I Love to Read My Patriarchal Blessing

In a little over 20 years of church membership, I have personally noticed a decline in the use of a certain phrase, “according to my Patriarchal Blessing…” 

Why is that? As youth with heads full of hope and ideals, do we place more value on this spiritual parchment than we do once we become older and maybe grow jaded? I wonder if we place anticipated timestamps on each pronounced blessing.  Then, once certain life milestones pass, we either celebrate them as recognized and documented manifestations or grieve supposing we have already lived beyond a Celestial Father’s ability to provide certain opportunities.

Several years ago, my original military contract was due to expire, my wife decided to stop working, we had a new baby on the way and could foresee several opportunities forking paths before us. I had a desire to pursue a career in law enforcement but before proceeding, I read my Patriarchal Blessing. It reminded me to pray for guidance in a choice of vocation.

While heeding the advice and praying, I felt strong promptings to avoid law enforcement and was presented other ideas as viable replacements. Each idea of vocation provided lucrative and honest opportunities that matched skills I already had—essentially I was a desired commodity in a growing market that sought for people with my specific skill.

Rather than accept the gift as presented, I rose from my knees, drove to the local State Highway Patrol and applied for a job. Fortunately, they had just posted positions for immediate hire and I was ushered into a series of entrance tests. Unfortunately, the hiring criteria consisted of a series of physical, mental, emotional and psychological tests—all this to just gain admittance into a series of much more demanding training.

On day one of testing, we had to demonstrate physical aptitude. Because I had applied to a specific specialized team within the department, our test required more rigor than an average candidate. We had to traverse a timed obstacle course, swim, run, do push-ups, and do sit-ups. Each category had timed criteria and expectations. If a person wanted to progress from one event to the next, the candidate had to complete the assigned task before time expired. If the candidate was unable to complete the task, he or she was eliminated from the rest of the events and from hiring eligibility. Physically, I excelled and ended the day with many others who started it with me.

Day two of testing was a written exam. We had 8 hours to complete the test. It contained a series of hypothetical scenarios that tested mental aptitude, awareness and reaction. We were presented with opportunities to answer based on multiple choice questions, fill in the blank, completion of mathematical formulas and essays.  After two hours, I completed the test (I’ve always been quick with tests) and presented it to the proctor. Before accepting it from me, he reminded me that I had been given 8 hours to complete the test, that I had better use my time wisely in reviewing my answers, and that no tester—in his personal experience—had ever completed the test in less than half of the allowed time.

I thanked him for his reminder and left him with the test. Upon leaving, he told me to expect my results in 4 to 6 weeks.

The next morning, the department called and asked for an interview. I accepted.

When I arrived for the interview, an officer ushered me into a room set up for a panel-to-one interview. I took my seat and opposite of me sat a group of stern looking interviewers. Though they were pleasant, they couldn’t accept that I had completed the test in such a short time and had attained such high marks. Because of this, they had decided to give me the test again verbally and take notes as I responded. After 90 minutes of grilling, they eased and warmed up to me. For another hour, they spoke to me as though I had already been hired and took time to offer advice on how to navigate a successful career.

After the interview, I felt I had solidified my new job and went home to pray with gratitude. As I prayed, I felt stronger than ever that I should choose a different career. Rather than heed the prompting, I continued my chosen course.

A few days later, I was invited to another round of interviews. They were scheduled at a location that required a 90 minute drive. As I rose early to prepare for the day, a nearly audible voice spoke within me suggesting that I should stay home and forgo the rest of the interviews. I ignored the voice and proceeded with my plan.

As I drove, a freak snowstorm hit the area and driving became precarious. Several times during the first hour of the drive, and as the snowfall thickened, promptings grew and stirred within suggesting that I should stop the interview process and go back home. My wipers and window defroster could not keep pace with the weather. Everything, including my inner conscience, clouded.

(Hindsight showed me how stubborn I was. I really wanted to prove to myself that I could have some measure of success without the caveat that it had come by my riding on the coattails of spiritual blessings. If I had a time machine, this is one moment that I would return to and slap myself.)

The drive took me across a wide river. The bridge I had to traverse measured almost half a mile long and stood hundreds of feet above the surface of the water. Two lanes of traffic crossed the bridge in each direction.

As soon as all four tires rolled onto the bridge, a sideward gust of wind blew me out of my lane. In reaction, I overcorrected. The snowy and iced bridge provided no traction. Driving southbound, I veered left and crossed over both northbound lanes of traffic. Once across, my left two wheels slammed into the protective shoulder curb and my right two wheels left the ground. My truck tipped up so high that my body’s weight pressed against the driver side door and I clearly saw that I would soon fall over the side of the bridge to my death. Time slowed down and looking out of the window I remember seeing the brown swirly river current flow hundreds of feet below me. I wondered if I would die on impact or if I would be knocked out on impact and later drown in the freezing water.

The truck jolted, pulling me out of my thoughts and slammed back down on to all four wheels. Once down, I slid across all four lanes of traffic until the right two tires slammed the opposite curb and the left two came up into the air. The weight of my hip ached against my seatbelt. I reached out with my right hand and pressed it onto the passenger side window. Somehow my left hand clung onto the neck of the steering column and I held tight. I saw the water passing under the bridge a second time.
Again, the truck shook and all four wheels came down to the frozen road. Once they touched, the truck began to spin—the steering wheel probably turned as I hung onto it both from the left and from the right. After three full spins, my truck straightened out and I drove off the icy bridge onto safer pavement.

As soon as I felt I could, I pulled over and turned the truck off. Leaning my head onto the steering wheel, I felt my body shake. From deep within, a primal cry escaped and tears soaked my face. I lost control of my breathing, coughed, cried violently until I threw up. I don’t know if the whole scene lasted 5 or 20 minutes, but once settled, I cleaned myself up and continued to the interview.

A well-dressed older gentleman greeted me upon my arrival and escorted me to a small room. The furniture was plain and reminded me of movie scenes that involved psychologists and patients.  Once seated, the older man introduced himself and asked if he could attach me to polygraph equipment. I accepted and he did.

After everything was set up, he turned my chair away from him and directed me to look at a certain dot on the wall before me. He would ask me questions and I would only answer yes or no. I was directed to never look away from the dot and I was never to say anything more than yes or no.
In a soft tone, he began to question me. He asked if the address on my application was correct, if I was married, if my birthdate was on such a date, etc. Some questions were obviously true and some were not. These plain types of questions warranted no physical, emotional or mental stress; however, less than an hour had passed since I saw my life pass before me, twice.

My body continued to shake and I couldn’t stop sweating. Each question, though easy and obvious, required some mental strain. After 20 or so questions, the examiner stopped talking. He took a long pause, excused me from the test and sent me home without further explanation.

Later the same day, the department called to terminate the interview process. When questioned why, they explained that not only had I failed the polygraph test, but that they would have to put me on a federal register that disallowed any legal testimony obtained from me while polygraphed. Stunned, I heard the call abruptly end. (Later, in the military, I went through what I would call “legal systems training” and have since been removed from the federal register of polygraph offenders.)

At home and finding myself back at where I began, I fell to my knees and sorely repented. Once humble, I sought for guidance in choices of vocation and have done so ever since. I don’t know why law enforcement may or may not have been good for me, but I have never tried to enter the field again. I have moved on to other paths and have loved each one.

Every career and company change has led me to my knees. To this day, I pray with gratitude that God is still willing to guide me and also pray that I will have the strength to listen.

I love to read my Patriarchal Blessing.