Latter-Day Generations

"We are the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. What we need to understand is that each new generation is the latest 'Latter Day'" -- Cheryle Jessen

For my blog, I have decided to use something that I have been collection for over two decades - quotes and sayings that have touched me in some way. I carry with me a little black book - not the infamous kind - in which I write these insights down.

Not surprisingly, most of these insights occur when I am at church listening to the addresses given by members of the church. It also includes sayings and thoughts that I have arrived at and, of course, sayings and quotes from Latter-Day general authorities.

But the majority are snippets of wisdom that flow from every-day people - people of faith, hope and charity; people that I respect - people with challenges to face and obstacles to overcome, just like me.

I chose to start with the saying quoted above from my wife, Cheryle. We were talking about how impressed we are by many of the youth today, both Latter-Day Saints and not, and she said that each new generation is the latest latter day. What a wonderful concept!

In the book, Who Moved My Cheese written by Spencer Johnson and Kenneth Blanchard, it illustrates the challenge we all face when things change. Those who accept the changes and find ways to adapt will, once again, find where the cheese is located. This latter day generation has wonderfully adapted to a world filled with change - change that is occurring faster than at any other period of human history.

They are tapping into their "ghost channel" of communication. What this means is that they are able to communicate and understand their world at a pre-verbal level. They have the ability to grasp certain concepts and take the next step with little or no instruction. The catch is that it is only those concepts that they care about that they assimilate to easily.

As humans, we have a quirky attitude that causes us to care about things that others scoff at, and yet are important to us. When we understand why something should be important, as it relates to our world-view, we then care about it. But until that happens, we are apathetic.

So my hope is that the things that I write about will find a connection with you, but if they don't, that's okay. It just means that you are more interested in something else.

Time

Time loves to be wasted
From that waste
There can be no salvage

It is the hardest
Of all waste to correct

Because it does not
Litter the floor

His Finest Hour

D&C 121: 7 - 10 -- "My Son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."

"This was Joseph Smith's finest hour, his fiery furnace, his fuller's soap. It prepared him for the events which were to come, culminating in the sealing of his testimony in blood at Carthage."  -- Guide at the Visitor's Center, Liberty Jail Missouri, October 1996

Another Day Full of Promise

I know that it has been a long time since I have written in my blog, and I could, as is human nature make several (even valid - a least in my mind) excuses, but that wouldn't really do any of us much good. Let's just say that over the past few weeks, I have received a large dose of wisdom and let it go at that.

Someone once said that the only way to attain wisdom is through wrinkles and scars, both visible and hidden. I must say that I agree wholeheartedly.

I just have to remember that I have to make a choice, probably every day, what kind of day I am going to have. You see, circumstances through which I must pass do not determine whether I am having a good day or a bad day. Probably the best way to explain what I mean is to look at the weather.

Yesterday was sunny and bright. One might say it was a good day - except that it was hot - 95 degrees. Some would say that it was a bad day because it was so hot. Likewise on a cold, snowy day, one might say that it is a miserable day - except for the skiers on the slopes.

It's just the same old adage of the glass being half empty or half full. I choose what I see. And you know what, I've decided that I'm happy to have a glass. What difference if it is half full or half empty? It is in a state of change anyway, either being filled or depleted. The other day, I was at the Brick Oven pizza restaurant, and I ever have to worry whether or not my glass was half full or empty because the waiter kept filling it up again.

Life is like that.

So I choose, and must continue to choose, each day to appreciate the fact that I have a glass - a container for all that I experience; my mind and my soul. Good, bad or indifferent, I am all that I experience and how I choose to process those experiences. I choose to make lemonade.

Life has been challenging - oh, so challenging lately. But it is the only life that I have, so it is good. I will rise to the challenge and prevail - or at least persevere. Because like my glass in the restaurant, things change and time moves on.

So here we are, another day full of promise.

Yabbut the Rabbit

Once upon a time there was a cute, fluffy bunny named Yabbut. Actually, that was his nickname - his real name was Buddy. But from the moment he started talking, his favorite word was "yabbut", and once his friends started calling him that, the name sort of stuck - that's the way nicknames work, you know.

Yabbut wasn't a teenaged bunny anymore. He had a wife and family, and he worked very hard to make things nice for them. Their rabbit home was big, roomy and nicely furnished. His wife had nice clothes,  a nice car and lots of fun jewelry to wear. The kids always had the latest video games and the "cool" stuff to wear. Yabbut felt good about what he was able to give his family.

One day, he got a surprise phone call from one of his high school friends. They hadn't talked in years. Yabbut was amazed that his friend had called, and they had a wonderful talk. They ended with Yabbut inviting his friend to come over to visit for the weekend.

All week long, it was all Yabbut could do to stay focused on work and not think about all the fun he and his friend would have. Finally, Saturday morning arrived. Yabbut got up early and puttered around the yard waiting for his friend. Finally a car he didn't recognize pulled into the driveway and his friend stepped out.

"Yabbut the Rabbit!" his friend called, "you look great!"

"Yeah, but I could stand to lose a few pounds!" Yabbut grinned.

Yabbut shook his friend's hand warmly and was surprised when his friend grabbed him in a great bear hug.

"Come on in!" Yabbut invited as they made their way to the front door.

Yabbut's wife opened the door, and Yabbut made the introductions. "You have a beautiful wife," his friend complimented him. "Yeah but she's a terrible cook," was the reply.

Yabbut showed his friend around the house and for every compliment that he received, true to his name, he would respond with, "Yeah, but..."

His friend, after visiting for the day at Yabbut's house, drove home, and as he did so, he made a commitment to himself to never visit Yabbut again. "That was the gloomiest, most depressing home I have ever been in," he thought to himself.

As the years rolled by, Yabbut found himself divorced and alone. His children never called or came around, and his neighbors avoided him.

If only he had realized that when you say the word, "but", you have just denied everything you said prior that. A comment such as, "I love your home, but the carpets need cleaning," is the same as saying, "I don't like your house because it has dirty carpets."

Don't be a Yabbut the Rabbit. Just smile pleasantly and say, "Yeah, you're right."

Bodies and Temples

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I have a deep and abiding love for Christ and His infinite Atonement. I have, as yet to openly profess my faith in my blog. For this I apologize. It wasn't because of fear, it was because of compassion.

I want to help as many people as I can to be the best person, the best wife, the best husband, son, daughter, mother, father, boss, employee - the best human that they can be, and I don't want preconceived religious bias to create barriers to that purpose. I am not religiously bigoted. I believe that any religion that espouses the characters of man that make him kinder, more loving and more noble in his relationships with his fellow man has truth. Whether it be Islam, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity or other.

Nevertheless, I can never truly share my insights and inspiration with the world without proclaiming something that has become part of the very core of my being - my faith. I do not believe the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to be the true church - I believe the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to have and teach all the truth, with the property authority, necessary for the salvation of man.

You see, I don't see any religion as true or false - with the exception of those religions that would have us reject all religious beliefs - secularism, I guess. I see all religions as having some truth, more or less, depending on what they teach. I just believe that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has all the truth.

I am reminded of the movie, "Amadeus", which gave an entertaining look - whether accurate or not, I can't say - into the life of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In one scene he awaits back stage for the Emperor to congratulate him on the opening of the opera Figaro. The Emperor greets Mozart and compliments him on the performance and the piece and then pauses and says, "But... it had, um, what would you say, Court Composer?" To which the man questioned replied, "Too many notes, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," the Emperor exclaims, "that's it. Too many notes. Just cut some of them out and it would be perfect."

Mozart, deeply offended replies by saying, "And which notes would you recommend Your Majesty?"

I love that scene because it affirms that when anyone takes away from perfection, it is no longer perfect, but a reflection of it. I believe that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints teaches all the notes of the gospel. Unfortunately, throughout the history of mankind, truth becomes interpreted by the "learned" and, ultimately, altered - some of the notes are removed.

Martin Luther realized this about the Catholic church in Renaissance Germany, as have many others in other countries. But even then, it doesn't mean that the Catholic church doesn't teach truth - it does - but some of the notes are missing.

Now, of course this is my opinion - my belief - my faith. Whether it is true for you or not is irrelevant to the purpose of this blog. Whether or not you are a Mormon should make no difference to what you feel about the messages I write.

So why bring this up now? Because the message that I want to write is centered around Jesus Christ.

In the King James version of the Holy Bible, Paul asks the Corinthians this question, "Know ye not that that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you...?" Because of this and other teachings, many Latter-Day Saints are fond of saying, "My body is a temple." Which it is.

However, many people, not just Latter-Day Saints, take this inborn realization too far. They feel that because their body is a temple that it is them. I saw a video today on You Tube, and the person speaking said, "My body is not me." What a wonderful insight!

In my religion, we believe the temple to be the holiest of our places of worship. So holy, in fact, that in order to enter you must declare yourself worthy to you Priesthood authority. In doing so, you affirm that you adhere to the teachings of the church and strive to keep all the covenants you have made in entering its membership.

Because these buildings are so sacred, we use only the finest materials in their construction. Everywhere you look, you see beauty. It is a peaceful place without loud noises, cell phones or television. People automatically talk in a soft murmur, not wishing to disturb the special peace that the temple gives.

In spite of all the respect and reverence we give the temple, however, we don't confuse the temple with God. In other words, we would never say, "Our temple is God." No, we believe it is a place where we may go to feel of His spirit and be taught thereby, but we don't see it as God.

Why, then, do so many of us that say, "My body is a temple," believe that their body is them? Your body is no more who you are than the temple wherein you worship is God, himself. Your body is a structure wherein your Spirit dwells, where the Spirit of God can enter and where you receive a lifetime (however long or short) of instruction.

Your body, then, does not define you. Yes, you should respect it, love it and take care of it - it is, after all, the only one you get in this life! But it is not you. You are so much more than you see with your physical eye. What is the worth of a man? His body, or what he does with his body?

Reject the message of high fashion and Hollywood. You do not have to have the perfect figure. The figure you have is perfect, because perfection resides within it. I do not mean to say that everyone is perfect - actually, nobody is. I mean to say that our spirits have the potential to be perfect - otherwise a member of the Godhead - the Holy Ghost - would not be able to enter in.

Rejoice in the body you have - warts and all. Do not feel that you have to live up to the expectations of the world. Live only for the expectations of your spirit. Because you are the miracle.

The Upside Down Turkey

Before we begin, I must first apologize to my lovely daughter. This story is about her, and while it may at first seem a Greek Tragedy from the writing of Sophocles, himself, it is, in fact a story of humor, sadness and ultimately, life.

For Mother's Day this year, my daughter invited the whole family over to her apartment for a turkey dinner - her first. Meaning, the first one that she cooked herself. Of course, as any new bride (she's only been married 11 months - and some few days), she was nervous of the outcome.

Never having cooked a turkey before, she wanted lots of advice - not from Mom, but from me. Not because I am a consummate turkey-cooker, but because she didn't want to pester Mom on her day. I'm okay with that. After all, I have cooked a few birds in my life.

When we arrived at her apartment at the appointed time, my daughter's voice called from the kitchen, "Dad, can you come check my turkey for me?" When I entered the kitchen she said, "I've had it cooking for almost four hours, but I don't know if it's done yet."

I lifted the top off the counter-top roaster and looked in. The bird was still white! "Ummm, Sis?" I began, "What temperature do you have this set on?"

"I don't know for sure; the knob's broken off."

"Okay. Uh, this bird is nowhere close to being done."

"Are you serious?" She cried in dismay. "What am I going to do?"

"Let's see if we can turn up the temperature and get it cooked," I replied. I grabbed some pliers (the knob connector was hot) and turned the temperature up considerably.

"It was supposed to be done when everyone got here," she said dejectedly. "Now everything else is going to be cold, and everyone is starving, and..."

"Hold, on," I interrupted. "Let's just see how it turns out. Besides, it will give everyone a chance to visit for a while."

In just a few minutes, the smell of a cooking turkey filled her home.  After about an hour, I checked it again, and sure enough, the skin was a golden brown. "Is it done?" my daughter asked anxiously.

"It looks like it," I responded, looking all over the bird for the pop-up timer. Not finding one, I asked, "Do you have a meat thermometer?"

"No. Now what?"

"Well, did this turkey come with a pop-up timer? Because I don't see it."

"It's on the bottom."

Suddenly I realized why the entire turkey looked funny (odd) - which I didn't want to mention to my daughter for fear of hurting her feelings. The turkey was upside-down!

"Uh, it's upside down," I told her.

"Are you serious?!?" she wailed, loud enough that everyone in the house heard her.

"What's wrong?" asked her mother.

"I put the stupid turkey in upside down!" my daughter cried, running into my wife's arms.

"Oh dear," my wife said. "That's okay. I'm sure there's plenty of food for us."

I thought to myself, "Well, I might as well carve it up. I might be able to salvage some of the meat."

I pulled the bird out of the pan, and the breast looked... well, like the back of most other turkeys look - sort of wet and slimy. I put it on the cutting board and starting with the legs, I started to carve the meat. Now, you can't just carve a turkey without sampling here and there. Almost without thinking, I popped a morsel of dark meat into my mouth. HOLY COW! It was AWESOME! The flavor was wonderful. Whatever seasoning she had used was fantastic. The breast was moist, flavorful and delicious in every way.


I called her in. She entered the kitchen, shoulders slumped, head down with a look of total defeat on her face. "Now what?" she asked sadly.


"Here," I said, handing her a piece, "taste this."


"Why?" she asked as she put the morsel in her mouth. No sooner than it had touched her taste buds, her head snapped up, her eyes grew wide and she exclaimed in quiet awe, "Wow! That's good!"


"I know," I said. "Well done. Well done, indeed!"


Her turkey, although not presentable as a picture perfect bird, was one of the juiciest and tastiest that I have ever eaten. All who were privileged to partake of that meal were well satisfied and heaped praises on my daughter - which she richly deserved.


And here is the miracle. In life we all have turkeys that we have to deal with. Some we conquer and know within ourselves that we are triumphant. Others, however, we feel have conquered us and we want to turn away, head down and shoulders slumped.


Often, it is just seeing it through to the end that makes all the difference in the world. Had we just thrown my daughter's turkey out because of a few mistakes along the way, we would have missed out on a wonderful feast. Fix your eye unblinking on the outcome you desire, and often, although it may not be as planned, you will enjoy the success you desire.

Stairs

Yesterday I had to walk up the stairs at the office to get to work. There's nothing unusual about that, since it's something that everyone at the office does - every day. What was unusual for me was that it didn't hurt.

After my accident, I was in a wheel chair for about four months, and therefore had to take the elevator. After the wheel chair came the crutches and then the cane, and finally, walking unassisted. This took about 3 more months.

When I graduated to the cane, I thought that I might try the stairs - you know, push myself. After about 5 steps (there are 18), I stopped and thought to myself that I had made a terrible mistake. I was already winded, and I couldn't even step up with my right leg. The journey was step, shuffle - step, shuffle - step, shuffle. I was late getting to my desk, and panting like a racehorse with beads of sweat glistening on my forehead. Okay, it was glistening all over my head, since I don't have a lot of hair on top - but you get the point.

The next day I walked in the lobby doors and looked at the stairs. Shuddering, I started toward the elevator - but I stopped. How was I ever going to be able to climb any stairs ever again if I didn't keep trying? With a groan (yes, I actually groaned), I went back to the stairs.

Mustering my courage, I put my right foot on the first stair and pushed down, lifting my body up. Pain shot through my leg and knee, and I thought I might fall - I pushed anyway. I had to - I was halfway up. Wisely, I clutched the banister and used my arm muscles as much as my leg. That was the only stair I could handle with my right leg - that day.

So far, I have only told you what it was like going up. Going down was a nightmare. Not only did it hurt - possibly more than going up, but I could see all the way down the stairs to the bottom floor, and I knew that if I made a mistake, I was in for a world of hurt.

I admit there were days when my courage failed me and the elevator seemed like a blessing. But for the most part, every time I thought about taking the easy way out, I reminded myself that I would never win that way.

It has taken about two and half months of going up and down those stairs - as well as stepping off curbs and going up and down every set of stairs that I came upon. And now, yesterday, for the first time, I climbed the stairs - and came down them after work - pain free. I actually went down as fast - well, almost as fast as my co-workers.

I remember my wife the first time she saw me descending the staircase after work. Her first demand was, "What do you think you're doing?" I explained that I needed to do this if I ever wanted to be able to make it up and down the stairs. "Well, you make sure you hold onto the rail!" was her reply. I still do.


See, the other thing about pushing ourselves is that sometimes, even though they have the best intentions of keeping us safe - they don't want to see us get hurt - our loved ones hold us back. I love my wife dearly because she understood and didn't hold me back. I know that she worried - for a while at least - every time I went up and down any set of stairs. But she knew that I needed that challenge.

In life, we are faced with stairs everyday, and usually, there is an elevator waiting off to the side that will help us avoid the pain and difficulty of the stairs. Please take a moment and ask yourself which is really the best for your progression - which is going to make you the person you wish to be?

Some days, it will be the elevator. When I went back to work, it was the elevator for me until I was walking without support. But some days you will realize that perhaps instead of just going to the elevator out of habit, the best thing, really, would be to climb the stairs. Even though it hurts.

Remember, there will come a day - I don't know when - but there will come a day when it will be pain free. And the greater news is that you will be able to reach new heights by climbing your own personal staircase. And that is miraculous.

It's Okay to Try

"There is no sin in failing. The sin is in not trying." - Paula Deen

This sniglet of wisdom was preserved by my wife. So many books have been written with the basic theme of "Do or do not - there is no try." They use the analogy of the pen: put a pen down on the desk. Now try to pick it up. Did you pick it up? I didn't tell you to pick it up, I told you to try. Put it back down. Try to pick it up. Did you pick it up? No? I didn't tell you to leave it there, I told you to try to pick it up. They use this as an example of the impossibility of try. What they miss with this analogy is the power of intention.


Intention is everything. If you never intend to pick the pen up, it will forever remain on the desk. If you intend to pick it up - and fail, what then? Well, that depends on your intention. You see, the example cited above rests upon the belief that your intention is to pick up the pen, no matter what. But sometimes, our intentions change.


Many would cry out that changing your intention is failure. I disagree. For most of us, when we change our intent, it is because we have become aware of a higher intention - one that is more important than the one which we have let go.


For example, my son just graduated from BYU with a BA in Japanese. That wasn't his first major. As is the case with most college students, he started in one field and changed to another. Does that mean that he failed as a music major? No. It means that after trying the music major program, he realized that there was something else for which he had more drive, desire and intent - learning and mastering Japanese. His higher intention was to graduate in a field that he loved, not to never give up.


Okay, maybe I'm splitting hairs. But it really bothers me when I see so many people not even make an attempt at something because they are so afraid of failure! Most people would rather leave the pen on the table rather than give it a shot and see if they like holding a pen instead.


It's like the old story of a person who goes into Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors Ice Cream store. The clerk asks what they want, and they say vanilla. The clerk points out all of the other wonderful flavors and then asks the all-important question, "Would you like to try a sample?" The customer says, no, I just want vanilla. The clerk then asks, "Have you ever tried anything but vanilla?" to which the customer replies, "No, I just like vanilla."


Now most of us will take all the free samples we can get! Why? Because it is in sampling and trying new things that we either discover that for which we are best suited, or we reach a firmer conviction for that which we have already chosen.


I was talking with a co-worker yesterday. He has lived for several years in Austria and Germany. On a whim, I asked him what his favorite German food was, and he replied sauerbraten. I shuddered. "I hate that stuff," I said. He replied, "Have you ever tried it?" I said, "Yes, three times - and I didn't like it, not matter what was poured over the top of it!"


See, if the customer in the ice cream shop had replied to the clerk that they had tried many flavors and were willing to try another and then, in spite of it all, still chose vanilla, one would say that the person had made the best choice for them.


There is no sin in starting college and never finishing. College isn't for everyone. There is no sin in starting college, dropping out for 20 years and then finishing in a completely different major. The sin would be in saying, "I would like to try college," only to have someone say, "Do or do not, there is no try," thereby scaring the would-be college student away because they feared the possibility that they would fail.


There is no sin (and therefore no shame) in failure. The sin is not trying. Without experimentation, we never experience life.

A Life Unexamined...

One of the most famous sayings by Socrates is, "An unexamined life is not worth living." Or so we are told, since Socrates himself didn't write anything. I agree completely. However, I also believe that a reflected image of that statement is equally valid: A life not lived is not worth examining.

We, as a society already accept this as fact. Do we bother to examine or emulate the lives of those who live out their lives without the spark of life - those who breathe and function, but who do not live? No, we only reflect upon and study the lives of those who have lived life and left a legacy.

This doesn't mean someone who is famous, or even important. But they lived for more than just being alive. One great example is Joshua Terry, one of my wife's ancestors. Let me share with you some of the ways that he lived.

Joshua Terry was converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and at the age of 22, made the trek across the plains of the United States to the Salt Lake Valley. Just out of his teens, he walked - not rode - over 1500 miles - because of what he believed!

He later became a pioneer to Idaho and Wyoming. Along the way, on freezing in a storm he found shelter in the hollow of a coffin shaped rock. Later that night, he was visited by a bear which crawled in for shelter as well. The two slept side-by-side, and their shared body heat kept Joshua alive. In the morning before daylight, the bear left him unharmed.

Later, he was found almost dead from starvation by an old Indian woman and her son, who nourished him back to health. During his recovery, the young Indian brave spit in Joshua's ear, saying that he hoped that someday Joshua would come to understand their language.

Upon reaching Wyoming he became fast friends of the famous trapper-explorer, Jim Bridger. Bridger. One day, not long after, Joshua was out on the range, hunting horses to tame. As he stood on a hill scanning the valley below, he heard a great rushing sound and turned to see that he was surrounded by Indian warriors.

They took him captive and decided that they would scalp and burn him. In preparation for the event, the Indians danced around him with frenzied voice, throwing their tomahawks at his head. At the height of the "festivities" one brave, the leader of the war party, drew his knife and advanced on Joshua, prepared to take his scalp.

Just then, another band of Indians was seen coming around the hill. The chieftain of this band was none other than the young brave who had spit in his ears years ago. The young chieftain went into council with the other warriors. He was finally freed from his bindings, but was imprisoned in one of the tents under close guard. During this time a young girl had the task of bringing him food and water, and they became friends.

Her and the young chieftain told Joshua that the Indians were planning to attack the Mormons. They told him that he was to warn Brigham Young, and that he only had a few moons to get to Salt Lake City and back. Alone and on foot, he was sure he would never make it in time. But, halfway along the way, there was his Indian friend with horses and supplies.

He made the journey in time, and the message he brought back to the Indians from Brigham Young pleased them so much that they gave Joshua his freedom and a short time later he married the Indian girl. One time, he was bitten by a rattlesnake and not expected to live. In grief, his wife ate a poison root because she didn't want to live without him. She died, and he recovered to go on alone.

Such is a life worth examining. With all of his wanderings and difficulties, many in this day and age would call such a man a vagabond and worthless. However, nobody can deny that he lived. He did what he thought was right and pushed through great difficulty along the way.

Living life means that you look forward with hope and faith from one day to the next. You accept the challenges that come your way as part of being alive. You face them as best you can, and you do the best you can do. Sometimes, this isn't good enough - Joshua couldn't save his Indian bride. Other times, it contains the seeds of greatness.

Joshua later became a leader of the community of Draper, Utah and his son became Mayor and later the most respected man in South Salt Lake County. His house still stands today as a visitor center and historic site.

The unexamined life may not be worth living, but the life unlived is certainly not worth examining - with the exception of examination for the prospect of change. This is the miracle that all of us can enjoy - the ability to change.

Yesterday I watched my son walk across the stage at  BYU's Marriott Center to received his diploma. During that ceremony, a young girl in her twenties also walked across the stage to receive her diploma - followed by her mother who also received her diploma! It is never too late to do that which you have always wanted and desired to do.

Live life. Love life and be worth examination and emulation.