Ghandi & Miller Time

I saw a great cartoon today from Drew Litton that speaks to the annual "Miller Time" phenomenon where I live.

In years past I posted about how I unleash my wrath on these insects when they overstay their welcome. http://fletchword.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-miller-time.html. However this year, I've made it my goal NOT TO KILL A SINGLE MOTH. Ghandi will now survive his hunger strike against my bloodthirsty lifestyle and spin clothes for my wife.

This oath may prove to be a bit difficult with my daughters screaming for vengeance as they encounter these harmless creatures in the house, but I'm determined to show I don't have to be mass murderer to please my children. In fact, I will also benefit from my pacifist policy by appeasing Asnar-Amash the moth creature also known as one of the ANCIENT AND UNSPEAKABLE ONES who will return before the oncoming GLOBAL SUPER APOCALYPSE (also known to Christians as the Second Comming). 

Nothing like hitting two moths with one swing of the swatter.

The Other Prodigal

Some of you may remember a wonderfully insightful talk by Elder Holland entitled The Other Prodigal. It focuses on the second son who stayed home and was seemingly faithful, but needed just as much help as his wayward brother. I was recently reminded of my favorite scene in the movie Jesus of Nazareth where the filmmaker chose to show Jesus relating this parable as a message to Peter who is upset about Jesus taking Matthew (a despised Publican or tax collector) as His disciple. Very interesting to watch in the context of Elder Holland's talk.



Here is a link to Elder Holland's talk where I would encourage you to watch, listen or read.

http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2002/04/the-other-prodigal?lang=eng

Hopefully I can do better at accepting others as I would want to be accepted by Jesus. Happy Saturday to you all.

Runner's High - Be in the Right Place

Today I discovered a set back that would cost me hundreds of dollars. Naturally I was quite upset. Since the kids were all gone and the wife abandoned me, I decided it would be best to go for a run, rather than mope around the house.

Because I'm morbidly obese and pathetic at running, I would need extra motivation to keep a steady rythm and pace. So I busted out the Paul Okenfold station on Pandora with my iphone and took off. It really did help, but around mile four I started to feel spacey, probably due to the trance music. I imagined penguins singing the lyrics I heard. I started to wonder if the sun really went behind a cloud or if I was having a blood-sugar induced spat of color blindness? I could feel my hands tingling and my pulse in the fingertips. Overlooking the Walnut Hills Elementary playground from the trial, I wondered if I was about to pull a Jonathan Kent and inspire my son to simply go "north" and build a crystal palace. But I pressed on, aided by remixes of Sarah McLaughlin. I was on the runner's high.

A bit later as I passed Walnut Hills park, I saw about 300 yards in front of me a young mother pushing a stroller while guiding a toddler on a bike with training wheels. At the end of this trail is a short but steep incline. At this point I'm near the end of mile six and nearly spent. The party in front of me starts the ascent and the kid can't peddle up the incline. The mother reaches over to stabilize her, but starts to lose control of the stroller. She eventually gets stuck trying to keep the stroller from tipping the baby over and holding the bike in place. I'm 100 yards away. So close, but not quite there to help.

I'd try to yell that I'll help, but I can barely breathe.

I can't run any faster to help. I push on hoping to get there in time.

Just as I'm about 10 feet away, she somehow rights the stroller and the kid makes it up the hill. We ascend at the same time and I stop and choke out: "I'm sorry I couldn't catch up to help you."

She smiles, looks flustered but says its OK and I run on in the other direction. And then this impression hits me like a wave in my chest.

If had had been just a little faster during my run, I could have helped her. Its not for lack of trying during the run, but I realized that my lifestyle was the real reason I was not able to be in the right place at the right time. Years of working to much, eating garbage to fuel late nights, lack of exercise and simple apathy had done this.

But I didn't feel guilty, just humbled. Like the Lord had put his hand on my shoulder and pointed something out to me as a friend. I decided I should slow down, walk home and think about this experience. I'd like to share some of the thoughts I had doing so.

• In the race of life everything factors into the spiritual pace I keep. It also affects my limits regardless of how hard I may try at any given moment. I can't use Priesthood power like flipping a light switch or trying really hard to be good in spurts. Real power comes from life consistency or having constant integrity. 
• The ability to help others is not so much dependent on speed, but more on pace. I was running a pathetic 10 minute mile, but if I am steady, the Lord can count on me to help when he places people on my path. Of course Pres. Monson spiritually runs a 1 minute mile, so he can make it to 20 people (or more) any given day - and remember it!   
• During that run, it would have been easy to stop, rest or try to find a short cut home. I OFTEN wanted to do so. But if I yield to temptation, I'm no longer able to help anyone. In fact, I'll need a friend to stop me, encourage me, and point me back on the right direction. They may even have to walk with me for a while to get me going again. Once I'm going the right direction, I can now help others who are struggling or have turned around looking for a short cut or easier path. 
• But its hard to stop someone going the other way isn't it? Life isn't much different from running on the trail. The idea of stopping a stranger on a trail and telling them to go the other direction seems ludicrous. It takes significant faith to speak up, testify and be willing to sacrifice our own time to make a difference.
• Succor. Most people correctly think of this as relief, help or assistance. The Latin root is "Succurrere" meaning:  to go beneath, run to help. Christ often works through us to accomplish his work, some might argue its the only way He does it. I used to think Succor was Him running to help me when I was turned around or crawling on the road of life. But today I realized in no uncertain terms that he runs to other people through you and me... today I got a powerful reminder of how important it is to be in the right place at the right time.
• Where Art Thou? I used to wonder, why God asked Adam hiding in the bushes "where art thou?" If he is omniscient, he already knows, so why ask? It was to put the question in Adam's mind - Where am I? I'm listening to snakes and beautiful women but not God. I need to set this straight. - And so I got the reminder today too. Where am I? Going in the right direction? What kind of pace am I keeping? Am I really able to succor others by being in the right place? Like Adam, I felt a new resolve to be better and promise the Lord that I would be.  

Sometimes spiritual impressions can come when you least expect them. I've often got a lot of negativity in my head and for a few minutes walking home the warm sunshine, cool breeze and canvass of pink, purple, green and white was an absolute beauty to behold. The best runner's high I've ever experienced and I'm still feeling it!    

My Spousal Abandonment Poem

Once again the PCG has left the PMM for the weekend. Only poetry can express my deepest feelings. Now receive my emotional nudity:

Days of agony, so distraught, grieving with true pain,

Have to clean the house and I'm screaming your name.

I hate how time passes, not one comforting word,

Like a sheep among ruthless kids, I feel lost in the heard.

Before your cruel departure, wished I'd said goodbye,

Maybe then I could let go of the moment that you made me cry.

My dearest demanding Boss, our children look like you,

They are exquisite with beauty, deep eyes shades of blue.

I love you my Boss, my mentor, best friend,

Missing you more as each of these four days slowly ends.

I think of you fondly and wish to talk with you here,

Wondering how the food will be cooked without you anywhere near.

Yes, I'm still lost, Boss I loved you so much,

Hours have gone by, still remembering that touch.

You taught me to laugh, held me when I cried,

Told me not to be scared of the day that you flyed.

You hid all my secrets, to you I'd confide,

You were everything to me, Boss, why'd you shun my hide?

The clowns were gone, I thought you were free,

Why'd vacation take you from me, you're the reason I breathed.

I hate every Friday the 13th, 'cause that's when you left,

That was the day that once again...you left.

The doctor had told me this feeling would pass,

He said the weekend will go on and this pain wouldn't last.

The more that time passes, the more agony that I feel,

The more I miss your cleaning, and wish you were here.

I love you my boss, my mentor, best friend,

Wishing this blasted weekend will come to an end.

Me watching the van drive away...

The PCG vs. PMM

PCG - Primary Care Giver
PMM - Primary Money Maker

In the battle for the MVP of the household many men or PMMs would like to think that bringing the bacon home makes them king. And perhaps at some worldly, cannibalistic bottom line level it is. However the other 90% is all about the PGC. If they go down, you are in APOCALYPTIC TROUBLE.

For example, the Boss recently took a nasty spill down the stairs (NO... I did not beat her) and tore some ligaments in her ankle. Now she is all but incapacitated and I as the lowly PMM am now trying to become the ultimate combo known as the PMCMG or Primary Money Care Maker Giver. A very selfless role. Strike against me. In some circles, these people are referred to as single parents. Needless to say after 24 hours I've been discredited as a PMCMG hopeful and will just have to make due until the foot is healed.

So to all of you PMMs out there who think you are awesome and full of swag, get over it. All you do is make temporal money that won't add up to a hill of beans after this life. I reduce you to the human ATM that you are. The real work is done by the PCGs - and may they ever stay healthy.

Courageous

Yesterday was another stirring session of Priesthood at General Conference and I came away with a greater determination to do right by my family and the Lord. After this session I was also reminded of the movie Courageous, which I saw a few weeks ago on a recommendation. I knew the movie was produced by people not of my faith or denomination, but the theme of being a courageous father does not know denominational or even religious bounds, so I gave it a try and really enjoyed it.

You have to go into it knowing you will get a sermon, but its done in a reasonable manner and if anything I really appreciated seeing such a strong message about being a good husband and father from people outside of my faith. Here is a clip from the end of the movie that sums it all up, but I still recommend it for a Sunday afternoon.



Of course, I would invite you to also check our messages from the Priesthood session which all hit on the same theme of service and duty to your family and other over and over again. Here is a link to Elder Bednar's talk which in the context of his father's story is appropriate with the Courageous clip.

http://www.lds.org/general-conference/watch/2012/04?lang=eng&vid=1540777249001&cid=3