A Tribute to one of the Greatest Men I have ever been Privledged to Know

Today, a wonderful man has fulfilled his earthly mission and returned to our Heavenly Father. This man was Richard J. Pettit. He was my Bishop, and my priesthood leader, but mostly he was my friend. I met Bishop Pettit when he was the high council leader for the Young Adults group in the Glendale Stake. He scared me at first. He had a steely gazed that, when fixed upon a person, could make their knees turn to jello. I remember him shaking someone's hand, then continuing to hold that hand in his firm grip while fixing his eyes upon them and asking, "Do you love the Lord? Do you want to serve the Lord?" Such a person was helpless when Bishop Pettit gave them an assignment. He expected nothing less than their full effort and he tended to get it. One Young Adult conference, in particular, stands out in my mind. We'd taken the boat to Catalina Island, prepared to spend 3 days in the sand and sun. When we arrived at our camp, it was a total disaster. Many of the cabins were not fit to inhabit. I do not believe the staff was even there that was supposed to provide our meals. There were only one or two bathrooms/showers that worked (for a group of probably 80 or more people). We'd arrived there late in the evening and there was little we could do in the darkness. We all ended up spending the first night on the hard, cold floor of the cafeteria. There was much "weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth!" The next morning, we all awoke to find that someone (undoubtedly Bishop Pettit, although I do not remember whether or not he actually admitted it) had put up a big poster board on the front of the cafeteria. It read, "Camp Quit-Yer-Bitching!" After a pep talk from our leader (The Bishop) we got to work cleaning cabins, cleaning up the cafeteria, etc. Long story short: it was a FABULOUS weekend, at least in my opinion. I still have pictures (somewhere) of that event. That was the weekend we heard the finger-snapping rhyme called "We are the Heavies." It was quite witty. However, for the rest of the weekend, Jill and I improved upon it and shared every updated version with anyone who would listen. At one point, as we stood snapping our fingers and reciting our latest rendition, Bishop Pettit jumped up and began snapping right along with us. He was never one to be left out of the fun. When I went on my mission, Bishop Pettit spoke at my farewell. In his talk, one thing that he said was that I was like Joseph Smith in that we both loved words and language. That meant the world to me, although I have never felt worthy of such high praise. I got one letter from Bishop Pettit on my mission. It was typewritten, filled with spelling and punctuation errors and hard to decipher. The last line was, "If you think my typing is bad, consider the alternative." That made me laugh so hard! I had seen the Bishop's handwriting a time or two. It made the stereotypical 'Doctor's Handwriting' seem like beautiful calligraphy. I doubt that even Sister Pettit could easily read his writing. When I got home from Argentina, I flew into LAX and met my family at the gate. On the way home, we were driving through downtown Los Angeles. I insisted that we stop on Wilshire Blvd at Bishop Pettit's print shop so that I could see him. I rushed inside and gave him a HUGE hug. I was SO happy to see him and he was equally glad to see me. After my mission, I was able to work closely with Bishop Pettit as the Young Adult Co-Chairman and, later, in the Singles Ward. At one point, when I was in his ward, I had a personal problem that had been bothering me for, literally, decades. At that point in my life I was actually seeing a therapist to try to deal with this issue. I had attempted to speak to many a Bishop about it previously, but once they knew what I was trying to talk about, they would always stop me and not want to listen. I was really having a very difficult time and was, at times, suicidal over this. I told my therapist that I needed to have my Bishop listen to me but that I was afraid to even try to talk to him because of my experiences with Bishops in the past. She called Bishop Pettit on the phone and told him that I needed to speak to him. She told him he needed to set aside a good amount of time, ensure that we would not be overheard, and, most importantly, LISTEN to me. I went to the Bishop's house for my appointment with him, because that is where he always met with people. He told me right up front that he'd cleared an hour for me but that he could give me even more time if I needed it. He said that not even Sister Pettit was there, thus ensuring that nobody but him would hear what I was about to say. I was so touched that he cared and that he truly wanted to listen. I poured my heart out to him. I shared with him the most painful moments of my childhood. I cried and he cried with me. He allowed me to tell him everything. He never flinched or acted like he was uncomfortable. He just kept saying, "How could I know you for all of these years and not know that you had this secret?" He apologized for not knowing and for not being able to help me sooner. He gave me the most beautiful priesthood blessing I have ever had. That night, Bishop Pettit literally saved my life. He gave a part of my life back to me that I'd been robbed of as a small child. I will never, ever forget him for that. Bishop Pettit had tremors, much like a person with Parkinson's disease might have. He'd had them the whole time I knew him. I found out that he'd been a pilot during WWII. At one point, he'd been captured by the Germans and put in a concentration camp, where he was tortured. He was there for a number of years, I believe. At one point, he tried to escape and was caught. Because of this, the torture was even worse. Sister Pettit told me once that, even in his later years after he'd retired, he still awoke during the night, having nightmares about his time in the concentration camp. He never, ever told her anything about it. He would not speak of it to anyone. He kept it all inside. He'd wanted to be a professional pilot after the war but, because of the torture, he had the tremors and was not able to qualify as a pilot. He was the only one of his squadron who came back from the war alive. Bishop Pettit gave his all to every righteous cause. I never, ever wanted the day to come when I would hear that he'd passed away, but it came today. As I sit, remembering the many wonderful lessons I learned from him and the great experiences we shared, I can only console myself with the image of him, dressed all in white, free at last from the nightmares and the tremors and the pains of old age. I picture him, greeted by the Savior that he so loved and so dutifully served throughout his life. I picture our Savior, embracing him and saying, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." I know that if anyone deserves to spend eternal life in the presence of God, it is Bishop Pettit. I only hope and pray that I can live worthy to join him there someday. Thank you for everything, Bishop Pettit. You cannot possibly know how much you have affected my life and, I dare say, the lives of so many others. I hope that you DO know how much I love you, respect you, admire you, and thank you. Till we meet again.....