My Talk at the Care Center

Earlier in the week, the counselor in the bishopric who is charge of Sacrament Meeting talks called and asked if I would give a 5 minute talk at the care center where my brother is a resident.

Gehrig ended his speech with these words after he had been diagnosed with ALS. He was grateful for the experiences he had and the people that he had associated with during his life. Although he had gotten a bad break, he decided to have a cheerful and optimistic attitude. He did as Dieter F. Uchdorf suggested -

I have this to be true as I have passed through challenges and trials. It seems that when I have been the most stressed is when I've noticed the blessings the most. People are willing to keep me in their prayers and thoughts when I have reached out for help. They have listen with their hearts. When I had my first surgical procedure, I forgot to ask for a priesthood blessing. Jay had been Idaho. My procedure was a success thanks to the prayers and thoughts said in my behalf.

In the Colossians 3:17 - 

I chose this scripture to ponder this week. Paul instructed the Colossians and us to give thanks and to remember Christ in all we do and say. We can be thankful in all our circumstances, whether good or bad.

Thomas S. Monson has said - 

In closing, I'd like to read the verses in Psalm 100 -

Although life can be hard, I have a lot to be grateful for.

35 Years Ago

This morning as I ate breakfast, I read the Salt Lake Tribune. Peggy Fletcher Stack wrote an article about the 35^th year anniversary of the blacks receiving the priesthood. I remembered Mom coming home from town that day and telling me that George could have the priesthood. I gave her quizzing look because she had to remind me who George was.. I was thinking of another George who I knew in Salt Lake my first year of college. He was strange and I am pretty sure he might have passed the sacrament in the branch I sometimes attended. When Mom mentioned it was my FHE (family home evening) brother from Ricks College then I understood. George came to Ricks College my second semester there. He wasn’t a member, but he still returned for a second time. I found out the following fall that he had been in my brother, John’s and my roommate, Deb’s branch the previous year while I had been in Salt Lake. Toward the end of the semester, George joined the church; students from the 8^th and 29^th branch were in attendance. I think it was the biggest convert baptism that I ever attended. As I look back on George’s baptism, I realize it took him a lot of courage to join the church. He joined knowing he would not have the full benefits of membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. In April of 1978, he wasn’t able to have the priesthood, serve a mission or even marry in the temple. But on June 8, 1978 all that changed for George and other Mormons of African heritage. Now I know of a biracial young man serving in Brazil and his brother who has been called to serve in California later this year. Most weeks in Sacrament Meeting, I see a young man from Africa pass the sacrament to members in the church. All because President Spencer W. Kimball announced that the priesthood was to be extended all worthy males 12 and over, 35 years on warm June day.

Presdient Hinckley, Part II

I wrote this a year ago; posted it and then deleted it from the blog. I felt it was too long, but I didn't want to abandoned the story. So this year, I edited the draft from last year and reposted it this year. The dates in the title are the days of the actual event, not when I originally wrote it.

The Viewing and Funeral (February 1 & 2, 2008)
Since I went to Sister Hinckley's viewing, I knew I had to go to President Hinckley’s viewing. Jay and I stood in line for President Benson and President Hunter, both Idaho native like us, so I invited Jay to come with me. Both President Benson and President Hunter's viewings were held in the Church Office Building by the Joseph Smith Building. But President Hinckley’s viewing had to be moved to the Conference Center because so many people wanted to pay their respects. That first Friday night in February, Jay and I drove to the Trax station. It was bit crowded on Trax, not everyone was going to the viewing. When one young woman, who was on her way to work, found out where we going, she commented that she had seen one of his interviews and thought President Hinckley was pretty cool guy. Apparently, President Hinckley had left a favorable impression of those who were not members of the church. I was touched by the young woman's remarks.
When we got off Trax, I thought we would be able to walk into Conference Center, but there was a long line in front, so we walked around to the west side of the Conference Center. It was probably six or six-thirty when we got in line halfway to or maybe almost to 200 North. We stood in the cold and the dark for quite a few hours. The line snaked in and out of the plaza on the southwest corner of the Conference Center. About ten o'clock we got inside. My ankles were cold and they hurt. My knees might have hurt too. But what surprised me the most was that after all that standing outside, my enlarged nerve in my left foot was not aching at all. Jay and I still stood as we rode an escalator or two for the next hour or so. We did get to sit in the giant room where General conference is held every six months. It was nice to have a break from standing. Once I sat on a couch while Jay saved my place in line. Finally about eleven, we saw President Hinckley lying in his casket. It was very quiet and peaceful as we passed thru the Hall of the Prophets where President Hinckley lay in state. We passed quickly by President Hinckley’s casket; there was such a feeling of reverence in the room. Now I understood why those coming down the escalators were sober-looking. He looked calm and at peace. I have to admit, I almost didn't recognize him without his glasses.
Then at 11:30, Jay and I were back in the bitter cold waiting for Trax. It probably wasn't a long wait (especially compared to wait before) before the Sandy train came and took us to the Trax station we needed. When we got home, we turned the furnace and before long we crawled into our separate beds. Jay probably had a bite to eat before retiring. The next morning we watched the funeral and the graveside services on TV. After spending an evening in the bitter cold weather, I don't think we wanted to spend a few morning hours freezing in line. And besides, we needed some rest after a long bitter cold night. I am thinking that most of local stations broadcasted it as I don't think we watched the funeral and graveside services on the same station.

President Hinckley, Part 1

I wrote this a year ago, posted and then deleted because it was just too long. But I did not abandoned it. This year I edited it and decided to divide in to two parts. Now you can take a break. Even though I broke it up; it is still too long. The dates in the headings represent the actual dates, not when I wrote originally wrote it.
The News (January 27, 2008)
Four years ago on the last Sunday of January, my sister, Laura from Washington State called and broke the news that President Hinckley had passed away. I am not sure how she found out, but soon the TV was on. Apparently, those in their teens and twenties were the first to know. The youth probably texted each other before KSL could find a reporter to send to Temple Square. I could be wrong, but KSL was showing some students from a local institute singing hymns at Temple Square or maybe the Institute at the University of Utah. The next morning, The Salt Lake Tribune had a half page sized picture of President Hinckley on the front page. The Tribune also gave President Hinckley his own section; a first for any prophet. A short article on Tuesday appeared in the paper about East High School students wearing the Sunday best on a Monday. Even the Utah Chronicle (aka the Chrony) had a front page article about President Hinckley. When I was a student there, President Kimball died and there wasn't anything about him, nada. But then, President Hinckley attended and probably graduated from the University of Utah, whereas President Kimball was an Arizona native and businessman before he moved to Salt Lake. But I think it was more than being a Utah alumnus that got President Hinckley a spot on the front page of the Chrony. President Hinckley reached out to the youth, probably like no other prophet of the church had in the 20th and 21st century. While I was in high school, I don't remember receiving a phone call to wear my Sunday best the day after President Lee died. Granted, President Lee was only the President for possibly three short years and President Hinckley was President of the church for more than ten years.
When I had heard that President Hinckley died, there was some shock and some disbelief. I thought he was going to live to be 100. After all, when he had his 95th birthday celebration, he told the crowd at the Conference Center that he would see them in five years. But then quickly, I realized he was with Marjorie, his wife of countless years. She had passed away shortly after Jay and I bought our condo. Even though I felt sad at his passing, I also felt joy. I imagine President Hinckley was smiling when he saw Sister Hinckley. I just hope he didn't knock the air out of her when he greeted her in heaven. He was probably quite thrilled to see the love of his life after a few long years. I remember when President Hinckley visited our ward almost four years ago, which was shortly after his wife died. When it came to bless for his grandson to bless his daughter, President Hinckley came down from the stand. I was surprised at how frail and how old he was. He seemed so lonely without Marjorie. I could tell he missed her greatly. President Hinckley was the first president of the church that I remembered who lost his wife while serving as a prophet. When I went to Sister Hinckley's viewing in the Relief Society building downtown, I walked around the Salt Lake Temple before boarding Trax. While I was walking by the temple, I knew President Hinckley and Sister Hinckley would be together again just like I know that I see my crazy, but lovable father again. Love is eternal and families can be forever. When I was in college, President, then Elder Hinckley came and spoke in stake conference. I had probably heard him in General Conference during a few radio broadcasts. But in the fall of 1978, it was the first time or second time; I had probably seen him speak in person. Because it was a smaller setting, I somehow felt more of his spirit or personality. I remember him speaking about a flight that he shared with a couple he knew. Just the way he spoke of the couple brought President Hinckley closer to my realm. This apostle was a real human being who experience life like me and the other college students.
When I attended the University of Utah, Chase Peterson was inaugurated as President. President Hinckley, then apart of the first presidency of the church, gave one of the prayers. Listening to his prayer, I felt his testimony. I swear his prayer went right thru the Special Events Center (now the Huntsman Center) roof and right to heaven. President Hinckley was speaking to God, his Father, and his Creator. It was an eloquent prayer.

Why Christmas?

This is not my own story at all. I had a rare opportunity to go to Relief Society this past Sunday and the teacher shared this story as part of her lesson. I was so grateful that she printed hand outs of the story.
There was once a man who didn't believe in God, and he didn't hesitate to let others know how he felt about religious holidays, like Christmas. His wife, however, did believe, and she raised their children to also faith in God and Jesus Christ, despite his disparaging comments.One snowy Christmas Eve, his wife was taking their children to a Christmas Eve service in the farm community in which they lived. She asked him to come, but he refused. "That's ridiculous!" So she and the children left and he stayed at home.Awhile later, the winds grew stronger,and the snow turned into a blizzard. As the man looked out the window, all he saw was a blinding snowstorm. He sat down to relax before the fire for the evening. Then he heard a loud thump. Something had hit the window; then another thump. He looked out, but couldn't see more than a few feet. When the snow let up a little, he ventured outside to see what could have been beating on his window. In the field near his house he saw a flock of wild geese.Apparently they had been flying south for the winter when they got caught in the snowstorm and couldn't go on. They were lost and stranded on his farm, with no food or shelter. They just flapped their wings and flew around the field in low circles, blindly and aimlessly. A couple of them had flown into his window, it seemed. The man felt sorry for the geese and wanted to help them. The barn would be a great place for them to stay, he thought. It's warm and safe; surely they could spend the night and wait out the storm. So he walked over to the barn and opened the doors wide, then watched and waited, hoping they would notice the open barn or realize what it could mean for them.The man tried to get their attention, but that just seemed to scare them and they moved further away. He went into the house and came with some bread, broke it up, and made a breadcrumb trail leading to the barn. They still didn't catch on. Now he was getting frustrated. He got behind them and tried to shoo them toward the barn, but they only got more scared and scattered in every direction except toward the barn. Nothing he did could get them to go into the barn where they would be warm and safe. "Why don't they follow me?!" he exclaimed. "Can't they see this is the only place they can survive the storm?" He thought for a moment and realized that they just wouldn't follow a human. "If only I were a goose, then I could save them," he said out loud.Then he had an idea. He went into the barn, got one of his own geese, and carried it in his arms as he circled around behind the flock of wild geese. He then released it. His goose flew through the flock and straight into the barn- one by one the other geese followed it to safety. He stood silently for a moment as the words he had spoken a few minutes earlier replayed in his mind: "if only I were a goose, then I could save them!" Then he thought about what he had said to his wife earlier. "Why would God want to be like us? That's ridiculous!"Suddenly it all made sense. That is what God had done. We were like the geese- blind, lost, perishing. God has His Son become like us so He could show us the way and save us. That was the meaning of Christmas, he realized. As the winds and the blinding snow died down, his soul became quiet and pondered this wonderful thought. Suddenly he understood what Christmas was all about, why Christ had come. Years of doubt and disbelief vanished like the passing storm. He fell to his knees in the snow, and prayed his first prayer: "Thank you God, for coming in human form to get me out of the storm!"

Author unknown

Adventures with a Glue Bottle

While I am church, I can be found in the ward library. It is my calling. This morning, one of the Primary teachers needed some glue sticks, but since another teacher had taken all the glue sticks, she had to opt for regular glue. She picked up the first two bottles and nothing came out, but she did get lucky on her third attempt. So after she left, I grabbed the two glue bottles and a paper clip. I seen this problem earlier when I taught Sunbeams in another ward. After coming home from church, I went thru my emails I had printed and found the one I sent my friend Karie, describing my memorable adventure with a glue bottle during class.

March 8, 2009 "For one of the class activities, we made paper bracelets. And that required glue, which I had brought from home along with the scissors. I started gluing the first bracelet and the glue isn't coming out. So I got rid of the dried glue on the outside of the cap. IT still doesn't come out. I twisted the glue cap close and I am thinking the glue has hardened. I open the bottle. (Not a good thing to do around active three year olds.) The glue looked fine, but it didn't want to come out thru the cap. So I left the cap off and stuck the blade of another pair of scissors. Hey, there is more than one way to get glue out of a bottle. And not once did a Sunbeam spill the glue. They may spilled their water a few times. But not the glue bottle. I call that a miracle. After church, I washed the scissors, I think they still work. I also put the glue bottle cap under the tap. Then I got smart and stuck a q-tip in the insides of the cap. There was hardened glue stuck up there. Now the glue bottle flows freely when I squeeze it."

And yes, after Trish and I poked around and washed the caps of the glue bottles, the glue now flows semi-freely. I hope the glue doesn't hardened again, but if it does, we'll know what to do.