Did you ever see that show, "Short Circuit"? With Ali Sheedy and Steve Guetenberg? The one with the robot? Number Five? "Number Five is alive!" Anyhow, when the robot is first hit by lightening he's reading every book in sight. He watches television, tries to just soak in the life-experiences as fast as possible. Well at the beginning of the show, he lustfully seeks knowledge and continually spouts the phrase, "NEED INPUT!"
Well, I've kind of had one of those weeks. Well maybe a couple of weeks really. So if you're expecting some sort of post-Easter wrap-up of significant proportions you may be sorely disappointed. Dont get me wrong, I had a wonderful Easter. It really was a good time. I particularly enjoy picking up the little frazzles of pink straw bedding all around the house. Also of great joy is the finding of orange Reese's Pieces. I suppose if E.T. were around half this ridiculousness would be taken care of. I always wanted an E.T. With his little Heart Light, and his glowing finger. Too cool. You could totally use that at parties to pick up on chicks. Being ugly would really matter any more if you could pull that Heart Light thing. Plus the glowing finger...and the "Phone HOOMMMME" makes you just melt. A lot like a Reese's Piece actually. In your hand and on the carpet and not in your mouth.
Anyhow, so Number Five right? Well he just soaks up the knowledge. "NEEED INPUT!" Plus he's a fantastic driver. Unless of course you're driving a gut-wagon with a dude from India. Too funny. So, I guess that's what I've been a waitin' on. Some sort of epiphany from on high. Like the God's of Olympus would shine down a great idea to write about. But it's been over a week and they're not really returning my calls.
So, I guess I'll make a note here and maybe come back and revisit this. Perhaps the both of you that read this can vote on what I write about next. I've been thinking of writing down some of my Navy experiences. You know, the foreign ports, the living on the carrier. Oh, if you didnt know that, I lived on an aircraft carrier for three years. The U.S.S. Independence. CV-62 Baby. Haze Grey and Underway! Anyhow, homeported out of Japan. So, there's a show on Netflix, "Carrier" which I've watched a few episodes of. The other day they manned the rails on their way past the U.S.S. Arizona memorial in Pearl Harbor. Something I've done in fact. Anyhow, I've got a slug of Navy stories. Or, I could write about hunting stories. I've got stories about trips to Turkey, trips to Morocco, Azerbaijan, Malaysia, Singapore, Hong Kong, Thailand...In fact, in either Thailand or the Philipines a secret admirer nurse "bought" me a coconut drink. Pretty cool actually. Not the nurse, the coconut. It was pretty awesome how they had hacked the top off of the coconut and the membrane was punctured with a straw. Really tasted great but it gave me the runs like you wouldn't believe. Or I could tell you about the, "Stormin' Schwarmas" a variant of Montezuma's Revenge that trumps any lower intestinal failure you've ever experienced. Anyhow, I've got stories that I'm not even sure are true anymore but I really should get them out before I forget them.
So, anyhow, if you've got a favorite story, or a personal interest, please feel free to comment. I'd be more than happy to expound on just about the dullest piece of boredom this side of Winnemucca, Nevada. Which reminds me. Sometime remind me to tell you about the time when I was 17 and I drove to Redbluff California with 1.5 hours sleep a giant Pepsi, some No Doze, a truck with no seatbelt and a double axle trailer pushing me down the back-side of the Sierra Nevadas.
Alright, well I'm going to drown my sorrows in an episode of Battle Star here as soon as I can get the kids in bed. Dont worry, I had a full work day, read some scriptures, had the Home Teachers over and even ate a delicous but calorically appropriate dinner. I've earned it.
OK kids. Bounding Forward!
Cover fire.
Jon Out
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Between Iraq and a Hard Place
So I had a pretty good week this week. Well, at work anyhow. Olivia has been sick and just miserable the past week or more. It seems just as we get her better she's sick again. You'd think that by the fourth child I'd just resign that we're never going to have an uninterupted conversation or full night's rest and just get over it, but it no-kidding surprises me almost every time we have a fitful night. Well, last night, she threw up all over us twice. First time was in her bed, and the second in our bed. The third through the seventh time Stacey was on duty and I just plain dont remember. Anyhow, I was an hour later than usual to work. Poor kid had an ear infection and it burst. Worst part about it, was 24 hours earlier I was finally at my wits end and yelled and in a frustrated moment yelled at her and thrust a bottle and a blanket at her and just put her on the couch. I had no idea what else to do. So when Stacey texted me from the Dr. yesterday and informed me about the burst ear drum, well, you can't feel much lower than that. I hope with the next baby I can finally have the patience I'm short now.
So, tonight, as baby lays on the couch and recharges her batteries, I finished dinner for Stacey. It's her familial favorite spagetti. The girl really can cook I tell you. I've got four or five belts that somehow have shrunk to prove it. I'm not sure how nylon belts shrink, but somehow she's been able to. Must be the high heat settings on the dryer.
Anyhow, so whilst she slept, I finished making the noodles, which even I can't screw up. Then I sat the kids down, and we actually ate at the table. Oh, it was glorious. I mean, we even started with a prayer and nobody yelled, (although they still talk louder than necessary). But we had a pretty good dinner. Well Josh started quizing me on Iraq. I'm not sure why he did. Maybe it's because Isabelle mentioned she wants to be a Soldier when she grows up. She wore a set of kid fatigues to school today and has been wearing them for the past three days. It's cute. She has little rank insignia, and a hat with captain's bars on it. It didnt help that I had to drop off donuts with Stacey for Josh's birthday, and we happened to have extra to drop off in Izzy's class. I tell you what, Army Guys are apparently a pretty big hit in a class of Kindergarteners. Not to mention fifth-graders. I pretty much almost had to sign autographs to get back out the door.
Anyhow, so tonight Josh asked me what my scariest time in Iraq was. You know, I didnt really have an answer. But I did remember one of the first few nights after we arrived. I had a room mate in my little trailer. To paint the scene for you, we lived on Camp Victory in Baghdad. Camp Victory was the Corps Headquarters. It's adjacent to the now famous, "Green Zone". Anyhow, our plush accomodations were these white trailers which where basically divided down the middle. Each room, which was normally shared by two of the same sex, was approximately fifteen to seventeen feet long and maybe twelve feet wide. One window, one door. So my room mate, "1LT Workman" or, "Kendall" was an awesome dude. He's really seriously one of the smartest, most down-to-earth and reliable people I know. Anyhow, Kendall and I set our racks up on opposite walls. Then we took our little cradenzas we each had and framed the window on the back wall with them. We purchased a minifridge, a tv and a VCR and put them all beneath the window betwixt the aforementioned cradenzas. At the foot of the bed, like any good G.I. would, we had an "end-table" of sorts which was a rolling job-box (black) where we would put our extra gear and stuff that you just didnt need daily. Pretty sweet setup really.
So, one of the first few nights we were there, shots started to ring out. They sounded really close. No alarm was sounded, but we were really beginning to feel like we might be over-run. So, I did what any newbie would do. I got my body armor on, my kevlar helmet, and locked a round and magazine into my M4 and layed down on the bed (after locking the door of course). Well come to find out the next morning, we were actually living within a few hundred yards of the U.S. firing range. What we were experiencing was a bunch of U.S. Soldiers conducting night fire. That little piece of information wasn't in the brochure by the way.
So then Josh asked me about what the thing I was most afraid of. I said it depends. If you're walking, it's a sniper. If you're driving it's an I.E.D. If you're stopped in a vehicle, it's an Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG). If you're sleeping in your hooch (trailer) it's a mortar shell that they get lucky with. Or a rocket. They actually successfully hit a trailer down the line from us about three months into our stay. Additionally our chow hall was rocketed about a week after we left. So, it's always in the back of your mind.
I remember running around Lost Lake. Which never really was lost. Nor was it a lake, but more of a pond fed by the Euphrates. Anyhow, running around Lost Lake, on the North side of the lake outside the compound is a giant mosque which has two giant towers. Not really minarets, but the kind of place you might stash Rapunzel. Anyhow, I was convinced that I was going to be sniped from there someday. We had a training area around the corner from there and they experienced a similar set of circumstances a couple weeks after we arrived.
So, then the conversation went on about this and that. I guess, until I was asked the questions I just sort of took these experiences and others for granted. I told them about the time I had to walk in a platoon wedge at three a.m. in down-town Baghdad looking for I.E.D.'s on foot. That was a fun time. I was really pretty nervous and then I realized, well, if it's a wired 155 Round or 120 mm mortar, I'm just pink mist in the wind. I'll wake up playing a harp on Cloud Nine. I'm wearing body armor, a kevlar helmet, groin protector, shoulder protectors so if I get shot, I only die if it hits me in the face or in the femoral artery. I was on the far outside right of the formation and hugging that wall likeyou wouldnt believe. I loved that wall, because nobody was shooting me from there. Anyhow, I may have already written about this before so I'll stop here. Suffice it to say, I told the kids that you just always have those things in the back of your mind. Today might be your day.
Two things can happen to you in that environment. As has been said, "There's no atheists in foxholes." or, you can rationalize yourself into some pretty risky behavior. In fact, ironically, the closer and closer you get to redeploying home, the crazier things get. I'm not going to go into it here, but you're just convinced that some twist of fate is going to bring your number up on the big scoreboard in the sky and they'll be telling your dad how terrible it is that you were smoked two weeks before rotating back to the world.
Where am I going with all this? Nowhere really. I guess it was just a matter-of-fact discussion with my kids about matter-of-fact stuff for Soldiers. See, to me, I think for the past few years I've really minimized what went down. I have a bunch more stories, but none of them involve, "this one time, we swept into a safe-house, all dressed in black, on a special ops team, kicked in the door and shot fifty-two terrorists in the face." I think those are the stories everyone wants to hear when you get home.
In fact, that's probably the dumbest thing you can say to a Soldier. "What's it like over there? Is it really that bad?" Which really means, "Did you kill anybody?" It's a hell of a thing to ask a man really. Cause if I had killed someone, I certainly wouldn't be bragging about it. I'd want to bury that down my subconcious so I wouldn't have to relive it and second-guess myself every day of the rest of my life wondering if the Lord was really on my side.
You know I love being a Soldier. I love the comraderie, I love the cut and dry duty. I love being part of something bigger than myself. It's unfortunate, but the flip side of all that is that you really face a lot of cold hard realities that most people never give a second thought about.
I think now six years later, it's really starting to feel like a different life. A world apart you know? Like looking back at your first apartment, or that thing you did in college with the pickup truck and the togas and the giant vat of KY and the sorority girls. (OK, I imagined that, it never happened). Anyhow, as a Soldier your always torn. You can't tell your family you really feel like you want to go back, because you dont. But every day you're in uniform back here in garrison spinning your wheels you feel ridiculous. People at restaurants stopping you and thanking you for your service, little kids idolizing you, people romantizing your efforts. It's ludicrous really. You cant help but see the irony that you're back here in the Land of the Big P.X. (shopping store) and you're brothers and sisters who really deserve that lunch someone just bought you are living in a trailer if they are lucky, or on some combat outpost on a cot if they're not. The real suck are the dudes that are living in Afghanistan embedded with some faction that's anti-Taliban and eating goat parts and not shaving for weeks.
OK, so, where we going with this? I guess, I feel lucky. Not just for the way I lived in Iraq, but for the freedoms we enjoy. No kidding. I know it's cliche' but I really mean it. While I was in Iraq, 75 Iraqi citizens were washing up on the short of the Tigris every day. In a country the size of California, seventy-five people a day. That's unfathomable in the U.S. So, I guess from day to day I forget that, just like everyone else. But not for long. I try to teach my kids without scaring them about daddy's job is really all about at times. It actually frightened me a little that my little girl wants to be a Soldier. I'm proud but nervous. I want her to be a doctor. I dont want her to do what I do. I guess I would rather she not know the things I know as a result of my experiences. I want her to have a healthy respect for our nation, but I just worry about what it entails to continue to pursue these endeavors we're now entrenched in.
Anyhow, not to be a downer. I just thought I better capture what I was thinking tonight. What a conversation around our dinner table can consist of at times. I want to capture this before I forget it.
Well I gotta run. Stacey's back from her walk and it's time to engage with the family again.
Cover me while I move. ;)
See ya later.
J
So, tonight, as baby lays on the couch and recharges her batteries, I finished dinner for Stacey. It's her familial favorite spagetti. The girl really can cook I tell you. I've got four or five belts that somehow have shrunk to prove it. I'm not sure how nylon belts shrink, but somehow she's been able to. Must be the high heat settings on the dryer.
Anyhow, so whilst she slept, I finished making the noodles, which even I can't screw up. Then I sat the kids down, and we actually ate at the table. Oh, it was glorious. I mean, we even started with a prayer and nobody yelled, (although they still talk louder than necessary). But we had a pretty good dinner. Well Josh started quizing me on Iraq. I'm not sure why he did. Maybe it's because Isabelle mentioned she wants to be a Soldier when she grows up. She wore a set of kid fatigues to school today and has been wearing them for the past three days. It's cute. She has little rank insignia, and a hat with captain's bars on it. It didnt help that I had to drop off donuts with Stacey for Josh's birthday, and we happened to have extra to drop off in Izzy's class. I tell you what, Army Guys are apparently a pretty big hit in a class of Kindergarteners. Not to mention fifth-graders. I pretty much almost had to sign autographs to get back out the door.
Anyhow, so tonight Josh asked me what my scariest time in Iraq was. You know, I didnt really have an answer. But I did remember one of the first few nights after we arrived. I had a room mate in my little trailer. To paint the scene for you, we lived on Camp Victory in Baghdad. Camp Victory was the Corps Headquarters. It's adjacent to the now famous, "Green Zone". Anyhow, our plush accomodations were these white trailers which where basically divided down the middle. Each room, which was normally shared by two of the same sex, was approximately fifteen to seventeen feet long and maybe twelve feet wide. One window, one door. So my room mate, "1LT Workman" or, "Kendall" was an awesome dude. He's really seriously one of the smartest, most down-to-earth and reliable people I know. Anyhow, Kendall and I set our racks up on opposite walls. Then we took our little cradenzas we each had and framed the window on the back wall with them. We purchased a minifridge, a tv and a VCR and put them all beneath the window betwixt the aforementioned cradenzas. At the foot of the bed, like any good G.I. would, we had an "end-table" of sorts which was a rolling job-box (black) where we would put our extra gear and stuff that you just didnt need daily. Pretty sweet setup really.
So, one of the first few nights we were there, shots started to ring out. They sounded really close. No alarm was sounded, but we were really beginning to feel like we might be over-run. So, I did what any newbie would do. I got my body armor on, my kevlar helmet, and locked a round and magazine into my M4 and layed down on the bed (after locking the door of course). Well come to find out the next morning, we were actually living within a few hundred yards of the U.S. firing range. What we were experiencing was a bunch of U.S. Soldiers conducting night fire. That little piece of information wasn't in the brochure by the way.
So then Josh asked me about what the thing I was most afraid of. I said it depends. If you're walking, it's a sniper. If you're driving it's an I.E.D. If you're stopped in a vehicle, it's an Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG). If you're sleeping in your hooch (trailer) it's a mortar shell that they get lucky with. Or a rocket. They actually successfully hit a trailer down the line from us about three months into our stay. Additionally our chow hall was rocketed about a week after we left. So, it's always in the back of your mind.
I remember running around Lost Lake. Which never really was lost. Nor was it a lake, but more of a pond fed by the Euphrates. Anyhow, running around Lost Lake, on the North side of the lake outside the compound is a giant mosque which has two giant towers. Not really minarets, but the kind of place you might stash Rapunzel. Anyhow, I was convinced that I was going to be sniped from there someday. We had a training area around the corner from there and they experienced a similar set of circumstances a couple weeks after we arrived.
So, then the conversation went on about this and that. I guess, until I was asked the questions I just sort of took these experiences and others for granted. I told them about the time I had to walk in a platoon wedge at three a.m. in down-town Baghdad looking for I.E.D.'s on foot. That was a fun time. I was really pretty nervous and then I realized, well, if it's a wired 155 Round or 120 mm mortar, I'm just pink mist in the wind. I'll wake up playing a harp on Cloud Nine. I'm wearing body armor, a kevlar helmet, groin protector, shoulder protectors so if I get shot, I only die if it hits me in the face or in the femoral artery. I was on the far outside right of the formation and hugging that wall likeyou wouldnt believe. I loved that wall, because nobody was shooting me from there. Anyhow, I may have already written about this before so I'll stop here. Suffice it to say, I told the kids that you just always have those things in the back of your mind. Today might be your day.
Two things can happen to you in that environment. As has been said, "There's no atheists in foxholes." or, you can rationalize yourself into some pretty risky behavior. In fact, ironically, the closer and closer you get to redeploying home, the crazier things get. I'm not going to go into it here, but you're just convinced that some twist of fate is going to bring your number up on the big scoreboard in the sky and they'll be telling your dad how terrible it is that you were smoked two weeks before rotating back to the world.
Where am I going with all this? Nowhere really. I guess it was just a matter-of-fact discussion with my kids about matter-of-fact stuff for Soldiers. See, to me, I think for the past few years I've really minimized what went down. I have a bunch more stories, but none of them involve, "this one time, we swept into a safe-house, all dressed in black, on a special ops team, kicked in the door and shot fifty-two terrorists in the face." I think those are the stories everyone wants to hear when you get home.
In fact, that's probably the dumbest thing you can say to a Soldier. "What's it like over there? Is it really that bad?" Which really means, "Did you kill anybody?" It's a hell of a thing to ask a man really. Cause if I had killed someone, I certainly wouldn't be bragging about it. I'd want to bury that down my subconcious so I wouldn't have to relive it and second-guess myself every day of the rest of my life wondering if the Lord was really on my side.
You know I love being a Soldier. I love the comraderie, I love the cut and dry duty. I love being part of something bigger than myself. It's unfortunate, but the flip side of all that is that you really face a lot of cold hard realities that most people never give a second thought about.
I think now six years later, it's really starting to feel like a different life. A world apart you know? Like looking back at your first apartment, or that thing you did in college with the pickup truck and the togas and the giant vat of KY and the sorority girls. (OK, I imagined that, it never happened). Anyhow, as a Soldier your always torn. You can't tell your family you really feel like you want to go back, because you dont. But every day you're in uniform back here in garrison spinning your wheels you feel ridiculous. People at restaurants stopping you and thanking you for your service, little kids idolizing you, people romantizing your efforts. It's ludicrous really. You cant help but see the irony that you're back here in the Land of the Big P.X. (shopping store) and you're brothers and sisters who really deserve that lunch someone just bought you are living in a trailer if they are lucky, or on some combat outpost on a cot if they're not. The real suck are the dudes that are living in Afghanistan embedded with some faction that's anti-Taliban and eating goat parts and not shaving for weeks.
OK, so, where we going with this? I guess, I feel lucky. Not just for the way I lived in Iraq, but for the freedoms we enjoy. No kidding. I know it's cliche' but I really mean it. While I was in Iraq, 75 Iraqi citizens were washing up on the short of the Tigris every day. In a country the size of California, seventy-five people a day. That's unfathomable in the U.S. So, I guess from day to day I forget that, just like everyone else. But not for long. I try to teach my kids without scaring them about daddy's job is really all about at times. It actually frightened me a little that my little girl wants to be a Soldier. I'm proud but nervous. I want her to be a doctor. I dont want her to do what I do. I guess I would rather she not know the things I know as a result of my experiences. I want her to have a healthy respect for our nation, but I just worry about what it entails to continue to pursue these endeavors we're now entrenched in.
Anyhow, not to be a downer. I just thought I better capture what I was thinking tonight. What a conversation around our dinner table can consist of at times. I want to capture this before I forget it.
Well I gotta run. Stacey's back from her walk and it's time to engage with the family again.
Cover me while I move. ;)
See ya later.
J
Monday, April 11, 2011
Family Home Evening
Some of you may not be aware, but our church has asked that we as families set aside one day each week to block out the world and counsel together as families. The day of the week is less important, but in our house we have tried to honor Mondays in this way. Believe it or not, with four children under twelve, this can present a bit of a challenge. In fact, we recently started back up again. Stacey is a member of the Ward's "Relief Society Activities Committee". As such she's recently been involved in putting together little packets for each family. She's told me and of course I haven't listened, but I think there are three groups of about a dozen ladies a piece. Each group makes one packet periodically and then they give them to the Group Leader and they redistribute. I guess in theory you would get a dozen other packets once each month to use for your own personal Family Home Evenings.
Anyhow, the first packet we used we invited a neighbor family over and Stacey presented it. Here's a typical Family Home Evening in our home. We start about forty-five minutes late. I conduct, and we alternate the lesson. Each lesson is preceded by a scripture (hopefully tied to the lesson) an opening song and prayer. Not necessarily in that order. Then someone ramps into the lesson, dad or mom take opportunity to present a spiritual thought or clarification on the lesson. From thence we will conduct a check on learning through a series of questions which are punctuated either by threats or yelling or gritting of teeth. From that point, we usually race to the closing song, and a prayer is pronounced as closing and each kid is either escorted, or thrust into bed. I aint gonna lie to you, it can be downright exhausting!
Well tonight, Lexi was in charge of the lesson. I figured at nine, she would just have her lesson ready to read off the cards. No, she had put little green stickies on four separate scriptures, found the applicable musical accompanyment, made assignments AND conducted. All I did was preside. Which, of course I'm really good at.
Well this particular lesson, was played by Isabelle on the piano with the song, "Pioneer Children" (whom sang as they Walked, and Walked, and Walked annnnnnnd WAAAAAALLKKKEED.") Immediately following that was a thoughtful opening prayer by Josh. Then Lexi segued right into her lesson. She had a pair of my shoes. Into my shoes, in the center of the living room, she took a handful of pebbles. One handful represented "Anger". A second handful in the other shoe was a metaphor for, "Hate" a third, "Hurt". Followed by, "Revenge" and finally, "Resentment". All representative of other pains associated with being wronged. At that point I was already almost over-come with emotion at the reality of how much Stacey and I needed this lesson tonight. Not forgiving each other, but for somethings we've been dealing with over the past year or more. Luckily it's outside of us, but the message is still the same. Each child was invited to walk in the shoes with the pebbles inside and to describe how it felt. Among the questions were, "How long do you think you could walk in those shoes with the pebbles in it?" Stacey and I looked at each other and mouthed the words, "About a year."
The rest of the lesson was predictable but poignant. The point had been made and the Spirit had testified about what we need to do in order to bring peace back into our home and balance back into our lives.
We had an incredibly in-depth conversation with the kids about the Savior. Isabelle reminded us that the Savior had had His hands peirced by nails. At six, she clearly understands how injured the Savior had been. One of the scriptures had echoed the haunting words, "..forgive them Father, for they know not what they do..." The Savior's words while upon the cross. It hit me there, in our little family meeting. The words had taken upon them another level. This time, not just the Savior's forgiveness of those Soldiers that had crucified him, but the thought of how I personally have felt about how I've wronged others. Or how I've been wronged myself. How, most people truly dont understand the depth of their actions when they make short-sighted decisions that result in the anger, hate, and resentment we too often hold as proof of their character.
I've learned also this past year, how painful it can be, when someone refuses to allow heartful change, as well as how someone must feel if I dont allow them the same. I think I learned tonight, from my nine-year old daughter, how holding on to those things can damage us irreparably if gone unchecked. That if I expect change from someone, the same change I expect, but they dont give it, well that damages me, even more than it does them.
I've made a lot of personal changes this past year. By choice but not without a catalyst of course. But one of the things I've expected is for others to do so as well, but in the same way I was. I realized how much hurt our family has endured, almost needlessly as a result of that resentment, hate, and desire for revenge that is just frankly has no place. I've actually been on both sides of this equation and my desire to make things right has consumed me at times.
I could see in Stacey's face volumes about what we'd learned tonight from our children. From the Spirit that is re-entering our home as we let the past go and move forward. I will say that I believe that tonight was the absolute best Family Home Evening we've ever had. Unequivocably it was. I was amazed at the outpouring of personal revelation and knowledge brought about my a willingness to simply hold family time in accordance with the Lord's direction for us as families.
I'm thankful for my wife. I'm thankful for my children. But most of all I'm thankful for a Savior who allows me to learn in my own way, at my own pace. When he does teach me in this way, it is undeniable. It can never be forgotten or every be taken from me. I'm so thankful for this past year and what it's done for my personal growth and for the strengthening of our family I believe will result. I cannot discount the pain that has been endured by so many people. But tonight I heard out of my daughter's sweet efforts for her family a culmination of the Lord's truths that I simply had ignored or not been ready to understand.
If you're working on something in your life. Some old hurt. Some favorite hate, some favorite imagined revenge. I wish you'd reconsider. I wish you would see how that holds you back just as much as your tormentor. I hope you see the gall and bitterness that will ultimately change you if you refuse to let it go. I'm letting things go now. I thought I already had. I think for me, part of letting go is to stop having expectations of others that are just not reasonable. Or, more likely none of my business. I think also I'll stop waiting for forgiveness from others and just start living again. I'll let the Lord handle my imagined and real wrongs. I have so much else to focus on now.
Well that's about it for tonight. I gotta run, I've missed half of, "Castle" and there's a piece of cheese cake with my name on it. Hope you have a wonderful night and day. I'll talk to you soon. Oh and, I'd highly recommend Family Home Evening. You'd be surprised. Heck, most times you dont even have to give the lesson. ;)
OK. See you then,
Jon
Anyhow, the first packet we used we invited a neighbor family over and Stacey presented it. Here's a typical Family Home Evening in our home. We start about forty-five minutes late. I conduct, and we alternate the lesson. Each lesson is preceded by a scripture (hopefully tied to the lesson) an opening song and prayer. Not necessarily in that order. Then someone ramps into the lesson, dad or mom take opportunity to present a spiritual thought or clarification on the lesson. From thence we will conduct a check on learning through a series of questions which are punctuated either by threats or yelling or gritting of teeth. From that point, we usually race to the closing song, and a prayer is pronounced as closing and each kid is either escorted, or thrust into bed. I aint gonna lie to you, it can be downright exhausting!
Well tonight, Lexi was in charge of the lesson. I figured at nine, she would just have her lesson ready to read off the cards. No, she had put little green stickies on four separate scriptures, found the applicable musical accompanyment, made assignments AND conducted. All I did was preside. Which, of course I'm really good at.
Well this particular lesson, was played by Isabelle on the piano with the song, "Pioneer Children" (whom sang as they Walked, and Walked, and Walked annnnnnnd WAAAAAALLKKKEED.") Immediately following that was a thoughtful opening prayer by Josh. Then Lexi segued right into her lesson. She had a pair of my shoes. Into my shoes, in the center of the living room, she took a handful of pebbles. One handful represented "Anger". A second handful in the other shoe was a metaphor for, "Hate" a third, "Hurt". Followed by, "Revenge" and finally, "Resentment". All representative of other pains associated with being wronged. At that point I was already almost over-come with emotion at the reality of how much Stacey and I needed this lesson tonight. Not forgiving each other, but for somethings we've been dealing with over the past year or more. Luckily it's outside of us, but the message is still the same. Each child was invited to walk in the shoes with the pebbles inside and to describe how it felt. Among the questions were, "How long do you think you could walk in those shoes with the pebbles in it?" Stacey and I looked at each other and mouthed the words, "About a year."
The rest of the lesson was predictable but poignant. The point had been made and the Spirit had testified about what we need to do in order to bring peace back into our home and balance back into our lives.
We had an incredibly in-depth conversation with the kids about the Savior. Isabelle reminded us that the Savior had had His hands peirced by nails. At six, she clearly understands how injured the Savior had been. One of the scriptures had echoed the haunting words, "..forgive them Father, for they know not what they do..." The Savior's words while upon the cross. It hit me there, in our little family meeting. The words had taken upon them another level. This time, not just the Savior's forgiveness of those Soldiers that had crucified him, but the thought of how I personally have felt about how I've wronged others. Or how I've been wronged myself. How, most people truly dont understand the depth of their actions when they make short-sighted decisions that result in the anger, hate, and resentment we too often hold as proof of their character.
I've learned also this past year, how painful it can be, when someone refuses to allow heartful change, as well as how someone must feel if I dont allow them the same. I think I learned tonight, from my nine-year old daughter, how holding on to those things can damage us irreparably if gone unchecked. That if I expect change from someone, the same change I expect, but they dont give it, well that damages me, even more than it does them.
I've made a lot of personal changes this past year. By choice but not without a catalyst of course. But one of the things I've expected is for others to do so as well, but in the same way I was. I realized how much hurt our family has endured, almost needlessly as a result of that resentment, hate, and desire for revenge that is just frankly has no place. I've actually been on both sides of this equation and my desire to make things right has consumed me at times.
I could see in Stacey's face volumes about what we'd learned tonight from our children. From the Spirit that is re-entering our home as we let the past go and move forward. I will say that I believe that tonight was the absolute best Family Home Evening we've ever had. Unequivocably it was. I was amazed at the outpouring of personal revelation and knowledge brought about my a willingness to simply hold family time in accordance with the Lord's direction for us as families.
I'm thankful for my wife. I'm thankful for my children. But most of all I'm thankful for a Savior who allows me to learn in my own way, at my own pace. When he does teach me in this way, it is undeniable. It can never be forgotten or every be taken from me. I'm so thankful for this past year and what it's done for my personal growth and for the strengthening of our family I believe will result. I cannot discount the pain that has been endured by so many people. But tonight I heard out of my daughter's sweet efforts for her family a culmination of the Lord's truths that I simply had ignored or not been ready to understand.
If you're working on something in your life. Some old hurt. Some favorite hate, some favorite imagined revenge. I wish you'd reconsider. I wish you would see how that holds you back just as much as your tormentor. I hope you see the gall and bitterness that will ultimately change you if you refuse to let it go. I'm letting things go now. I thought I already had. I think for me, part of letting go is to stop having expectations of others that are just not reasonable. Or, more likely none of my business. I think also I'll stop waiting for forgiveness from others and just start living again. I'll let the Lord handle my imagined and real wrongs. I have so much else to focus on now.
Well that's about it for tonight. I gotta run, I've missed half of, "Castle" and there's a piece of cheese cake with my name on it. Hope you have a wonderful night and day. I'll talk to you soon. Oh and, I'd highly recommend Family Home Evening. You'd be surprised. Heck, most times you dont even have to give the lesson. ;)
OK. See you then,
Jon
Monday, April 4, 2011
Sarcasm, Hyperbole, and Irony Oh MY!
OK, so today my rant is believe it or not about people who dont have a sense of humor. I posted some stuff on Face Book a few days ago that was the very definition of not only implausable, but downright impossible. I heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend that I hurt someone's feel-bads. The joke I posted on there, is not important, the real crux of this is that it was so far out of the realm of possibilities that nobody in their right mind could possibly construe my comments as a real opinion number one. Number two, I actually said something that would confirm a POSITIVE reinforcement of the subject. So I get this text from my spousal-unit that someone called her, because someone called them, because someone said they saw something. (So you KNOW it's true). I guess it's time for us to go play the Telephone Game again and see how that can get twisted by the time it gets from A to B.
OK, so, I guess now I'm sorta pissed off. Not because they didnt bother to call me directly (which is part of it), not because it got everyone in an uproar, but because it's so ridiculous that I'm really contemplating just ceasing and desisting my activities on Facebook. I guess to me, there's a point in life where if you know me, you realize that I have a sense of humor. Additionally I feel if you can't understand sarcasm, hyperbole, or irony, I have little or no use for you. Except maybe as a door-stop or the next form of intelligence above crustacean, but below bony fish. Even dolphins have a sense of humor. Of course it's been said that dolphins are one of the few mammals (yes, mammals *close your mouth when you breathe*) that have sex for fun. Well not fun, I'm sure that in the animal kingdom version of monogamy they are ...ok, who we kiddin' they dont mate for life either. Anyhow, they're smart. They can find enemy subs, they can catch rings on their nose, and they hate sharks. So, in my book dolphins are both cute, and understandably close to my own values system. Heck, if I could jump out of the water and through a ring of fire in front of throngs of adoring thongs I would too. You can bet your bippy I would. [insert Flipper speak here]
Where were we??? Ah yes. So, if you can't understand simple run of the mill humor that a majority of your lesser vertabrates would get, I am not sure how we became "Friends" on a social networking site. Ironically, Facebook only allows five good friends, fourteen silent stalkers, two superficial self-righteous types, seven casual family acquaintances, four college buddies, and seventy-two members of your graduating class to review your intimate thoughts about politics, religion, Youtube Videos, and intimations of emotive lexicon. Hell even the partridge in a pear tree would get dizzy trying to keep all those people satisfied in believing that everything is about them.
So, what I'm getting at I guess, is RELAX. As my brilliant bride once said to me, "This isn't about you." Yeah, I was surprised too! EVERYTHING is about me!!! How could she dare intimate, let alone outright state that position as fact???!!! But guess what, sometimes, even the quiet ones are right. She's smart that gal. Anyhow, so my rant is pretty much complete. Of course my latin passions had me working every possibility of retribution, emasculation, ridicule and perniciousness available to me in order to get "back" at those without humor, but...I elected instead to just let it go. After I ranted of course.
OK, now it's time to tell you that even my tongue-in-cheek rant is in fact, you guessed it, tongue-in-cheek. See we work on multiple levels. As I am here judging my fellow man, I'm actually self-depricating, and if you dont hurry right along there I may poke a little fun at you for standing there all slack-jawed wondering why I'm even taking the time to put this rant to page. I dont know. I have to get it out. When I see irony, I publish it. When I see injustice, I state it boldly. When I see hyperbole, well I protract it wildly (those of you paying attention find that funny. The other 29 of you dont know it was a joke about a joke). Anyhow, relax a little. LIVE a little. Stop taking life so danged seriously. Nobody is shooting at us. The Cold War is over, and there's implosion in the middle east. So what else is new? You going to tell me that the price of oil is up and that the Democrats want more of our money? Wow, nice work there Sherlock. Maybe you could email me and 36 of your closest workmates a forward of a forward of a forward of an, "Angry American" Spam and we could finally tell Congress once and forever how we really feel.
Seriously, you're killing me. OK, I gotta go slap some kids around. Family Home Evening you understand. The only church meeting that starts with a prayer and ends with a spanking. Hold my place in line. I gotta run.
The baby literally just walked up and slapped me, my two daughters are cooing and making noise just to hear themselves talk, momma is hiding upstairs and Josh is AWOL. Aint life grand??? Cover me while I move.
Rant Ended.
OK, so, I guess now I'm sorta pissed off. Not because they didnt bother to call me directly (which is part of it), not because it got everyone in an uproar, but because it's so ridiculous that I'm really contemplating just ceasing and desisting my activities on Facebook. I guess to me, there's a point in life where if you know me, you realize that I have a sense of humor. Additionally I feel if you can't understand sarcasm, hyperbole, or irony, I have little or no use for you. Except maybe as a door-stop or the next form of intelligence above crustacean, but below bony fish. Even dolphins have a sense of humor. Of course it's been said that dolphins are one of the few mammals (yes, mammals *close your mouth when you breathe*) that have sex for fun. Well not fun, I'm sure that in the animal kingdom version of monogamy they are ...ok, who we kiddin' they dont mate for life either. Anyhow, they're smart. They can find enemy subs, they can catch rings on their nose, and they hate sharks. So, in my book dolphins are both cute, and understandably close to my own values system. Heck, if I could jump out of the water and through a ring of fire in front of throngs of adoring thongs I would too. You can bet your bippy I would. [insert Flipper speak here]
Where were we??? Ah yes. So, if you can't understand simple run of the mill humor that a majority of your lesser vertabrates would get, I am not sure how we became "Friends" on a social networking site. Ironically, Facebook only allows five good friends, fourteen silent stalkers, two superficial self-righteous types, seven casual family acquaintances, four college buddies, and seventy-two members of your graduating class to review your intimate thoughts about politics, religion, Youtube Videos, and intimations of emotive lexicon. Hell even the partridge in a pear tree would get dizzy trying to keep all those people satisfied in believing that everything is about them.
So, what I'm getting at I guess, is RELAX. As my brilliant bride once said to me, "This isn't about you." Yeah, I was surprised too! EVERYTHING is about me!!! How could she dare intimate, let alone outright state that position as fact???!!! But guess what, sometimes, even the quiet ones are right. She's smart that gal. Anyhow, so my rant is pretty much complete. Of course my latin passions had me working every possibility of retribution, emasculation, ridicule and perniciousness available to me in order to get "back" at those without humor, but...I elected instead to just let it go. After I ranted of course.
OK, now it's time to tell you that even my tongue-in-cheek rant is in fact, you guessed it, tongue-in-cheek. See we work on multiple levels. As I am here judging my fellow man, I'm actually self-depricating, and if you dont hurry right along there I may poke a little fun at you for standing there all slack-jawed wondering why I'm even taking the time to put this rant to page. I dont know. I have to get it out. When I see irony, I publish it. When I see injustice, I state it boldly. When I see hyperbole, well I protract it wildly (those of you paying attention find that funny. The other 29 of you dont know it was a joke about a joke). Anyhow, relax a little. LIVE a little. Stop taking life so danged seriously. Nobody is shooting at us. The Cold War is over, and there's implosion in the middle east. So what else is new? You going to tell me that the price of oil is up and that the Democrats want more of our money? Wow, nice work there Sherlock. Maybe you could email me and 36 of your closest workmates a forward of a forward of a forward of an, "Angry American" Spam and we could finally tell Congress once and forever how we really feel.
Seriously, you're killing me. OK, I gotta go slap some kids around. Family Home Evening you understand. The only church meeting that starts with a prayer and ends with a spanking. Hold my place in line. I gotta run.
The baby literally just walked up and slapped me, my two daughters are cooing and making noise just to hear themselves talk, momma is hiding upstairs and Josh is AWOL. Aint life grand??? Cover me while I move.
Rant Ended.
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