"...after all we can do."

"It is by Grace that we are saved, after all we can do."

Music is a powerful influence in our lives.   I think that the eternities of heavenly choirs that we heard, and some of us probably sang in, prior to coming to Earth imprinted a love for music in most of our hearts.  It is not my intent to talk about music today, I just want to mention one song/hymn that relates to today's topic.  "Come Thou Font of Every Blessing".  

This hymn talks about the Grace to which we are all indebted for our salvation.  It is "by Grace" that we are saved.  More thoughts about that another day.

The part of the scripture quoted above that I want to talk about is "...after all we can do".

When I was younger and full of get up and go, I just figured that  I need to do things.  Accomplish stuff.  Get to meetings.  Along with-make a celestial marriage, raise the perfect children (take a look at your parents, you grandkids, and let me know how we did).  Make a successful career, advance and achieve. Coach the kids' teams.  Keep all the commandments.  Volunteer for all the projects and service opportunities. And more.  Surely I could do more.  I even tried to teach this to the young men in my care.  "If you can think about anything you can do, you are obligated to do it".  After all, it said  "...after all we can do".

Then I remembered that we are also counseled to "not run faster than (we) have strength".

Hmm.  What was I missing here?  I knew that I had times when I would look at my schedule and say "if I can only get through the next week (or 2 weeks, or month), I can then stop and catch my breath".

Well, I think that I was maybe missing the meaning of the "all we can do" part.  What if it doesn't mean checking everything off The List?

What is my "all".  I read about the anti-Nephi-Lehites (no-these we not people who were against Nephi-ask you parents what their name means).  After they had their hearts changed and had repented of their sins, they became aware that their former -ites--the Lamenites who did not repent and have changed hearts-were coming to attack them.  As part of their commitment to their new lives, new hearts and new hope in the Savior's Grace, they had buried their weapons deep in the earth (Scooter could have helped them).  Some were tempted to get their swords back from the hole in the ground in order to defend themselves.  Their leader told them "no".  He said "It was all we could do to repent....of our sins" (and have their hearts changed).  He told his people that they dare not jeopardize this great change in their lives, even at the risk of death.  Their weapons remained where they were-buried-and many were slain, unarmed, by the Lamenites-their former brethren.

Now, there is much more to this story, but I want to focus on a couple of points.

First-it was "all they could do" to repent and change their ways.  This allowed them to have the atonement become real and work in their lives.  I use the word "work" because it is an active, dynamic process.  This great change in their hearts and their actions-they were now striving to do good-was "all they could do".  It did not mention lengthy lists and check boxes.

I have heard it said is that all we have to give back to the Savior is our hearts-our will. 

Once we do that, then our other actions become "Christian".  We then are more able to do His will in our lives.

When this happens, I think it is evidenced in how we treat others.  I think that how we treat others reflects the condition of our hearts.  We start to remember that everyone we interact with is a spiritual sister or brother-even our family members!  We all have inherited spiritual DNA from our  Father.  When we consider our physical bodies, our DNA is closest to our siblings (now I feel sorry for Randy, Steve and Tammy!).  Does that mean our spiritual DNA is closest to our siblings?  Does that mean we have the potential to be more Christ-like?  Are you tired of my trying to make points by forming them as inquiries?  Want me to stop?

Two quick points.  As we change our hearts, we will treat others with love, kindness, charity.  We will be happy for their successes-even when competing with them.  We will want them to be happy and successful.  We will seek ways to serve, edify (important word-look it up if you need to), comfort and uplift others.  It will feel "wrong" to make others feel small, inferior, powerless, unhappy.  No "I'm big, you're small, I'm right, you're wrong..." attitudes.  For you kids in school, you may want to find out which kids need friends and befriend them.  (I will share stories from my young days about this next time-promise).  And (kiddos), you need to remember that being kind to others includes your family-and this means MOM and DAD (hmm-both of those words are palindromes...)-not just your siblings.

OK-much more can be said about that, but I will stop there.

The second brief point has to do with not losing ground.  This changing heart business is a life-long pursuit.  We keep at it and keep at it.  Sometimes it is tempting to not be doing "all we can do" and let our hearts harden a bit.  Our stake president, in stake conference today, talked about "not giving up yardage" once we are making progress.  This is a football analogy.  Or a war analogy.  When you work and sweat and bleed and cry and pray and serve and laugh and love and gain ground-hold onto it!  Don't let yourself slip backwards, downhill.  It is often much more difficult to make up the same yardage-regain the previously hard-won progress-than it was to make the progress initially.

Last thought.  More than the two promised, so this is a bonus!  Something else I was reminded of today-we all are trying to do our best.  And we are all providing eternally-valuable service much more than we sometimes let ourselves realize.  Of course, he-who-shall-not-be-named (no, not Voldemort) wants us to feel like we don't make a difference, that we aren't of any value.  But we are!  Eternally so.

Sorry for the lack of stories.  Will write more stories from the olden days next time.  Love you all.

Rescue Me Part 2

Part two of the rescue blog has been a long time coming.  Kind of like some of the rescues in our lives.  Like we talked about last time.
I said I would talk about Scooter's rescue this time, so I will.
Scooter (current and last-wait-let's not get into that again-current and final name) (at least while he is living here) (future owners, if any, and there probably won't be any more changes in ownership, of course have the option of changing his name, but I don't think they should, since "Scooter" is a great fit) is deep in the process of being rescued.  We started talking about this last post.  Natalie initiated the process-at least as far as we are involved-and we are continuing it.
To refresh memory-Scooter was rescued from New Mexico and ended up in a foster home here, then Natalie adopted this sweet pup and, well, you know the rest of the story, at least up to now.

And that brings us up to today.  Today Scooter is happy-when he is out on a walk.  Or when Natalie is around.  When he is in the house with us, he still keep his distance-most of the time.  He is getting a little more trusting over time as he gains experience with us.  I can now go over to the chair near his day bed and pet him without him jumping up and scooting out of the way (see how clever his name is?-cool, eh?).  At least, some of the time he lets me do that.  I just tried and he, well, scooted.  He also sat on mom's lap all the way up to the cabin Friday.  Well, scooting was involved with that, too, I suppose.  He started out in the back of the Highlander, hopped over the grandsons on the back seat and ended up kind of stuck between the two front seats, so mom hoisted him up on her lap and he enjoyed the rest of the journey there.  Did I tell you earlier that Scooter could easily have been named "Walter"?  "Walter" you may ask.  Have you read the book?  Have you smelled the smells?  Well, Scooter has very potent flatulence (look it up or ask your parents.  Just don't ask them for a demonstration...).  It was a car trip with windows open often to allow in the sweet fresh air.  And to let out the sulfuric-tinged methane.
Well, in any case, Scooter is scooting a bit less, allowing himself to be petted and even sits in the middle of a cabin full of kids and noise-progress!
But I don't think he knows that it is OK for him to act like he has been rescued yet.  Sometimes being rescued seems like a process as we learn to trust, believe and, eventually, love.  And we all are in the process of being rescued.
For us, the work to provide our rescuing has been done.  It is now up to us to figure it out and learn to believe, trust, act and love.  Then we can find Joy.
Scooter is joyful at times.  He loves his walks.  And he loves to play with us-when he figures out we are playing with him.
Just like us-there are times in all of our lives when we feel joy-and those are the times we need to pause and reflect on how grand it is that Rescuing has been provided for all of us.
One more thought.  A returned sister missionary spoke in our ward today.  She spoke about changes and the atonement.  Fits with rescue theme, right?
One part of her story was that she moved from one part of Salt Lake valley to another while in grade school.  She thought that her new school would be full of friends and fun for her.  But it wasn't.  The other kids made fun of the "new girl".  She said that she began changing then, and not for the good.  She start thinking and doing things she shouldn't..  She was fortunate a few years later to have other experiences that brought her back to an understanding of the truth and her worth as a child of God.
I bring this up to remind all of us to be kind and thoughtful to all the people around us-even the "new kids".  Or the kids who don't quite fit in.  Our care for others can be a literal Godsend (Captain L would approve-no need to restore balance) for them.
OK-enough for tonight.
One last observation.  We were required, by the grandkids who stowed away in our car, to listen to James and the Giant Peach on the way to/from the cabin.  Let's just say that I would buy an album of Centipede's songs!
Good night.

Rescue Me

If I put off sharing some follow up thoughts on rescues another day or two, I am sure to forget what I was planning to share.  No, I don't think this is due to Senior Cognitive Impairment (getting old and forgetful), but I can't be sure.
Now, where was I? (kidding)

Last time, I told you about two rescued dogs.  And I saw several spelling, grammatical errors as I quickly read through it the day after.  Not mistakes with the dogs.  Errors in the writing.  Too bad for those of you who are picky about such things...

Both Hairy (and I shall refrain, if I remember, from the annoying habit of inserting "BDE" after this dog's name) and Scooter (current, and probably last name.  Not Scooter's last name, but the last name he will have. He only has one name.  Currently.  He has had four.  But no last names-just his only names) experienced rescues.

I wrote about those because I wanted to talk about the fact that we all need rescuing at times, that there are different kinds of rescues and rescuers, and that our experiences in being involved in rescues can be instructive.  Hmm-that sounds like a lot.  And it is late (for me).  So I will write some and see how it goes.

First-we all need rescuing.  The obvious is that, as mortals in this world, we need the rescuing that comes from the Infinite Atonement.  More thoughts about that another time.
But there are other times in life when we need rescuing.  Some are matters of life and death, others just seem like matters of life and death, but aren't really.  Sometimes we don't know that we are being rescued, but the act changes our direction enough to drastically change our lives in the long term.

Scooter probably didn't know he needed to be rescued-and we are still working on it.  I'm not sure how his life was pre-Nat, but I'm sure it was different from how it is now.  Scoot acts as if he was either beaten and abused or that he grew up in a wild environment.  It is taking him a long time to adapt to a new, and, we hope, better life.  And his life was spared from the fate that awaits many "unwanted" dogs.  Nat's action to adopt this hound has changed his life, but Scooter is still trying to figure it out and build trust with these kind people with whom he lives.

Hairy (notice, if you will, that I did not add the annoying "BDE") didn't have a clue that he needed rescuing.  He was just enjoying a nice doggy-paddle across the canal on a fine summer day.  Then the bottom fell out and he was in the rolling waters under the small drop off in the canal.  He was working as hard as he could to get out of the back-flowing current that kept rolling him under the falls, but was not strong enough on his own to get out of the vicious cycle.   He needed someone to rescue him from drowning in the murky canal water.

Let's talk about Hairy (tempting, but I won't do it...) first.  There are times in our lives when we need rescuing, and it is obvious that we do.  Sometimes we are clueless, then, suddenly, we realize we are in over our heads.  Example from the scriptures-The Savior and his closest disciples had just met with a multitude and fed them spiritually and physically.  He wanted time alone to commune with His Father, and the twelve got on a boat to cross to the other side of Galilee. When they were about four miles out from shore, they were caught in a violent storm.  It was in the darkest time of the night-around three in the morning-the "fourth watch"-and they were struggling for their very lives.  I don't know if the Savior had been watching their struggles from a hill on the shore, but I know that He was aware of their predicament and their desperate need. You remember the story.  He came to them, walking on the sea, in their greatest hour of need, to calm the storm and save them.  I would imagine that they thought they needed saving sometime before the fourth watch, but that is when He came.  Peter had an adventure when he saw the Lord, but that is another tale.
There are times in our lives when we are rolling around in murky canal water, struggling with all of our strength, but we can't get out.  Or when we are out in the dark stormy night that has seemed to go on forever and we just know we will perish.  We are crying for help but none seems to be coming-until it arrives to save us just as we are going down, we are sure, for the last time.  Even the rescue may not be the most wonderful experience (we think).  We may have enough faith to take a few steps on the the rolling swells of the sea, but then start to sink and need to be rescued again.  Maybe our rescuer pulls our ear until it feels like it is going to come off, then we are in the water again.  And when we are finally pulled out, we are tossed onto the hard ground and thumped on.  "...All these things shall be for (your) good".

OK-late enough.  I just have a few things to say about Scooter, then make a couple of more points, and be done with this.  That's how it goes tonight...

'Night.

Rescues and Rescue(d) Dogs

Several weeks ago, Natalie "rescued" a dog.  A dog named Homer.  Then Watson.  Then ResDog (my favorite).  And finally, Scooter.  No-don't get confused now.  She didn't rescue four dogs-just one dog that had four names.  Now he has one-Scooter.
Nat was excited and very happy to have a dog.  Then her eyes started to water and her nose began to run.  No, it wasn't Tears and Snot of Joy from having her own pooch-even though she was quite happy to have a hound-it was allergies.  To her new doggie.
Then she went back to real-life work, leaving home early in the morning and coming home late in the evening.  Scooter (Watson then, or was it RD?) spent the day chewing his bed and "collecting" Nat's clothing to make a bed he wanted.
Phone call from Natalie: "What was I thinking?!  I am gone almost all day and Watson (now Scooter-don't get confused) spends the day either eating my apartment or locked in his kennel.  Maybe I need to take (insert name of dog here) back to Rover Rescue."
I thought that might not be a bad idea, but Mom thought it would be nice to have a dog around.  She likes dogs.  So, we now have Scooter (correct current name) at our house.
"Scooter" stuck as this hound's moniker (I'll wait while you ask your parents what that means) because it fits.  You know how most dogs will come up and slobber all over you if you offer them anything remotely resembling people food?  Or even road kill?  Well, Scooter stays away from you in the house.  He will come no closer than 5.37 feet to you.  You can call, coax, lie on your back and whine, or even offer BACON!  And he will keep his distance.  If you try to walk up to him to pet him, he scoots away.  He is really good at it.  He scoots and scoots.  The only time he acts doggy-like is when you go to the front door, put on shoes and rattle the leash.  Then he is your best friend, sitting on your feet and wagging his tail.
Mom and I have, for the past few weeks, housed, fed, made nice noises and tried everything-including offering pig parts to eat-to try to get Scooter to be our friend.  We have taken this hound on walks-long walks along the canal and in the hills-every stinkin' day.  I even passed up a bike ride yesterday on a sunny afternoon to take this stand-offish canine for a walk since Mom was working and he hadn't had one all day.  He is your best friend on walks, but, once home, he reverts to Scooter.  The exception is Natalie.  Now, we have had this dog for the past few weeks at our house.  Daily feeding, walking, poop gathering, trying to play with, rolling on the floor and whining like a puppy has been done.  Do you think this dog would begin to act like he likes being around us?  No way! Other than walks, he maintains his 5.37 ft distance.
 But-when Nat's car gets within our zip code, Scoot picks up his ears, gets a doggy smile on his chops and starts wagging his tail!  And when he hears the door, he Scoots-to the door!  To jump and wag and be all excited that his Rescuer is here!
You need to remember that Nat sees this dog once or twice a week-she is allowing us to do the daily feeding, walking, clean-up, etc with this hound.  But it is obvious that Scooter knows that, without Nat, he may well not be rescued yet.  And he is quick and generous in showing his gratitude to her.
And it is obvious that Nat likes this Scooter dog as well.

OK-stay in there.  This won't be long, but I need to tell you about another dog rescue.
Hairy (Best Dog Ever) came to us as a puppy.  Buffy (whoever came up with THAT name?) help raise him.  He wasn't a rescue dog-we actually got him through my brother Steve, who belonged to Max, who deserves his own stories.  Maybe another time.
Where was I-Oh-Hairy (named for obvious reasons.  I think you may still find some of his follicles in our home) was the BDE.  I will tell you about some of his adventures another time.
Today, I am going to share just one short Hairy tale.  Hairy himself only had a short tail.  But I digress.
When Hairy (BDE) was a few months old, Natalie, her friend and I took Hairy for a walk along the canal.  It was a nice summer day, and the canal was running fairly high.  Hairy (BDE) decided to see how the water was.  He had not been in the water before, but I was not concerned because I grew up knowing that all animals, except monkeys and humans can swim from birth.  Now, don't you believe this-ask aunt Em if you want to know this is true, but that is what my Dad told us when I was young, and it stuck with me.  Anyway-I knew Hairy (BDE) would be just fine swimming in the canal.  Well, he swam across the canal, then decided he needed to swim back to be with his pack (that would be us) again.  He hopped back into the water and started paddling.  Dog paddling.  Well, what kind of paddling would you think he would do?  Anyway, he got in the flowing canal just a little ways above a two-foot high fall under a bridge over the canal.
I could see it would be questionable if Hairy (BDE) would make it across the canal before the flow took him over the little falls.  And I could see, in the backwash of the falls, flotsam and jetsam (ask your folks!) rolling around, caught in the reverse flow under the falls.  Hairy (BDE) was not very big yet, and I could imagine him being caught in the rolling current himself.
We were cheering him on, but, as he got most of the way across it was clear that he wasn't going to make it.
The flow took him over the falls.  We held our breath-hoping Hairy (BDE) would do the same-waiting to see his soggy self pop up out of the water.
We didn't see him.  And he had been in there too long.
I told Nat and her buddy to stay on the canal road, and I hustled down under the bridge and reached into the water where I saw a black and white fur ball cycle around.
I reached in as far as I could, felt a furry ear and pulled as hard as I could. I got Hairy (BDE) close to the surface, but the combination of canal current, my grip not strong enough and the ear not being a convenient handle, caused me to loose hold of that ear.  I thought Hairy (BDE) was soon to be the late Hairy (BDE).
I knew I had one more chance.  I saw him cycling around again, thrust my arm into the churning water (sounding pretty exciting, don't you think?) and caught hold of his collar!  A nice, firm, reliable handle.
I pulled the sopping lump of fur out of the current and threw him up on the road.  You need to know that I had one leg in the canal, one hand braced on the underworks of the bridge and the other fishing for dogs, so I didn't have the option to gently cradle him in my arms and gently lay him on the bank.
So he got dog-tossed.
Hairy (BDE) had glazed-over eyes (not a good thing) and wasn't moving much.  The Toss, however, had forced him to expel canal water out of his snout (a good thing. One should avoid getting canal water in one's snout and lungs), and he move some.  I still was not convinced that the Dog was not Gone.  He did not look good.  We thumped on him a bit and got more water out.
Then Hairy (BDE) took in a breath, did a doggy gag-cough (you know what I mean).  Got more nasty canal water out, shook his head, got up, and took a few shaky steps.  Then he did something wonderful.  Hairy (BDE) did the Dog Shake!  What a wonderful thing to see!  Especially since we thought he was probably Doggone!  Don't you wish you could shake water off like a dog?  From your nose to the end of your tail-if you had a tail?
Anyway, Hairy (BDE) did a decent Dog Shake, then smiled, got his bright eyes back and wagged his stubby tail!  And we were all happy, relieved, blessed that Hairy (BDE) was back!

OK-my intent with this entry was to tell a couple of rescue stories, then pontificate (that one is worth looking up-not the Pope-related definition) on rescuing.  Since I have gone way    too     long    ,    I will share some thoughts on rescuing and rescues next time.  So you have time to consider these stories.  There may well be a quiz.  With grades.  But no prizes.  Maybe bacon.

Did I Tell You About My....

It is a few days past New Year's Day.  The Holiday season is about done.  We still have a trip to Pullman the end of this week to visit with family there and have a late Christmas with them.
I don't think I made any resolutions again this year.
Not that I don't need any.  But I don't know about setting goals with the turn of the calendar.  Why not decide to make changes when you see changes need to be made?  Why not another calendar-related occasion?  Your birthday, or in the fall when the school season begins.
Or, again, why not when you do some introspection and come to realize that there are some things you can do to help you be a better person.

Oh, I think this time of year is often a time of reflection and introspection.  Good thing, as long as we remember that the view forward through the proverbial windshield is much larger and more important than the minimized view we get from the rear view mirror.  We sometimes spend too much energy on fretting about what has gone before (objects in mirror are larger than they appear-at least in our minds sometimes).
Maybe we need to spend a bit more time  and energy on creating what we can as we go forward.

A couple of thoughts from the past few days-

I read that Benjamin Franklin would ask himself two questions every day.
In the morning-"What Good shall I do today?
In the evening- "What Good have I done today?

I think this is a good place to start-to have some daily introspection about if we have done "Good".
And if you need definition of "Good", just sing to yourself some of the lines to "Have I Done Any Good in the World Today?"  "Good" has to do with serving others, being uplifting, sharing burdens, etc.  If you want a chuckle, find the "old" lyrics to this hymn...

OK-I will let you in on one thing I have been trying to do better in the past few weeks.  It seems, whenever I am conversing, that it is easy to act like Topper--the guy who sometimes makes appearances in Dilbert.  Whatever you have done, achieved, accomplished, -I have done better.  A patient tells me about his bike riding, and I feel the need to tell him about the miles I put in (in a most humble way, of course!).  Brag on your grandkids, well, just wait as I tell you how amazingly marvelous mine are. When we were new grandparents, I even resorted to bragging about how well our grandbabies could fill their diapers in response to other new grandparents letting me know how their two year old grandbabies were reading Shakespeare and playing Mozart. You get the idea.  I know when I am doing this because the person I am talking with starts to get the glazed look in his eyes.

I know that we all benefit from others listening to and hearing us and helping build us up.  But-that is our job to do for others.  So, I have been really trying to not "Topper" others, but to listen and compliment others on their conquests and achievements.
I have noticed, as I have made an effort to do this, that-now don't be surprised-I am not at all diminished when I let others feel good about themselves!  And I actually feel great when I help them recognize what they have accomplished, how they have grown, what good they have done!

I read once that Mark Twain said he could live a whole month on a good compliment.  My experience is that this is about right.  I am learning that it is grand to be the source of those compliments for others-even if I just acknowledge their bragging about themselves.  I don't need to outdo them to have a sense of self worth, and I can be supportive of them.
Of course, this has to be done sincerely, and that is tough sometimes.

OK-enough rambling for now.

If you make resolutions for the New Year, good for you!  I hope we all take the opportunity to check in daily and think about the Good we can do and the Good we have done.

And, when you have a minute, ask me about my grandkids, kids, cabin, most recent home repair, bike ride, hike or, especially, my wife!

Joy to the World!

I have shared some thoughts of past Christmases-from when I was a youngster and a brief mention of a Christmas far from home.  I haven't yet shared memories of early Christmases with our own little family.  There are also tales to tell of Christmas times of disappointments, and others of times of great hope.

But, for today, on this Christmas morning, I want to let you all know of my love for that Child whose birth we celebrate today.  Yes, I love him because He is our Savior.  His atonement gives me a foundation on which I can build a life.  But His mortality gives me hope.   Not hope that I can live free of sin, as He did, but hope that, because he came as One of Us, He understands me.  He has Empathy because He lived a mortal life.  When I suffer the normal mortal experiences of temptation, illness, grief, or anguish, I know that He understands, because He experienced this things as well. And He experienced them to a much greater degree than I ever will.  He also know how I feel when I want to shout for joy or when I feel contentment in having served someone or created some small thing.

Because He was born and lived as One of Us, He knows perfectly well what we need and when and how He needs to succor us (rush to our aid).  And that gives me hope.  Every day.

So-give glory because this King and Son of God was born and we celebrate His birth.  But also give glory because He is One of Us-our Brother, both spiritually and in the flesh.  I believe that His experiences as he lived and experienced what we all do are integral to His infinite atonement.  He is able to provide a way for us to become "at one" with Him and our Father because He became One of Us.

(Orson Scott Card recently wrote an article about Christ being On of Us on http://www.mormoninterpreter.com/-- it is worth a read)

Ready, Aim, Go!

Despite the title of this post, it is not about me getting a Daisy BB gun and shooting my eye out.  Not to say that I haven't felt the sting of a few BBs in my life.  I did grow up in the middle of 3 brothers, and we did have several BB guns around, and...well, another time.  And I don't want my grandchildren engaging in some of the dumber activities my brothers and I did on occasion.

This is about a change of trajectory (ask your parents to point you in the right direction to find out what this big word means) and my first Christmas away from home.  So it isn't from my early childhood, more from my middle childhood.

When I was 19 years old, I was a sophomore (good word to look up, parents) at the University of Utah.  I went to the U to study, play football and not get too far away from home.  My first year, as a freshman, went really well.  My freshman class was not allowed to play varsity ball, so we were the "Papooses", not the "Utes".  We only got to play four games, traveling as far a Mesa, Colorado!  We won all of the games, including the last one against BYU.  I was a team captain, one of the leading tacklers, and had a grand old time.  I played linebacker, was about 6'2 and 220 lbs.  I mention this, not to impress anyone with my physical prowess, but to try to pain a picture of a young man in, what he considered at the time, a very good fit with great potential.  I was going to end up playing in the NFL.  For the Green Bay Packers.  And make tons of money-linebackers made 30 or 40K back then.  A Wonderful Life ahead (not the movie-mine!).

After a very rigorous off season of sweat box, re-teaching us how to run, weights, weights, and more weight training, psycho intense handball and basketball games-oh, yes, and school, the defensive coordinator called me in to tell me that I would be switched from linebacker to defensive line for the next year.  I had put on a whopping 10 pounds or so of muscle, scored 2nd on the team in overall strength in the weight room, and had worked very hard.  Very hard.

My response was typical for me (middle child-pleaser of authority types).  I said, "sure coach, whatever I can do to help the team".  Inside, however, my response was "Stink!".  I love playing linebacker.  I get to run around, fill holes, stunt, defend passes and let the defensive linesmen take care of the heavy lifting up front.  My second thought was "Stink!"  Now I was going to be doing the heavy lifting up front.  I didn't mention that my position was going to be nose tackle.  No, that is not what you grandkids do with your fingers and your schnoz several times a day.  It meant that I would now be lined up in the middle of the line every down.  And-I would have at least 2 Big Uglies (offensive linsemen) hitting me in the head  every  stinkin  play.  Oh joy!  Also, I would have to learn a new position.  I thought, no big deal, I can bulk up, learn the job and do it.

Well, I did work hard in spring ball and over the summer.  Bulked up clear to 232 pounds!  Whoo-hoo!  But then I realized the gentlemen I would be playing against were all going to out size me by about 40-60 pounds (think a couple sacks of flour worth of muscle and meanness).  All was good-I would do fine.

And I did.  I won the starting job from a senior.  I started the first 4 or 5 games of the season.  But it wasn't nearly as fun for me as my freshman year.  And I was not as good in this new position as I was as a linebacker. I ended up second string mid season.  That meant that I played a lot on special teams, and I would play about a third of the game as nose tackle (get that finger out of  there!) as well.  I was on the field for the second half of the Arizona game-in which we (the Utes) made the biggest comeback in NCAA history at the time (another story).  But, as I said, I had to learn a new position, practice playing it, work to get bigger, faster, stronger, and so on.

At this time, I had several good friends on missions for the LDS church.  We had not yet had the instruction that "every worthy young man should serve a mission", my parents were not members/active in the church, and I had all but promised my freshman coach that I would not be going on a mission.  My mission was to finish school and play football.  For the Green Bay Packers.
Imagine my confusion when my brand-new home-ward bishop asked me to come in and talk.  He asked me when I was going on a mission.  Didn't he know that I had Other Plans?!   Of course he did.  the whole ward knew that I indeed played Division 1 football (first athlete from Brighton High to do so) for the University of Utah.

My best friend, Ken R, also was asking in his regular letters to me about my mission plans.  I knew that Ken knew better! No mission in this boy's plans.  Even though it sounded like Ken was working hard, growing and even having some fun.  Well, Ken always finds a way to be amused.

I had no family push, encouragement, instruction, or expectation that I would serve a mission.  My 20th year (when I was 19-ask your parents to explain this to you-again-and listen this time) was quickly waning.  Then I thought about it.  And asked about it.  And decided that I should go.

I called bishop Stan, met with him, and got the process in motion.  I will relate another time, perhaps, of the the discussions with parents, friends and coaches about leaving my schooling and football to serve a mission.  Suffice it to know for now that I did get a call and left in May of my sophomore year to the Sweden mission.

My first months in the mission field were Difficult.  It was good that I was as far away as as was, because I was still in pretty good shape and thought about playing again as fall came around.
When December came, I was transferred to an area in Goteborg.  I didn't know anyone, having been up North most of my first 5 months, had no member relationships, and was a newly assigned Senior Companion (yes, I had worked hard-I knew how to do that) with a Junior Companion who needed a bit of work.  And it was dark almost all of the time (Sweden, remember?-way up north).

I had not been away from home ever at Christmas time.  Some Christmases were good, some not so much, but there was always family and comfort foods and home.  I was a bit lonely, and we worked very hard so we could not think about Christmases past (no spooky ghost visits for us).

Then we got invited to Christmas Eve at some members' home a 45 minute train ride outside the city.
Once we got on the train, the magic began.  We traveled through picture-postcard scenes of snow and small farms and woods until we got to a small train station.  We were met by Brother W, who put us in his car and drove us to their large rustic home.  It was filled with wonderful aromas, laughter, light and love.  And there were a bunch of kids there!  Christmas!

I think this was the turning point for my mission, as I felt the warmth and love that comes from good people being together celebrating the birth of the Savior.  I had worked very hard up to this time, but now I think I started to smile much more as I continued to serve.

Now, the trajectory.  Sometimes things that we don't understand or agree with happen to us.  Sometimes we get put in positions that we think aren't the best for us.  That happened when I was told that my football position was changing.  I think, at the size I was and with my work ethic, that could/would have continued playing through my 4 years at the U, at least, had this change not happened.  I may not have considered serving a mission.  My mission still serves as a significant piece of my life's foundation.  I may well have had a wonderful life.  But I don't know that it would have been a Wonderful Life (again, mine, not the movie).  Also, I played ball at a time when the U (and BYU, as well) did not know how to handle players leaving on missions.  When I got home, I got a call the first week from the new coach at the U asking if I planned to return and play.  I told him that I was going to get married and work on school.  Yes, that was a quick decision, and it merits its own story another time.

I know that the things that "happened" during that time in my life helped push me in a direction that I should continue to travel.  And I have been greatly blessed for it.  No, no Packer's jersey in my past, but a life and blessings for which I am very grateful.

The "Christmas" part of this post?  Well, it was that first Christmas on my mission when my heart softened and I knew I was were I was supposed to be, doing the work I was supposed to do.

And-I did get to eat Lutefisk for the first time!