Constructive Thoughts: Fatherhood

Greetings....Due to a migraine the past two days, I'm a little late with this post.

I have this group of buddies from High School and College. We still get together once or twice a month for a game night--our version of Poker night, I suppose. No poker is played, but we may play some board games, various card games, or some Role-Playing Games. Whatever strikes our fancy, in other words. Each of us leaves our wives and family at home and congregate for six hours or so of manly fun.

It started me thinking; the first thing that came to my mind were the teachings of two modern-day prophets: "No other success in life can compensate for failure in the home" (David O. McKay (1964)) and "The greatest work you will ever do will be within the walls of your own home." (Harold B. Lee (1973)). That in turn made me go even deeper. Are my priorities in order? Do I give my best time to those who mean the most to me? Does my family get steak and ice cream? Or do they get the left-overs: reheated hot dogs and warm soda? (And I'm talking the beef/chicken/pork wieners, not the all-beef kind).

So, I jumped on the internet and started doing a little research. The first thing that popped up was a discourse printed in 1973, recently re-printed in a 2002 issue of the Ensign magazine. The article was entitled, appropriately enough: Father, Consider Your Ways.

Let's just say that after reading this article, there were a lot more concerns on my mind than simply steak versus "mystery meat" wieners. There's a lot in there and I'd highly recommend any of my male readers to gird their loins and take a gander. In the interest of time, I'm only going to touch upon a couple of the article's points.

First, a father is a teacher, we're told.

LW and I home-school the Horde. We yearn after wide open spaces--maybe even some woods--on and in which the Horde can play, explore, and learn. What we have now is nice and large, but still: not to worry about neighbors, neighborhoods, strangers, et cetera? What would that be worth?

OK. I digressed. Suffice it to say, we home-school the Horde.

Realize, when I say WE home-school, I mean that my LW home-schools and I...ummm..., well, I'm the Principal who more-often-than-not stumbles over a history or art notebook on my way to my favorite chair. I admit that to my shame, actually.

And after reading the article? I admit that NOW with even more shame. New and improved guilt.

Teaching, this article reminds me, "is accomplished by precept and example. You cannot be one thing and effectively teach another."

Wow.

Now, I have not done anything REALLY bad. Most of the Ten Commandments are reasonably out-of-range and safe. But still, I can remember both times I ever heard my mother or father use a four-letter word. And by both, I mean once each. I mean, I can remember CLEARLY. Where I was, the circumstances surrounding them. Not sure of my ages, but I can remember just about everything else. They just never used the words, although I'm sure I gave them cause once in a while.

Me? Hmmm.... Not so much.

Don't get me wrong; I don't use the worst of the worst. I'm not even in the same class as the father from the movie A Christmas Story. But if I slice my thumb open with a carving knife or wrack my shin on the piano bench, the family usually knows about it in loud and certain terms.

I can gain some aid and support from the article as well as the guilt, though: "Your children may or may not choose to follow you, but the example you give is the greatest light you hold before your children, and you are accountable for that light." While that is a daunting statement, it also provides a crutch--remembering the examples I have set and the example I MUST set and for which I'm accountable--that gives me an impetus to do better.

Second, a father is responsible for the welfare of his family, we're told.

Specifically,

"It is God's plan that you work for what you get. Your occupation should be honorable and should provide sufficiently to meet the needs of your family. Are your duties and labors undertaken with a joyful and thankful spirit? Do your wife and children feel secure because you feel good about your occupation?"

I'm in trouble here as well. While I believe my occupation is honorable (although some would beg to differ [insert your own lawyer joke here] ) and while our needs are met (barely), I cannot truthfully say that I undertake anything in my professional life with a joyful and thankful spirit. I certainly don't feel good about my occupation; rather, I do not necessarily feel good about my current employment situation. While my LW understands how I feel, I do my best to hide it from the Horde. They certainly do not need that worry in their life.

You see, I grew up in a family that was living on the razor's edge and I never knew it until I was married. I was taught that a Big Mac was two sandwiches and should be eaten that way. My mother froze Arby's sandwiches that she bought in bulk when they went on sale. My parents did odd jobs throughout my childhood to supplement the household income and I never thought twice about it. I never knew that we did not have money, until--as I said--I was married. I still am not convinced I know just how poorly off we were.

And that, I think, is how it should be. That is how I try to raise the Horde.

But the "happiness in my labors" factor? Not so much. As most of you know, I am not extremely happy in my current situation. Most of that is because of inner-office politics. However, I will admit a portion of that unhappiness comes from a personal negative attitude.

Even worse, I am afraid that the Horde--or at least, the older members--are all too aware of my unhappiness. That's not a very good example. And I don't know--honestly--how secure they feel. I'm afraid to ask them, frankly.

What can be done? Well, obviously the complaining about the job while I am around the Horde--that has to stop. The "joyful and thankful spirit" that I have to cultivate? I'll have to take a second look--or third, fourth, and fifth look--at my attitude and try and do better. Maybe looking for a change in atmosphere would not be a bad thing.

What I know is that I'm going to have to change.

"Father, you are accountable to the Lord for what you have and what you are. In the future you will surely stand before Him. What will be your report concerning your family? Will you be able to report that your home was a place of love, a bit of heaven? . . . Will you be able to report that you created an environment in your home to build faith in a living God, to encourage learning, to teach order, obedience, and sacrifice? . . . The day will come when you will stand before the Lord and report your stewardship as a father on earth. Father, consider your ways. What will be your report?"

A lot to think about. What do I need to change?

Does my monthly game night have to go? Do I sufficiently balance that time with time given to my family? Something to consider....

Family definitely comes before anything at the office, a fact that my boss does not appreciate and only barely tolerates.

Does my family come before the internet? before blogging? before television? before books? Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

"It takes hard work and planning to rear your children in righteousness and have unity with your wife, to build a constant feeling of love and harmony in the home."

What do I need to change?

What will be my report?

Constructive Thoughts: National Humility

I don't remember which talk radio show it was, but as we were traveling in the car on Friday on our Memorial Day weekend trip, I heard a caller chastised by the show's host. I wish I'd had time to write down the entire intercourse accurately and completely, but I was driving and the authorities frown on driving and writing at the same time.

Essentially, the caller was espousing the view that--so long as we were a God-fearing nation--that our strength and global position gave us the right and responsibility to act as a unilateral international policeman.

While the host agreed somewhat with a national responsibility as a superpower to be active in certain circumstances (enforcing international peace, for example), he would not go so far as to say we had a "right" to do so. This got me to thinking, especially in light of the Sunday School lesson in the meetings I attended on Sunday.

The passage in question was from the Book of Mormon. Brief background: at this point in the book, a nation has become powerful and prosperous, but is no longer God-fearing. Far from it: the leaders' iniquities has pulled the citizenry into sin and evil practices.

(This idea is a subject of a Constructive Thought all its own, actually--the idea of evil leaders dragging the people into sin. But that's for another day.)

God sends a prophet to this people to call them to repentance. He is chased out of the country under threat of death. Two years later, the Lord sends him back to this people to preach to them again. This time he comes to tell them that they are about to reap the consequences of their actions; they are about to be--as a people--taken into bondage and possibly utterly destroyed.

Their response? The people grab him and drag him to their king, and this is the rationale they give for the actions of their country as a whole: "And behold, we are strong, we shall not come into bondage, or be taken captive by our enemies; yea, and thou [O king] hast prospered in the land, and thou [O king] shalt also prosper." [Mosiah 12:15]

In other words, we're strong and prosperous, so we can't be bad, we can't be evil. God must like us because look at all the things we have.

But are strength and prosperity necessarily always a sign of God's favor? Of course not. My proof? In 1975, then-president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Spencer W. Kimball dedicated the Washington temple. In his dedicatory prayer, he asked, "Bless all people, our Father, that they may prosper, but not more than their faith can stand.... Our Father, in blessing thy people with prosperity, we pray that they may not be surfeited with flocks and herds and acres and barns and wealth which would bring them to worship these false gods." ["News of the Church," Ensign, Feb 1975, 79–87]

Obviously, if strength and prosperity always came because the Lord's blessings, would the Prophet really be saying, "Bless the people, but not too much"?

But the question is raised, "What is wrong with prosperity?" Surely it can be used for good and push forward the Kingdom of God, right? God certainly wants us to prosper, right?

Well, yes.

But only if it's done in the right way.

What do I mean?

Dallin H. Oaks, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, "Those who engage in self-congratulation over a supposed strength...are vulnerable to Satan's using that strength to produce their downfall." [Dallin H. Oaks, "Our Strengths Can Become Our Downfall," Ensign, Oct 1994, 11]

How do we find that balancing point? How do we enjoy prosperity but not "not engage in self-congratulation"?

Again, the Lord gives us the answer to the question: "And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them." [Ether 12:27]

Humility is that quality that we must nurture. It is humility that will protect us, save us, keep us from pride.

Remember the scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? (Aside: Yes, I confess to watching the DVD out of a corner of my eye as we drove along this past weekend. The Horde was being indoctrinated into that wonderful icon of my youth: Indiana Jones.) As Indy is standing there, in the cobwebbed corridor, waiting for the so-called Breath of God that just killed a man in front of Indy's eyes, what does he say? The clue from his father's Grail journal: Only the pentient man will pass. Then he comes up with the answer: "The penitent man is humble before God; the penitent man kneels before God. Kneel!"

Humility saved his life, didn't it?

(Aside: Yes, I know that it did not really save his life, because he's just a movie character. At least, I think so, anyway. Right?)

Humility. We need to make a pride check.

Not just as individuals, either. As a nation, we need to do it.

Big time.

I think that, regardless of your political leanings, you will agree that collectively--as a nation--we are anything but humble. We are prideful. We are self-congratulatory in our success and prosperity.

But our consequences are coming.

Countless modern-day prophets have given us the same warnings that ancient civilization received. And, largely, the warnings have gone unheeded. "We're big, we're bad, but we ain't evil. We're a God-fearing country and He's looking out for us."

We certainly are not as God-fearing (as a nation) as we want to think we are. If nothing else, we're big, we're bad, and we are prideful, and therefore evil. We need a pride check.

And that starts at home.

Maybe... Just maybe... If each one of us becomes a bit more humble, it will have a collective effect and our God-blessed nation just may survive.

But we better hurry.

Brief Vacation

Oops.

So much for notifying my readers of my vacation.

There was supposed to be a message that popped up last Saturday warning that I had left for vacation for Memorial Day and not to expect a post until Wednesday.

Yeah. Didn't happen.

I'm not even sure where the post went. Maybe it was only a dream.

Hold on, though. I should have my Constructive Thoughts entry for this past Sunday posted by tomorrow. Perhaps even a bonus entry!

Whoot! It's like a box of Cracker Jack!

(Honestly? I'm not sure quite how it's like a box of Cracker Jack...it just came out that way and I liked the sound of it.)

Strangers on a Train, Pt. 4

I am so very glad I found my blog-notes from my vacation. I had completely forgotten about the T'ai Chi Ch'uan incident until I re-read my notes. Unlike my other "train" stories, this one is not jarringly odd, per se. It's not really "laugh-making." Certainly, it is in another realm from my other entries.

It was on the last day of my vacation stay in Salt Lake City. I had traveled via the Trax train/transit line up to the University of Utah to visit a friend and to wander around the campus bookstore.

Aside: Campus bookstores, if you were not aware, are some of the best sources of strange books, and odds-and-ends that you will ever find. For example, I enjoy the feel of a nice wooden pencil on a piece of paper. The trouble is sharpening them--I hate the cheap plastic sharpeners that abound in office supply stores. I adore, however, a very fine and reasonably priced pencil sharpener that a friend introduced to me in law school: a glass bottle topped by an excellent metal sharpener. The problem? I have only ever found them in random campus bookstores. Art supplies, too, are fascinating in quantity, style, and relative rarity in these stores.

As I was saying, I was taking the train up to the University campus. As we pulled up to one of the stations, I looked down at the platform to see an elderly Chinese woman performing T'ai Chi.

As you may have seen, T'ai Chi is most commonly seen in this country in the larger cities in city parks, early in the morning. I first saw it when I lived in China, and saw it everywhere and everywhen. Done properly, it is an elegant form of martial arts. I would sit for extended periods of time just watching the old men practice and perform. I say practice and perform because it is both: most of the elderly men would tell me that the form is never perfect and must always be honed and sharpened.

But I have never seen it practiced on a train platform--until now. It was always in city parks, or in courtyards, or any generally open walking space. Somewhere with at least a little nature nearby.

But on a train platform?

She made no move toward the train. I am not even sure she noticed the train was present, she was that quiet and absorbed in the motions. There was no flinching or blinking at the tumult around her, no sign that she was even aware of any of us.

It was odd. Jarring, even. One little girl nearby said, "Mommy--that woman looks like a statue!" and her sister chimed in, "Yeah, a statue with socks on her hands, too!"

It was odd.

Yet, at the same time, it was poetic and beautiful.

Here was a woman in a bustling city (granted, Salt Lake ain't New York, but still....) a woman in a bustling city, with noise and a smoky hot haze all around her. And through all that, she was at peace. She knew who she was and cared not a whit where she was or who saw her. She was calm and completely at one with her surroundings, even though her surroundings seemed to be against her.

It was absolutely amazing. I sat stunned for the thirty seconds or so it took for the train to empty and re-fill at this station. All I could do was watch this woman. I was sorry when the train pulled away. I craned my neck to watch her as long as I could, even for a few extra seconds. I was moved, and thought my eyes teared up a bit.

It was odd.

I wonder even now if it would have had the same effect if she was standing in a park, or surrounded by other people in a grove of trees. Even on an open courtyard. I do not believe it would have had the same impact.

Alone, on a train platform, practicing T'ai Chi, with socks on her hands.

It was odd.

But yet, not.

Strangers on a Train, Pt. 3

[Ahem.]

We were, I believe, discussing the public transit system in Salt Lake called Trax. I quickly learned that it was a fairly efficient way to get from my lodging in the middle of the valley to either Sandy City or to Salt Lake City, where shopping, food, fun--are all available. It was cheap entertainment as well.

One of my Salt Lake colleagues explained to me that the closer to "downtown" Salt Lake one gets, the crazier the people become. From my previous posts, that much is obvious. Apparently, though, frequent riders on Trax become somewhat jaded to their surroundings.

Case in point: I had taken a train down to Sandy City to do some shopping and decided to ride all the way in to Salt Lake to browse through their so-called Gateway Mall. This is a fairly new "mall"--really an oversized strip mall, if you ask me--an "open-air pedestrian mall" that has taken over several city blocks in the heart of the city. High-end shops abound, as do the snobs and freaks.

Aside: And really--how smart is an open-air mall in a place that reaches 100+ degrees in the summer and the 'teens (or below) with heavy snows in the winter. C'mon.... SOMEONE just was not thinking.

So, I've just gotten on the train and found a seat near the end of the car. There are a good number of other riders around me. After about five minutes, my eyes fall upon the "Handicap" sign. You know the type, pleading with riders to "please be considerate" and "reserve these seats" for those who need them the most.

It even took me a few minutes and I have only been on the train a handful of times. After these few minutes, I noticed a piece of regular white paper taped immediately below the "Handicap" sign. I managed to fumble a picture.

Odd. I was not aware that this was a big problem. A random inconvenience, perhaps, but not a wide-scale public health risk. I have to admit my guilt: I laughed. Snorted, really.

I had to be careful, because I did not want to call attention to the sign. Instead, I immediately determined to perform a social experiment. I wanted to see how the other riders reacted to the sign.

Not a flinch. Not a smile.

For almost one-half hour I rode that train and watched person after person get on and get off. For that entire trip--as far as I could tell--I was the only person to notice the sign. All the others were too engrossed in their books, their electronic devices, or the passing scenery.

No neighbor-nudging. Not even a head-shake.

Are the public transit riders in Utah that sheep-like? "Just climb aboard and wait to be dipped and shorn. Just don't break wind and all y'all'll be fine."

Well...I'm not a sheep. I reacted, with a good snort of laughter. Every time I thought about it, in fact, I snorted.

THAT got a reaction from the other riders.

...I think they thought I was crazy.

Found

HUZZAH!

It's been just over a week and I've finally found the rest of my blog-notes from my vacation. They were right where I left them, right inside one of my writing project binders.

A place I searched at least three times.

Maybe it's early-onset senility finally settling in. Or maybe it's just stress-related dementia.

At any rate, as soon as I've typed up these notes, I'll be posting at least one more entry today. Of course, now that your expectations are so high, I'm bound to disappoint.

Ah well....

At least I did not have to question the Horde. Or the LW. And if I had?

Boy. That would have been embarassing.

Egg? Meet Face.

Whew.

I'm Super...Thanks for asking.

I was actually very surprised by the results of this test. I will confess that my LW sometimes calls me her superman, and the Horde thinks I'm pretty great (if I do say so myself), but I was genuinely shocked by this result.

Your results:
You are Superman

Superman 90% Spider-Man 75% Green Lantern 75% Robin 65% Hulk 65% Supergirl 60% Batman 45% Wonder Woman 45% The Flash 45% Catwoman 45% Iron Man 25%

You are mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

Constructive Thoughts: Family

We believe that families are forever, that if we live worthy lives we can spend all of eternity with our family members.

That's some promise.

I know people that shrink in fear and disgust at that thought: "I have to spend all of what with whom?" or "You mean I'll never get away from him/her/them?"

Not me.

I had an opportunity at the first of May to take the LW and the Horde to a Renaissance Fair. (For the uninitiated, I'll discuss the renaissance fair--or "RenFaire"--at a later date.)

Unfortunately, I have--as yet--been unable to convince the LW to allow the purchase of medieval garb and various accouterments for use at Hallowe'en, RenFaires, or times when I just feel like "going native."

I mean, think of how relaxing it must be to strap on a sword or a battle axe and sprawl out on a lawn chair in the front yard, swilling root beer from a tankard and yelling Shakespearean insults at passers-by?

But I digress....

It was an afternoon and evening spent without television, without the computer, without [GASP!] the internet, without electronic stimuli/distraction of any kind. It was an afternoon and evening spent just with each other and a few costumed strangers.

We stood and watched as two grown men played a game similar to "Jenga" or "Stack 'em" but with sections of two-by-fours stacked nearly four feet high on a tree stump. We stood there for nearly an hour watching these two play as other fair-goers shouted encouragement, disbelief, and well-intentioned jibes and insults.

We were amused by a magician using nothing but simple sleight-of-hand.

We stood and stared at a row of colorful tents, filled with displays of magnificent handicrafts and miscellaneous goods, with beautiful mist-covered, snow-capped mountains behind, off in the distance.

All in all, we spent time with each other: talking, laughing, and loving one another.

THIS is forever, folks.

Not television shows, not computer games, not even blogs.

In the eternities, who is going to remember who won "American Idol" this year?
In the eternities, who is going to remember "Grand Theft Auto" or "Halo"?
In the eternities, who is going to remember this blog, or the Drudge Report, or anything else on the World Wide Web?

Heck, who's going to remember any of these things a century or two from now?

But our families? Imagine being able to spend the next forever with your loved ones, experiencing the joys and the wonders from the best times here on earth? Only the good times and having them forevermore?

All of this is promised to us, if we can just manage to do a few little things.

Following the Ten Commandments, for example. That's a good start.
Praying. Reading the Scriptures. Little things that make a difference.
Listening to (as well as following) the Prophet.

I can't wait.

Together, we've done some amazing things and seen some magnificent sights. We've watched ocean waves crash on the beach and watched golden eagles circle overhead on mountain tops. We've crawled through caves to see incredible natural sculptures, formed with mineral-filled water, drop by drop.

Imagine what we could see together in the eternities? Where we could go? What we could experience? What we could see?

Galaxies spinning perhaps? Planets forming? Comets careening through space? Maybe watching canyons form and mighty sequoias grow from tiny seeds? Now those are road trips!

Most of all, imagine seeing these things with your loved ones?

Isn't the potential worth doing a few simple things (or NOT doing some things) while we are here on earth? We have such a short time to prove ourselves worthy of this magnificent promise.

The children, me, and thee, my dear LW.

Together.

Forever.

'tis a consummation / Devoutly to be wish'd.

Lost

ARGH.

I've been searching now for three days for my blog-notes from my vacation. I know I had them on Sunday, because I debated adding another entry on Sunday, then thought better of it.

"I need something to write about next week, after all," I told myself.

Yeah. Ummm....

Haven't seen my notes since. Now, I vaguely remember what my topics involved, but I had some specific language and images I wanted to portray. They were all neatly written in my notes.

I've looked everywhere. I haven't interrogated the Horde, yet.

That happens tonight.

I'm going to use the bright lights, hard chair, even dripping water if I have to.

I must find those notes and I. Will. Have. Them.

More information as it becomes available. I'll now return you to your regularly-scheduled 'net surfing.

Constructive Thoughts: Obedience

My mind has been dwelling today on the idea of obedience. A Chinese proverb states: Even better than respect is obedience.

Many of the Lord’s modern-day apostles have taught that obedience is the first law of Heaven.

But what does that mean?

Does that mean obedience at all costs?

What about obedience without question?

Let’s start with what obedience means. The 1828 edition of Webster’s says that obedience is: “Compliance with a command, prohibition or known law and rule of duty prescribed; the performance of what is required or enjoined by authority, or the abstaining from what is prohibited, in compliance with the command or prohibition.” In other words, “performing what is required, or abstaining from what is forbid.”

Obedience.

Obey.

It’s a small word, somewhat strange-sounding if you extend the first syllable: Obey. Oh-bey. Ohhhh-Bey. Strange-sounding? Especially if you repeat it several times.

Obey. It’s a small word, but a powerful word--a powerful concept. After all, obedience was exemplified by the Savior, the only perfectly-obedient individual to ever live upon this earth. If it was good enough for Him, is it not good enough for each of us?

But, you say, what good is obedience? First,

“By obedience to the laws of the gospel, you can lift yourselves above the quagmire of sin that surrounds us in this world. In addition to helping you to become better servants of the Lord, obedience to these laws will help you to be better in everything you undertake in life, whether it be your activity in the Church, your family, education, business, profession, science, athletics, or any other worthwhile endeavor. You will be a better son [or daughter], a better brother [or sister], and a better friend. You will enjoy your life more; you will be happier and at peace with yourself....
[Joseph B. Wirthlin, “Live in Obedience,” Ensign, May 1994 at 39.]

Second, “our obedience to the commandments of God becomes the very armor that protects us from evil.” [William D. Oswald, “The First Law of Heaven,” Ensign, Jan 2008 at 10.]

Third, “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” Article of Faith #3 proclaims “We believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.”

“By obedience.” Period. Not by “partial obedience” or “obedience to those laws that you feel like following.”

Obedience.

Period.

But does that mean unquestioning obedience? Or so-called blind obedience?

Webster’s also notes that “Obedience may be voluntary or involuntary. Voluntary obedience alone can be acceptable to God.” [Emphasis in original.]

“Unquestioning” does not mean “blind.”

There is a difference.

This idea that "unquestioning=blind"--this is an idea that Satan puts in our hearts. He makes us us think that obeying the prophets, obeying the commandments, obeying the Lord--that by doing this we are not thinking for ourselves, that we are foolish and stupid. One of the Lord’s ordained apostles explained this better than I can:

“Latter-day Saints are not obedient because they are compelled to be obedient. They are obedient because they know certain spiritual truths and have decided, as an expression of their own individual agency, to obey the commandments of God.... Those who talk of blind obedience may appear to know many things, but they do not understand the doctrines of the gospel. There is an obedience that comes from a knowledge of the truth that transcends any external form of control. We are not obedient because we are blind, we are obedient because we can see.” [Boyd K. Packer, “Agency and Control,” Ensign, May 1983 at 66.]

A willingness to be obedient is not a matter of worldly intellect or blindness.

It is a matter of attitude. Attitude makes the difference in all the choices we make; it will make the difference between obtaining life eternal or something less. Attitude is a pathway to self-control and self-discipline; a positive attitude is intimately connected not only with obedience, but also faith, charity, love, and service. But that’s a subject for another day.

It is also a matter of wisdom. Contrary to the teachings of the world, God does know a thing or two--He knows just a little bit more than any of us. Even more than Stephen Hawking.

Sorry, Steve, it’s true. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

You need another way to look at it?

Think of it as cooking. God is the Master Chef. By definition, there can be none better. But He is a merciful, caring chef. He wants to share His recipes, to give us happiness. When we follow a recipe, we must follow it exactly. To. The. Letter. If we vary from the recipe, we get something different from what the Master Chef intended. It may taste OK. It may even taste good. It will not, however, taste like the Master Chef’s recipe, because the recipe was not followed and none of us have the experience in cooking that the Master Chef has.

And if we rely upon our own wisdom, refusing to acknowledge the existence of the Master Chef or His recipes, the resultant concoction is likely inedible, noisome, if not downright poisonous.

If we follow the recipe exactly, however, the resulting dish is magnificent, regal, and heavenly.

Literally Heavenly.

Following a Master Chef’s recipe is not “blind obedience”--it is wisdom, even if we do not fully understand why the particular herbs and spices are to be used in a certain combination. It is wisdom. If we are really confused about the recipe in question, we can always ask the Master Chef Himself for verification, for confirmation, that what we see in the recipe is correct.

Father Abraham had no idea what dish was being prepared when he received instructions to take his only son, Issac, into the mountains to be a sacrifice. He did not--could not--understand the subtle melding of flavor: he could foresee the sour, but thought the end result would be distasteful. He could not see the sweetness that the Master Chef had planned, had engineered into the final dish.

Father Abraham followed His recipe to the letter, even though he had no idea what the final dish would taste like, because he knew the Master Chef. He knew the Master Chef had a plan, a grand design. He had tasted the Master Chef’s recipes in the past and knew they were wonderful meals.

He followed the recipe to the letter.

And the final dish? A magnificent promise that changed the world and affected all time and all eternity.

And all because of his obedience to God.

What do you think you can get from following the recipe? What meal is in store for us?

I asked before: what good is obedience? What can possibly come from it?

Well, there is one good way to find out.

Wait, what was that funny-sounding word again?

Oh yeah.

....

Obey.

Strangers on a Train, Pt. 2

OK. You've been waiting with bated breath, I'm sure, for more gory details of my trip to Salt Lake. And believe me, I have details--all of which should help to paint the whole picture. The panorama, if you will.

As reported last time, I survived my train ride with the newly-nominated State Representative, Mr. Long-Haired, Tree-Hugging, Pot-Smoker. After watching my friend handle an enjoyable slew of random Law and Motion hearings it was time to head back to the so-called Trax train for a return to my lodging.

Little did I know what was in store.

Obviously, as you wait for the Trax train at the stop, it is fairly easy to see the train as it comes down the street. After all, this thing is large, boxy, and colorful (if white with a red stripe can be considered colorful), moving fairly rapidly down the center of the street.

ASIDE: Of course, apparently all of this does not matter, as people still manage to "not see" the train. A Utah friend sent me this link earlier this week, courtesy of one of the Salt Lake newspapers, the Deseret Morning News: "An ACE hardware truck is wedged against a TRAX train after being struck by the train while making a left turn in Salt Lake City at about 9:45 a.m. Monday. No injuries were reported."

Whoops.

The Salt Lake Tribune had the best lines about the story though.... First, from a passenger: "'We knew there was a semi there but we didn't think he was dumb enough to turn.'"

Guess what? He was.

And from the driver himself, "said he knew the train was there but it was sitting still when he decided to make a slow, left turn toward the Ace store on 400 South.... 'It was stopped when I went by [it]....It caught up.'"

Classic.

Think his CDL will be in jeopardy?

End ASIDE

Anyway.... For most people NOT delivering hardward and sprinkler supplies, it is fairly easy to see when the train is coming. However, as I stood there, I watched a man in a leather trenchcoat race the train down the street just to cross right in front of the train at mid-block--which, according to all the signage at the stop, is inappropriate conduct.

According to all common sense, it's just plain stupid.

Kinda like driving your semi into a train. Again, I digress.

Leather coat, flapping in the breeze. What a sight.

But he wasn't alone.

He had a lady friend running right in front of him, both of them carrying backpacks. Mid-50s, probably, the both of them.

They both boarded the back of the train right after I did, and sat just a row away from me. The only way to describe these two is with the phrase: Jack Sprat and his wife. He was slender; she was not. He sat on one row, she sat on another directly behind him. I sat on a seat that faced the middle aisle of the train and they sat on the first two rows facing the rear of the train.

Now, I must preface this next part by telling you this was a full train car. FULL. Packed to the hilt. Close quarters.

Upon sitting down and gasping for air, his first action was to reach inside his coat, pull out a pouch of chewing tobacco, and proceed to pack his cheek about as full of tobacco as the train was with riders. It was truly a vile sight.

In the words of the immortal Ron Popeil: "But wait. That's not all!"

This now-sweaty man (it was a warm day and he had exerted himself for at least a full city block while wearing a heavy leather trenchcoat) then said something to his lady friend, who rummaged around in her bag, then reached over the seat and handed him, to my horror, a roll-on liquid deodorant.

No joke.

I could even tell it was a "strong enough for a man, but made for a woman"-type, based on the garish pastel purple color of the wrapper.

"But wait. There's more."

In full view of everyone on our end of the train, this man proceeds to unbutton his top three buttons and then apply the deodorant -- LIBERALLY -- to each armpit.

Oh, the humanity!

Now don't get me wrong: I have nothing against good hygiene. It's extremely considerate to others to apply such solutions to your body.

It's that, normally, such applications are part of one's private ablutions.

In private.

PRIVATE being the key words here.

From looking around at the other shocked and horrified faces, I was not alone in my perspective.

[Ahem.]

I think I'll save the rest of the story until later.

You've all suffered enough.

Flying Fingers

I'm a bit depressed.
87 words

Speed test

I was faster in law school.

Not much.... But still....

Dang it all.

It must be age catching up with me.

Strangers on a Train, Pt. 1

O.K. As promised, some details and stories from my vacation. I think that I am now prepared to actually put some of my experiences into print.

I think.

I'm not responsible, however, for what--if any--effect they may have on you, my readers.

For some of my vacation, I traveled over to Salt Lake City to visit some friends. While there, I took the opportunity to visit Utah's Bankruptcy Court with my friend Janci from J Saga. To get there, I had to take Salt Lake's version of mass transit, what they call "Trax."

And oh, the sights you see!

Salt Lake, I think, would prefer you didn't know that they have their own share of crazies roaming the streets. Nothing like I've seen in bigger cities like Denver, Los Angeles, or Boston. Also nothing like you would see in Reno. (But then, where could you ever really see the kinds of things you see in Reno? Not even in Las Vegas, methinks.)

The first encounter was a man who jumped aboard the train at the last moment and chose to sit directly in front of me. This was a man in his mid-50s, scraggly grey hair, and what may have been the biggest backpack I have ever seen, complete with sleeping bag and what may have been a tent--there was a cinch bag holding what looked like tent poles.

Upon boarding the train, he threw himself dow on the seat facing mine, opened his phone, and immediately began talking.

I mean immediately.

I'm not even sure he was actually on the phone because I didn't see him even push a button before he began talking. His end of the conversation went something like this:

"Heidi! What?! They did what?! [Expletives deleted] I haven't even been up to the capitol--I just came out of the hills!
[PAUSE]
OK
[PAUSE]
The GOVERNOR nominated me?!
[PAUSE]
OK. I'll call the Governor then and see what's goin' on.
[PAUSE}
Uh-huh. OK."

The man then looked at his phone and said--remember this is all at a volume loud enough for people on the other end of the train car to hear him (I know this because I sneaked a look and saw them shaking their heads)--he looked at his phone and said "Governor--Home or office."

No joke.

He then put his phone to his ear and immediately began talking again.

Let me just interject a thought here, for those of you who believe he really was talking on the phone: I was completely unaware that phone technology had advanced to the stage where the phone could decide which of two phone numbers to call for you. But I digress.

"Beverly! [Expletives deleted] I'm a [Expletives] State Representative!
[PAUSE]
Yep!
[PAUSE]
Your husband nominated me!
[PAUSE]
I'm gonna be a representative. What? No, I'm on a Trax train.
[PAUSE]
Yeah, your husband--the Governor--nominated me! Me! A long-haired, tree-hugging, pot-smoker.
[PAUSE]
Yeah, in fact I'm still smoking my pot."

Unfortunately, that's when I had to get off the train.

Dang it all!

I would have LOVED to hear the remainder of that conversation. At least, his side of it. Who knows what else was said? I wonder if the Governor eventually got on the line as well?

Now...a quick search on the internet provided me with the fact that Utah's Governor is in fact married to a "Mary Kaye" rather than a "Beverly." Further evidence that this man may not have actually been talking to a real person? I don't know.... I'll leave that up to you, gentle reader.

All I know is I watched and heard it happen. And Heaven help teh Utah Legislature if it's somehow true.

He really called himself a "long-haired, tree-hugging, pot-smoker." While I was able to (barely) control myself, I heard at least one snicker on the train.

That says it all, my friend.

That says it all.

Constructive Thoughts: I am a child of God

Who am I?

I think that may be the one question all of us ask ourselves at some point in our life: Who am I?

I know. Do you?

You see, I am a child of God.

So are you, did y'know that?

We--all of us, everyone ever born on this planet--we are all children of God.

Yep. "Our Heavenly Father" is literal. He is the Father of my spirit, just as my father here on earth is the father of my body. There are many parallels between the two. For example, just as it was important for me, as a child, to listen and obey my earthly father, it is just as important to listen and obey my spiritual Father. My earthly father could warn me of worldly pitfalls and dangers, as well as teach me how to protect myself. My Heavenly Father can warn of spiritual pitfalls and dangers and can teach me, protect me, from those dangers.

I love Him as I love my earthly father. I speak with him as I do my earthly father.

He loves me as does my earthly father.

He knows me as well as my earthly father.

What does this mean? What does it mean to have a spiritual lineage to a Heavenly Father? That spiritual parentage defines our eternal potential. I am an heir to my Father in Heaven, just as I am an heir to my earthly father. We all stand to inherit from our Heavenly Father, just as we stand to inherit from our earthly fathers. Just as Paul wrote, "The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ." (Romans 8:2.)

We have the ability to inherit all he has, to be joint-heirs with Christ.

All of this from a simple phrase: I am a child of God.

What powerful words, what a powerful message, what a comfort each of us can gain from this phrase.

What other phrase, what other principle, can teach us such a great and awesome principle?

I am a child of God.

And how do I know this? Just like Paul said: "The Spirit itself beareth witness with [my] spirit." I know that this is a true principle.

I know it to be true.

With this knowledge comes responsibility. Many responsibilities, in fact.

I bear the name of my earthly father--because of this, I want to act throughout my life so as to not bring dishonor to his name. Similarly, as a son of our Heavenly Father, I do not wish to bring dishonor to his name either. A modern Prophet of the Lord has said, "That man who knows that he is a child of God, created in the image of a divine Father and gifted with a potential for the exercise of great and godlike virtues, will discipline himself against the sordid, lascivious elements to which all are exposed." (Gordon B. Hinckley, “In Opposition to Evil,” Ensign, Sep 2004 at 2.)

This is one of the responsibilities I bear as His heir. It can be difficult, as none of us is perfect. I make mistakes as we all do. But I want to do my best to fulfill this responsibility--and all my responsibilities as His heir.

Just like my earthly father, my Heavenly Father wants me to succeed, to do my best, and will give me the tools I need to do it. In His case, He sent His Son, to be our Savior, to provide an example and a gift to us all.

I know this to be true.

I know it.

I am a child of God. And so are you.

Isn't it amazing?

What have I got in my pocket?

The news is all over the 'net today--I got the word from E! Online

The acclaimed British thespian, [Sir Ian McKellen,] who, as the wizard Gandalf the Grey, helped shepherd Frodo Baggins through a perilous journey in Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings trilogy, has announced he will reprise his Academy Award-nominated role for the hugely anticipated Hobbit prequels.

I can breathe a sigh of relief now. NO-ONE could play Gandalf other than Sir Ian.

Word is, Andy Serkis has also signed up to reprise his role as Gollum.

Now...they just have to make sure and get Sir Ian Holm to once again don his waistcoat and come back as Bilbo Baggins. Like Sir Ian M. and Gandalf, I'm not convinced that any one else could pull off Bilbo.

While I'm glad that Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh will once again be involved, I certainly wish they were directing, rather than simply Executive Producers. I have heard rumors that they have negotiated EXTENSIVE control over script, etc., but until I see it, I won't believe it. It would take a special director to relinquish that kind of control to a producer, I think. Without that control--in fact, without Jackson at the helm--I'm not at all convinced that the Lord of the Rings magic can be repeated.

Now, Guillermo del Toro has agreed to direct. I haven't seen enough of his work to know whether or not I approve. I enjoyed Hellboy, but that's the only thing I've seen. I don't like subtitles, so I haven't seen Pan's Labyrinth and I do not think I've seen any of the other projects listed on his IMDB page. I WILL say that it couldn't be worse than the previously-rumored "Sam Raimi as director" potential.

Gaaak. Wouldn't that have been horrible?

I'll hold my breath and hope that del Toro and the Jackson/Walsh team can work some literary/cinematic magic. It would help to get the same visual effects and supporting crew from the Lord of the Rings movies. That's doubtful, however, because of the sour taste they're sure to have from prior dealings with New Line Cinema.

Which brings me to the riddle:
This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers:
Gnaws iron, bites steel:
Grinds hard stones to meal:
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountains down!

[The answer: New Line Cinema's accounting department!]

Thank you, thank you...I'll be here all week. Try the veal and remember to tip the waitress.

There are all sorts of other jokes and one-liners sure to crop up now... "The marketing roads go ever ever on...."

We're also sure to see (another) re-issuing of the Rankin-Bass cartoons from the 1970s.

I didn't really enjoy those movies, but I KNOW for a fact that I'm not the only one humming the "Goblin Town" tune right now....

Admit it....

It could be worse.

You're welcome. THAT ear-worm will be with you for a while.

Bilbo... Bilbo Baggins... Bravest little Hobbit of them all...."

But if I could make two suggestions to the Producers and Director.

First, in re: casting:

There is one man out there that could fill Thorin Oakenshield's sky-blue hood with its long silver tassel:

Brian Blessed.

Yes, he of Blackadder fame. Yes, the same Brian Blessed that was in Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing.

He was also the voice of Boss Nass from Star Wars: Episode 1--The Phantom Menace.

And yes, also Prince Vultan from Flash Gordon.

Ahem.

We'll just ignore that last one, shall we?

Why Brian Blessed, you ask? Well... Mr. Blessed has a nice, booming voice, a morbidly-wicked sense of humor (at least, on screen), and I believe just the right temperament for the King Under the Mountain. I have long been a fan of Mr. Blessed's. His filmography (courtesy of IMDB.com) is quite impressive and varied: Dr. Who; Blake 7; The Avengers; I, Claudius; Henry V; MacGyver; Macbeth; King Lear; Waiting for Godot.

Wow.

So why not add Tolkien to that list?

His IMDB.com bio says: "Boisterous Brit Brian Blessed is known for his hearty, king-sized portrayals on film and TV. A giant of a man accompanied by an eloquent wit and booming, operatic voice[.]" There you have it: Hearty; king-sized; eloquent wit; booming operatic voice. (We'll ignore the "giant" part, as that can be addressed through visual effects.)

One last argument in favor: he's 4 inches shorter than John Rhys-Davies (a.k.a. Gimli).

My second recommendation: you simply MUST begin the movie with an introductory narrative as Jackson did in The Fellowship of the Ring. The Hobbit just would not be The Hobbit without

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.
Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs.

This narrative could easily be matched with a visual tour of the hobbit-hole, as well as Hobbiton and various hobbits, much like Fellowship.

O.K. I'm getting too excited.

I'm going to stop here and go back to work.

Just as soon as I finish this next chapter of The Hobbit. Let's see...where was I?

Ah yes...

Bilbo had sniffed more than once at what he called 'all this dwarvish racket,' as they went along, though I don't suppose you or I would have noticed anything at all on a windy night, not if the whole cavalcade had passed two feet off.

Ahhhh...My precioussss....

Meanwhile, back at the Ranch...

Well...

That was a fun little hiatus.

I apologize to all of my readers. I did not intend to be gone quite so long. I don't/can't really go into it in depth here, but suffice it to say that at the first of the month I received another knife in the back from my supervisor at the office. Apparently...[AHEM]... 'nuff said.

So, following the excellent previously-referenced advice of a good friend, rather than get all up-in-arms about it (and doing something paycheck-threatening) I decided to go on vacation.

And I did.

It was nice.

Heavenly, in fact.

Choirs of angels, and all that.

I was able to get completely away from the office (didn't even take my cell phone) and for the first time in who-knows-how-long, was able to go the ENTIRE time without thinking of the office even once!

I've only just been back a short time and have finally excavated my desk from the rampant piles of paperwork. (And yes, I know that paperwork is seldom referred to as "rampant" but believe me--in this case the adjective is completely warranted in this instance.)

So.... I hope you'll forgive the little lapse. I've got several blog entries in the works, upstairs in the ol' noggin, that I hope to post in the next few hours (or days--I can't promise hours, but it might be....) to try and make up for the lost time.

Thanks for understanding.

It's good to be back.

Constructive Thoughts: Sustaining the Prophet

Yesterday in General Conference the family, with the rest of the worldwide Church, had the opportunity to take part in a solemn assembly.

“A solemn assembly, as the name implies, denotes a sacred, sober, and reverent occasion when the Saints assemble under the direction of the First Presidency. Solemn assemblies are used for three purposes: the dedication of temples, special instruction to priesthood leaders, and sustaining a new President of the Church.” (David B. Haight, Solemn Assemblies, Ensign, Nov. 1994 at 14.)

Such a solemn assembly--for the purpose of sustaining a newly called Church President and other officers of the Church--is a rare opportunity, one that has happened only a couple handfuls of times in the history of the modern Church of Jesus Christ. As a part of the process, the different priesthood quorums--starting with the First Presidency--stand and indicate their willingness to sustain the President of the Church as a prophet, seer, and revelator. Then all the members of the Church stand and do the same. The other leaders of the Church are then sustained in their various offices and callings.

This got me to thinking about the word sustain.

[Aside: I have to admit to a certain preference to using a copy of Webster’s 1828 dictionary. Webster, a master linguist, understood the power of words, understood their definitions, and understood the need for precise word usage in day-to-day communication. He understood that this was necessary for continued independence. Over time, the English language has changed repeatedly and, in many instances, has become corrupt. Many words don’t mean what they originally meant so it is possible to become completely confused when reading the classics.
Yeah, so, I’m weird.]

The 1828 Webster’s defines “sustain” in this way:

1. To bear; to uphold; to support; as, a foundation sustains the superstructure; pillars sustain an edifice; a beast sustains a load.
2. To hold; to keep from falling; as, a rope sustains a weight.
3. To support; to keep from sinking in despondence.
4. To maintain; to keep alive; to support; to subsist; as provisions to sustain a family or an army.
5. To support in any condition by aid; to assist or relieve.

When we sustain the President of the Church as a prophet, seer, and revelator, we are not “casting our vote” or showing our approval at the Lord’s choice. By definition we are promising to uphold and support him, to keep him from falling, to maintain him, and to support in any condition with our aid.

“[I]t not only signifies that we acknowledge before God that he is the rightful possessor of all the priesthood keys; it also means that we covenant with God that we will abide by the direction and the counsel that come through His prophet. It is a solemn covenant.” (Id.) Part of this covenant is a promise to uphold the prophet by our confidence, our faith, and our prayers. THIS is how we maintain him, how we support him in any condition, how we bear him up and keep him from “sinking in despondence.”

It is a sacred responsibility; I found myself thinking as I raised my right arm: “Do I know that he is a prophet of God? Do I KNOW it? Can I support him, pray for him? Can I follow his direction and do I know that God’s word will be spoken through him?"

Again, it is not simply a vote of support, a vote of confidence, or a vote of popularity. It is a promise--a covenant--with God to follow His word through His prophet.

When we raise our hands, it is because we are willing to accept and bear witness about “the knowledge we have and the testimony we have [of] our prophet and our leader. We not only raise our hands in saying we sustain but that we follow his direction, that we listen, that we counsel, that we pray about it, that we’re mindful of what comes from the lips of the prophet.” (David B. Haight, Sustaining the Prophets, Ensign, Nov. 1998 at 35.)

Members of the Church have been taught that such sustaining may appear to some as a somewhat perfunctory exercise. It is, however, “an act of grave and serious importance, an act required under the revelation of the Lord. . . . ‘[W]hen we lift up our hands in this way, it is in token to God that we are sincere in what we do, and that we will sustain the parties we vote for. . . . If we agree to do a thing and do not do it, we become covenant breakers and violators of our obligations, which are, perhaps, as solemn and binding as anything we can enter into.’” (Gordon B. Hinckley, God Is At the Helm, Ensign, May 1994 at 53. (Citations omitted.))

Two of the Church’s thirteen Articles of Faith come to mind, specifically numbers five and six.

5 We believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority, to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.

6 We believe in the same organization that existed in the Primitive Church, namely, apostles, prophets, pastors, teachers, evangelists, and so forth.

President Thomas S. Monson has been called of God, by prophecy, and has received the laying on of hands by the Lord’s apostles, those who are in authority to do so.

We also have the same organization in these days as existed in the Church at the time of Christ. We are led by a prophet. A modern-day prophet of God. His mouthpiece. Through him the world receives continuing revelation. We have apostles who are witnesses of the Living Christ.

I am grateful for this knowledge, and grateful that we have these offices restored upon the Earth. What a marvelous idea it is that we have a Prophet who receives revelation directly from our Heavenly Father regarding our day. We have a Prophet who, as in days of old, calls the world to repentance and proclaims the Gospel without fear, without coercion, and stands to show us the way to return to our Heavenly Father and our eternal reward.

And how marvelous is it that this choice is not foisted upon us, but that we can each have a chance to raise our hands, pledging our support, and promising to do our part to hold him up. To bear witness of him and his role.

To sustain him.

I did.

I do.

Constructive Thoughts: Death

I have had a hard time writing anything this week after hearing from a friend over in Salt Lake City, Utah, that his uncle had suddenly passed away. When he first called me, my friend told me that his uncle had been sick for several months, but went downhill quickly and it had taken him very much by surprise. It was very difficult for him to speak of the circumstances surrounding the event, and difficult for him to keep his composure. I was immediately reminded of the death of my own uncle some time ago.

I know what my friend is going through, because like him, I am not well-acquainted with death and was close to my uncle. The things that my friend has been telling me this week have hit very close to home. This is the first time I have put into writing any of my thoughts or feelings about the death of my uncle. I am a little bit afraid of the memories or emotions that I might feel.

When I heard the news about my own uncle from my parents, I was numb, initially--calm, reserved, even stoic; within just a few hours I remember standing in the shower, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the water and soap and swirling down the drain. I felt helpless and drained. My throat and eyes hurt. The sorrow was coming in waves, every ten to twenty minutes there would be another bout.

My Utah friend tells me it was much the same for him. He thought a hot shower would help ease his aching eyes and stuffed-up sinuses. Instead, it provided a mask for his tears. His wife told me he even punched the tile wall several times; he could not even bring himself to talk to her about anything past the basic details. He couldn’t put any of his feelings into words.

I know how that feels.

I told him what I had been told in the same circumstances: that his uncle was at peace; he was in a better place; that through the gifts that Christ gave us, his family would be together again; this was a joyous time, like a graduation ceremony from this life to a better one, and that we all should be happy.

Funny--his response was the same one I gave those who tried to comfort me: I know all that, but I have every right to be selfish right now.

I know how that feels too.

You see, it IS a joyous time, a graduation from this life of pain and trial to a new life of happiness and glory. Those who leave us behind do so facing a return to a place of infinite beauty.

We who are left behind, however, are left with only our memories of our loved ones. We are left with the knowledge of our mortal minds that we will never see our beloved uncle again in this life. That is the key, of course: IN THIS LIFE. We can tell ourselves--and we can actually know and believe--that all that made our loved ones who they are still exists. But still we cry. Why? It is out of our selfishness.

We are envious, perhaps, of where they are and what they are experiencing.
We are selfish, wanting to share more time and experiences with our loved ones.
We are angry, lashing out at other loved ones because of the envy and selfisness.

We are sorrowful, knowing that we feel all these things and cannot seem to help it.

It is our mortal mind warring with the knowledge of our eternal souls.

Knowing this, helps. A bit.

What really helps is the aid of the Comforter.

My friend described to me attending the viewing and seeing one of his cousins wracked in grief, telling a sister that “I’m just waiting for what you always hear about, when the peace descends over you, and you’re able to move on.”

I know how this feels too. I waited and waited for that peace. Looking back, I think I tried too hard to force that peace to come.

The Comforter cannot--WILL NOT--be forced. He has to be ALLOWED to come in to your heart and mind.

My uncle also passed away quite close to Easter. I think this fact was part of what helped me finally overcome the grief I felt at his passing. It helped me see past the selfishness and envy. I was able to see the Big Picture, because--with the Easter celebration--reminders of the Big Picture, or the Plan of Salvation, were all around me.

Knowing this, helps. A lot.

It was a constant reminder that because of His sacrifice for us, we may be forgiven of our sins, but also that we may conquer the physical death. That through His example--His resurrection--we will once again have our spirits and our bodies reunited, to live forever.

And importantly: to live forever WITH OUR FAMILIES.

It took several days for the peace to descend over me. I remember that I was next-to-useless at the office until it happened. My friend tells me that he felt the same: he was unable to focus or concentrate for any extended period of time on any task. Little things would set me off, either in tears or in anger. I have also lashed out at my friends and family, until no-one wanted to talk to me or confront me.

Once I let myself be reminded of all those things, of all the things that Easter stands for, I instinctively stopped trying to force the Spirit to help me, and instead opened my heart, mind, and soul to allow him to come in. And I felt peace.

With any death of a family member, particularly those with whom one has an especially-close bond, there will be selfishness. There will be envy and anger.

But the reminder... the knowledge.... His sacrifice changes everything. We need to remember that. Because it helps.

I will see my uncle again someday. My friend will once again see his uncle. Maybe the four of us will be able to sit down and swap stories. My uncle had been a scoutmaster with the Boy Scouts; his uncle had been in scouting his entire life, and had many honors and accolades. My friend told me this morning that one of the themes of the funeral was the scouting, and an image of his uncle sitting around a campfire with his heroes.

I’d like that.

Sitting around a campfire with my friend, our uncles, and all of our heroes someday.

I wonder what s’mores would taste like in Heaven?

Cutting through the envy, the selfishness, and the anger is the realization that I can and will see my family members again someday. This realization lets the Comforter descend, who helps pull me back from the edge and reminds me--helps me--to live my life so that I will have the opportunity to live with my loved ones forever.

My uncle.

And my heroes.

And my Savior.

Knowing this, helps.

Infinitely.

Constructive Thoughts: Easter

Happy Easter to all!

As the LW and I sit, surrounded by the Horde and the normal detritus from an Easter Morning, my thoughts turn to the reason behind today. We have the Mormon Tabernacle Choir blaring from the speakers of the stereo while the Horde scarfs down disgusting malted egg after disgusting malted egg. The small chocolate bunnies have already been devoured. Scraps and shards of cellophane and tinfoil litter the ground. And the blood-to-sugar ratio in the Horde’s collective bloodstream has long since tipped in favor of sugar.

Unfortunately, it is all too likely that the candy will outlast our recognition of the day’s importance.


The Book of Mormon prophet, Jacob, wrote these words: “But behold, the Jews were a stiffnecked people; and they despised the words of plainness, and killed the prophets, and sought for things that they could not understand. Wherefore, because of their blindness, which blindness came by looking beyond the mark, they must needs fall; for God hath taken away his plainness from them, and delivered unto them many things which they cannot understand, because they desired it. And because they desired it God hath done it, that they may stumble.” [Jacob 4:14]

In other words, the Jews fell because of their blindness, and their blindness came from looking beyond the mark. Elder Neal A. Maxwell, of the Quorum of the Twelve, said it this way: “The Jewish people . . . rejected the gospel, in part because it lacked adequate intellectual embroidery.”

What does that mean, to “look beyond the mark”? Elder Quentin L. Cook, at the time a member of the Quorum of the Seventy, taught simply “We look beyond the mark when we refuse to accept simple gospel truths for what they are.”
[Quentin L. Cook, Looking beyond the Mark, Ensign, Mar 2003, at 40]

What is the mark? The mark is Christ.

How do we avoid looking beyond the mark? In a broad sense, by seeking for the kingdom of God.

How do we do that? Jacob gives us one terrific idea, one that we can employ this very day: “Why not speak of the atonement of Christ, and attain to a perfect knowledge of him, as to attain to the knowledge of a resurrection and the world to come?” [Jacob 4:12]

On this Easter Sunday, what an exhortation to receive! What a challenge to be laid before us! Speak of the Atonement; attain to a perfect knowledge of Christ.

Follow the promptings of Isaiah:

1 HO, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.
2 Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.
3 Incline your ear, and come unto me: hear, and your soul shall live [Isaiah 55:1-3]

On this day, why not look toward strengthening our testimony and that of our children? Push away the spiritual detritus--the scraps of tinfoil in our soul--and focus upon the bread and water of life--or the wine and milk without price--rather than a spiritual chocolate, that "which is not bread" and "satisfieth not"? Accept Him, and speak words of plainness to our children. Help their vision, and by doing so, help our own.

Help them see the mark, and not look past it.

Bear your testimony to them.

Bear your testimony to them and keep it simple: God lives. Christ lives. His sacrifice, the Atonement, is the reason for our Easter celebration. He loves us, knows us, and cares for us.

Look beyond the marshmallow chickens and chocolate eggs.

Look to the mark.

Look to Christ.

And revel in the magnificent plainness of His gospel and His gift to us.

Incline your ear, hear, and Live.

R.I.P.

Daisy, Daisy.... Give me your answer do....

A Grandmaster of Science Fiction died last week.

I thought about noting the passing of Sir Arthur C. Clarke at the time, but it's taken me this long to formulate my thoughts about him sufficiently to put into words.

I didn't really like his work.

Don't get me wrong, 2001: A Space Odyssey was an important movie in many ways. Who knows if we'd have Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica, or any of a dozen-plus other movies/series without it. I suppose it's also an important book, but I have to admit to two things: First, the movie--to me--is nearly unwatchable. I think I may have accomplished the feat twice (?). And second--again IMHO--the book is even more unreadable. I've heard that you have to read the book to understand the movied; maybe therein lies my problem with the movie.

I will agree, however, that the effects and editing in the movie are fantastic. The transition from a falling, rotating bone (humanity's supposed "first tool") to a (technically) falling, rotating space vehicle (humanity's supposed "latest tool") is still riveting. The rotating wheels, exercising in space, the velcro-shod stewardesses: all amazing and classic imagery.

And no-one can call themselves a sci-fi afficionado without professing a fascination with the HAL 9000. (Did you know that HAL's name was a play on "IBM," did you know that? One of the original Trivial Pursuit questions, I believe.) I have a 386 computer in the basement, the hard drive of which is loaded with HAL 9000 quotes and sounds.

And I have to admit to having carried a copy of The Hammer of God on my honeymoon. Loving books like I do, I go NOWHERE without one. My LW tolerates that habit of mine. (Even driving the Horde to the library, I will often have a book in the car, just in case I get stuck in the car waiting for them at the store, etc.)
That being said, The Hammer of God wasn't even cracked open until we returned home from the honeymoon. So there.

I found his Rama books somewhat entertaining, too.

That's about it.

However, I'm still a little upset by his death. I hate to see the Old Guard go. There's a LOT of bad modern science fiction out there now; much of it is even more unreadable than I consider 2001, and for different reasons. There's a lot of crap. Even some of the "big names" have fallen into the trap. A lot of the "hard" science fiction novels become a vehicle for the technology at the expense of a story. There is nothing wrong with intelligent science fiction, so long as there is a story as well.

The storytellers are leaving us and we're stuck with the merchandisers and the (pseudo-)intelligentsia.

Alas.

Sir Clarke did leave us with the satellite and the idea of the space elevator. And I believe he was, truly, a storyteller. I may not have liked a lot of what he did, but I have a lot of respect for what he did...and for his mind.

I doff my hat, bow my head, and wish he could tell us: is it, in fact, full of stars?

Goodbye, Sir.

We'll see you again on the other side.

Constructive Thoughts: Ben Hur & Forgiveness

I am going to try and start a new repeating blog entry here, where I put voice to some of the ideas and thoughts I have during the Sabbath. Spencer W. Kimball, 12th President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, taught that "The Sabbath calls for constructive thoughts and acts." It is from that teaching, obviously, that I take the title for this repeating entry.
[for more information on President Kimball, start here. ]
----------------------------------------
OK, so it's Thursday, but I've had this entry ready since Sunday.

It's a family tradition to watch Ben Hur on or around Easter each year. Well, we did so last night; the Horde loves to watch this genre: Ben Hur, Ten Commandments, Quo Vadis, etc.

While we're watching, my 7-year-old son says to me, "Dad, this scene [the chariot race] is just like the pod-racing scene in Star Wars." I looked at him in a little bit of shock, and agreed. "But Dad," he said, "this one's better, you know why?" I was intrigued and asked him why. "Because this one is real!" Out of the mouth of babes.

Anyway, as the movie ends, Charlton Heston Judah says to Esther, "Almost at the moment He died, I heard Him say, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." Esther responds with, "Even then." And then Judah says, "Even then. And I felt His voice take the sword out of my hand." This line hit me as it never had before.

[Aside: I must confess that I have never read this classic. I have two copies of Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ in my library; one that I found in a used book store was printed in -- I believe -- 1898. I have started it, but to my shame, I did not make it very far before the hassles of life pulled me away from it. I have searched and searched, however, and do not believe this line from the movie was lifted from the book. I could be wrong, though.]

This line got me thinking and reminded me of two things right off the bat. First was a talk given last year in LDS General Conference by President James E. Faust. His talk was entitled "The Healing Power of Forgiveness." [Full text can be found here.] Near the end of the talk, President Faust gave the following counsel:

"When tragedy strikes, we should not respond by seeking personal revenge but rather let justice take its course and then let go. It is not easy to let go and empty our hearts of festering resentment. The Savior has offered to all of us a precious peace through His Atonement, but this can come only as we are willing to cast out negative feelings of anger, spite, or revenge. For all of us who forgive 'those who trespass against us,' even those who have committed serious crimes, the Atonement brings a measure of peace and comfort." [Citations omitted.]

It is not easy for the "natural man" to do this--casting out negative feelings of anger, spite, or revenge. It was not easy for Judah Ben Hur; I know it is not easy for me. I sometimes find myself harboring a grudge like a private little treasure--something I can pull out from time to time and revel in it. "My precioussss......"

It is easy to cast it out, however, if we have the proper attitude, the proper change of heart. You could see it in Judah: he had watched an innocent man receive cruel treatment--true torture--and death by crucifixion. He heard and felt the Savior's last mortal moments on Earth. It moved him and allowed him to forgive and forget his anger. The sword was taken--figuratively speaking--out of his hand.

The second thing that came to mind was a passage of scripture: Alma 24:6-17

6 Now there was not one soul among all the people who had been converted unto the Lord that would take up arms against their brethren; nay, they would not even make any preparations for war....
8 And behold, I thank my great God that he has given us a portion of his Spirit to soften our hearts....
12 Now, my best beloved brethren, since God hath taken away our stains, and our swords have become bright, then let us stain our swords no more with the blood of our brethren.
....
15 Oh, how merciful is our God! And now behold, since it has been as much as we could do to get our stains taken away from us, and our swords are made bright, let us hide them away that they may be kept bright, as a testimony to our God at the last day, or at the day that we shall be brought to stand before him to be judged, that we have not stained our swords in the blood of our brethren since he imparted his word unto us and has made us clean thereby.
16 And now, my brethren, if our brethren seek to destroy us, behold, we will hide away our swords, yea, even we will bury them deep in the earth, that they may be kept bright, as a testimony that we have never used them, at the last day; and if our brethren destroy us, behold, we shall go to our God and shall be saved.
17 And now it came to pass that when the king had made an end of these sayings, and all the people were assembled together, they took their swords, and all the weapons which were used for the shedding of man's blood, and they did bury them up deep in the earth.

They too had felt the power of His word, they were changed by His word, and they had the sword taken out of their hands not just figuratively changed, but literally taken from their hands. They buried their swords and other weapons in the face of an approaching army. His voice gave them the courage and the peace of heart to do so. His voice gave them a change of heart.

I need that. I need to feel that. As I have gone back and read over President Faust's words again, I was struck by another passage. He said,

"If we can find forgiveness in our hearts for those who have caused us hurt and injury, we will rise to a higher level of self-esteem and well-being. Some recent studies show that people who are taught to forgive become 'less angry, more hopeful, less depressed, less anxious and less stressed,' which leads to greater physical well-being. Another of these studies concludes 'that forgiveness...is a liberating gift [that] people can give to themselves.'" [Citations omitted.]

I need that in my life. I need more self-esteem, more well-being, less anger, more hope, less depression, anxiety, and stress.

I need to be forgiven.

We need to forgive to be forgiven.

So, I need to let go of some things.

It may be a long list when I get through, but it's a list that needs to be made.

It may not be easy, but it is necessary.

And it needs to start now.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

So I was digging through my e-mails yesterday, deleting messages from (cough cough) five years some time ago... and I found this little gem.



Boy, that sketch looks really familiar. I think I know that guy!

This on the same day that I hear reports of a couple of girls selling a single Corn Flake on E-Bay for $20+ because (wait for it) it looks like the state of Illinois.

It was almost to my mouth, it didn't look like Illinois at first because it was held the wrong way," said McIntire, but then she noticed the resemblance and said, "Oh my goodness, it's Illinois."
Link to story

Only in America, man.

Only in America.

UPDATE: Oh yeah. Here you go: On E-bay

False Idol

Thanks to a good friend's literary virtual slap across the face, I'm back on the horse.

That doesn't mean I'm enjoying the employment situation I'm in much more, but I have regained perspective. Plus, the Boss celebrated a milestone birthday this past month, and I can always convince myself he's one year closer to retirement.

Unfortunately, the emotions of the past several months have finally bubbled out and left me somewhat creatively drained. On top of that, I have been suffering from various illnesses the past month or so; most recently a mighty migraine the past few days. It's one that has left me dizzy and disoriented. Because of all these things, I have been unable to summon the will to blog more than about once a week for the past few weeks (as you can tell).

So I'm going to rely today on a blog entry I stumbled across in the 'sphere today. I got more than a good chuckle from it. Hopefully I can finish recharging this weekend and be able to journey into that gooshy mess that constitutes my imagination.

Without further ado, enjoy this humorous piece from www.all-encompassingly.com. The piece can be found HERE--apparently Huckabee's ambition knows no bounds, even his imaginary ambition.

Warning: Like several of the commentors, I very nearly had an accident.

As for my other problem, I'd like to usurp the words of J.M. Barrie to my own use:

Peter flung out his arms. There were no readers there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Blogosphere, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Iggy sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to his fate.

He fancied he heard answers in the affirmative, and then again he wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" he asked Peter.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Iggy die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless spouses had rushed to their computer desks to see what on earth was happening; but already Iggy was saved. First his voice grew strong, then he popped out of bed, then he was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever.

Unlike Tinkerbell, I will think of thanking those who believe--and do so now. I also won't mind too much about those who hissed. It just means I'm being read and heard.

R.I.P.

Someone who had a great influence on my life died this week.

I didn’t know him. I never met him.

I think it’s safe to say that we probably were never even in the same state at the same time.

But my life has been changed because of his life and career.

He was about 40 years old. Nearly the age I am now. Five years earlier he had co-created a game that was about to take the country by storm. His name was Gary Gygax.

As part of my parents’ attempt at “improving my character” and “teaching me responsibility” they would sign me up for school fund-raising projects, sending me around our neighborhood and to other family members selling things. Gift cards. Wrapping paper. Yeah . . . a nine-year-old boy selling wrapping paper and gift cards.

Anyway, you probably remember these projects: as you sold more product you were eligible for better and better prizes from which you could choose. Most of the prizes were the cheap kind of crap you would find at a carnival, but every so often there was a nugget of wonderfulness mixed in with the turds. I got my first telescope this way--a telescope I had and used until just before I got married.

And then there was a little red box.

I still remember coming home from school and finding the package waiting for me.

I can still remember sitting in the basement, in front of our giant console television (remember: this was the Seventies, so EVERYBODY’S televisions were giant consoles). Opening the box and seeing the red box inside, the fierce dragon snarling from the box cover, where it lay across its hoarded gold. The red of the box contrasted with the dark green-and-blue shag carpeting on the floor.

Like so many others of that age, and many, many others since, an early introduction to Tolkein had instilled in me a fascination for dragons and dwarves, orcs and warriors.

I can still remember opening the box and finding the book, a map, some odd plastic dice, and a crayon. You were supposed to rub the crayon over the dice to fill in the numbers. I never did--and I still have the dice to prove it.

I was nine and about to embark on a journey that would change my life.

Thank you, Gary.

Soon after that came the lead figures. Yes, lead. Every box had huge warnings not to eat the little warriors and monsters. Like I ever would, but even then, Lawyers Reigned Supreme. Even dragons couldn’t slay their Timely Advice. DO NOT EAT THE LEAD, they decreed. I would sit in the basement, in my older brother’s old room, and slapped dabs of old oil-based model paint (Testors, I believe) all over these models. Gargoyles. Genies. Centaurs, pegasi, and unicorns. A few warriors, especially dwarves. I liked dwarves. I even had a monster called a Drider: picture a centaur, but instead of a horse’s body, it had the body of a giant tarantula.

I still have those figures. The tarantula body is painted gold. One of the gargoyles wields a bloody sword.

Remember: DO NOT EAT THE LEAD.

One of my closest childhood friends joined me in the journey. I met him at school. He cracked wise and I punched him in the back of the head.

Hard.

He still claims he has neck and back trouble because of my punch. I doubt that.

But still, we became instant friends.

He wove some tales and took me on some adventures that I will never forget.

Thank you, Gary.

From that red box, we soon moved to a generic sci-fi game, quickly remodeling it and creating new rules so that our characters could wield “laser swords” and use power eerily similar to the Force. From there we migrated to super-powered characters, destroying whole city blocks with our Battles Versus Evil.

From there, we went to building automobiles with machine guns and tank weapons built into their frames. We were installing electric power plants in cars before the Prius was even a sparkle in some demented auto-worker’s eye.

We fell out of touch after that, but I still played --by myself, when necessary-- and then with a small group of friends in High School. We advanced to building and commanding starships for Star Fleet and journeying through Time and Space in our own versions of the Tardis.

Then Graduation happened, and I put these games away for a while as I started college; they stayed put away because I never found anyone on campus to play with me.

My parents were never too approving of the games. They were happy to see the games put away. There were too many rumored news stories about how evil these games were, how they would adversely affect a growing child’s mind, psyche, emotions, social skills, etc.

Well, I think I’m pretty well-adjusted right now, thank you.

(As well-adjusted as ANYONE can be after law school, that is.)

I learned how to spar verbally, how to express myself, and developed my imagination, reasoning skills, logic skills, and how to channel my emotions.

You don’t think that helped me in college? In law school? In Practice?

Dang straight.

The point is this: that little red box helped spawn an idea, that little red box helped a newly-birthed industry take hold and grow. Without that little red box, all of those other journeys may never have taken place.

And where would I be? I honestly don’t know.

A few years ago, several years out of law school as I left my last clerkship and was trapped in a lousy, dead-end job with a little pissant general practice firm. A married friend of ours came up one day and asked if I’d ever gamed. If I’d ever had that little red box.

And my life changed again.

Thank you, Gary.

I was able to stand up, leave the firm, and walk into a better position. I gained a host of new, good friends. Several of whom are like brothers. I started painting figures again, to relax and blow off steam. I dare say, I’m a pretty fair painter now, although I still like looking at the sloppy, messy attempts from nearly thirty years ago. They’re a bit of nostalgia. I've got a large collection of painted figures now and an even larger collection of unpainted figures. Lots of dwarves. I still like dwarves.

Just don’t eat the lead.

But they're not lead anymore.

I'd still say not to eat them, though.

I’ve met several others in my profession who are gamers, either present or past. Friendships have been strengthened through the common experience. It’s a bond that has significantly helped some negotiations, to be honest. And thereby helped my clients.

Thank you, Gary.

I’ve started writing again, something I haven’t done since I started law school. I have several novels in the works right now, something else that helps me blow off steam after a long hellish day at the office.

Thank you, Gary.

A few years ago, we moved my mother-in-law out of her house. In doing so, I found numerous boxes with my LW’s stuff in them, stuff we’d never moved out after the wedding.

In one of those boxes, I found a little red box. The same little red box.

The numbers on her dice were colored in, though.

The miniatures were unpainted.

Even a dwarf.

Heh.

I learned something about my LW: she was (or had been) one of "US." Something we had in common that we’d never realized. Something else that we can talk about and enjoy. I’ve even gamed with her since then, until the Horde grew too large and unmanageable from the gaming table.

Someday I may introduce the Horde to the modern version of the little red box.

Thank you, Gary.

I told you I was a geek.

Thank you, Gary.


***

Excuse me now, I've failed my Will Save, and I'm tearing up a bit.

So I'll just kneel here for a while, leaning on my warhammer, and contemplete the unseen bier in front of me. Much like the film version of Gimli kneeling before Balin's tomb, but without the wailing.

Thank you, Gary.

I never knew him, but I owe a lot of who I am to him.

Thank you, Gary.

And rest well.

It's Life, Jim, but not as we know it....

OK. We've already established that I AM A GEEK. I proudly proclaim it.

And this just strengthens my convictions!





Accrding to the stats on the test, I scored a 149 for trekkiness. Out of 20,977 unique test takers, 3% scored higher, and 97% scored lower. The average raw score is 101.9.

Ahead Warp Factor 4!

SNL

So... I must confess. I have not watched Saturday Night Live in decades. Honestly. To me, the Phil Hartman, John Lovitz, et al. crowd were the last good days of SNL. After that, it seemed to become too crass and just plain un-funny.

Remember Happy Fun Ball? Every time I hear a pharmaceutical commercial on television I think of Happy Fun Ball. ("Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.")

But the "modern era" SNL has just lacked ... something.

As I was surfing channels last Saturday however, I came across a SNL Short that had me snorting milk from my nose.

Sorry for that visual.



I'd love to hear what you think. Was this as funny as I thought? or was I just extra tired?