from the same high school.  He enrolled in the mechanical engineering program at the University of Utah the following year and graduated from that program in 1954. 

The Korean War was on at the time, and feeling a duty to fulfill a responsibility, he was inducted into service in the Army.  After attending basic training he was assigned to the Headquarters Battery of the 176 AAA Missile Battalion serving in a radar station in Media, Pennsylvania.  He was honorably discharged in September of 1956.

Dad’s years in college and the Army were refining years.  They were his hardest years up to that point in life.  Even in the realms of the less than spiritual atmosphere of the Army, its personnel, and its assignments, he stayed true to his values and what he had been taught, and came through with a firm testimony to the gospel.  He received wonderful support from his bishop, Bishop Cullimore, whom dad was very grateful for.  Most of the money he earned in the army was paid back to his sister Gladys who had loaned him money for college. 

Upon coming home from the Army he was called to serve in his ward in the MIA.  For the younger generations here, that stands for Mutual Improvement Association.  That name was replaced many years ago by the Young Men and Young Women Organizations.  While in a sacrament meeting a few months later, two beautiful young women got up and bore their testimonies.  Dad was 24 years old at the time and he thought, “boy if they were only old enough to date.”  A short time later, as part of an MIA activity, he and one of these young ladies were together in a vehicle taking kids home from an MIA activity.  Kind of out of the blue dad asked her if she would like to go to a movie with an old man when they were done, expecting her to say “no.”  To his surprise she consented.  She was only 18.  Her name was Noreene Phister.  That was in March.  In May they were engaged to be married. 

In D&C 132:19 it states: And again, verily I say unto you, if a man marry a wife by my word, which is my law, and by the new and everlasting covenant, and it is sealed unto them by the Holy Spirit of promise, by him who is anointed, unto whom I have appointed this power and the keys of this priesthood; and it shall be said unto them—Ye shall come forth in the first resurrection; and if it be after the first resurrection, in the next resurrection; and shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities, and powers, dominions, all heights and depths…

On July 12, 1957 mom and dad were married in the Salt Lake Temple.  Following the Lords commandment to be fruitful and replenish the earth, Suzanne was born 10 months later, followed 14 months later by me, and Perry after another 14 months.  Mom had her hands full.  It’s a good thing I was such a good boy.  Over the next few years Mindy, Shauna, Evan and Jennifer were also added to the family.  Even with 7 kids they still weren’t through opening their home to children.  While I was in high school, Barbara Begay came to live with us from Arizona.  She soon became a wonderful part of our family.  Then, while I was on my mission, Josie Lopez lived with the family for a time.  They are both my sisters. 

Dad was industrious.  A year after being married, dad drew up plans for a home to be built at 20 West 1000 North in Bountiful.  Grandpa Phister did most of the work with dad helping.  However, grandpa wouldn’t let dad do any of the finish work.  He said dad wasn’t all that accurate with the swing of a hammer, and back then there was no such thing as a nail or staple gun.  Years later dad drew up plans for another house, this one to be built in Fruit Heights at 11 South Mountain Road.  This time Dad hired a carpenter and Grandpa Phister to help.  Dad was much better now at swinging a hammer.  I was only 10 at the time.  We moved in to Grandpa Law’s house where dad was born while the house was built.  Dad would go to work each day, then go to FH and work on the house until late, and on Saturdays he would spend the time building as well.  A year or so after we moved in to our new home he had us kids help him build a barn at the back of the property.  It was a good barn.  It was a great learning experience.  We soon bought a milk cow and dad taught Perry, Evan and I to milk by hand.  It was great to learn responsibility and priority.  Milking can’t be missed and it has to be done on time.  Milk straight from the cow before it gets to the bucket is really quite good.  Why didn’t the girls ever have to milk the cow or feed the chickens? 

In Mosiah 2:17 it states: And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.

Not one to shy away from church service, Dad served as Elders Quorum President and then more than 7 years as a councilor in a couple of bishoprics in Bountiful before moving to Fruit Heights.  On July 9, 1972 he was called to be bishop of the Kaysville 14^th ward.  About 5 years later, in September 1977 he was called to serve as the Stake President.  He served in that position until June of 1987.  It seemed like dad was always at church.  I wonder why. 

I remember one Sunday night after he came home, I was about 16 or 17, and he sat down to his customary bread and milk.  He stated that he was tired after the long day.  But he said something to the effect, “I am still rested from the labors of the week.  And when I wake up on Monday I will be refreshed for the new work week.” 

Dad was always willing to serve in whatever capacity he was asked.  He also was a great example of service to us kids.  I remember late one winter night when we lived in Bountiful he told me to put my coat and gloves on.  I asked him why and he said we needed to go and clear the driveway of snow from a widow in the ward.  We went to her home and cleared all the snow.  When we were about to leave I told him we needed to tell her what we had done.  He told me she didn’t need to know, and we left.  Another time, years later, on a summer afternoon, we were doing something in the back yard, and we heard a loud bang a couple of homes to the south.  Poulson’s were pouring a foundation for an addition to there home at the time.  Dad looked at me and said, “their form just broke, come on.”  We went over and spent the next couple of hours assisting, along with other neighbors, by bucketing cement by hand back into the repaired form.  Going to the various church welfare farms was also a regular activity in which he served and taught us to serve as well. 

In Romans 10:15 it states: And how shall they preach, except they be sent? as it is written, How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!

Dad always felt a little guilty about not serving a mission in his youth.  After his release from the Army, he had no money.  At the time, his mother and father had no means to pay for a mission and he owed money to his sister, so he didn’t push the issue.  When he retired, however, mom and dad wasted no time in serving.  They left for Florida in January 1993 and served 18 months.  It was a wonderful experience for him. 

Upon returning home from their mission, mom and dad were called to serve in the Bountiful Temple as temple workers.  Then, on January 16^th, 1997 he was set apart by then Elder Thomas S. Monson as a Sealer in the Bountiful Temple.  He served as a sealer as long as he could.  While a sealer he sealed a number of his own grandchildren and their spouses, and Jennifer and Ken. 

         In Mark 10:6-9 it states: But from the beginning of the creation God made them male and female.  For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife; and they twain shall be one flesh: so then they are no more twain, but one flesh.  What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. 

Dad and mom have always been examples of how couples should get along and how couples should raise a family in the church, bestowing righteous examples and teaching god-like virtues.  I never heard them argue or express disgust about each other.  They vowed early on to reach an accord quickly when difference arose between them.  They expressed love to each other often.  As children we know they love each other.  How many time they danced together in the kitchen or the living room.  

 In dad's journal he wrote, “It has never been my disposition to have bad feelings towards anyone.”  I cannot recall any time that my father spoke badly about anyone.  He was not confrontational.  He lived by the standards he had been taught by his loving parents.  He tried hard to live the life his Savior would want him to live.   Even as his disease process was over-running his body and mind, he tried his hardest not to complain, and be tolerant of his trial.  He expressed to me a number of times he was trying hard to endure and he hoped he was doing so honorably.  He did.  I pray for strength to follow his example in my life and in my trials.

My talk was titled My Father's Hands:

I well remember sitting in sacrament meeting as a little girl with my legs dangling from the pew…too short to touch the floor.  I did not like sacrament meeting then…it was way too long and even more boring than it was long.  The only thing that made it bearable was sitting next to dad.  My little brother Evan and I would play with his wallet, pulling out all his cards and money then putting it all back again.  He let us play with his round coin purse that, with a squeeze, would open up to reveal pennies, nickels and quarters.  My dad would play finger games with us…his index fingers becoming a church steeple when pressed together and then moving his thumb “doors,” he would wiggle all the “people” inside the church.  When we tired of that, my dad would reach into his pocket and pull out his white hanky.  After folding and rolling the hanky every which way, he transformed it into two little babies in a cradle, which I would rock and rock until I rocked it back into a regular hanky again.  As a last resort, my dad would play quiet hand games with us.  We would push an imaginary “button” on his wrist that would pop his hand open and then we would fold each finger down and push the button again.  Sometimes he would place one of his hands on his knee and then I would put one of my hands on his followed by one of my brother’s hands which was then topped with our other hands in the same order.  The person whose hand was on the bottom of the stack had to pull that hand out and place it on the top of the stack.  Dad would push hard so it was not easy to pull out our hands on our turn. 

During the Sacrament, we were encouraged to sit quietly as the bread and water were passed.  I remember at times just looking at my dad’s hands.  He had a wide palm and short fingers, which were calloused from long hours working a hoe in his garden.  But the most fascinating thing about his hands were the veins that protruded blue beneath his skin.  Evan and I tried over and over again to push those veins down, but to our continual delight, they always popped right back up.  I would trace those veins with my fingers and then tuck my small hand into his, letting his calloused fingers close over mine – and I felt loved. 

  

He turned our sacrament meeting experiences into positive ones…as we played those quiet hand games, we learned to listen and be fed by the Spirit. When I think about my dad, I think about his hands and all the good they did.  They built all the homes I lived in as I grew up.  They repaired everything that needed fixing in our house and many times, things in other people’s homes.  They worked long hours as an Engineer and then came home and worked more in the garden that he loved.  They carried beautiful garden vegetables and orchard fruits to neighbor’s homes and to the bishop’s storehouse.  They blessed many people, many of whom are here today, when he served as Bishop and then Stake President. They were happily engaged in doing projects for my mom.  They cradled seven babies, milked a cow, gave numerous blessings and held my mom close as he swept her up in dance around the kitchen table.  I love all that my Dad’s hands represent.  I knew that he loved the Savior because he served others every day of his life. 

In the Book of Mormon, King Benjamin lovingly addressed his people who he labored to serve throughout his life.  He reminded them and in so doing, reminded us, that when we are in the service of our fellow beings, we are really in the service of our God (see Mosiah 2:17).

Our hands are such a small part of our physical beings and yet are so powerful in their ability to speak novels about the way we are living our lives.  We can use them for great evil or great good.  Appropriate physical touch is a powerful communicator of love.  In times of crisis, we reach out to others with a gentle touch to say that we care.  In times of need, we offer service or goods to relieve burdens.  In greeting, we reach out with hands of fellowship in welcoming handshakes.  In times of grief, we wipe the tears from the eyes of those we love.  In times of joy, we embrace wholeheartedly.  In friendship, an arm around a shoulder says “You are an important part of my life.” 

Jesus Christ, our perfect example, taught us about the power of the human touch.  In a song by Kerrie Cross, called “The Savior’s Touch,” we are reminded of Christ’s example:

A woman in the multitude that came to hear Christ speak,

Pressed forward close and reaching Him, fell humbly at His feet.

With faith to heal her weakened frame, she stretched forth her hand;

And touched the hem of Him, who though a God, stood now as man.

A boy stood with the Nephites at the city temple walls.

He watched with hanging eyes the Savior speaking to them all.

Then Jesus called the children to come forward one by one;

The boy wept as Christ touched his head and blessed him with His love.

A young man heard a missionary tell of Jesus Christ,

And felt a burning in his heart that told him it was right.

He asked the man to be baptized and come into the fold.

The light of Christ shone in his face, the Savior touched his soul.

The Savior’s touch can turn the earthen stones to bread.

The Savior’s touch can raise the living from the dead.

The Savior touched with faith and love the hearts of you and me.

So we in turn could touch the lives of ev’ryone we see.
(New Era, April 1993)

In D&C 35:14, the Lord said, speaking of His servants, “Their arm shall be my arm.”  Elder Marion D. Hanks said of this scripture, “Have you thought about this?  The Lord says, this arm of mine is His arm.  This mind, this tongue, these hands, these feet… these are the only tools he has to work with so far as I am concerned… So far as you are concerned, your arm, your resources, your intelligence, your tongue, your energy, are the only tools the Lord has to work with.”

We read in the scriptures over and over again about how Christ’s hands healed, touched and served.  He raised the dead (Matthew 9:18), He blessed the children (Matthew19), He healed the sick, He opened the eyes of the blind and caused the lame to walk.  He loved those he touched and those who touched Him.  He loved us as well, even then – so much that those same hands that blessed and brought life, were pierced through and became a symbol to the world that He paid the price so that we might all have everlasting life.  He begs us to reach his reaching – to learn of Him, become like Him, and turn and reach out to each other.

Many years ago, when my own kids were young and sitting in a sacrament meeting with me, I found them examining my hands.  They are not pretty hands. They are not dainty, slender and soft.  As one of the girls pushed down the blue veins that so often pop up on the back of my hands, she wrinkled up her nose and told me they were funny.  “They’re grandpa’s hands,” I whispered to her.  At that moment, unsightly as I thought they were – wide palms and short fingers – I was proud to have my Dad’s hands.

Suzy inherited my dad’s zeal for living; Brian was blessed with dad’s good nature and the ability to find humor in all situations; Perry got dad’s work ethic; Mindi, his I-can-do-it myself attitude (I think she could build a house by herself if she wanted to!); Evan got dad’s love of gardening and hunting; Jenny, his kind heart and compassion for others.  I got his insatiable thirst for writing… and his hands.  Mine haven’t begun to do all the good that his did, but I hope in some small way, they can make a difference for good in this world.   It is my prayer that someday Christ will take them in His and claim them as his own.  It is my prayer for us all. 

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

 Dad's grandson's acted as Pallbearers.

 At the graveside service, Dad was given Military Honors.

 Lisa Phillips, my niece, joined the retired officers in honoring dad with taps.

 This flag was crisply folded and presented to my mom.

The Phister Siblings

 Everett Phister (Gloria, his wife, was not feeling well and so did not attend), Noreene Phister Law (my mom), Arlene Phister Combe with her husband Byron and Noel Phister with his wife Marlene

 Three of my dad's surviving siblings and his only full siblings - Lorainne Law Moss, Wendell Law and Gladys Law Bartchi

Nate, Haley, Mr. Horne, Madi and Me

I love you dad.