Glorious Morning

I was up before dawn this morning and, having enjoyed my devotions, went for a walk.  The sunrise this morning was spectacular!  So breath taking in fact, that I wanted to run from door to door in the neighborhood waking everybody up so they wouldn't miss it.  It was one of those heavenly scenes that make you wonder if this is the day.  Is this the moment of Christ's glorious return?  Will He appear in such a magnificent sunrise?

I knew my daughter and grandkids were up in time and headed out to participate in a Kid's Triathlon in Roosevelt.  They would be traveling west at that moment and I prayed that they might turn around a behold the brilliant grandeur of the morning sky.  How thankful I was that we weren't snuggled under the covers, but rather, out here beholding the handiwork of God.

I have a funeral to attend today and later a fireside to address.  I spent my walk contemplating what the Lord would have be express to the bereaved and what He might have me offer as counsel to the Youth of Maeser 1st Ward.  My mind turned to the end of the world.  Will I be here to see it?  Or, will I like Aunt Vera have my own mortal end come before then.  Over the course of my life I've had a number of people ask if it was the end of the world.  After every earth quake or typhoon we experienced in the Philippines, people would approach and ask if we thought it was the end of the world.  After 9/11, the same thing.  After Presidents Clinton and Bush and Obama were elected, the same thing.  Is this the end of the world?  Some times I've been tempted to say, "I hope so."

What some of us fear others of us eagerly anticipate.  I suspect the world has some significant time left, but do we?  Aunt Vera's end of the world came just the other day.  Mine might be tomorrow.  Yours might be thirty years from now.  If we are prepared for it, it may come at any time.

Then it occurred to me that the Second Coming can come any time as well.  We don't have to wait for the end of the world.  We don't even have to wait for death.  The Second Coming happened for Joseph Smith  190 years ago.  For multitudes of others, much more recently than that.  I think of Elder Bruce R. McConkie's wonderful testimony:

"I am one of his witnesses, and in a coming day I shall feel the nail marks in his hands and in his feet and shall wet his feet with my tears.

But I shall not know any better then than I know now that he is God’s Almighty Son, that he is our Savior and Redeemer, and that salvation comes in and through his atoning blood and in no other way."

I can remember watching another sunrise with some anxiety about the pending arrival of the Lord.  Today was different.  Today He was already leading me, guiding me and walking beside me.  And I realized, with joy, that I no longer need to dread that blessed day.

Sitting On Josh's Bench

I stopped by Josh's grave this morning while out for my bike ride.  As you can see, his headstone is a bench.  That is so like he and Toni, always wanting to be of service.  Even in death, Josh invites us to sit a spell and rest our weary bones.  He lived an exemplary life of service.  There is no doubt he is still serving diligently on the other side of the veil.  There is much labor to be performed over there as well and I am certain that he is anxiously engaged in that service.

While I sat ruminating on that bench and watched the sun rising in the east.  I considered my place in the magnificence of creation.  All of this, earth and breath and inspiration come as liberal and beneficial gifts.  None of it belongs to me, I am just granted stewardship over some of it.  Suddenly, I realized that I've been given a great gift, that of being able to write full time.  At the same grateful moment, I realized that this gift is not a possession, but a stewardship.  I, in a remarkable way, have been given time.  Time to focus on what is most important.  Time that is not encumbered by worldly obligation or confined by worldly rules.  I'm exhilarated by this discovery.  Emancipated by it.

On the one hand I have a huge obligation of trust given to me.  I suddenly have a lot of time at my discretion  which I must not waste.  On the other, though, I am liberated by my freedom from ownership.  I don't own this Blog, God does.  I don't own my home, God does.  I don't own my future, God does.  While I am free to decide what I'll do with these gifts, I have no control over how long I'll have them, what will come of them, or how they might or might not yield further blessings.  Based upon the Parable of the Talents, I am obligated to magnify or increase my stewardship for Him, not for myself.  But, the portion the Master offers me in return is entirely at his discretion. I love this because it frees me to receive inspiration and liberates me from the worries of reward, remuneration or reciprocation.

I can do this because I trust Him.  He giveth and He taketh away, He is blessed in either case and so am I.

I don't have to think about doing what I do to draw dollars or to draw patronage.  I can just focus on doing it for Him.  Whether He meets my needs through my readers, or through advertisers, or by some other unfathomable means is entirely up to Him.  That is wonderful, because then I can focus on impressing Him with my efforts rather than impressing you, or someone else.  I believe He is the one who put me up to this.  I have yet to entirely discover why or how it pleases Him to put me to this task and perhaps I never will.  But I don't have to worry about that either

So, from here on in I'm not going to copyright anything I write here.  You are free to pass it on if it impresses you.  You are free to quote it, teach from it, share it, even publish it.  It doesn't belong to me.  I haven't earned it.  I haven't created it.  It is a gift.  One I am willing to share.  Please don't mistake my intent for altruism it is not.  To be altruistic I'd have to have something to give.  Rather, I'd call it consecration.  My willingness to share what I've been given.  A subtle but completely life changing distinction.  These things I write do not belong to me and never did.  I only hope to make use of them as The Owner intends.  I am incredibly weak and have a lot of work to do before I'll do justice to this task, but you may expect that I will earnestly be about it.

When I first began to write full time I determined that it would be a full time job and that, though I was home, I'd be unavailable for anything else from 8 to 5 every work day.  I would have to keep my nose to the grind stone if I were to support my family by this means.  My epiphany on Josh's bench this morning changed that.  Writing isn't the only task to which I've been entrusted.  The Master called me to another assignment this afternoon.  One of greater and more pressing importance.  Had my writing been about money, I'd have had a difficult time switching gears, adjusting priorities.  Money is about me.  It's about reward.  Its about feeling deserving, like I'd somehow merited more gifts because I had been given these.  It's like sitting under the Christmas tree and thinking that the mere act opening a present entitled me to another, and another...  But, today I concluded that its not about money.  Its about using God's gifts under His direction and for His purposes rather than my own.  So I gladly put down my writing instruments and exchanged them for a vacuum cleaner for the afternoon.  Would that every muscle that contracts in my body did so in the Service of He who gave that gift.  That every breath I breathe could do the same.  But I can't even succeed in attempting that distant goal without the benefit of His grace.

Did you notice the little box on Josh's bench?  It has an inscription on it, a quote from Isaiah:

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding.

I've been trying to do that today.  I've been trying to make that the theme and content of my life.  I have a long way to go, but at least I've started on that journey.

Thank you Josh and Toni, for a fine example of trust and for nice spot to sit and think about it.  This day you've served me well.

Flowers on Main Street and Troubled Families

My morning stroll took me along Main Street this morning. The flowers were so beautiful. Our little town in renown for it's summer petunias which grow in planters the full length of Main Street and then some. I love them! They put such a welcoming face on our community. They show us for who we are. Their presence and freshness every year represent dedication to our values and commitment to our standards. They welcome residents and visitors alike to our special part of the world.

Sweetie and I have traveled extensively across the US and Canada and have never seen anything to rival this. We've driven down a lot of main streets in cities much more affluent that ours and never seen Vernal's equal. Many have more natural beauty, more magnificent architecture, more appealing attractions than Vernal, Utah, but none of them put out the welcome mat like we do. I think everyone reads that message loud and clear as they witness the floral abundance that is our greeting card.

As I walked today I had to resolve an issue in my mind. I struggled with it. I prayed about it. And I feel I got my answer. You see, I've complained about the flowers on Main Street. While I love them, I've been concerned about another issue, whose priority exceeds the need for our floral show piece.

Last year, due to severe budget constrictions, The State of Utah discontinued funding for the local Shelter and Receiving Center. This facility had been located in, but not part of, the youth detention facility where I have been a volunteer for the past seven years. During the years the Shelter was open I volunteered there as well. There I found young people who were being lovingly cared for after their parents had been arrested. There were others who were struggling with a foster care situation and needed a breather from that new, stressful and unfamiliar environment. There were kids who'd had a blow up with their own folks and both child and parent needed a "time out" and some counselling. These kids weren't criminals. They and their parents just needed some help. The Shelter provided that help in a safe, loving and productive environment.

Now, we have no Shelter in our Uintah Basin Communities. The need remains acute, but the service is gone. Too many of these sweet children are now winding up in Detention where they don't belong. Officials and parents, foster parents and others, too often, have no other recourse. They can't be left to run, unsupervised, unparented, alone.

As I prayed this morning I was struggling with this issue. Every time I see the flowers on Main Street I am reminded of these precious children, who, through no fault of their own, have been neglected, left untended, or have even been uprooted. My prayer was answered in a note on Facebook. A good friend called my attention to a local Pepsi Refresh Project candidate. My friend Joslin Batty and some others from the local youth corrections facility have proposed the creation of a Shelter and are in the running for $250,000.00 gift from Pepsi to help establish that dream. Here is their video:

Watch the video.

I am so pleased to make this discovery and so thrilled to have the chance to lend them my encouragement. Their efforts and this timely discovery are truly an answer to my prayers. Please help with this worthy project by going to Pepsi Refresh and voting for this dream, so it can become a reality!

I have watched Joslin and Patrick and Teri and many others and know of their deep love and concern for these wonderful children. Won't you please get behind them and help them help those is such desperate need?

As I said, I love the flowers on Main Street. I hope we never neglect them. I love our children even more and hope we don't neglect them either. They are too precious to be ignored. I hope and pray they are given their Pepsi grant. But, make no mistake, while $250K will take them a long way toward their goal, it won't be an on going resource. I've never quite understood why Juvenile Justice and the Detention Center are State agencies, while the Jail is operated by the County. I'm sure it wont be easy for our cash strapped communities to allocate the much need resources that will be required to sustain the Shelter. I'm sure it will be a temptation for them to say, that's somebody else's responsibility. Well, nobody else is stepping up to the plate. So, I am calling upon our City, County, religious and civic leaders as well as philanthropists and corporations to stand up and take hold of this most pressing need. These are our children, they belong to our community. Let's help them to bloom where they are planted!


The Flowers On Main Street represent how we are.  The Children In Our Homes reflect how we are.  Let's not let the flowers be a mere facade concealing a lie.

The Aerospace Museum at Hill Field

Just out side Hill Air Force Base near Roy, Utah is Hill's Aerospace Museum.  During a lull in the Family Reunion, while many were attending the ground breaking ceremonies for the new Brigham City Temple.  John, Jeff and I visited the Museum.  Earlier in the morning Jeff's imagination was piqued as a couple of F-16's flew over the reunion park on their way to the west desert for practice maneuvers. 

The Museum is free of charge and has a wonderful collection of vintage planes.  Here's Jeff in his flight suit ready for take off.

This sweet, beautifully preserved B-17 Bomber was my favorite.  I've read stories about flying these in WWII and seeing one really captured my imagination.  How I admire the heroes who flew them and the gunners who defended them.

Here's Captain Jeff in the cockpit.  Ready for a dog fight!

Jeff's Aunt Aly repairs Avionics on the F-15, pictured here and also the F-16.

Jeff was excited to see what Aly's Test Stations look like.

Here Jeff flies an F-16 flight simulator.  We had a fantastic time observing the marvelous advances in flight from the Wright Brothers to todays amazing jet fighters.  What a great opportunity and all for free!

Little Heroes

Last evening we gathered in Layton, Utah for a wonderful Family Reunion, I found little Megs and her big brother Jeff standing at the fence to a neighboring pasture.  Joining them, I discovered that they were chumming llamas.  They were tossing carrots over the fence and wondering what llamas say.  I told them they spit, so we were making our best spitting sounds, "pouittt, spouitttt. spouitt" to no effect.  We couldn't toss the carrots far enough to capture their attention.  They were surprised and little bit skeptical when I told them that llamas are cousins to camels.  I'd like for them to have had a better look.

It was about then that Megan drew my attention to a calf she took to be stuck between a fence and a shed.  It took me quite some time to even make it out a hundred yards across the pasture.  Sure enough, a little black calf seemed sandwiched between corral poles and the shed wall.  Jeff suggested we go tell the farmer so the calf could be rescued.  Sounded like a good idea to me.

We informed their parents and headed over there.  Out on Gentile Road there was some question as to which house in the row, connected to the farm.  I chose, using some deductive reasoning, the third house.  The kids were a bit concerned and then relieved when a sign beneath the house number read, "The Farm."

I asked them what they were going to tell the farmer?  "We're not going to tell him anything, you are!" was their desperate reply.  We knocked on the door and heard a neighborly, "Come in!" shouted back to us.

"Grandpa!  We can't just go in!"

"Sure we can, didn't you hear the invitation?"

Over riding protests we went in.  We found a couple of old fellows chatting in the drawing room.  The elder of the two asked our business and I explained the situation.  He had a difficult time making out what I was trying to tell him.  Megan and Jeff pitched in their two bits and finally we made him understand that his calf was in trouble.  The farmer didn't look well and we found out later he was suffering from cancer.  His companion informed us that he would help the farmer rescue the calf.  They seemed a bit skeptical as they thanked us and saw us to the door.  I'd secretly hoped they'd invite us out back to assist in the rescue.

Megan ran all the way back to the park so she'd be sure to be back to the fence in time to witness the goings on.  The rest of us went to the fence too, in plenty of time.  Those two old fellows weren't in much of a rush and were just making it to the barnyard gate.  The fiddled with the wire tying the gate shut for a couple of minutes.  When the finally did get to the calf, it was plain that they were in agreement with us.  The calf was in trouble.  The tried in vain to get him free so the kid's Dad, John, who'd joined us and I went back over to offer our assistance.  In the end we weren't needed, the took a saw to the pole trapping the calf and had it out about the time we arrived.  The calf hobbled over to the trough and drank and drank and drank.

This time the farmer seemed much more appreciative.  He gratefully told us that he doubted the calf would have lived until morning had he not been released from his trap.  I could tell he was about give out, but he wanted to chat, perhaps to make up for nearly blowing us off before.

As he lived on Gentile Road I asked if he knew my Uncle Don who lives another couple of miles West.  "Sure do!" he replied.  "We used to be in the same Ward, years and years ago.  Then the Ward was divided and then the Stake.  Now we don't even live in the same Stake!"  He remembered Uncle Don well enough to remember that he was from Star Valley.

John who thinks I must know everybody.  Had his suspicions confirmed and razzed me a bit about it on the way back to the Reunion.  There, we made a big deal out of Megan and Jeff saving the calf from certain death.  Nice to be in the company of heroes.  Big or small.