Answers

God is a god of mercy, but more importantly, He is a god of love.

I have recently been trying to decide what to do with my life. Dealing with life lately has left me with little direction and hope. As you may know, I returned home from the mission early (in January, 2010) and with many emotional scars, facing the very depressing prospect of having to take medication for the rest of my life. Two years later, I finally returned to the university. I was settled in with a full load of classes, an amazing boyfriend, and perhaps a bit of trepidation. Classes went fairly well, I studied like crazy, and got a 4.0! I wish I could say the rest of life went that well. I was changing medications almost every month and having panic attacks multiple times a day. But then I got engaged and things were going well for awhile. Then, well... things started going less than stellar. After praying about my engagement and arguing with myself, I got a No. With a capital "N." Like the kind of No where the more you try to ignore it, the more physically ill you get. THAT kind of No. It broke my heart, but what else could I do? I called it off. When he finally accepted that I had received a no, he turned into a major jerk and started accusing me of all sorts of mean things he had to know were not true. Even after all that, I still have feelings for him and wish my answer could have been otherwise. Yes, he said some things that were hurtful, but how many people wouldn't do that in his shoes? That's not an excuse, but I understand. He was hurting and he lashed out. None of us are perfect.

Now lest you think I have a completely miserable existence, never fear - I got my summer adventures! I drove to Washington to see a friend get married, survived an INCREDIBLE mid-west style lightning storm while staying in a tent, then went on up to Victoria and got my open water scuba certification. Then I decided I would take the scenic route and stopped through Edmonton on my "way back home." I stayed there for awhile before heading back home to Utah. I actually didn't make it back to my "home base" at that point, though. I had a flight to catch with my sister to go see Newsies on Broadway in New York. Originally my ex-fiance and I were going to take a roadtrip and squeeze the show in, but that was before he showed his "not so pleasant side." Instead, I was left with two non-refundable tickets. I suppose someday I should thank him. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have been able to spend some amazing sister time and come away with great inside jokes and a renewed sense of hope in my life.

Now you may wonder what all this rambling has to do with a merciful, loving God. I'll tell you. My life the last few years has been anything but perfect. I have made a lot of mistakes, bad choices, whatever you want to call it. But regardless of all that,God was merciful enough to give me the answers I needed. These last few weeks as I have been contemplating my future, I finally made a decision. I am going to study massage therapy. I had two schools I was really looking at and couldn't decide between the two. One seemed like it was so perfect, but it also cost twice as much and would have taken probably twice as long. I was somewhat depressed at the prospect of having to settle for the cheaper, less desirable option. I prayed for guidance and gradually started feeling better about it. Well, today my father became my guardian angel, God's messenger to answer my prayers. He mentioned to a lady in the branch that I was going to massage school and she got super excited. I had no idea she had been to school for that as well. She told me everything I needed to hear to reassure me and indeed, was an answer to my prayers. But the effect of my "guardian angel" did not wear off there. After that, my father introduced me to a girl who just received her mission call to Chile. Though it was not the same mission that I served in, I was able to talk to her about what to expect, a few random tidbits about the language and people, and I could see the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. As I spoke with her, a strange thing started to happen: I felt a glimmer of a sense of peace and healing about my mission experience.

I remember sitting in a fast and testimony meeting one day with my cousin. She asked why the person sharing her testimony was crying. I was saddened that she, I think a teenager at the time, didn't understand. Fast forward time to a few months ago. I was sitting with my family at church, again during testimony meeting, when my nephew (7 years old?) turned to me. Referring to the lady crying as she shared her testimony, he asked me, "Is she so happy?"

As the tears fall tonight, I thank my Heavenly Father for his love and mercy; for parents who love me, for a father who was able to receive inspiration - whether or not he realizes it, as I'm sure that's what it was - and a mother who supports me in everything and sometimes gives me a much-needed proverbial kick in the pants.

So why is God a merciful, loving God? Because in the space of a short amount of time He has helped me experience hope, peace, and healing. He has also given me the beginnings of understanding and direction and answered at least one of my prayers, even though I probably (okay, scratch the probably) don't deserve it.

In the words of my nephew Jared, yes, I am so happy.

A White Christmas in Chile

December 2009

Three complete strangers, united in one cause. These three amazing people had never met each other before but shared their "special day". The tallest one is Mauricio. The next one, the girl, is Nataly. Lastly is my little Gary, one of the fruits of the new program called Permaneced, which is our reactivation efforts.

Mauricio, age 24:

Roughly two weeks in Chile and I was doing contacts in the street with my companion (the 11th of November to be precise). We randomly contacted this kinda punkish kid in the street. He didn't have piercings or anything, but he seemed a bit like a partier. He agreed to let us pass by his house to teach him. I was still trying to figure out what everyone was saying (the accent here is SUPER different!) So it took me awhile to be able to really help answer his questions and such. He accepted everything easily and whenever we would ask him if he thought what we said was important (regarding each principle) he would answer with "obvio" and gave awesome reasoning that made me feel kinda dumb that we thought we needed to teach him that. He really is super awesome. The other day we were at his house teaching him and we were talking about missionary work, then asked him if there was anyone he knew that would like to learn too. At that precise moment his brother walked through the front room. He turned to him and said "Hey Alvaro, you're going to church with me on Sunday, okay?" It was funny. He didn't go, but it was Mauricio's willingness to invite him that really touched me. A couple days ago we were giving him his last quick lesson before his baptism the next day and his brother's girlfriend stopped by. He introduced us as "Mis Hermanas." When he prays during the lessons he also thanks God for "his Hermanas." He's really amazing. We don't seem to find many people here, but when we find them they are absolutely amazing.

Nataly, age 13:

I arrived in Chile, in the zone of Colina, just in time to help prepare the baptism of two of her friends (Carolina and Nicole). Nataly was originally supposed to be baptized with her friends but things kept coming up. We had to work with her for a long time – she had to make some major changes before her mother would consent. After many lessons and any help we could give her mother consented because she was finally starting to show improvement in her everyday actions and attitude. While I didn't teach her the first basic lessons, she still considers me her “best friend.”

Gary:

Our little 9 year old. He actually turned 9 while we were teaching him. His mom and one of his brothers are inactive... or were. We were walking down the street one day when this random little kid ran over to us yelling "¿Son Mormonas?" We told him that yeah, we were Mormons and he flat out said "¡Quiero bautizarme!" We were a bit taken by surprise, so we were asking him questions. He then led us to his house where we met his mother. She broke down in tears as she told us about "Her hermanas" that taught her and baptized her and how she cried when they were transferred out of the area. She had some experience with some members that drove her away from the church (not an uncommon occurrence in this branch) but that she would love to see Gary get baptized. We passed by a few days later and she told us her story. I don't remember the story exactly, but the basis was this: when she was about 11 years old her father used to have elders over all the time or rent a place to them, I don't remember exactly. She loved talking to them and figured they were all rich because they dressed like her dad, who was. One day an elder put his feet up and she saw the bottom of his shoes - they were all worn out and she could see his socks through the holes. She said she cried because this young man was so willing to go teach people even when it meant his feet were bruised and blistered from the terrible condition of his shoes. Tears were streaming down her face as she told us of how the other members of our branch don´t appreciate the missionaries like they could. I started to cry myself as I told her we needed her experiences and her example to help the branch, as I testified of the great worth she has and how much she could help. She showed up at church the next Sunday and has come almost every week since then. She is so humble and poor right now - lately times have been so hard that occasionally she doesn't even have bread for breakfast, yet she always offers us whatever she has. She really is amazing. She has become my lifeline here.

"And the Lord called his people Zion because they were of one heart and one mind...." (Moses 7:18)

Passing On

12/22/2009 San Andres, Chile - At the entrance of a quiet little town not far from Santiago, Chile, I found myself once again waiting for the bus - hands full and thoughts an hour and a half away on the night's Christmas festivities in the Santiago North mission home. As I stood watching for the bus, a large gathering caught my attention: a hearse, surrounded by horse and rider, coming down the road. All the riders were dressed in the traditional Chilean attire of a cowboy hat, poncho, boots and over-sized spurs. Directly behind the hearse walked a horse - head drooping, the saddle's sole occupant a hat. The people at the bus stop next to me made the sign of the cross as the man on the nearest horse wiped away tears mingled with sweat from the hot sun. The faces of many riders spoke silently of hard times and difficult lives - of jobs lost and the ever-present struggle to put food on the table - wrinkled through the years by experiences both pleasant and painful. The loss of their fallen rider showed plainly in the eyes of all.

The solemn parade of horses passed by slowly, cars and finally the bus bringing up the tail end. I paid my respects silently as we followed the procession in the bus until we parted ways, thanking my Heavenly Father for the knowledge I have of His merciful plan and the comfort it brings when one comes to understand that this is not the end but merely a new beginning.

My Daddy

While in the MTC I received an email from my mom explaining that they were going to spotlight Daddy at work and if I knew where some of the goofy pictures of him were. I was able to help with that as well as send my own little writeup about him. (9/2009)

My Daddy:

Master fix-it man, intellectual genius, joker extraordinaire. I can't tell you how many times I've heard his jokes! I'm so lucky that I've heard them not only in English, but in Spanish too, and yet I laugh every time. I don't know if it's because the jokes themselves are very funny or if it's the fact that Daddy always laughs at them when he tells them.

I love my Daddy. Who else do you know that wanders aimlessly with a guitar but can still "occasionally" claim to have his wits? Who, on Halloween night, would get on the intercom system and laugh maniacally as children came to the door trick-or-treating? Who else gets more enjoyment and satisfaction out of being able to tell you what color something is even though he's never in his life seen the color for himself?

One of my favorite stories about Daddy has to be from a family vacation we took one summer. We were traveling across the country in the RV. At one point, Daddy turned to us and said "Do you realize it is now an hour later than it was an hour ago?" We all started laughing. It took him a little while to realize he meant TWO hours later because we had passed into another time zone. To this day we still laugh about that although I'm not sure he appreciates that so much.

The depth of advice he can give based on life experience is priceless. Sometimes it's useful, sometimes it's up to you to decide. If it's broken, he can fix it. If it's not broken... well, he can fix that too. Spiders, mice, giant yellow hands, monsters in the closet; his specialty. Magical hallways, train robbers, dogs big enough to ride, pet dinosaurs - my favorite bedtime stories. A spiritual giant yet down-to-earth friend you can always depend on to bring sunshine - and corn and tomatoes - to an otherwise gray day. Sure he's not perfect, but in my book he's pretty darn close.

My Daddy - My hero.

Focus

As we rush about our lives, trying to keep up with the demands of the world, we regularly fail to notice everything going on around us. Think of the last time you ran to the store and didn't see someone until they called your name to get your attention. If they hadn't called out to you, you wouldn't have even known they were there. All too often this seems to be the pattern in our spiritual lives too. We get too busy worrying about the world and what it tells us to do that we sometimes miss the small and simple things in life. Have you ever stopped to watch the way a snowflake gently drifts to the ground settling in among the many that have come before? Maybe this is a little silly to some people, but when I park on a hill I smile every time my car door opens or closes for me because of gravity. Looking around during the different seasons, notice the many different colors. I like to think that God provides one for each of us because he knows we're all different and like different colors. If we're always rushing through life, we miss these things. Instead of focusing on the beautiful petals of the rose in front of us, all we see is the concrete of the sidewalk as it winds on and reminds us of things we need to do. As we fill our lives and minds with so much STUFF, we are blocking out the Spirit. Take the ear phones out, put the phone away, and just notice! It might just be that the next person to walk by needs that smile from you, even if they have no idea who you are. Just because we are in the world doesn't mean we have to be OF the world. Try changing your focus from the demands of the world to the things of the spirit. If you do, everything will work.

My GRANDma

Dress up. V-8 juice. Lemon Pepper. Dark Chocolate. Crab apple trees. Easter Egg hunts. Bonfires. Little apple-shaped bottles of Martinelli's juice. Orange tabby cats. American Rabbit. Touched by an Angel. Early Edition. Doc. Making valentines out of heart-shaped paper doilies to send to cousins who were serving in the mission field. Ginger snaps and milk. Sleepovers. Sunday dinner. Cabbage. Lima beans and ham. The birthday drawer. Plums. Climbing the willow tree that used to be in the front yard. Family vacations in the RV. Ice cream in Yellowstone. Daisy the 4-wheeler. Little Black Sambo. The pig cookie jar that oinks when you open it. Picnics in Oak City canyon. Duffy and Pursy the cats. Walking sticks with bells. Picking leaves in the fall when they change colors. The candy dish that is usually kept on the dryer but moves to the fireplace mantle during holidays. Charcoal pencils. Typewriters. The yearly flooding of the basement when the irrigation comes. Homemade ice cream with saltine crackers. My first dance at Van's Dance Hall. Sitting in the hot tub. The Taj Mahal. Orange sticks at Christmas time. Bottled grape juice. Dancing to the Rice Krispies record. The little closet in the "play room" where she keeps the easter baskets.

I'd like to deviate a bit and dedicate this entry to my amazing Grandma. Many of the simple joys in my life are a result of the many times I've spent at Grandma's house. As I was avoiding homework one evening, I realized the impact she has had on my life. The list at the beginning of this entry contains just a few of the many things that remind me of her. Some of them have stories to go along with them, while most of them would be recognized immediately by any who know her. I'd like to share a few of those stories with you.

Every summer my family and I (along with Grandma, of course!) would pack up the RV and take a vacation. She kept a walking stick behind the fold down couch (which was indisputably her bed). The walking stick had a bell on it. If I remember correctly, it was from Yellowstone. One year when we went to Yellowstone, some of my siblings and I had seen more than we wanted of rocks. That's all Yellowstone is! So at one stop, we refused to leave the RV and go on yet another boring hike to see... yup, rocks. When those who did go on the hike came back, they were eating ice cream, mom and dad's "punishment" to us for not going. Grandma gave me the rest of her half-eaten ice cream cone and told me it was because I take such good care of her.

My first (and only) dance at Van's Dance hall was a lot of fun. Daddy and I "danced" the polka. When I say "danced," really I mean he picked me up and spun me around while HE did the polka. It was also the first time I had ever danced with a boy. Tiffany made me dance with her friends. Next to the memory of my dance with Daddy, though, is dancing with Grandma. We danced around the room as she told me random things about the dance hall and how it used to look before they remodeled some of it, and how she used to like dancing.

Grandma always had cookies in her cookie jar. I think she got the oinking pig so she could know when we were sneaking a cookie. As we all got older, we discovered how to lift the lid carefully and quickly so we could hold down the button to keep it from making noise.

Watching TV with Grandma is always fun. I'll always remember the day when she told me that she had a "crush" on Billy Ray Cyrus in Doc. I laughed as she told me she thought he was very good looking.

I blame the fact that I LOVE dark chocolate on my Grandma. She is, after all, the one who introduced me to it and shared her stash with me.

To my Grandma:

You gave me a mother

and raised her up right

some aunts and an uncle

all taught with the light

You gave me a friend

in whom to confide

to share in my pain

when I'm broken inside.

A person to share

in my happiness too

who let me run rampant

in a house like a zoo.

Without you I'd miss

many memories dear

and fun things we've done

when'er you were here.

The great camping trips,

the paths that we walked,

bonfires shared,

and times we just talked.

Pictures were taken

and glued in your book

to always remind us

to just stop and look.

There in the hot tub

on a cold winter eve

we'd sit and we'd soak,

no desire to leave.

At the end of the day,

when all's said and done,

I'll always remember

you were equaled by none.

Truly she is a GRANDma.

The Blind Shall See

As I was walking to class this morning, I noticed a young man trying to find his way across campus. He was blind. I watched as he used his cane to guide him away from the snowbank on the edge of the sidewalk. This is not an unusual occurrence on campus, as there are a few blind people I have noticed from day to day. This particular young man, though, seemed to be new. I felt a pang of sorrow for him as he asked a nearby voice where he was and where the student center was. I can't imagine going through life without being able to see where I was or the beauty that surrounds me everyday. This is one of the greatest reminders I have the God truly does love me. He sends amazing sunsets and sunrises to cheer me when life's colors are dull. He sends sparkling snow to distract me from the cares of the world. In the spring, He reminds me of the new life available to me through His atonement. In the fall, He changes the colors of the leaves to paint a beautiful picture on the mountainside. He sends rainbows and clouds with silver lining. He gave me sight to see the smiles on the faces of those I reach out to. He lets me see the pain and hurt in those I can help and the loneliness in the faces of those I can befriend. He has given me the privilege of being able to see the magnificence of the temple and the majestic mountains. I am so grateful that I am able to see the world, especially from behind the lens of my camera. I can't wait for the day when the darkness will be removed from the eyes of this young man and so many others like him.

Be the Answer

Walking home from class today, I noticed a couple girls trying (unsuccessfully) to get out of a snowed-in parking lot. One girl was driving the car and another was trying to push her out of the parking space. The snow was so deep in that area that one of the car's front tires was entirely off the ground while the other one spun uselessly on the snow. As I was coming up closer to the parking lot, one of the girls near me stepped of the sidewalk and walked over to help, then a guy wandered over. Suddenly three other guys realized it wasn't working and wandered over to help. I watched the scene unfold: one girl in the car, two more girls and 3 guys pushing. I wanted to help but knew I would only be in the way. I stopped to watch them push until the car was able to leave the parking lot, thinking about the way these random strangers took a few moments out of their walk home to help and realized the good that surrounds me daily. They could have walked on as I know many would, but they didn't. It made me consider the many times I felt like I should stop and help someone, but passed up the opportunity. The Lord put us here to help others. Sometimes the Lord will answer your prayers Himself, but more often He sends someone to us. Be the answer He sent you here to be.

Humility

This post is a bit different in that it is more humorous, but I had to tell my embarrassing first day of school story.

School started once again and I found myself trekking through the snow, across the slick ice on campus. Careful to keep my feet firmly underneath me, I walked from building to building. I slid a couple times, but I was able to keep upright. I was feeling pretty good about myself and my ice "skating" abilities, having made it safely from one side of campus to the other in less than ten minutes. I walked inside the building and started down the stairs when I realized my feet were no longer firmly underneath me. I can only assume the stairs were wet, because I slid the rest of the way down the stairs on my back. As it was, my pride was hurt enough without onlookers, but that apparently wasn't the plan. I had such perfect timing that it put me exactly between classes when everyone was out in the hallway. I really thought I felt okay afterwards, so I brushed it off and told all the guys I was fine. When I got to work, I realized I was going to feel it for awhile. I have bruises.

I guess this is the part where I add a moral... First, railings are there for a reason. Second, there will always be a large group of guys when something embarrassing is about to happen. Really though, to take it for what it's worth, we need to remember that the obvious dangers aren't necessarily the ones we need to watch for. I was aware of the ice outside, thus I was able to prevent an embarrassing outdoor display. It wasn't until I was inside, where I thought I was safe, that I slipped up. Pride is the first thing you notice damaged, but if you look deep enough, you will probably realize that wasn't the only damage done.

Choosing your Path

As I was rock climbing at the Rock Haus on Saturday night, I found myself halfway up the wall and stuck. I tried going left, but ran into an even harder path. Upon further investigation, the right was not an option either because I was too far left already. I clung to the wall for several seconds as I surveyed my situation. Doing the only thing I really COULD do as I sat there clinging to the wall, arms tired and failing, I put both hands in the same handhold and pulled with all my strength; trusting my belayer to catch me if I fell. I eventually made it to the top, though it wasn't easy. Looking up from the ground, I could see the many paths and hand/foot holds available; but from my position on the side of the wall, I hadn't thought ahead and planned my path. I also couldn't see that some of the rocks were going to be rounded and slick, with no crevices to grip. Trading places with my belayer, I held the rope as he climbed. Halfway up he got stuck in the same place. Although my belayer was watching me climb and giving some guidance from below, he still made the same mistake I did. I hadn't warned him to stay to the right when I got back down. On my next trip up the wall, I tried to choose my footing more carefully, yet ran into the same problem and got stuck in the same place. This time I didn't make it to the top. Weakened as I was, my arms were giving out and I could feel myself losing the strength I needed to hold on. At this point, I was very grateful for my belayer as he slowly let the rope out and lowered me to the floor. Sometimes in our lives, we get stuck on the path and can't seem to move on. Our hands may start to get slippery and we think we can't hold on. It is then that we need to put our trust in God and let him hold us up so we can keep going. There are times when we have to start out on the same path, we just need to keep in mind that there are many branches on the path. If one doesn't feel right or you get stuck, don't be afraid to let God help you go back and start again. When you reach the bottom again, you will have some knowledge to help others along the path too. You will be able to tell them about the rounded rocks and paths that will be easier in the climb to the top.

A sure foundation

While driving home from work a few days ago I turned a corner and worked, once again, on straightening the tires and not sliding all over the road. My car doesn't have very good traction and no snow tires or chains. As I was going through this routine, I realized that driving on snow is a lot like the gospel. If we don't have the gospel in our life, we are like a car sliding all over the road, sometimes going off the road when things get bad. On the other hand, if we read the scriptures and pray often, it's like adding snow tires and 4-wheel drive. Sometimes, even with the gospel in our lives, we slide out of control on the snow; but with 4-wheel drive and snow tires we are able to get back on the road again when we are stuck. There are times when we can't get "unstuck" so we have to call a friend. How is this any different from life when it gets rough? As the snow falls and gets deeper (or as life gets harder and it seems more and more trials and tribulations are being heaped upon you), it gets harder to keep control of the car. Just when it starts getting ridiculous, the snowplows come. If we are sincerely trying to live the gospel, Christ will be there to help. Just as the children of Israel had to get their feet before the river would part the second time, we also need to "get our feet wet" and not expect Christ to step in before we have taken the first steps. If we don't call a friend to help us out when we get stuck in a snowbank or we drive through the backroads we know won't be plowed when it snows, how do we get the help we need?

Become as a little child

Riding home with my brother Gary and his family late Christmas eve, I was once again reminded how much little children truly are treasures, and even (dare I say) good examples to follow. In Matthew 18:3, Christ himself says, "... Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." To some, this could be a little confusing... which is one of the many reasons I am grateful for the Book of Mormon. Mosiah 3:19 lists some of the characteristics of little children: "... submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father." Reading through these characteristics, it makes total sense. Gary's son is 1 year old. Sitting there in the seat next to him, I was amazed and in awe of this little child. As I looked at his face a thought occured to me - he is so innocent and Christlike! For a moment, I saw a little piece of heaven and realized that just one year ago Ethan was with our Father in Heaven. I could tell Ethan was getting tired, but instead of being cranky he was being funny. Everytime I would look over at him, he'd grin at me. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I could see him staring at me, waiting for me to turn my head so he could give me that cute grin complete with dimples... and people say adults are supposed to entertain children! Ethan had, in essence, reversed the game of peek-a-boo; but instead of him hiding his face, I would look away. Every time he smiled at me, I wondered what it was he saw in me and hoped I could live up to that. It seemed almost as if I were looking into the face of Christ, and He was smiling at me.

Music of the Heart

Scientists speculate that Einstein used more of his brain than the average human, resulting in his superior intelligence. I believe that extremely talented musicians have a similar phenomenon. I know this isn't scientifically accurate, but humor me and perhaps you will agree. I truly believe that musicians use more of their heart. I was watching Andrea Bocelli on KBYU tonight when I first realized this. I hadn't really thought about it until I saw him singing with his eyes closed. This amazing musician was born with Glaucoma, and as a result is now blind. Although I do not personally know him I like to imagine that when he is on stage, he sings for himself and perhaps his family. When you can't see the people you are singing to, you are able to forget you are really singing for someone and pour your heart and soul into it. Whenever I listen to music and really want to enjoy it, I close my eyes. The moment you stop trying to see is the moment you are free to feel. Music has a much more profound impact on your life when you actually feel it. One song in particular comes to mind: Meditation from Thais. When I close my eyes and drift off to that little place where I no longer have a care in the world, I can feel the music in my heart. When you watch a singer perform live, how often and when do they close their eyes? It's generally at a climax or a part that is supposed to be FELT, not just heard. It is then that they are drawing added measure from within the heart. I would like to invite you to close your eyes and listen... listen with your heart.

Christmas miracles

This year for Christmas my ward decided to do our own little "Sub for Santa" for some families. We went out and bought lots of groceries and had a blast wrapping presents for the children in these families. Last night those of us who were still here in Logan "delivered Christmas" for family home evening. At each stop we all went to the door and sang "We wish you a Merry Christmas", after which we paraded into the house with groceries and presents in hand. To me, the first stop was just a lot of fun because I finally got to go caroling. At the second stop, though, it finally hit me. I was leading the parade to the kitchen with the groceries. Walking through the front room I noticed a tiny, almost "Charlie Brown" Christmas tree. It was slightly fuller than one.. you know the type: maybe two feet tall, the kind a lot of college students would have in their own bedroom. Underneath the tree was probably the only Christmas they were expecting this year, couldn't have been more than 5 tiny gifts. Being the first one back into the front room, I played with the cute baby whose play pen was a laundry basket lined with a blanket and a pillow. As I watched the 1st counselor in the bishopric speak to the father, I could see this father on the verge of tears. We took them by total surprise and delivered a Christmas to remember. The look on his face as we all squeezed into the small front room was priceless. As we all left the house, I truly felt the spirit of what we were doing. Holding back my own tears I said a silent prayer to thank Heavenly Father for directing us to this family - a family of my spirit brothers and sisters who clearly needed help this Christmas. May we all find the joy of serving others, especially this time of year.

Merry Christmas to the troops

As I was standing in the checkout line at Smith’s Marketplace a few days ago, I overheard a little girl (maybe 9 years old) tell her father, "They should let the troops come home for Christmas." I fought back the tears as I heard her father quietly explain to her that war doesn’t work that way. In a way that perhaps only someone with experience could do, he told her about how the war in Vietnam lasted for ten years. He continued his explanation by telling her that both sides thought they were right and that’s why the wars continue. She interrupted every few sentences with comments, "But it’s not fair! They should be able to come home to their families for Christmas!" and "Why can’t they just leave Iraq?" Maybe it was just my imagination, but the girl sounded like she was fighting back tears. I left the store even more grateful to the men and women who are out there fighting for my freedom. I would like to echo this young girl’s sentiment in wishing them home for Christmas. While I understand that this won’t happen, I pray for our troops daily. Join me in telling them thanks. Xerox has a program where you can go to their website letssaythanks.com and make a Christmas card for the troops. They print out the postcards and send them to soldiers all around the world. It’s free, takes three simple steps, and can bring a bit of joy to those who are away from their families. May God bless all of you, especially those with friends and family in the service.

First Post!

I ask for your patience while I experiment with my first ever attempt at blogging. It is my hope that you will be at least momentarily happier with each new posting! After all, isn't that what life is about? Especially this time of year as we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Do me a favor. Stop whatever else you are doing right now and think of a few of the simple joys in life. Maybe you have a big, goofy family with lots of quirks. Are you able to get yourself out of bed and dressed in the morning? Why not celebrate?! One of my favorite joys in life is snow. Yes, that dreadful white stuff that gets all over everything and can cause you to be soaking wet when you show up late for work because you had to FIND your car first. Have you ever noticed the snow on a sunny day? It sparkles. It can be mind-numbingly cold with a breeze that chills you to the bone as you run from place to place, but once you stop and see the snow sparkling and swirling around you it has an amazing effect. For a moment, maybe even just a fraction of a second I forget the cold. It feels almost like even my insides are smiling at this beautiful display of nature. Next time you are shuffling through the snow, perhaps even grumbling to yourself, try to find the sparkle and maybe others will see a similar sparkle in you.