Music & Memories

I tend to get nostalgic when I know that soon I’ll be undergoing some major life changes.  It happened when I left for the mission field.  It happened when I was about to come home.  It happened when I finished college and moved to Wisconsin, and it happened when I was leaving Wisconsin for Texas.  I’m now a short month away from another major change — leaving Texas and moving back home to Utah.  Who knows what this change will bring...  Will I stay in Utah or will it be a brief interlude before yet another major change?  Which old friendships will rekindle and which new friendships will be formed?  What other high points and low points will I encounter in this next phase of my mortal story?  I don’t dare speculate right now...  All that, however, does not change the fact that right now I’m feeling nostalgic.  These last 4 years have changed me every bit as much as the 4 years before that (Wisconsin), the 5 years before that (college), the 2 before that (mission) and so on… Each of these phases have associated memories, feelings, people, experiences, joys, sorrows...  I think that is how this “second estate” is supposed to work.  We are not meant to be static.  Rather, we are supposed to be changed by our experiences.  I’ve made a few good choices along the way and more than my fair share of dumb choices.  Mostly, however, I made choices that I’m not sure if they were “right” or “wrong”.  They changed me, that is certain.  They have helped shape who I am today.  And for the most part I’m at peace with how it has all gone, so perhaps that is the litmus test I should use.  But at nostalgic times like this, my mind is less interested in speculating about what the future holds and more interested in remembering — remembering the people, places, events, feelings and what those things taught me and how they shaped my current self — warts and all.  And perhaps this stroll down memory lane can spur me to move forward into the future with just a little more faith.  A little more peace.  A little more confidence that God has a plan and that while I’m far from perfect, he has provided me with the essentials and more to become what He wants me to become...

I was recently inspired by something written by an old college acquaintance.  Everyone should read it — seriously, this is gifted writing.  <http://katierosebastian.blogspot.com/2014/05/happiness-and-messes.html>  Reading her reflections has spurred me to a similar reminiscence.  I’ve had my recollection antenna on as I’ve listened to my iPod over the last few days and it has transported my thoughts to some of the most defining times of my life — both the sweet times and the bitter ones — and helped me to remember.  

My iPod’s shuffle feature mixed several of my playlists together, including songs from my “Sunday” playlist.  The list of approved music on my mission was pretty short.  This naturally led to us listening to the same few approved songs over and over.  Among the approved albums were those by the BYU Concert Choirs which my parents kindly sent me on my first Australian Christmas.  My favorite song — one that I listened to many many times, not only for its beauty, but also its power — was “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”.  I didn’t know at the time, but have learned since, that this is a popular one among many different faiths, including the LDS community.  It has remained a favorite for me.  I recall a night in my second area after I’d been in Australia about 7 or 8 months that we had been at a late dinner appointment.  We rode our bikes home after dinner in the dark.  It was a clear and warm night and the stars were as bright as I’d ever seen.  This was also a time in my mission when I was feeling pretty discouraged.  I recall going into the “backyard” (really just a small strip of grass with a clothes line overhead), laying down and gazing at the southern cross among the other stars.  As I often do, I had a little conversation with Heaven in my head.  I explained my desires to be of service and of my discouragement with how things were going.  I laid it out that I had no intention of quitting but that I felt very inadequate to the task at hand.  The words of “Come Thou Fount” came to my head —

“Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by thy help I’m come; and I hope, by thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home…here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.”

I felt some calm and comfort after this and I went back inside to get ready for bed.  That was it.  One of countless little tender mercies during those two years that changed me and helped me remember what I was doing and why I was doing it.

The shuffle function later switched to music from my “80’s Hair Rock” playlist.  There is a version of the Scorpions “Rock You Like a Hurricane” that they preformed with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra in the background.  It’s a great version of the song.  In retrospect I can see that perhaps the message of the song was not super wholesome, but it was nevertheless a big pump-up song I’d listen to in the midst of long grueling study sessions.  There were lots of those study sessions in college.  Some sessions were productive…some less so…  My memory flashed to a big microbiology test I was studying for.  It was another moment where I was not sure I was up to the task at hand.  But despite my lack of total self confidence, I was blessed to do well.  Another tender mercy.  It helped me remember that I have a Father in Heaven who cares about all the aspects of my life.  Not just the missionary and church-on-Sunday parts, but the academic and secular parts also.

My iPod later shuffled to my “Easy Listening” playlist and I heard Dallyn Vail Bayles sing “Better Than I”.  I can’t help but pause, close my eyes for a second, and suck a breath in whenever I hear this one.  Whenever I hear it, I get a wistful desire to be able to carry a tune in a bucket because despite how awesome I’m convinced I sound when singing with the radio alone in my car, singing is not one of the talents I was born with.  If I did have a worthy voice, this is perhaps the first song I’d want to learn.  It represents one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever faced, and all of the unexpected yet necessary downstream consequences.  This song was introduced to my by a dear friend who was “in the loop” during the most difficult part of this experience as his way of trying to help me learn that all was not lost.  The details here are not important but I again felt small compared to the demands of the situation.  

“If this has been a test I cannot see the reason, but maybe knowing I don’t know is part of getting through…For You know better than I, You know the way.  I’ve let go the need to know why, for You know better than I.”

I often find it difficult to accept life’s challenges and end up playing the “why did this happen to me” card.  It took some time for me to accept that this particular challenge was not just important, but necessary for me to experience.  I can now look at the consequences of this situation and see that this needed to happen — that it was all a gigantic tender mercy all along — even though I didn’t believe it at the time.  It helped me remember that the bitter is needed as well as the sweet to help us meet our potential.

One of my favorite playlists is “Intern Year”.  It has all the songs that we would have playing in the workroom during my months on Internal Medicine.  Intern year has a reputation of being brutal.  The learning curve is steep, the hours are long, overnight call is terrifying, and all the worst stuff happens at around 2 am when no one else is around.  Also, the attending are sometimes grouchy, the pager never stops going off, and the patients want answers that you don’t yet have an answer to.  It is pretty easy to get overwhelmed.  My intern year was all of these things – everyone’s is.  As a way of coping we would have music playing in the workroom as we typed notes, wrote orders, looked up information and organized the reams of papers, printouts, binders, folders, and EKG prints.  The people you are on service with as an intern generally become very close friends.  It’s hard to be “in the trenches” with these people and not get connected.  It’s impossible to be a fake during these times and so you end up learning a lot about your coworkers as well as yourself.  I learned that I kind of like rap music.  My co-intern is one of my favorite people in the world.  She would bring her speakers and iPhone every day and stream her favorite rap and hip-hop Pandora stations.  After a few weeks we had heard all the songs several times and we could start to sing along.  We all gave each other rapper names and would refer to each other by these names.  Sometimes in a careless moment, we would call each other these names when the attending was in the room or in front of a patient.  Perhaps not the most professional thing to do, but no one seemed to mind too much.  My iPod played Chris Brown’s “This Christmas” (my co-intern’s favorite song during the December we worked together).  This song is fine.  Not my favorite in a strictly musical sense, but one with a lot of attached memories — memories of a difficult time and the people I was fortunate to be around who helped.  It helps me remember how many times, before and after my intern year, that I’ve had the tender mercy of good people around me able and willing to help.

Shuffle then brought up Sara Bareilles’ "Gavity” and then Jon McLaughlin’s “Indiana” and I was transported back to that car ride and I can remember the physically painful heartache.  I can’t help but sing along because these songs convey what I’m not eloquent enough to convey.  I’m frankly still working through this one, but its getting better and I remember that part of what Christ taught he would do is “heal the broken-hearted”.  I’ve felt that before and I know I’ll continue to feel it.

Spencer Kimball once stated that

“When you look in the dictionary for the most important word, do you know what it is?  It could be ‘remember.’  Because all of [us] have made covenants…our greatest need is to remember.  That is why everyone goes to sacrament meeting every Sabbath day — to take the sacrament and listen to the priests pray that [we] ‘…may always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given [us].’… ‘Remember is the word” (Circles of Exaltation, BYU, June 28 1968)

It’s good to remember.  

Elder Bednar taught

“Faith as the evidence of things not seen typically looks to the past. Truly, our confidence and trust in God are strengthened by examples and evidence of His influence in the past. This element of faith provides proof and confirmation that things unseen indeed are real. For example, many of our pioneer forefathers were protected, preserved, and strengthened in the most difficult and demanding of circumstances. The legacy of faith and testimony they left for us provides powerful evidence of things not seen. Similarly, a young missionary called to serve in a remote part of the world, and who may be understandably anxious about his or her service, is fortified by the faith-promoting experiences of family and friends who already have served as full-time missionaries in various parts of the world.” (According to Thy Faith, Ricks College Devotional, Aug 29, 2000)

Finally my iPod shuffles me back to my “Sunday” playlist and Christina England is singing “How Can I Keep From Singing”.  My heart fills and I catch a small glimpse of what God wants me to be and what he has done to make it possible to reach that potential.  It’s the perfect expression of how I’m feeling.

Perhaps I don’t feel so silly for being nostalgic from time to time...

The Real Christmas

I came across this for the first time many years ago.  It has crossed my mind every Christmas since then and for all the intervening years I have meant to find it and read it again.  This year, for some reason, the thought came with more force than usual, and thanks to the wonders of Google, I found it.  

I must give credit where credit is due.  William B. Smart wrote this, along with many other thoughtful essays, which have been published in his book “Messages for a Happier Life”.  And while I was not the first to "put pen to paper" with these words, it so perfectly captures what I have long felt about my favorite holiday that in some small way I feel like I have a claim on these words — they are exactly what I would say if I had the eloquence and thoughtfulness of the true author.

Regardless, it is a powerful thought and I hope others may enjoy this as much as I do.

THREE LEVELS OF CHRISTMAS

Christmas is a beautiful time of the year. We love the excitement, the giving spirit, the special awareness of and appreciation for family and friends, the feelings of love and brotherhood that bless our gatherings at Christmastime.

In all of the joyousness, it is well to reflect that Christmas comes at three levels.
Let's call the first the Santa Claus level. It's the level of Christmas trees and holly, of whispered secrets and colorful packages, of candlelight and rich food and warm open houses. It's carolers in the shopping malls, excited children, and weary but loving parents. It's a lovely time of special warmth and caring and giving. It's the level at which we eat too much and spend too much and do too much—and enjoy every minute of it. We love the Santa Claus level of Christmas.

But there's a higher, more beautiful level. Let's call it the Silent Night level. It's the level of all our glorious Christmas carols, of that beloved, familiar story: "Now in those days there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus. . . . " It's the level of the crowded inn and the silent, holy moment in a dark stable when the Son of Man came to earth. It's shepherds on steep, bare hills near Bethlehem, angels with their glad tidings, a new star in the East, wise men traveling far in search of the Holy One. How beautiful and meaningful it is; how infinitely poorer we would be without this sacred second level of Christmas.

The trouble is, these two levels don't last. They can't.

Twelve days of Christmas, at the first level, is about all most of us can stand. It's too intense, too extravagant. The tree dries out and the needles fall. The candles burn down. The beautiful wrappings go out with the trash, the carolers are up on the ski slopes, the toys break, and the biggest day in the stores in the entire year is exchange day, December 26. The feast is over and the dieting begins. But the lonely and the hungry are with us still, perhaps lonelier and hungrier than before.

Lovely and joyous as the first level of Christmas is, there will come a day, very soon, when Mother will put away the decorations and vacuum the living room and think, "Thank goodness that's over for another year."

Even the second level, the level of the Baby Jesus, can't last. How many times this season can you sing "Silent Night"? The angels and the star and the shepherd, even the silent, sacred mystery of that holy night itself, can't long satisfy humanity's basic need. The man who keeps Christ in the manger will, in the end, be disappointed and empty.

No, for Christmas to last all year long, for it to grow in beauty and meaning and purpose, for it to have the power to change lives, we must celebrate it at the third level, that of the adult Christ. It is at this level—not as an infant—that our Savior brings His gifts of lasting joy, lasting peace, lasting hope. It was the adult Christ who reached out and touched the untouchable, who loved the unlovable, who so loved us all that even in His agony on the cross He prayed forgiveness for His enemies.

This is the Christ, creator of worlds without number, who wept, Enoch tells us, because so many of us lack affection and hate each other—and then who willingly gave His life for all of us, including those for whom He wept. This is the Christ, the adult Christ, who gave us the perfect example, and asked us to follow Him.

Accepting that invitation is the way—the only way—to celebrate Christmas all year and all life long.

"...Help Thou Mine Unbelief" -- My first post in over a year

Dearest family, friends and loved ones,

Sometimes it feels like an unfair double-whammy when Easter Sunday is followed by conference Sunday.  There is simply no time to regain one's composure.  And there is no time to get all your thoughts out in a coherent way before a whole new flood of thoughts pours in.  But sometimes (OK, most of the time) it serves to provide further light on a particular topic.  I started writing this last Sunday (Easter), but didn't have time to finish…and now I'm glad about that!  Much of what was taught in general conference this weekend were things I needed to hear.  But little hit me quite as hard as what Elder Holland taught (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XS7Pu31GYZw).  It was, to me, a very clear tender mercy that he chose this particular story in which to frame his teachings as it has been a story that has been on my mind for quite a while.  I already wish the transcript of his talk was available because there were so many new insights…so many powerful thoughts…I will have to be patient.

Regardless, I figure I'd better get these thoughts out now or I will end up distracted and never finish. 

-Eric (4/7/2013)

On this Easter Sabbath I sat down to write a letter to my sister who is serving a mission in Spain.  As I started writing, it quickly became clear that there were things bouncing around in my mind and heart that I wanted to share with all of you who have been so important to me and meant so much in my life.  I do not claim to be very wise and I'm certainly no authority, but these are parts of what I have learned over my lifetime and every once in a while I think it is appropriate to get such things down in a written / tangible form and share it with people.  It may be of no interest to anyone but myself, but at very least I have found that on the occasions that I feel strongly that I should write and share part of what I know and feel; that knowledge and feeling is engrained ever deeper into my own heart and it helps me in my daily struggle to live such principles.  I hope no one minds…

There has been a New Testament account that has been in my mind for the last several months.  It is the story of the father who brings his child to the Savior to be healed and cleansed from the dark spirit which had taken possession of him.  Matthew, Mark and Luke each give an account of this event (Matthew 17:14-21, Mark 9:14-29, Luke 9:37-43).  It is some of what I have learned as I've thought on this scriptural account that for whatever reason feels so pertinent right now.

The first thing that strikes me are the two perspectives from which one can view this account.  There is the perspective of the boy who is healed, certainly.  But there is also the perspective of the father who brings his son to Christ for healing.  Both perspectives, I think, teach important truths.

First, from the perspective of the father who brings his son to the Savior for healing.  Matthew records that "…there came to him [Christ] a certain man, kneeling down to him, and saying, Lord have mercy on my son: for he is lunatick, and sore vexed: for ofttimes he falleth into the fire and oft into the water" (Matt 17:14-15).  Mark's account is thus, "Master, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit; and wheresoever he taketh him, he teareth him: and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth, and pineth away…" (Mark 9:17-18).  Luke's account of the father's plea is my favorite, "And behold a man of the company cried out, saying, Master, I beseech thee, look upon my son: for he is mine only child.  And, lo, a spirit taketh him, and he suddenly crieth out; and it teareth him that he foameth again, and bruising him hardly departeth from him." (Luke 9:38-39). 

I can only imagine what this father felt like.  This was his only son.  Someone he clearly loved very much and had worried long and hard over.  Mark gives us the additional piece of information that the son had been in this condition since his childhood (Mark 9:21).  I get the impression that the father had been caring for his son in this condition for a long time -- trying everything he could think of but to no avail.  Yet, he persisted in loving and caring for the child and was still willing to bring him first to the apostles and later to Christ himself.  I can imagine the sense of desperate hope this father had.  He cared so deeply about the well-being of his son that despite the years of struggle and what I'm sure must have felt like persistent failures to cure the boy, he nonetheless pressed on toward the one thing that ultimately could save his child. 

Mark's account is the most complete as to what happened once the father petitioned Christ for help. 

"And they brought him [the boy] unto him [Christ]: and when he [the boy] saw him [Christ], straightway the spirit tare him [the boy]; and he fell on the ground, and wallowed foaming." (Mark 9:20)

I'm struck by the strong language these verses use.  Words like "lunatick" and "teareth, foameth, gnasheth".  These denote a violent and all-consuming fight.  And while these words have some shock value, I think they perfectly convey the sense of the struggle we are involved in for the souls of mankind.  There is a perfect father of our spirits and his perfect son who want us to become as they are.  Equally true, there is a being of hate, rage and darkness who wishes for the destruction of all that is good and light -- particularly the precious souls of God's children.  There is no question as to who will be the ultimate victor of this struggle.  But that certainly does not diminish the buffeting which we experience as the father of lies does all he can to bring darkness and misery to each of us.

I'm reminded of how Elder Holland put it:

Most of us do not need any more reminders than we have already had that there is one who personifies "opposition in all things," that "an angel of God" fell "from heaven" and in so doing became "miserable forever." What a chilling destiny. Lehi teaches us that because this is Lucifer's fate, "he sought also the misery of all mankind" (2 Nephi 2:11, 17–18).

[Jeffrey R. Holland, "Cast Not Away Therefore Your Confidence", March 2, 1999.]

With this context, and again, trying to see this story from the perspective of the boy's father, I can't help but hear the desperation in the father's tone as he pleads with Christ for help.  "…but if thou canst do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us…" (Mark 9:22).

• How many times have I felt or heard similar emotion as someone pleads for aid for their own life or for the life of someone they care for?

• How familiar is this tone to the missionaries in the field (and hopefully us missionaries here at home) as we try to take the glorious gospel message to so many who have no apparent interest?

• How common is this tone as one walks the corridors of a hospital or nursing home or even the halls of our own homes where sickness, disease, age or other frailties of this mortal condition make life so so difficult right now?

• How readily do we recognize this tone as we see those in our stewardships (be it those we home teach, visit teach, or anything else) struggle and fall away?

• How often is this the tone of my own heart and prayers when the trials or circumstance of life or the burden of my many many mistakes seem to mount up and be a figurative Everest before me?

The next verse seems to get most of the attention in books and Sunday school classes -- and well it should -- because here we are taught from the mouth of the Savior himself how to overcome the trials and circumstances that lead to our desperate pleas:  "Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth"  (Mark 9:23).

Certainly it is true that no sickness is too severe, no disease too disabling, no plague too destructive, no sin too great that it can not be cured by Christ and his great atonement.  I believe that is true.

...So, maybe it's just me.  Maybe I'm the only one who knows that while that verse is certainly true, in practice I simply fail to bring down the powers of heaven every time I'm burdened down by weakness, pain, sickness or sin…  Maybe it is just me.  But I don't think so…and it is for this reason that I relate to the father in this story and will be forever grateful that the Lord saw fit to keep the words of this little exchange intact and available for reading and study in his holy scripture.

To Christ's teaching that all things are possible to him that believeth, the father of the child "cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief"  (Mark 9:24).

I know I am imperfect.  I know that my faith is often imperfect.  Yet, I need help.  Many times I have similarly cried out as this father did, sometimes with figurative tears and sometimes with literal tears.  "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief!"  And then the miracle of miracles!  (here is where I would like to quote from Elder Holland's conference talk about leading with what faith we have instead of first leading with where we are lacking…but alas, that will have to wait for the conference transcripts to be released)

Christ in his infinite mercy.  Christ, who created all things, who has all power and who knows all things from the beginning to the end.  Christ, who looks beyond my many weaknesses and shortcomings and chooses to bless me today despite a perfect knowledge of past and future mistakes.  He blesses me with what I need.  (Certainly not always what I think I need, but what he knows I need from his all-seeing perspective).

Again, quoting from a previous talk given by Elder Holland,

"…soon, with that kind of love, we realize our days hold scores of thoroughfares leading to the Master and that every time we reach out, however feebly, for Him, we discover He has been anxiously trying to reach us. So we step, we strive, we seek, and we never yield…

…whatever other steps you may need to take to resolve [your] concerns, come first to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Trust in heaven’s promises. In that regard Alma’s testimony is my testimony: “I do know,” he says, “that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions."

This reliance upon the merciful nature of God is at the very center of the gospel Christ taught. I testify that the Savior’s Atonement lifts from us not only the burden of our sins but also the burden of our disappointments and sorrows, our heartaches and our despair.  From the beginning, trust in such help was to give us both a reason and a way to improve, an incentive to lay down our burdens and take up our salvation. There can and will be plenty of difficulties in life. Nevertheless, the soul that comes unto Christ, who knows His voice and strives to do as He did, finds a strength, as the hymn says, “beyond [his] own.”  The Savior reminds us that He has “graven [us] upon the palms of [His] hands.”  Considering the incomprehensible cost of the Crucifixion and Atonement, I promise you He is not going to turn His back on us now. When He says to the poor in spirit, “Come unto me,” He means He knows the way out and He knows the way up. He knows it because He has walked it. He knows the way because He is the way...

...If you are lonely, please know you can find comfort. If you are discouraged, please know you can find hope. If you are poor in spirit, please know you can be strengthened. If you feel you are broken, please know you can be mended."

[Jeffrey R. Holland, "Broken Things to Mend", April 2006]

Now, briefly, from the perspective of the boy who was healed.

We are not given much information about what he felt like.  We don't have the same kind of glimpses into his emotions that we do with his father.  Yet, we are told that when the evil spirit left, only a husk was left who many thought was dead (Mark 9:26).  But just as He does with us when He heals the parts of us that feel so damaged and broken that surely no life is left, Christ renewed and rejuvenated and brought back to life what seemed dead.

"But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up; and he arose."  (Mark 9:27)

Christ has done this same thing for me.  Spiritually, He has taken my hand and lifted me up time and again.  He fills and brings to life what previously felt so hopelessly gone.  He has done it for me in the past and the great miracle is that he will do it again.  As Elder Craig Cardon (Saturday morning session) reminded us that though we often feel that "recurring human weakness is beyond the Savior's willingness to help" the Savior will bless us with the cleansing power of his Atonement whenever we come to him with a broken heart and contrite spirit.

How grateful I am...

Staycation!

I've been on vacation this week. For the first time in memory I didn't travel anywhere for my week off. It's not that I don't want to hang with family, but finances didn't permit it this time so I've had a quiet week here in old San-Antone'.

If there was ever a perfect week to have days off down here, this was the week! We are just coming out of a reasonably wet winter and so things are green and pretty and the "famous" Texas wildflowers are out in force! Last year was so dry and brown and dead that I was convinced that this city doesn't know how to look pretty, but I've been proven wrong -- thankfully!

I've spent the week running, biking, napping, eating, reading, writing, socializing, visiting the temple, etc. It's all been very cathartic. I don't want to go back to work on Monday, but at least I don't feel like a need a vacation from my vacation.

Ever Wonder Why Gadolinium is Used for Contrast in MRI Scans?

I don't need another reason to be considered a nerd. Heaven knows I've got that vibe going strong without any help. This post and what it says about me will not help my case for "smooth, cool, Friday night date material" but I can't help myself….

I've gone through a fair number of books in the last year, several that I really liked. Some fun fiction/fantasy, some notable history/biography, some true crime, some science, etc. Nothing captured my interest, nostalgia and brain-juices more than "The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World from the Periodic Table of the Elements" did.

This book hit my radar when I was flying out of San Antonio for a wedding sometime around August. A friend of mine who I happened to cross paths with in the airport was just starting this book. At my next opportunity I got my hands on it and pretty much devoured.

In a bit of an esoteric genera that I’ve learned that I really like (science books written by scientists for a non-science audience), this book goes through each element on the periodic table and gives a history and synopsis of it’s discovery, uses and most interestingly some of the stories and scandals associated with each element. Who knew that Mendeleev's creation could be so interesting!?!

Despite majoring in chemistry as an undergraduate, there were facts and descriptions of science that were eye-opening to me. Things that had always been mysterious (probably because textbooks and professors do not always do a good job at teaching these topics) were clarified. Because this book was written for non-scientists there was no assumptions made by the author that certain principles were already well understood and so concepts were put into historical and scientific context that is often neglected in the university classroom setting. I loved that it often felt like a novel yet increased my knowledge and understanding of a topic I have a passion for.

Again, what making this my “book of the year” says about me is probably not flattering, but for anyone looking for something that is deeper than just brain candy and yet manages to be a fun read at the same time, this books is highly recommended!

Books! Books! Books!

I have a dream house...

...I know! Me, a 30+ year old guy who's idea of decorating is keeping dirty dishes out of my sink. I have a dream house, or at least several ideas of what my dream house needs to contain.

The #1 most important feature is the study/library. It needs a lot of bookshelves (filled with books, of course!) It needs big windows looking out over something green and pretty. It needs a fireplace with a La-Z-Boy in front of it -- which I hope to utilize on rainy days when all you want to do is curl up in front of a warm fireplace while the rain pounds the nearby window.

These rooms have bits and pieces of what I want. None of them are quite perfect, but they give the general idea!

Tender Mercies

It's funny what will jog your memory...

I started the night shift today which means that I have weekday daytime hours open for the first time in…well…longer than I can remember. I plan to fit in my sleeping, but also run errands that I have been neglecting for a long time since many such errands require you to be free during weekday daytime hours!

One such errand is getting my car to the mechanic and worked on (bad oil leak…no bueno!) So I took my car in after getting off work this morning. This left me needing to get home, so I loaded my bike in the back seat and rode it home after dropping the car off.

Enter unexpected memory. As I was riding my bike home I passed a run-down corner market (the kind that fill many of the corners in this city. Kind of like a gas station except it does not sell gas), I had a sudden, shockingly powerful flashback to my mission days. I was on a bike, feeling rather exhausted, in moderate weather, with my right pants leg tucked into my sock to save it from the bike's sprockets and a big/cheap/bulky bike helmet on my head. Admittedly I didn't have a fellow-biker alongside to serve as a flashback-companion, but regardless it took me back. I remembered one very specific day in Wodonga. It was similar weather. A day no different than many that sandwiched it on both sides. Not really sure why this day is the one that has stuck in my head all these years versus one of the others. There was nothing to set it apart other than my companion and myself were feeling very tired that day and stopped at a small "Milk Bar" (the Australian equivalent of a corner market) and got ourselves a cheap ice cream to cool off. That was it. Nothing big. Nothing spectacular. But for some reason, almost exactly 10 years after it happened, this memory came back this morning and brought with it many of the emotions I was having at that time and with it yet another realization of what that time in my life has meant to me.

It makes me think of what Elder Bednar taught a few years back:

"This afternoon I want to describe and discuss a spiritual impression I received a few moments before I stepped to this pulpit during the Sunday morning session of general conference last October. Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf had just finished speaking and had declared his powerful witness of the Savior. Then we all stood together to sing the intermediatehymn that previously had been announced by President Gordon B. Hinckley. The intermediate hymn that morning was “Redeemer of Israel” (Hymns, no. 6).

Now, the music for the various conference sessions had been determined many weeks before—and obviously long before my new call to serve. If, however, I had been invited to suggest an intermediate hymn for that particular session of the conference—a hymn that would have been both edifying and spiritually soothing for me and for the congregation before my first address in this Conference Center—I would have selected my favorite hymn, “Redeemer of Israel.” Tears filled my eyes as I stood with you to sing that stirring hymn of the Restoration.

Near the conclusion of the singing, to my mind came this verse from the Book of Mormon: “But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance” (1 Ne. 1:20).

My mind was drawn immediately to Nephi’s phrase “the tender mercies of the Lord,” and I knew in that very moment I was experiencing just such a tender mercy. A loving Savior was sending me a most personal and timely message of comfort and reassurance through a hymn selected weeks previously. Some may count this experience as simply a nice coincidence, but I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence. Often, the Lord’s timing of His tender mercies helps us to both discern and acknowledge them."

It is only in retrospect that I can start to see how important and influential those mission years were. Some of it certainly had to do with me learning to be out, away from my family and "being my own man". Of course it did. But it is much, much more than just that. I have many shortcomings. Many that I recognize and probably many that I don't. Regardless, I feel a desire (a desire that, hopefully on occasion at least, translates into action) to live the gospel. That desire started with righteous parents teaching me correct principals, but it solidified and has persisted largely because of what I felt and experienced as a missionary.

And it was riding my bike past an old corner market that reminded me.

I needed that….