What a grief therapy group taught me about the sacrament

A few years ago I was a  practicum student trying to get hours for my doctoral degree in counseling psychology. One of my mentors was a therapist at a smaller university and was willing to let me to sit in and co-facilitate a grief therapy group.  All of the members had lost someone close to them, whether it was a husband, son, father, daughter, grandmother, etc. On about the 4th or 5th group meeting, my on-site supervisor was not able to attend I was charged with facilitating the group that day.

After a short time, the group members started talking about food and recipes. They expressed regret for not writing down or learning certain recipes or ways of preparing dishes for which the deceased was famous. To be honest, I was wondering whether the group had veered off course. I thought that perhaps some of the group members were avoiding topics that, for obvious reasons, might be too emotional to face at the moment. Where else would they face these difficult emotions if not in therapy? I considered possibly refocusing the group onto topics they might have been avoiding.

Then, I thought, "Well, even if we aren't really dealing with the depths of emotion right now, food is something that connects us to another person." I thought about how a mother feeds her baby and a bond and connection is formed through the act of being fed. Many cultures around the world use food as a means of caring and showing respect for their guests. In my congregation, it is common for families to bring meals to a woman and her family when she gives birth as a means of supporting her and her family. Being fed is a symbol of being cared for, nourished, protected, and nurtured.

My thoughts then went to the food that I consume each Sunday as a token of the Savior's sacrifice. Those in attendance at the group were remembering deceased relatives through food - just as Christ asked each of us to remember him by eating and drinking special food. He said after breaking bread, "This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me." And again after pouring the wine "this cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you" (Luke 22: 19+20).

What better way could He have us symbolically remember Him each week than by utilizing the in-born bond between the provider and the partaker of nourishment? As I think on these things, it emphasizes the importance of the sacrament and the way that Jesus was able to bring spiritual matters down to a temporal level so that we, as humans, can understand and connect with spiritual things.

The Last Supper by Simon Dewey

Looking back now, I am very glad that I did not redirect the conversation on food and recipes during the group. I am also thankful to those members of the group for creating an atmosphere in which I could be taught a valuable lesson.

How does the sacrament help you remember Jesus? What are some other everyday things that help you remember Him?

Gratitude vs Guilt: What I learned about privilege from a birthday party

This weekend was my youngest child's first birthday. It is really hard to believe that it was a year ago that he was born. Time flies! We had a small party with family who came from out of town. It was great to see them and to see cousins play together so well.

Most one-year-olds generally don't know what is happening during their birthday, but when we sang to him, he was all smiles and his cute little personality shone through. He was also basically able to open his presents, with the help of my wife and his two older sibling, of course.

I enjoyed watching him open his presents. Gaining enjoyment out of watching presents being opened is something I struggle with on occasion. That might sound weird, and perhaps cruel, but hear me out. Usually, the parties I have attended for kids' birthdays (mine included) remind me in a powerful way that we live in a context that many on this earth can hardly understand or comprehend. I am reminded that there are kids starving all over the world - and in America, too - and here is a kid who is able to open a few hundred dollars worth of presents (or more). The disparity of it has really bothered me, but I don't often talk about it because I don't want to put people out during a party (talk about a downer!)

Before we continue, let me say clearly that this is not going to be a post about politics or redistribution of wealth. I certainly will not engage in a discussion about what people should do with their money, their possessions, or what is appropriate gift giving. All of that is not my place. But, (spoiler alert!) this is going to be a post about my feelings regarding inequality and privilege.

The fist time I really became aware of inequality was in college. I read an article by Dr. Richard Johnson from BYU about income inequality. Suddenly, I saw inequality everywhere. It was disconcerting to me. I wanted to do something about it. I secretly engaged in shaming the rich for not doing their part, never realizing that I probably wasn't doing mine either (funny how judgment works that way!). When I finally shared my thoughts with my mother, she had these words for me, "You need to be careful because you don't know how much people give. You never know how much people are giving in secret." Thank goodness for the wise words of my loving mother.

I again became extremely aware of the differences in living conditions between the middle class in America and the living conditions in other areas of the world when I lived for 2 years in Far East Russia as a missionary. The poverty was, at first, quite eye-opening. I remember eventually becoming fairly content with the living conditions there, but extremely uncomfortable upon returning home to the United States where I had so much. I remember my mother wanted to buy me a new suit and I adamantly refused for quite some time.

I became aware of another aspect of privilege in graduate school while participating in a diversity discussion group which was hosted by a member of the counseling psychology faculty. One of the topics that popped up from time to time concerned white privilege. To be honest, this topic bothered me after a while because I felt like I was being blamed for my whiteness - especially being a white male. Of course, this was not the object of these discussions and was likely my own limitations in understanding the issue. The discussions often challenged my notions about other people, cultures, ways of life, and socioeconomic differences - which was the real reason for the group. I think my continued struggle with white privilege is a necessary step on my way to increased knowledge and wisdom.

Since these experiences, I have continued to notice inequality and suffering. For example, as a psychologist at a VA, I have heard stories from combat veterans about the devastating effects of war - particularly on children. These stories can be hard to swallow. As a follower of Christ, I ascribe to the parable of the Good Samaritan and am often bothered by my lack of ability (or effort?) to quell the suffering of those around me. Certainly, given the above, one can see how guilt can become an overwhelming emotion.

Back to my son's birthday party. I certainly noticed the reasons for my usual feelings of guilt - that there are so many suffering while we are celebrating and it just doesn't seem fair. But, I didn't feel the pangs of guilt that I typically do. First, we didn't go overboard and the party was small, so the opportunity for my son to be overwhelmed by gifts was not a problem and likely dispelled any feelings of guilt that may have been there otherwise. Second, I had a significant change of perspective. I was able to see that my son is extremely blessed to have a group of caring people surrounding him who love him and want to express that love with tokens of affection.

True, I wish that every child in the world had the opportunities that my son has, but instead of feeling guilty about the suffering in the world, I was able to see and appreciate the blessings that I and my family have.

Please don't misunderstand. I don't mean this as a get-out-of-helping-others free card. I'm not trying to use this as a way of phrasing inequality and privilege to get off the hook for helping others, being a source for good in the world, and doing what I can to alleviate the suffering that is within my power. What I do mean is that its okay to feel grateful for blessings, love, and gifts bestowed by others.

In fact, gratitude is much more likely to produce positive action. It is a much more powerful motivator for good than guilt could ever be. Guilt provokes its recipient to short-term neurosis-based action that is likely insincere and/or covering a measure of anger or resentment. Gratitude can motivate one toward sharing abundant love with others. Bonnie D. Parkin said,

"(A) grateful awareness heightens our sensitivity to divine direction. When we communicate gratitude, we can be filled with the Spirit and connected to those around us and the Lord."

I know that my understanding and actions regarding inequality and privilege is evolving and developing. I certainly do not know everything. I recognize that I will likely continue to experience difficulty in achieving a balance between living in a context of privilege while also following the divine injunction to love my neighbor.

But in this moment, I hope that we can all be grateful for the blessings that we have been given (whether great or small) and then let that gratitude move us to share our blessings with others.

I am definitely grateful for this little man!

If any of you have insights to share about living with (or without) privilege, or want to express what you are grateful for, please do so! I would love to learn from you.

Why I Keep Going to Church

Photo of Brigham City Temple taken from lds.org

About a month ago an instructor at church asked the class why we kept coming to church. He elicited some answers from the group and continued with the lesson that had to do with ... honestly, I can't remember exactly what the main point of the lesson was. I was really drawn into that question. I thought, "Gee, I should have an answer to that question right now." But my mind was blank. I didn't have an answer right then. It was pretty disconcerting and I have been pondering this question since that time.



This question triggered a lesson I had in a priesthood meeting years earlier in college. The bishop or stake president asked us "What are you going to do when you are in your thirties, have kids, and don't really "feel it" at church? What are you going to do then?" The question also struck me at that time, too. But I didn't really think that it could happen to me. But, you know what? It did and it has and it does happen to me.

There are multiple reasons not to go to church, ranging from difficulty with young children to more philosophical issues.

There are some Sundays when I don't want to be there. I just recently got out of primary after 2 years. There were some Sundays when it was really hard to face a class of 8-10 tweens who seemed to be engaged in a competition to see who could be more aloof and disengaged. Some Sundays it seems hard to get anything out of a lesson or talk while simultaneously wrestling a baby, hushing a 3 year old or getting a snack/book/crayon/whatever else for any of the children that my wife and I have. It can be embarrassing and hard to pay attention when your child breaks free and makes two full laps around the chapel, followed in hot pursuit by an older sister trying to stop him, while the speaker literally tracks their movement with her head in the middle of her talk (Yes, that did recently happen -Yes, it was really embarrassing). Under these types of circumstances - and many others that I haven't even written here - it really can be easy to ask - Why am I here?

The instructor's question also brought up some philosophical issues for me about the reasons behind my church attendance. I remember talking to a member of my bishopric in Norman, Oklahoma when I was at his house for dinner, having just started my doctoral program in counseling psychology. He made a comment that I found mildly offensive at the time, but now I can see was pretty wise. He encouraged me to be careful to keep my faith and testimony alive. The assumption of his statement was that it might be easy or tempting to let my faith go as I was embarking on years of studying the philophies of men and women. I would be ignorant to say that my study of psychology has not made practicing my religion difficult in some ways. It has challenged many notions that I held about the world, about myself, and about other people. It has challenged my ideas of God and the way that people view God. All of this, however, I feel has been extremely positive - though difficult at times.

As I have been pondering why I attend church, I have been reminded of a conversation about religion I had with a preacher from a charismatic Christian denomination while on an airplane. When he found out that I was born into a Mormon family, he remarked in an attempt to make me reassess my religious devotion, "Of course you believe that, you were raised to believe it."  If I take this line of thinking to its logical conclusion, the end result is that each person is taught some type of value system, belief, or orienting principles. If each of these is just something inherited and believed in or carried on because it is just part of family tradition or maintaining a status quo, then who is to say which is more valid or more correct? Trying to fight about who is right is completely pointless because each system of belief would simply be a construct created by and for human consumption. This is basically the idea behind relativism and constructivist theories - that reality is socially constructed by the individual or group.

If this is true, then there certainly is no reason (other than social acceptance, societal pressure, or other such reasons) to maintain activity in religious belief and church going. However, think about what this is really, truly saying. At the end of it all - those who kill in the name of their God are just as correct as those who love their neighbor in the service of theirs. This just doesn't jive.

Now, humanists will say, Of course that doesn't jive. Anything that hurts another person is inherently wrong because it violates moral law. It is best to just get rid of God altogether because human interpretation of this authoritarian figure is causing a whole host of problems.

So, if many people have different views, beliefs, and rituals and likely feel as strongly about them as I do about mine...
And, if people's interpretation of God can cause significant harm...
And when I actually do go, there are inherent challenges because of young children, etc....

Why do I continue to go to church?

One simple answer is that in the midst of these distractions and annoyances, God continues to nudge my soul. A word or two from a talk will stand out, a primary song will touch me deeply and move me to tears (I love singing time in primary, by the way!), or a comment in a lesson will be spot on with what I need to hear. Usually these are nudges about what I need to do better - and I feel more inspired to do them. This happens almost every Sunday.

Yes, the question then becomes, "Can't this happen to anyone regardless of their faith?" And the answer is "Yes! Of course God can speak to anyone and uses many means to do so. I have personally felt the spirit in other churches when truth was being taught.

Then, why do I continue to go to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Just tradition? Just habit? Too much investment? It would probably be disingenuous to say that these reasons don't play a part, but at the same time, I have had spiritual experiences about LDS-specific doctrine and teachings. I will tell you about one that I frequently think about.

I was studying the Book of Mormon and had recently been taught about praying in faith and truly expecting to receive answers to prayer. I figured that I would also try to do this. I recognized that I had experienced the feelings of the spirit before at church meetings and had never doubted doctrines of the church, but also had never really had a strong confirmation through the spirit that what I was being taught about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith was true. I guess you could say I wanted God to reveal the truth to me regarding the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith's prophetic mission. I prayed morning and night about this. After about a week I was attending the temple and the most incredible feeling entered my body. It was a sweet, warm, and intense feeling inside. Words honestly can't describe the depth or power of that experience. Tears filled my eyes and a deep peace filled my soul. I just knew it was true. I just knew that the Book of Mormon was a record that was brought forward by Joseph Smith at the direction of God. And it was true. Joseph Smith was a prophet.

Since that experience my feelings and faith have waxed and waned and sometimes it is hard to feel the same way, but I often go back and remember this experience when questions arise that I don't completely understand.

Now again, the philosophical argument to counter this experience is the self-fulfilling prophecy and confirmatory bias - basically the ideas that if we want something (or expect something) strongly enough, we usually act in ways to create it, and people tend to look for evidence to support what they already believe. Again, I can't dispute the existence of these psychological tendencies, but at the same time, I can't dispute the power of my personal experience either. I know that there will be people who read this and think my experience is just my metaphorical hand touching the part of the elephant that I can feel and describe - that my experience is just my own truth and that's great for me. But, if I'm trying to claim that this is some kind of objective truth, I am clearly deluding myself.

My answer is simply this - I don't have to convince anybody. It is not my burden to do so. I have been given a spiritual witness. I have felt it and I trust that. Now, even through children's crying fits, broken Cheerios on the carpet, and children who want to run off down the aisle, I am somehow given inspiration, spiritual nudges about course corrections I need in my life, and am taught truths that have blessed my life. Despite doubts and some confusion, I can continue to feel God's presence in my life and have spiritual experiences as I participate in rituals and lessons at church.

So, in the end, even though there may be hundreds of reasons to stay home - and it would certainly be easier to do so...
And even though I don't completely understand everything...
And even though I am not 100% free of doubts regarding certain topics or issues...

I go because I believe it is true.

I stay because I believe it is true.

And I believe that staying has made me a better person.

 I bet you can guess which kid is the runner... 

If you would like to share why you go to church (regardless of which one you attend) and how it has blessed your life, please share!

Love is not Easy

I recently had a conversation about the movie American Sniper with some combat veterans. About half indicated they had seen the movie and thought it was good. In the midst of this conversation the notion of sacrifice and love came up. Love for country and love for those with whom he served kept bringing Mr. Kyle back to combat. The movie also depicts his struggle to connect and experience love for and from his family. The discussion went in a few directions, but eventually ended with how Mr. Kyle spent a good portion of his life after his military service helping fellow veterans and trying to rehabilitate them. It was exactly this service which led to his untimely death.

This discussion touched me deeply and I have been thinking ever since about the idea that love is not an easy experience. I say "experience" because love isn't defined by just a feeling or emotion, nor is it encapsulated by a single action. What I mean is that when we love someone or something we generally act in a way that demonstrates that love - repeatedly. It usually entails a certain degree of sacrifice, often a great deal of sacrifice.

In the midst of the conversation with these veterans, my thoughts went to my wife and children. Loving them is easy, but at the same time it really isn't. I know that sounds bad or immoral in some way, but loving them requires doing some things I would rather not do and may ask me to go through experiences that are difficult and painful. For instance, love requires getting up early in the morning to feed a crying baby, changing a pair of underwear in a public restroom after an accident, playing with Barbie dolls, doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, and many other tasks. As my mind's eye looks ahead, I know that trials larger than soiled underwear or dirty dishes will likely come - whether it be sickness, a child making poor choices leading to terrible consequences, suffering, conflict, or even death. Sometimes love induces grief. I often tell clients who are grieving the loss of a loved one that, just as they would never stop loving that person, their grief will likely continue to be a part of their life. In fact, that grief is a way of knowing how deeply and truly they loved that other person. When our loved one suffers, it causes us to suffer as well. There is no way to avoid pain, trial, and suffering in life and being able to share that with another - co-suffering - is a deep and beautiful expression of love.

Valentine's season is upon us and many people are celebrating their love. This is often expressed through flowers, jewelry, candy, cards, and other acts to demonstrate love and intimacy between couples. Love is generally associated with happiness, excitement, and tingly types of emotions. This is good and I would certainly not suggest that we shouldn't do these things.  Nor am I suggesting that love should always be difficult. Love can and should be fun! What I mean is that true love will test the boundaries of our ability to feel, care, and sacrifice. Along with the fun and happy times, the experience of truly loving another person completely means leaving oneself open to heartbreak, engaging in tasks that are less than desirable, and co-suffering.

Unfortunately, we have a counterpoint to this way of seeing love. In pop culture the idea of love is that it has to satisfy us and as soon as it doesn't, something is wrong. The relationship "isn't working out" or "fulfilling my needs." Being a mom or dad isn't "convenient" or "takes too much effort". The rising generation today has been termed by authors from Forbes to the NY Times as the "Selfie Generation" and I wonder whether the prominent love of self over all else has permeated society in many respects. And if so, what does that mean about our ability to overcome our own narcissism and truly love another person? Because true love requires that we strip away our natural proclivities toward narcissism. This narcissism has consumed and repackaged love in its own image. This mirage of love is often peddled in movies and on the TV, certainly in pornographic content. The focus is on the self "What can this other person do for or to me?" Instead, the question should be "what can I do for this other person?" My wife pointed out to me a few weeks ago a blog post discussing a statistical analysis from Porn Hub that found one of the most frequent comments made in pornographic websites was the word "love". Certainly this is a misnomer. I find it quite interesting that this weekend we have another movie recently released (purposefully around Valentine's Day) that will likely influence the way in which the viewers will understand love. I have only read a few snippets of the book and seen the movie trailers, but I have read enough to know that 50 Shades of Grey is basically erotic fiction about a guy who dominates a woman sexually. Sounds selfish, controlling, and narcissistic to me, none of which is love. Terming this movie a love story is a significant twisted co-opting of the term.

The best definition of true love that I can find is the description in 1 Corinthians 13. Paul uses these terms to describe love: it "suffereth long" "beareth all things" "endureth all things" "envieth not" "is not puffed up" and finally, love "never faileth." These attributes don't exactly sound easy to me - nor do they sound selfish. AND... I know that I fail on a daily basis at expressing this type of love to my wife and children and to others, but it is possible to practice and cultivate this type of love.

Toward the end of the conversation with these veterans, the thought came into my mind about Jesus Christ. The thought was this: Love was not easy for Him. He ended up nailed to a cross because of His love. How can you expect it to be easy for you if you are trying to emulate Him?

It was a humbling thought, but it makes me grateful for the One Perfect Example of love and the many imperfect examples that I have had in my life - my wife when she awakens to nurse a crying baby or spend hours planning and putting on a class Valentine's party for our daughter, my children when they play with each other and help and hug each other, my grandparents who spent years taking care of their spouses who were ill in health, active duty service members who sacrifice self and family for freedom and their country, and the veterans at the hospital when they care for each other in so many ways.

This Valentine's Day, I hope that we can enjoy the exciting, tingling, fun anticipation of being with our beloved (or just having some fun with friends). I hope we all enjoy this holiday and express love. I know that I will be trying to have a good time with my wife and children and make it special. Yet I want to be mindful of what true love has cost so many throughout history and that true love will always include sacrifice and suffering. Yet through these experiences the deepness of our love grows and becomes more powerful and beautiful.

Learning to walk and potty training

There has been a lot of bathroom talk in my house lately, a bit more nudity, and my youngest looks a little injured. No, we are not abusing our kids. Our middle child is potty training and the baby has been learning to walk. It's been coming for a couple weeks and he's just started to get fairly good at it. He falls a lot though, and sometimes when he falls he cuts, bangs, and bruises himself. My wife actually took this picture of him and asked a friend if it was okay to take him around without fear of someone calling CPS on us.

With each day he takes more and more steps. It's amazing! And hopefully, there will be fewer and fewer cuts and scrapes... But, he's a boy, and I'm guessing this is only the beginning for him.

Meanwhile, our 3 year old has been going through the joyous experience of potty training. My wife is such an all-star. The first day was pretty rough. I'm so glad I was at work. This might sound terrible and mean, but we decided that if our son had an accident he would have to get washed off in a quick cold shower. He soon learned that was not fun. Then, we also decided to reward him for successful elimination in the toilet. Turns out chocolate chips can be wildly rewarding - especially if you have a choice between brown and white. Starbursts are also quite rewarding.
I think my wife said he had ~9 cold showers on the first day. The next day, 2. The third day, he actually started to go to the potty all by himself. We heard his little voice come from down the hall, "I peed!" We had company over for a game night and both my wife and I thought, "Oh no, he had an accident." But, when my wife went to investigate, she discovered that instead of standing there awkwardly with wet pants, he was sitting on the toilet. She called out, "You peed in the potty! Yea!" I got up from the table where our friends were sitting and ran down the hall, arms in the air, like a quarterback does after throwing a touchdown. That was probably the best moment of the week. It was the first time he had independently gone to the toilet. Our family had a little potty party as we clapped for him on the toilet - a very proud moment, indeed.

As most people who have been through it already know, potty training is a process, and can be a difficult one for both parent and child. I understand very well the frustration of asking my child if he has to go... "NO!" comes the response. Then, lo and behold, a minute later there is a puddle on my wife's cedar chest. Gag!

Though it is certainly frustrating and maddening for the parents at times, it can also be really hard for the child. Consider this recent vignette: My son likes to poop in private and it has been difficult getting him to go on the toilet. One night, he really put forth the effort and I made my way in and out of the bathroom to check on him and make sure he was okay, but also give him the requisite privacy. So, I hear his loud squeal of a cry and make a mad dash to the bathroom. What I found was a bit horrifying, a little disgusting, kinda sad, but awesome at the same time. My son was sitting on the potty, sobbing, mumbling the words "poop", and showed me his hand. Yup, he had poo on his hand, his poo that should have been in the toilet was on his seat, a little of it was smeared on the seat, and you can guess that it was also smeared on his backside as well. I immediately thought of that episode of South Park where one of the kids smears poop all over the walls. At least it wasn't that bad.
At the same time, I was so proud of him. A little grossed out, true, but he totally went for it! It wasn't perfect, he got a little messy, a little sad, and maybe a little freaked out, but he did it. Unfortunately he hasn't pooped on the potty since then. So, maybe it was a bit traumatic.... here's hoping for a 2nd number 2 in the toilet.

I'm definitely not putting a picture of anything potty training related up here... You're welcome.

As I have been thinking about these experiences that my sons are having - learning to walk and potty training - there are some similarities. First, they are transitions from one stage to another. They represent progression in development. Second, they can be painful. Both of my sons have cried as a result of unsuccessful attempts. Third, success brings extreme joy. Our baby was so happy and proud when he was first able to walk to daddy or mommy and get a huge hug. The 3 year old has made it a habit that he runs stark naked down the hall and into whatever room we are occupying to announce that he "went pee pee in the potty." Modesty will come later. It has only really been a problem when our daughter had a friend over - kinda freaked her out a bit.

These experiences have brought back some words of a talk by Dieter F. Uchdorf when he spoke about learning to walk. He said,

"We have all seen a toddler learn to walk. He takes a small step and totters. He falls. Do we scold such an attempt? Of course not. What father would punish a toddler for stumbling? We encourage, we applaud, and we praise because with every small step, the child is becoming more like his parents. 

"...compared to the perfection of God, we mortals are scarcely more than awkward, faltering toddlers. But our loving Heavenly Father wants us to become more like Him... that should be our eternal goal too. God understands that we get there not in an instant but by taking one step at a time."

I love these words because they encapsulate perfectly this mortal life. We are trying to grow, to become better, to progress. But it's hard. We fall, we get messy, and we cry sometimes. Occasionally we have consequences that we would rather not have. But all along the way God is there. His spirit continues to encourage and strengthen us, to help us on the path back home. We have been given the help we need to get back through His Son. Regardless of how bumped, bruised, or soiled we may become through our mortal life, God continues to love us. He knows that mess ups will happen and he loves us through them. No matter what. All we have to do is keep trying.

 

If you feel like sharing, what things in your life help you to know that you are still loved (by God, by family, friends, etc.) despite seeming failures along the way?

 

Broken Wedding Ring

My wedding ring has been through some trauma as of late. A few weeks ago, I lost it. I came home from work, took it off, then.... it was just gone. About a week later it finally turned up. I was wrestling with the kids in the living room and saw it just laying there by my head on the floor. I was very excited to get it back, but also a bit surprised at how it had gone unnoticed in such a high traffic area. I swear, we vacuum. My wife commented that she was very glad that our ten month old didn't try to eat it and choke on it. I'm glad for that, too.

It's safe to say that I have been giving my wedding ring more thought since it was lost and subsequently found. It is quite unique, after all. My wife got me one of those tungsten rings with a cool pattern across the band. That isn't what makes it unique, though. My ring is cracked almost all the way through in one part of the band.

Here's the story: I hate flies. During dinner one day there happened to be a fly buzzing around my face. It was a colder day and my fingers were a bit more thin. I swatted at the fly with my hand, the ring flung off my finger, smacked against the tile floor, and BAM! a big chunk of it flew off.

At first, I was really upset. The ring felt uncomfortable on my finger. I tried to get it replaced or repaired. No protection plan - no help. I thought about replacing it with a new ring, but I didn't really want to get a ring other than the one my wife gave to me in the temple on our wedding day. This ring is special for that reason. I also didn't want to shell out the cash for another ring. I can be kind of tight that way. The break in my ring came up in conversation one day with a patient and he mentioned that the ring had "character." I agree.

A few weeks ago I was looking at the ring and noticed how, because of the break, the ring looks stressed, worn, and fragile - like it was one good smack away from breaking apart completely. Yet it was still intact. For some reason, I was struck with the thought that I was grateful for this break, glad that my ring had a huge tear almost all the way through. It is a reminder of what could happen if I do not take care of it.

...And then I thought about my marriage and my wife. My wife and I have been stressed, worn down, and at times the marriage has seemed somewhat fragile. We have made it through some difficult times, but are still together. I thought about how this ring is a reminder to me of what could possibly happen to my marriage if I don't take care of it, a reminder to me of my responsibility to love and care for my wife. It is a reminder also that marriages, in general, can be fragile if they are not cared for.

Now, please don't misunderstand - I'm not saying that all marriages are inherently weak, that they are one good fight away from plunging into divorce, or that couples should walk around on eggshells for fear of accidentally breaking this fragile entity known as a marriage. I also am not stating that fighting is inherently bad or that fighting will destroy a relationship. A well-known psychologist, Dr. Gottman, has made a career out of researching marriages. He has stated that even couples in very strong marriages fight and have conflict, disagreements, and differences that are seemingly unsolvable. However, the difference is that couples in strong marriages tend to offer their spouse a measure of respect during the process of the argument, fight, or disagreement. This is a gross over-generalization of his statements on this issue, as you may have guessed. If you want more info, feel free to read his books or research articles.

But what I am stating is this: marriage is a type of relationship that if not cared for will break apart. Marriage in our society is a very fragile institution. I'm not sure of the actual rate of divorce in the United States, but everyone seems to quote 50% of marriages end in divorce. Even if that figure is somewhat inflated, the stability of marriage in the US is quite tenuous. I don't really want to enumerate all of the forces at work trying to tear marriages apart, but I will simply say this - there are a lot.

Because marriage can be so fragile, it must be protected, safeguarded, and looked after. In a talk on marriage, H Burton Howard compared marriage to a set of nice silverware that his wife was particularly fond of. He stated, "If you want something to last forever, you treat it differently" just like his wife treated the silverware set differently than any of their other possessions. In doing some reflection, I realized anew the importance of caring for my wife, listening to her, being interested in the things that are important to her, respecting her, sharing her hopes, fears, dreams, etc. When we ignore the needs and desires of our spouse, when we take our spouse for granted, and certainly if we abuse or mistreat our spouse, we are doing damage that could possibly be irreparable.

On the day my wife gave me this ring, it was seemingly perfect, whole, and symbolized the eternal nature of the bond we were creating that day. Now, when I see my ring, I am reminded that a marriage (mine included) is fragile and that because it is breakable I must treat her with more care, must safeguard her, and be there for her. It is still a symbol of that eternal bond, but with an added realization that I must treat her differently.

...and it also reminds me to use a fly swatter.

Creating Life - The worth of a soul

Things have been crazy, but wonderful, in our household of late. My wife just delivered our third child last Thursday - a baby boy. Seeing as how this blog is devoted to my wife and her basic awesomeness, it is only fitting that I write about some experiences regarding her bringing new life into the world and our home.

Before I go any further, I need to just say that my wife was a very tough trooper.  In our family, pregnancy means life is very different for everyone. My wife gets sick, her energy stores tend to tank big time, and honestly we fight more as a couple (and I'm not just chalking that up to wacky hormone levels - but also my own tiredness and impatience at times). Toward the end of the ordeal this time around, our home was in disarray more often than not, we ate less healthy because those meals tend to be easier to fix, the kids watched way more television than we would normally allow, and luckily we were saved by two wonderful mothers who were willing to come back to back so we could push through to the end. All that just to get a baby here. Not to mention her intense labor and delivery process which she endured with grace, beauty, and honesty ("I want to punch that lady in the face!" my wife yelled at one point as she ripped out her earphone. She wanted to punch the hypnotherapist whose recorded voice she was listening to so that she could be in a more relaxed state during her labor and delivery. Perhaps the CDs weren't totally worth the money). I love her brutal honesty!

This pregnancy, however, had a serious undertone of anxiety.  We found out at the second ultrasound that our son's umbilical cord was wrapped (perhaps twice) around his neck. I didn't tell my wife at the time, but I had earlier done some psychological testing with a man who had cognitive deficits which were very likely due to loss of oxygen at birth because of his cord being wrapped around his neck. I figured she didn't need to know about that. Because of the difficulty with the cord, I had some additional worries myself. During the last weeks leading up to delivery I had a few daydreams (more like day nightmares) where I would see/imagine that our son was born stillborn and we had to mourn his death at the time of his birth. Again, I didn't let my wife in on that one either until after our boy got here safely.

As you can imagine, we are both very excited to get him here - especially with no complications at birth.

I love this picture!  She looks so happy!

Though we were both excited, I was slightly dismayed that I didn't have overwhelming spiritual feelings or desires to be a better human being as I did with my older son. I was hoping for that feeling and thought like I might need it because I had been wondering if I could love another child as much as I love my older two children. That overwhelming feeling didn't come at first. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved this baby boy when he was first born, but to tell you the truth, I kind of thought he looked like a chunky-faced old man and thought, "hmmm, we made that? Ok. Well, thank goodness he's healthy." Not the reaction I was hoping for, exactly.

An important feeling came the following Sunday during church. I was wrestling my two year old while attempting to listen to the testimonies being born over the pulpit. I caught a few words here and there. One of the speakers spoke about the worth of a soul. I don't remember what he or she talked about much beyond that. But, my heart was touched with love, gratitude, and some justified fear.

Often when Mormons talk about the worth of a soul, it is put in the context of the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants 18:10-16 which discusses the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and how, if Christ was willing to suffer and die for each human, their souls must really be worth something. Then, the scripture goes into a missionary message about how all souls are precious and we need to share the good news of Christ's love and redeeming grace to everyone.

But, the message my heart received was different. I thought of the unlimited potential of each human being - particularly my own new little soul that was just safely delivered into my wife's and my care. We are told that the work and glory of God is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of His children (Moses 1:39). That sounds like an obvious statement, but thinking about the meaning of eternal life in a Mormon context means living with God and becoming like God. Now this is obviously deep doctrine and I don't want to speculate into realms that have only been lightly revealed (click here for what has), but given that context, the soul of our little bundle of joy is of infinite worth. He is learning early lessons on his way toward an eternal inheritance......and doing so in my house! Yikes! What a scary thought! No pressure, it's not like there's a whole lot riding on how you parent this little guy.

I was overwhelmed with a sense of love for our new son, realizing that waiting to develop somewhere behind that cute little face (yeah, he's cuter now) is a potential future god. I was overcome with gratitude to my Heavenly Father for having entrusted this little guy into my and my wife's care. And truthfully, as I think about it now, it's a huge responsibility to parent a child and it scares me - sometimes quite a bit. We have three now!

As it turns out, this realization of infinite worth and possibility spread toward my other children as well. They are also on their way toward eternity under my and my wife's care. So, I have found myself being a bit more patient and understanding with my older kids when they misbehave. I've been a bit slower to anger. That has been a blessing for me and my children.

My wife has been an amazing woman through this first week with a new baby (but she is always amazing). I honestly can't imagine doing this without her. She is up multiple times during the night feeding our son, she has already been peed on a number of times while changing diapers, and she seems to know just what to do when our son gets fussy. It's a treasure watching her hold him because I can see the deep love that probably only a mother can understand and express. She suffered with him for 9 months and continues to sacrifice all of herself for him each day. That is true love.

But, more than just taking care of our son's physical needs, I am grateful that my wife is available to help instill morals, values, and a sense of self-worth and responsibility in our children - things that will help them grow into the kind of people that will be able to successfully navigate the world. I'm glad we are on the same team!

As I described above, my wife and I had very emotionally taxing worries about our son making it. Now, God likely does not have neurotic anxiety regarding future outcomes, but I know that He wants each of us to make it back to Him. Your potential, my son's potential, indeed - everyone's potential is eternal. Truly the worth of each soul is great.

Wife's Wisdom: How our Flood didn't Steal Christmas

With the Christmas season upon us, there has been an increased level of activity in our home - particularly in the area of Christmas decorating. During our first Christmas as a married couple, we decided to continue my wife's family's tradition of decorating the tree and home as a family while listening to Christmas music and then enjoy a cup of hot chocolate together. We continued that tradition this year with both of our children joining in. Our older daughter was actually helpful and did a great job getting the ornaments on the tree (albeit mainly bunched in one area). Our two year old mostly ran around the room, but at least he didn't destroy anything.

My wife has an amazing eye for what looks good. She picked out a beautiful Christmas tree, and after the lights and decorations were on, she thought that adding some gold mesh glittery garnish (I really don't know what it's called) would make the tree look just right. She made the garland by getting some gold mesh (which you can probably get at any craft store like Hobby Lobby), bunching it up and creating bulges by tying gold and green pipe cleaners around it. Quite inventive, if you ask me. You can see what I mean below. She spent a great deal of time putting the finishing touches on this tree.

Here is the result:

About a week or so ago, she decided to put some presents under the tree, hoping that our 2 year old wouldn't grab, unwrap, scatter, or otherwise destroy the presents. He has done amazing and hasn't opened a single one.

It was shaping up to be a picture-perfect Christmas in our household.

Then last Saturday happened.

While at a scout activity, I got a text from my wife asking if I knew anyone who had a shop vac that could suck up water. This is not the text you want to get - ever. Then, later, I got a phone call from her, frantically asking if I'd come home early from the activity.

I discovered that the discharge from our washing machine had somehow pulled out of the wall and leaked gallons of water onto the floor and had seaped into our bedroom and the family room carpets. Then, just to make it more interesting, the Christmas tree fell over, spilling water all over the presents and drenching that part of the floor as well.

Here are some pictures of the fallout:

 

After most of the water was wiped up with all of the towels in our house, we used fans and shirts to try and dry out the carpets.

 



 Here I am trying to dry up the carpet with the shop vac where the tree had fallen over.

 We had to pull up the carpet and get the wet padding out to avoid mold. Which put our bedroom in quite a bit of a mess.

Talk about a stressful morning for my wife! To add a bit of perspective to the situation, my wife is in her 3rd trimester of pregnancy, I had been away for the previous 2 days, and she was at home with two young children and her father-in-law who was visiting that morning.

Yet, in the midst of floods and a toppled tree, my wife's wisdom does not disappoint. When the tree fell over (for the second time) my daughter was, naturally, very upset and exclaimed, "Christmas is ruined!" Noticing a teaching moment, my wife stated:

"Christmas is not ruined. Christmas is not about trees or presents, it's about Jesus."

I've thought about my wife's statement quite a bit since our Christmas flood of 2013 (hopefully it won't be an annual thing). We spent a lot of time, energy, and money on the tree, the decorations, and the presents. My wife certainly put a great deal of her soul into making sure the tree was lovely, the presents precisely wrapped, and the decorations on the tree trimmed just right. She loves to make sure things look beautiful and is a natural homemaker. As I've said before, her ability as a homemaker is a beautiful gift that she gives to me and our children each day. And yet she recognized that the tree, the decorations, the beautifully wrapped presents, and even a dry carpet are non-essential Christmas items. She knew that there is truly only one essential Christmas emblem - Christ Himself.

Most presents are likely to be forgotten or broken as time passes; trees will be mulched, trashed, or gather dust in an attic; most decorations eventually break; but God's gift of his Son to each of us is as timeless as eternity.  I believe John put the essence of Christmas best when he wrote:

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16). 

I'm grateful for my wife who, right in the midst of what seemed like a Christmas season-ending disaster, had the insight to teach all of us in our family what Christmas is really about.

Since the flood and tree falling incident, we have fixed the carpet (after a couple of late nights) and put the tree back in place. We have yet to redecorate the tree or put the angel on top - it's a combination of fear that it will fall again, not wanting to replace broken lights, and simple laziness since Christmas is so close anyways. So, the tree looks much more plain than it did before. But, each time I look at that tree, I remember our little experience last week. Some of the frustration comes back, as does some sadness for all of the hard work that my wife put into such a beautiful tree which she doesn't get to enjoy, but my wife's wise words also come back to mind each time I see our relatively bare tree. It might be odd to say, but we were given an early gift this Christmas season - a reminder that no matter what happens, the real gift of Christmas is always given, waiting to be received.