Beach Haven

While my wife and I traveled this past Christmas we stayed at several hotels. At one of them something unexpected happened. After getting there late at night, and waking up tired the next morning, I prepared for a shower. It was one of those that has a single handle you just twist. The position of the knob determines the temperature of the water. When plumbed normally, you twist counterclockwise and the water progresses from cold, through warm, and landing on hot. I turned the knob all the way to the hot position waiting for the water to warm up. It didn’t. Instead, the water remained icy cold. This was not the best outcome first thing in the morning. I began to twist it clockwise, back toward off, when the water began to warm. It was obvious the shower was plumbed backwards. When the knob was in the red zone the water was cold, and when it was in the blue zone the water was hot. I thought to myself, why would they not take the short time necessary to simply remove the valve, flip it around, and reinstall it? I know how that works as we had the same problem in our Georgia home when we first moved in 18 years ago.

After my shower and breakfast, I returned to the bathroom and then I noticed it. Right above the shower knob was a sticker warning the reader that the plumbing was backwards. Instead of fixing it they just shared the unexpected status. I thought how interesting it was that the whole time I fiddled with the knob I never even noticed the sticker. I learned through experience the mistake despite someone’s attempt to warn me. Seems like we see what we look for, and miss what we don’t look for, even when the thing we don’t see is right in front of us.

From Matthew 13
14 And in them is fulfilled the prophecy of Esaias, which saith, By hearing ye shall hear, and shall not understand; and seeing ye shall see, and shall not perceive:
15 For this people’s heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.
16 But blessed are your eyes, for they see: and your ears, for they hear.

I hope we are looking for those things that Heavenly Father wants to teach us. I’m sure I miss plenty of opportunities to learn since sometimes I have eyes but see not. 
​

What has been bouncing around lately is the relationship among faith, hope, and charity. It’s been sparked by two writers. One of my favorite sections of scripture is 1 Cor 13 from the New Testament. There is a similar passage we have recently read as my wife and I review scriptures at breakfast. It’s Moroni 7 in the Book of Mormon in which Moroni is quoting his father Mormon.

Both Paul and Mormon come to a similar conclusion, that charity is in the primary position of the three.

1 Corinthians 13:13
And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

Moroni 7:46-47
Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail--
But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.
​
I wondered why that is. Here is my simple way of thinking of it. Faith is what we do. Hope is what we gain. Charity is our motivation. There are many scriptures that show that if we don’t have charity, or love, as a motivation then our works (faith) and hope are in vain. If we hope to gain hope, then why we do what we do is more important than doing what we do. I’m sure you scriptorians out there can find many passages that note how our works alone don’t save us. We are not saved without Jesus Christ. Also, if all we do is ‘believe’ in Christ but don’t act on what he says then we are faithless. Perhaps an obvious example of these two extremes of focus on works or focus on belief is found here:

Matthew 7: 21-23
Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.
Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?
And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.

A talk I gave in church in October of last year:​

Our granddaughter Minnie Coates is 2 years old. Recently she looked up at my wife with wide open eyes and a big grin after taking her first taste of a Tootsie Roll and said, "So stinkin' good!" The Heavens have reopened, and it’s so stinkin’ good. I will look at only one of the gospel parts that has been restored. There are many, but I consider this one as high on the priority list.

Moses 1:39
For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.

The key word for me here is and. It does not say or in other words. This by definition means that immortality is not the same thing as eternal life. Immortality means to live forever. We also call it salvation or resurrection.  Eternal life means living forever with God, in the same way that God lives. We also call it exaltation. Salvation comes to all as a free gift from Jesus Christ. Exaltation also comes from Jesus Christ through His atonement but requires us to exercise faith in the way He has commanded.

From the conference talk “Joseph Smith - Prophet of the Restoration” (Tad R Callister, Oct. 2009):
Through Joseph Smith have been restored all the powers, keys, teachings, and ordinances necessary for salvation and exaltation. You cannot go anywhere else in the world and get that. It is not to be found in any other church. It is not to be found in any philosophy of man or scientific digest or individual pilgrimage, however intellectual it may seem. Salvation is to be found in one place alone, as so designated by the Lord Himself when He said that this is “the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth” (D&C 1:30).

Malachi 4
5 ¶ Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord:
6 And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.

​Joseph Smith History
38 And again, he quoted the fifth verse thus: Behold, I will reveal unto you the Priesthood, by the hand of Elijah the prophet, before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord.
39 He also quoted the next verse differently: And he shall plant in the hearts of the children the promises made to the fathers, and the hearts of the children shall turn to their fathers. If it were not so, the whole earth would be utterly wasted at his coming.

I read at least two meanings of the word 'wasted'. In one sense it can be read as the earth would be laid waste, as in destroyed. I don’t get that particular meaning here. For me the ‘curse’ or the ‘waste’ would be that all the effort of the plan of salvation would be made moot if the hearts of the children and fathers are not turned toward each other. If we are to have eternal life, meaning God’s life, what is that life? God’s life is family life. We have a loving Heavenly Father and Mother. We are their spirit sons and daughters. So Elijah the prophet was to bring the priesthood keys that made eternal families binding all of God’s children. If this were not to happen, then none of us would achieve His stated goal of eternal life.

Christ to Peter:
Matthew 16
18 And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.
19 And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

Elijah to Joseph Smith in the temple at Kirtland, Ohio, April 3, 1836:
D&C110
13 After this vision had closed, another great and glorious vision burst upon us; for Elijah the prophet, who was taken to heaven without tasting death, stood before us, and said:
14 Behold, the time has fully come, which was spoken of by the mouth of Malachi—testifying that he [Elijah] should be sent, before the great and dreadful day of the Lord come--
15 To turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the children to the fathers, lest the whole earth be smitten with a curse--
16 Therefore, the keys of this dispensation are committed into your hands; and by this ye may know that the great and dreadful day of the Lord is near, even at the doors.

Our Jewish friends still look forward to the coming of Elijah. They even set an extra spot at their Passover meal, reserved for Elijah in case he comes to their house. They imagine it is to happen at the only arrival of the Messiah, but the Messiah has already arrived and will again. Elijah was to bring these keys back before his second arrival to usher in the millennial era. He did bring those keys to Joseph Smith.

From the conference talk “Pillars and Rays” (Alexander Dushku, April 2024):
You may have experienced these bursts of light and testimony as “peace [spoken] to your mind concerning [a] matter” that has worried you.  Or as an impression—a still, small voice—that settled “in your mind and in your heart” and urged you to do something good, such as helping someone. Perhaps you’ve been in a class at church—or at a youth camp—and felt a strong desire to follow Jesus Christ and stay faithful. Maybe you even stood and shared a testimony that you hoped was true and then felt it was. Or maybe you’ve been praying and felt a joyful assurance that God loves you.  You may have heard someone bear testimony of Jesus Christ, and it touched your heart and filled you with hope. Perhaps you were reading in the Book of Mormon and a verse spoke to your soul, as if God had put it there just for you—and then you realized that He did. You may have felt the love of God for others as you served them. Or maybe you struggle to feel the Spirit in the moment because of depression or anxiety but have the precious gift and the faith to look back and recognize past “tender mercies of the Lord.”

I hope someone in this sacrament meeting (or reading this post) has had a similar experience.
Our grandson Dallin Blackburn tasted some of Sister Beach’s molasses cookies not long ago. After taking a bite, like his cousin Minnie, he looked at Sister Beach with wide eyes and a big smile and said, "Good thing you made them with extra good things." As good as those cookies are, the Gospel has even better extra good things. It is in the Gospel we gain true and lasting happiness. Only in the Gospel of Jesus Christ can we be the recipients of God’s ultimate goals for us of immortality and eternal life.

When I served as a full-time missionary in southern Spain in 1982 and 1983 the singing group Mocedades was in the waning part of their career, but still really popular. Among their songs was one that touched me back then, and still does. It is called “Dime Señor”. It means, ‘tell me Lord’. Here are the words in Spanish and English.

Sola en el puerto de la verdad,
Veo mi vida meciéndose en el mar.
Es una barca que no viene ni va.
Mis esperanzas son velas sin hinchar.
No tengo playa donde atracar.
No tengo amarras, a nadie tengo ya.
A la deriva está mi barca en el mar.
A la deriva mi vida flota ya.
Dime Señor ¿a quién tengo que esperar?
¿Con qué viento, con qué rumbo debo navegar?
Dime Señor, pescador del más allá,
¿Habrá un puerto donde pueda anclar?
Sola en el puerto de la verdad,
Dos flores blancas se mecen en el mar.
Son dos amores que no supe alcanzar.
Son dos entregas y a cambio soledad.
Dime Señor ¿a quién tengo que esperar?
¿Con qué viento, con qué rumbo debo navegar?
Dime Señor, pescador del más allá,
¿Habrá un puerto dónde pueda anclar?

Alone in the port of truth,
I see my life swaying in the sea.
It is a boat that neither comes nor goes.
My hopes are deflated sails.
I don’t have a beach to attract me.
I don’t have ties, I have nobody now.
Adrift is my boat in the sea.
Adrift my life floats now.
Tell me Lord, who do I have to hope for?
With which wind, with which course should I steer?
Tell me Lord, fisherman of the great beyond,
Will there be a port where I can anchor?
Alone in the port of truth,
Two white flowers sway in the sea.
They are two loves I learned to reach for.
They are two gifts, and in exchange is loneliness.
Tell me Lord, who do I have to hope for?
With which wind, with which course should I steer?
Tell me Lord, fisherman of the great beyond,
Will there be a port where I can anchor?
 
You can read these sentiments in several ways. For me, I see them as reflecting the thoughts of someone who wonders about God’s will for them. They are asking where they can find truth among so many conflicting ideas. They pursued at least two former paths and neither panned out. So now they feel alone.
 
The concept of anchoring came home to me over the summer. My grandson Aiden, a family friend and I moved our sailboat from Solomons Island, MD to Norfolk, VA over the summer last year. We might have done it quickly, but we chose to make stops along the way. In the end we spent four days and three nights on the trip before reaching the Bay Point Marina where the boat now resides. Two of those nights we stopped too late to take up residence in a transient marina slip. Instead, we simply searched for reasonable anchorages along the way.
 
The first of these anchorages was not very far south of the outlet of the Patuxent River where we began the journey. The day was windy, and the winds were straight off the bow. That meant we had to tack (zig-zag) as we went. This added distance traveled, but shortened distance traveled in our desired direction. After sailing through a rather heavy squall (storm) we rounded Point No Point Lighthouse on the west shore and anchored just outside Saint Mary’s at the mouth of Saint Jerome Creek. Our boat has some specific dimensions. It is just under 30 feet long, weighs 7000 pounds, and has a mast height of 41 feet. In the case of anchorage, a more important specification is the draft, or depth of the keel. That’s 5-1/2 feet. Given the rise and fall of tides, we generally won’t anchor in water less than 10 feet deep, but if it is too deep then we can be short on anchor chain. That meant inside the bay at the creek outlet was off limits to us because it was too shallow. Outside the bay offered little protection from wind and waves, so having a strong anchorage was very important if we were to get any sleep that night. Ideal anchorage consists of a soft, muddy bottom with limited rocks or plants. Thankfully, that’s exactly what we found in this location. All night the wind blew, and the waves made things uncomfortable. Both shifted from the south to the east which meant that if our anchor lost hold, we would drift into the shallows and be grounded. Thankfully this didn’t happen.

The other anchorage was two nights later. We entered Mobjack Bay late so none of the marinas were open. We picked another good anchorage point on the north side of the bay. Just like the previous anchorage, it was windy at night, but the waves were less bothersome than in the previous anchorage. Mobjack Bay runs from northwest to southeast. It would have been a comfortable place had the winds been from any of the cardinal points. However, the winds were from the southeast meaning they blew unabated from the Chesapeake into Mobjack. Thankfully, as the night passed, so did the winds and we slept comfortably.
 
In both cases, we found the best sort of depth and bottom type. We also had the sort of equipment (anchor and chain) that allowed for safe nights even if they were a bit bouncy at times. In the Mocedades song, they ask if there is safe anchorage. Where do we place our anchor? The gospel of Jesus Christ is where I choose to anchor. I put my anchor, my faith, in the best place, in my personal ‘port of truth’ or perhaps better stated ‘truth seeking’. When the winds blow and the waves rise, it is Jesus Christ who holds me in place, and when needed, He can calm the wind and waves that beat on me in life. In His gospel I find clarity and truth. All other sources I find helpful but wanting.

In my Navy days, I made shipboard passage across the Pacific Ocean five times. When planning a route, we used two different kinds of maps. The first is called a gnomonic projection. Of the two types, it more closely represents the spherical in 2D. The problem is it also covers large swaths of the globe, not much good for day-to-day navigation. We would draw a straight line on this projection, say from San Diego to Honolulu. Then we would transpose some way points to a series of Mercator projections. This sort of map covers smaller parts of the ocean and is better suited for short daily navigation. A GPS uses Mercator projections. Here is the problem. A straight line on a 3D surface like a globe is not straight on a flat surface. As I said, gnomonic maps are a closer approximation of a sphere. A straight line on this map becomes a curved line on a Mercator version. It turns out the shortest distance between two points on a sphere is a curved line, not a straight one. In order to avoid keeping the ship in a constant turn, points are transferred from one map to the other at predetermined intervals. The ship turns a little at each of these waypoints allowing it to keep to the overall path.

While attending the temple recently, I noticed three words connected with the covenants described. These words are ‘laws, rites, and ordinances’. The scriptures remind us that ‘straight is the gate and narrow the way’ that leads to eternal life. The gate is the ordinance of baptism and represents a form of waypoint on our path. From the April 2024 talk "Put Ye on the Lord Jesus Christ" by Sister J. Annette Dennis, “Through a covenant relationship with God, our own lives can become a living symbol of our commitment to and deep love for our Father in Heaven, … and our desire to progress and eventually become like our Savior, being prepared to one day enter Their presence.” From the April 2024 talk "God’s Intent is to Bring You Home" by Elder Patrick Kearon, “What do God’s messengers, His prophets, call this plan in Restoration scripture? They call it the plan of redemption, the plan of mercy, the great plan of happiness, and the plan of salvation, which is unto all, ‘through the blood of mine Only Begotten’.”

First, let’s look at laws. There are certainly laws that we think of as codified such as traffic or tax laws. God’s laws are the commandments. For me, this is a narrow version of what laws are. For example, there are physical laws that existed long before we humans started trying to understand them and write them down. Gravity is a force, sometimes called a law. Because of it, for a long time we thought we could not fly. Eventually we learned there are three other forces along with gravity that are part of the laws of aerodynamics, and then we could fly. Those laws or forces (gravity, drag, thrust, lift) were always there, unwritten, yet true. By the way, when it comes to gravity, we still don’t know what it is. We can describe its effects, but we still use both Newton’s ideas of gravity as a pulling force and Einstein’s ideas that it is a pushing force. We use both because sometimes Newtonian math works better than Einsteinian or vice versa, but neither fully describes gravity. Despite the fact that we haven’t fully documented the law of gravity, yet it exists. For me, a law is less a set of written rules. It is more a way of life, a path. D&C 88:25 "And again, verily I say unto you, the earth abideth the law of a celestial kingdom, for it filleth the measure of its creation, and transgresseth not the law."

Rites are a subset of the law we choose to live. These are physical things we do alone or together that act as waypoints along our path, our law. They could be traditions we do like birthday celebrations or holidays. Other examples are holding family home evening, youth activities, ministering, serving a mission, our callings, or repentance. For me, not all rites are commandments, but all commandments are rites. If we choose rites that are not waypoints on the path to heaven then we eventually arrive somewhere else.

Finally, ordinances are a subset of rites. In the case of ordinances, they are defined and require authority. These are things we can’t do for ourselves, but someone else performs for us, or we for someone else. Examples include baptism, confirmation, receiving the priesthood, and temple ceremonies. I have come to think that the Atonement was also an ordinance. It was performed only once by one person who had authority on behalf of everyone. Christ did not need the atonement for his sin since He had no sin. He was not acting for himself. He did resurrect for himself, then gave that power to the rest of us.

Navigating along the covenant path, following a law or way of life, is like the straight line on the gnomonic projection. Rites and ordinances are like waypoints we do day-to-day like those documented on a Mercator map. What’s our next waypoint, our next rite or ordinance? Is it attending meetings, going to activities, partaking of the Sacrament, or attending the temple for ourselves or our ancestors? President Nelson has reminded us that the covenant path includes daily repentance. We also know we should include daily prayer and scripture study as waypoints as well. These routine rites keep us on the path. Again from the talk by Elder Kearon, “Fundamentally implicit in all of His teachings to live on a higher plane of moral conduct is a call to personal progression, to transformative faith in Christ, to a mighty change of heart.” Let us include more daily waypoints to stay closer to the path of personal progression.

This past June I had a unique experience. Our sailboat has been at the Harbor Island Marina in Solomon’s Island, MD. We needed to move the boat to Bay Point Marina, in Norfolk, VA, it’s new home. It’s too big for a regular tailer we can pull, and paying a mover to do it is pricey. The best answer was to just sail the boat to its new home. So that’s what happened. I was joined by our grandson Aiden. He is 14 years old. We were also accompanied by Kerry Riley, a family friend of ours from VA. We planned to take our time. In the end we spent 4 days on the water. The first day we faced constant headwinds, so we had to do something called beating, where you zig-zag (tack) about 30 degrees either side of upwind. That meant we spent as much time moving east-west as we did south, our intended direction. In the end we probably sailed about 40 miles to move 20 miles south.

The last part of the trip on that first day brought a rather blustery squall. Despite the daylight, the rain was heavy, and the clouds were thick making visibility rather low. The winds also brought up the sea-state to about 2-foot swells. We were approaching the mouth of Saint Jerome Creek where there is a bit of a point giving partial shelter from the south winds. The lighthouse there is called “Point No-Point Lighthouse”.  The name will give you an idea of the minimal protection of the point. What was inspiring to me is that we got near the lighthouse just as the worst of the storm hit. Rather than approaching the shore for an anchorage during the storm we decided to use the lighthouse. We shifted from sail to motor and circled near the lighthouse. In a world where everything around us was all chaos, the lighthouse was both visible and stationary. Using the GPS and paper charts, we could tell exactly where we were relative to the lighthouse. The storm eventually passed by, and we could see the shore again. This allowed us to safely move close to shore, drop our anchor, and stop for the night. 

There are all sorts of lessons that can be taken from this little story. Here are just a few. The lighthouse gave us something visible and fixed from which we could confidently position ourselves. Like a lighthouse, the Savior is 'the light' and 'the rock'. He encourages us to likewise be ‘steadfast and immovable’. When trying to figure out where to be in life, we can have confidence in Him. In life, storms come and go. It can be hard to see, and like waves and winds, life-stability may be hard to find. Although we still had to ride out the storm, having the stable lighthouse lowered the stress of our little band of three sailors. We didn’t worry about grounding or being unsure of where we were. We also knew that once the storm passed, we could safely navigate to anchorage. Jesus Christ offers similar confidence when trials come our way. 

​In May I had the High Council speaking assignment in the Snellville GA ward. The other speaker was a recently returned missionary who served in Uruguay. Here is the assigned topic and references I used from April 2024 general conference.

Topic: Prepare for and realize the blessings of the ordinances and covenants available in the house of the Lord.

Assigned conference talks and the specific quotes I pulled from them:

The Powerful, Virtuous Cycle of the Doctrine of Christ (Renlund, April 2024)
“We become vulnerable when we slow down and especially when we stop. If we maintain spiritual momentum by continually ‘rowing’ toward the Savior, we are safer and more secure because our eternal life depends on our faith in Him.”

“Spiritual momentum is created ‘over a lifetime as we repeatedly embrace the doctrine of Christ.’ Doing so, President Russell M. Nelson taught, produces a ‘powerful virtuous cycle’. Repeatedly means that we experience the elements of the doctrine of Christ over and over throughout our lives. Iteratively means that we build on and improve with each repetition. Even though we repeat the elements, we are not just spinning in circles without a forward trajectory. Instead, we draw closer to Jesus Christ each time through the cycle.”

“As the Holy Ghost exerts a greater influence in our lives, we progressively and iteratively develop Christlike attributes. Our hearts change.”

“To be clear, baptismal and temple covenants are not, in and of themselves, the source of power. The source of power is the Lord Jesus Christ and our Heavenly Father. Making and keeping covenants create a conduit for Their power in our lives. As we live according to these covenants, we eventually become inheritors to all that Heavenly Father has.”

Temples, Houses of the Lord Dotting the Earth (Anderson, April 2024)
“On that sacred occasion in the Kirtland Temple, the Prophet prayed that in the Lord’s holy house, the Saints would be armed with the power of God, that the name of Jesus Christ would be upon them, that His angels would have charge over them, and that they would grow up in the Lord and ‘receive a fulness of the Holy Ghost.’ These powerful supplications are fulfilled in our lives as we faithfully worship in the house of the Lord.”

“As we are faithful, we are blessed with protection from temptations and distractions. We feel our Savior’s love as He lifts us from our difficulties and sorrows. We are armed with the power of God.”
“Through the power of the Holy Ghost, we are filled with peace and joy and unspeakable hope. We receive the strength to remain His disciples even when we find ourselves outside of holy places.”
“There are many different ways to see the face of Christ, and there is no better place than in His holy house.”

Mixed in with these quotes I had a few stories lined up to share. Time kept me from using all the quotes and stories, but here is what was in the hopper.

While visiting two of our children in Utah in late April and early May, we attended the Jordan River temple. Among those we took with us in the form of temple name cards were three I’d like to mention.

First was Sarah Liggett. She was very anxious to have her work done. When I was preparing and printing name-cards her ordinances were added to my list and then printed. I had not actually chosen to add her and print her card, yet it happened. I’m sure she was happy when we went ahead and took her with us.

Next was Emma Dietz. Our daughter Ashley and her husband Ryan took her among others for endowments early in the week. Later, we all attended a sealing session. During that session, Emma was sealed to her parents, husband and daughter. Several people in the room noted the feeling of the Spirit when we completed her ordinances.

Finally, Howard Beach. He is my uncle (my father’s brother). When I was a kid growing up in Pennsylvania, Howard was a town cop. For years he’d been in the K-9 group and we got to know his police dog. He finished his career as a city detective. We heard plenty of stories from Howard. I’m sure adults in the family heard more than we kids did. Still more stories likely followed him to his grave unshared. We were able to seal him to my grandparents. I felt the Spirit most strongly for Howard when I had his baptism done in the Washington DC temple a month earlier. I was able to perform the confirmation and felt a spike in the Spirit for the 20 seconds or so it took to confirm him.

At sacrament each week we renew our baptismal covenants in that we say we are ‘willing’ to take upon us His name, meaning to be known as followers of Jesus Christ, members of His church, Christians. In the temple we take His name more directly, not just that we are willing to. I know that I am better at keeping the commandments when I go to the temple. I continue learning new thoughts there, even though I’ve been attending for more than 40 years.

I encourage all our family to keep an up-to-date temple recommend, and to make the time to go. If you don’t have a recommend, consider just visiting the temple grounds and feel the Spirit. You will be showing faith in such a simple act.
​

​With the permission of my wife Michelle, I’d like to share a story of discipleship I witnessed back in March. On a Saturday evening at about 10pm she received a phone call. Anytime the phone rings that late it’s almost always bad news. In this case, a sister in our ward was calling for help. She and a friend had gone roller skating earlier that day. At some point the sister took a fall on her backside. It was now hours later, and the pain was still steady and strong. Having experienced a broken tailbone at one time in life, Michelle suggested a hospital visit. The good sister of course had no way to get to the emergency room. So well after our normal bedtime (we're old), off she went into the night to take this sister to the hospital. She knew this was an all-night task and told me to get to sleep.

The next morning as I was driving for an early church leadership meeting, Michelle was on her way home after being up all night. We chatted on the phone. She promised to get an hour or two of sleep before church. I returned home later that morning, and we went to church together. She plays piano for sacrament meeting so felt she could not put that on someone else last minute. She was also unsure if she could stay for the second hour of church. Normally she sits on the stand to avoid going up and down during the sacrament meeting. If I have no church business I sit in the congregation. On this occasion I suggested I might sit on the stand with her and nudge her when it was time to play the piano if she was having trouble staying awake. As you might guess, the opposite happened. She stayed awake and had to nudge me several times during the meeting. She was able to attend Relief Society during the second hour as well. Obviously, the Lord was helping her.

There are several points that came to mind for me in all this. It’s the simple selfless kind of service that marks a servant of the Lord. As important as visible roles in gospel service are, personal direct acts of service are the essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Faith is the other thought that came to me in this. She had a willingness to do her part and trust that God would somehow help her through the trial in the moment. Michelle didn’t really question what she needed to do. She gave a short sigh, bade me good night, grabbed her car keys, and off she went knowing fully well she faced a sleepless night. 

I'm retired these days. While I worked, one aspect of that life that I both appreciated, and at times only tolerated, was travel. When I was young, I loved that part of my work life. Now as an old guy, travel can be taxing. Despite the challenge of it, I have been blessed to visit so much of this planet. One of my collateral duties at NPR was to represent the network as a board member of the North American Broadcasters Association (NABA). That group seeks to represent broadcasters to the respective governments of Canada, Mexico, and the US. NABA is one regional group in the larger World Broadcast Union (WBU). On one of my last trips for work, I was representing NABA at a WBU conference in Tunis, Tunisia. I was joined on a panel by reps from some of the other regions. The event was hosted at the Arab States Broadcasting Union (ASBU).

I had a few extra days in Tunis before the event and was able to see much of the main parts of the city including the Mediterranean coast. Getting around, interacting in multiple languages, making sense of local money and local customs, trying out food that is new to me, these are all part of the process. Perhaps the reader is familiar with this. Even if you have never left the US, chances are you’ve felt some level of culture shock when visiting other places. Going to a new place can bring about ambiguity. Thank goodness we have some help with all of this. There are others who have gone before us who can share words of wisdom. There are others who go with us who can share in the experience of the day. There is a loving Heavenly Father who can guide us through the wonderful blessing that comes from the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. We also have those who love us back home, wherever that is for each of us, who pray for us and await our return.

While in Tunis, I was able to walk through some of the ruins of the city of Carthage. This place existed at the time of the Savior’s mortal ministry. If you know something of history, you may have heard of the Punic Wars. This was when Carthage was a rival to Rome. Through several wars, Rome eventually leveled Carthage and built a roman city on it’s ruins. I was able to see some of the older archeological sites of the pre-Roman and also the Roman eras. The city sits on a rise above a beautiful harbor on the southern Mediterranean, along the north coast of Africa. At the pinnacle of the city there has since been erected a large mosque. The area is also dotted with farm fields where neither ancient nor modern buildings exist. At one point I came across a shepherd tending a large sized flock of sheep, straight out of the Bible. While walking through the Roman section I was befriended by a little stray cat. They are everywhere in Tunis. This one just kept following me around until I approached the exit of the archeological site. I waved adieu and he turned back to his ancient home.

At one point I was in the Medina section of Tunis where there are many open markets. There was also a substantial protest rally in support of Palestine. The signs were quite harsh toward Israel, America, and the west in general. Despite the rhetoric, people really didn’t seem to notice me moving through the crowd even though I was obviously a westerner.

I hope we all take the time to notice what is happening around us. We are to be in the world, but not of the world. Sometimes the second part is easier than the first. Hiding our light under a bushel is more comfortable, but not the mandate we have from Jesus Christ.

Not long ago, my wife and I attended the temple with some friends who were receiving their own ordinances including being sealed to each other. It was a nice opportunity to support them and their extended family. While listening in the temple I noticed something I hadn’t before, so I came home to look at a few scriptures. Here they are:

Moses 3:15 And I, the Lord God, took the man, and put him into the Garden of Eden, to dress it, and to keep it.

Abraham 5:11 And the Gods took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden, to dress it and to keep it.

Genesis 2:15 And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

Here is a pattern I hadn’t noticed before. I had imagined the garden as a place where there was no labor. They just gathered food and spent lazy days, learning at some level but limited until the fall. I still think that part is true, except for the ‘lazy’ part. In each of these scriptures, and in the temple, Adam and Eve are commanded to dress and take care of the garden. That sounds like they had to do some work. Although the work would not have been as difficult as after the fall, yet work in tending the garden, maintaining it, was still a part of their existence. God tells them to have joy in it. I had always taken that to mean for them to have joy in simply living in the garden. Now I think that the joy came not just because they partook of the food and peace of the garden, but because they had to do some level of work to fully enjoy the fruit. Without the work the joy would be less, or maybe not at all.

This feels much like our own lives. The greatest growth comes through challenges. For me, our work doesn’t cause blessings, but it is a show of faith that then brings blessings through the Savior. I hope to be willing to do my little portion of work so that I can find joy in living where God has planted me. 
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Pausing is something I’d like to mention in this note. Reading in the book of Moroni (within The Book of Mormon) I recently noticed something. In Chapter 2, Jesus gives the apostles power to confer the gift of the Holy Ghost. He tells them that before they enact the ordinance they should, “call on the Father in my name, in mighty prayer; and after ye have done this ye shall have power…”. In Chapter 3, He gives them power to ordain brethren to the priesthood. Verse 3 notes, “After they had prayed unto the Father in the name of Christ…”. In both cases the holders of the priesthood are to pause long enough to pray before they enact the ordinance.

I have often done this myself, and have seen others do it also. I hadn’t thought of it as an instruction or requirement to do so, only a way to bring the Spirit. Yet in both of these chapters, saying a prayer as a precursor to the ordinance is part of the ‘manner of’, meaning part of the expected process. In the first case, Jesus specifically instructs the brethren to do it. In the second case, it is written as one step in the process.

The practice of making time to pause and pray can be applied to anything we face. It could be for seeking guidance and assistance in completing a difficult task like taking a school exam, giving a speech, discussing a family problem, or approaching the bishop for repentance. Taking a prayerful pause can also be taken after getting through something such as any of these same examples. Taking pause can be done during a moment of pondering, or while noticing your blessings. Pausing and praying doesn’t have to be something prescribed. We don’t have to go find a place to formally kneel if it’s not available. We can just take a moment to bow our head, whisper our prayer, and collect our thoughts wherever we are. We can also consciously seek a moment of privacy where kneeling and verbal prayer are possible. In my mind, the latter is preferable.

As an example, in my recent working life I have been a speaker at meetings of a committee of the NPR Board of Directors. It was a part of my job I did almost every month. Some time just before the meeting starts I would close my office door and bow my head to ask for Heavenly Father to inspire me with the right words. I did that even though I already did as part of my normal morning prayer. I still had to do my part to be prepared for the meetings, but He helped me recall the information I needed during the presentation and in response to questions that will come up from board members.

I recommend we each take advantage of the blessing God has given us, the blessing to pause and pray with whatever life brings us. Even when we are in a hurry and have little time, taking a moment will make the outcome better.
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​This is a slightly modified version of a story I wrote back in March of 2008 for the print version of the BHP.  Enjoy.

Fairview. It's interesting how a single word can churn up so many thoughts and memories. In a small town in eastern Pennsylvania in the early seventies life was blue collar. Houses were old and small. The people were wonderful and terrible.

Much of my life on Fairview Avenue revolved around the alley behind our house, the open grass lot next to the volunteer fire station just down the block, and Fairview Elementary.

Fairview Elementary was an old box of a building. It was solid red brick. The front doors were at the top of a tall set of concrete steps. The basement was half above and half below ground. It housed the cafeteria and the boiler room. The other two stories were classrooms, hallways and bathrooms. We didn’t get lockers. Each classroom had its own closet where we each had a hook for our coat and shared shelf space for a lunch box if we didn’t eat the cafeteria food that day. Most of the building was surrounded by an asphalt playground. It was on a street corner and the property stretched from Fairview Avenue to the alley. Behind was an empty grass lot across the alley. On one side was a neighbor’s house. In the narrow strip between the school and the house was a bit of rocks and weeds bordered by a tall chain link fence. Poplar Street ran the length of the playground and crossed Fairview Avenue. This is where I learned to fight. It's where I learned to avoid some people. It's where I fell in love the first time. It's also where I learned the nature of a lie.
 
I was ten. During the summer I had my first broken bone. Along with friends, I had been jumping off the banister on the front porch of our house. I'd done it hundreds of times before. Then came the one time when something didn't go the way it had so many times in the past. My arm went down before my legs. When I picked up my arm to look, I saw a perfect Z shape before the swelling started and turned it into a grapefruit. Both the bones in my left forearm had been broken.

The plaster cast went on. It went from my hand all the way above my elbow. Over time the cast filled with signatures of friends and family. It was my first real experience with a hospital. I remember sitting forever with my balloon arm wondering when they were going to do something. I remember being asked if I wanted my name in the paper.

I had never thought of such a thing. My name in the paper. Wow! Looking back, I understand this was just a standard hospital blurb in the weekly paper. In the more modern time of confidentiality and HIPAA this would likely never happen, but back then in small-town America it was business as usual. The idea both flattered and repulsed me. I would be known by all, but what would they say? Keeping my mind busy helped me to lower the crying and whining I had been doing because of the pain. I survived. Six weeks later, after all the itching, the saw came out, the cast came off and the summer went on. Then came fifth grade.

Fifth grade. The same kids were there from fourth grade. Radell Harding was there. She was a typical blond skinny, budding young lady to others. To me she was sighs and blushes. The game of the school day was kick ball. This was no wimpy little kids' kick ball. This was cut-throat and blood-loss-at-every-game kick ball. Bruises and scrapes were common. Glory and shame for the entire school year road on every game. Fights broke out every couple of weeks. It was wonderful for ten-year-old boys. I got my licks in like the rest. I also sometimes took and gave during the occasional spill-over fight that happened in the neighborhood when all the teachers were gone.

One of the best things for a boy to be able to do at Fairview was to work with the Janitor. I was on the crew. It was great because we could get out of class for the work. We also stayed some extra time in the boiler room. When the work was done, we'd sometimes agree that we were still busily working when we were really tossing paper into the boiler and watching it catch fire, or concocting other risky and destructive behaviors. The janitor was crotchety and rebellious like we were, and we all loved it.

Sometime just before Christmas my name came up for another fun assignment, milk detail. As fifth graders, we all got the chance to get out of class for fifteen minutes or so to go get boxes full of milk cartons and distribute them to the classrooms just before milk break. My turn would begin just after the holiday break in January. I was looking forward to the excuse to escape class each day, but not as much as I was looking forward to the holiday break. I had two things in mind for the holiday, sleeping in and snowballs.

At church there was a buzz. It was Sumo Tom, an unusual name for an unusual boy from an unusual family. The Tom family and our family were good friends. Their kids and those of my family were roughly the same age. Sumo was a year younger than me. They had horses and dogs. We had a dog, but that was it. Jesse Tom was the family patriarch. He was Hawaiian, real native Hawaiian. I was told he was some relation to Don Ho. His wife was Ethel. She had fire-like red hair that matched her personality from my childish perspective. I always thought she looked Irish, but I don’t really know. Sometimes our church put on talent shows. She would dance Hawaiian dances. It always seemed odd to me. She just didn’t look the part. All the kids in the family had cool sounding Hawaiian names.

Sumo fit his name. He was large and round shaped like the famous wrestlers. He had a happy disposition, and all us kids at church liked him. It was Sumo that caused the buzz at church. Just as school was getting out for vacation he had suffered appendicitis. He had to go to the hospital and have his appendix removed. We all got to see the scar. The girls were repulsed. We boys were sudden admirers of the cool stitches. Over the break I thought about appendicitis. Why couldn’t I have it too? I could be cool like Sumo when I went back to school. Oh well. Too bad.

After enjoying our week of frozen heaven, it was back to the grind of Fairview Elementary. My home room teacher was Mrs. Stout. I remember the name because just like Sumo, her name matched her person. She was older, probably not too far from retirement, a real seasoned and experienced teacher, a real veteran. We all knew that she knew her business.

“Welcome back class,” said Mrs. Stout. “How was your vacation?” The conversation went on between the instructor and her students. Each kid was taking their turn describing their Christmas presents, or visits with relatives. I kept thinking on what I would say. Then it struck me. Just one person ahead of me the wild thought crept in. I had no real time to actually think it through. I probably wouldn’t have anyway. Then my turn came. “I got my appendix out,” I blurted. An excited rustle passed through the nervous class.

“You did? When?” She asked.

“Just after Christmas,” I returned. I could see the admiration building in the faces of the other kids.

“Hmm, I didn’t notice your name in the paper.”
Bang! You could have knocked me over with a feather as the saying goes. All I could say was a weak, “What?”

“The paper. When someone goes to the hospital, they write something about it in the newspaper,” she said quizzically.

My face must have changed several colors. My heart raced. My mouth got dry. I was searching. Then it came to me. When I had broken my arm I remembered they asked me if I wanted my name in the paper. “Well, I told them not to print it,” I answered.
“Why not,” she continued.

Heart thumped and sweat came again, then a flash. I got it. “Well, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me, so I told them I didn’t want my name in the paper.”

Whew! I’d dodged a very big bullet. How did I manage that? Someone was looking out for me. Later that day came bullet number two. It happened during recess. One of the kids had a brother who earlier had  his appendix out. He told of the stitches and the large scar that resulted. “Hey Mike, show us the stitches!” I hesitated. They weren’t necessarily looking for proof. I wasn’t before the Inquisition, but it felt that way. Of course they were just being like I had been with Sumo. They wanted to see it because it would be cool. My mind again had to race. My heart was thumping. My body heated as I trudged through the sticky swamps in my mind pushing for the answer. The answer as to why I couldn’t show them my stitches. Then it came. Sumo was again my inspiration. I remembered he had to pull off a rather extensive amount of bandages to show us his stitches.

“I can’t. It’s all buried in bandages, and they told me I can’t take them off,” I proclaimed.

A collective sigh from my admirers was followed by my own sigh of relief. They seemed happy with assurances they could see the scar later whenever the doctors let me take off the medical wrappings. I was hopeful that I could push it off long enough that they would all forget about it and not ask later. In this I was right, but as it turns out, I was not out of the quagmire yet.

Milk duty, important words. Mrs. Stout reminded us it was time for the new roster of assignees to take on the responsibility to make sure we all got our daily dose. Ah, that half-pint of cold delicious vitamin D and calcium. She read the names then stopped when she came to mine. “Oh Michael, you can’t do this can you?”

“Why not?” I quizzed.

“Didn’t the doctor tell you no lifting until you were all healed up from your operation?”

“Wadaya mean?!” I’m sure she caught the frustration in me.

“Whenever a person has an operation like yours, they are not allowed to lift heavy items for fear the stitches might rip open when you strain your stomach muscles.”

“But the milk crates aren’t heavy!” I grimaced.

“Nonetheless I can’t let you do it. You’ll have to bring in a note from your parents when it’s OK for you to lift things again. When I get that I’ll try to work you into a future milk detail schedule.”

“How long will that be?!” I protested.

“Well, I’m no doctor,” she replied, “but I’m pretty sure the normal time is six weeks.”

I don’t know how many shades of red my face turned. I was red from fear of being found out. I was red from anger because I couldn’t get out of class for milk detail. I was red because I had no idea how I could convince my mom to write a letter that I was over my nonexistent operation enough to get on a future milk detail.

Six weeks! How could she know that? It couldn’t be that long, could it? Six weeks is forever! My thoughts kept stirring. Then I remembered it was the magical six weeks I had to wear that plaster cast when I broke my arm. Maybe Mrs. Stout was right about that. Dang, why do grownups always have to know so much? The solution was going to take me some time. Six weeks of time to be precise.

So, I needed a note from Mom. Hmmm. This would be difficult. How can I get this done? Well, I was sure she wouldn’t write it. So I guessed I’d just have to write it for her. This would take some real finagling. I needed something that she would write so I could copy it. I needed something that said more or less the same thing as a permission note.  Then it hit me. How many times before had Mom written an excuse for my being out of school? Every time I was… SICK! Of course that was it. I had figured it out.

I picked a day to be sick. I did a great job at being sick. I don’t know if she completely bought it, but she bought it enough to let me stay home. Of course, while my parents were at work I had all day to figure out what my milk-carrying, no-appendix-problem note would say. I was smart enough to have my “sick day” about a week before the six-week banishment was up. Sure enough, the next morning before going to work, Mom wrote my excuse for being home sick the day before. I had about an hour from the time she left until I had to be at school. I spent the whole time feverishly creating my forgery for milk duty. I carefully wrote over and over again using the sick note for my model. After what seemed like about a hundred tries, I got a version I thought sounded like the sick note and looked like her hand writing. I went to school and hid the forgery. A week went by. I handed in the permission slip “Mom” wrote. Mrs. Stout added me to the next rotation of milk duty. I was saved.

This is a totally true story. Well, I suppose a few caveats to that assertion would apply. Remember I was a 10-year-old. So the perspective of exactly how things were came from the limited understanding of someone of such a tender and inexperienced point of view. Adding a sort of questionable-ness to all of this is the fact that decades have come and gone since these events. If my understanding was shaky to begin with, it’s even worse now.

As I have recollected this experience in life over time, I’ve decided that in all likelihood Mrs. Stout understood what was really happening from the very start, or at least early on. I can envision in my mind teachers hanging out in their hallowed lounge where no student can enter. I see them in my mind laughing as they told and retold the story of the kid who pretended to have his appendix removed. In fact, I’ve even gone so far as to imagine my masterful forgery hanging on the lounge bulletin board for a reminder to all the teachers.
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I did learn something from all this. As it turns out you can’t tell just one lie. Usually lying is an attempt at gaining something when, in reality, by lying you lose freedom. Trust is easy to lose and hard to regain. I wish I could say I never lied again after all that, but I can say it’s been a very long time since I’ve lied. Telling the truth, as it turns out, takes less work. You don’t have to remember what you said to whom. You just have to tell things as you remember them. That’s what I hope I’ve done here. No foolin’.

My wife and I try to attend the temple together when I’m here in GA, then I do what I can to attend in Washington DC when I’m up there on my own. I’ve had many wonderful spiritual experiences in the temple over many decades now. I think lately I get even more from it. This is because since my mom passed away some years ago, I have shifted from doing work for those ancestors she has found, to doing work for ancestors I myself have found. When she would supply the names, I felt happy to represent my ancestors, but I would say I feel closer to those whose work I’m doing now. It’s clear they are aware and helping me figure things out with their records. Michell is helpful when documents get more complex. She has been doing family history for as long as we’ve been married. She was even director of the family history library in Lincoln, NE for a number of years when we lived there.

To me, the temple is a blessing both because of the family connection I feel, but also because of the gospel insights and spiritual lift that comes from the work. This is true even on days when I leave the temple late in the evening and have a tiring drive home after. I really don’t seem to notice the fatigue until I get home. I assume that others have had similar experiences in their gospel-related work. I feel close to those I serve directly, and despite long hours, I often feel carried by the Spirit. Wearing ourselves out in the service of Heavenly Father is the best way to use the gifts He has given each of us.
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As Christmas quickly approaches, I hope each of you is also able to enjoy the spirit of the season. It’s the time of year we remember the birth of Jesus Christ. I remember my experience as a missionary at Christmas in Spain. Though it’s been more than 40 years ago, the memories are clear. It was both trying being away from family, and wonderful watching the gospel at work in the lives of people. I remember similar times away from home in the Navy, or for work, but nothing matches my time serving God.

I’ve been thinking about the talk Pres. Russell M. Nelson shared in 2022 titled ‘What is Truth?’. This topic has been close to my heart for a long time. It’s what drives me to seek wisdom, ‘even by study and by faith’. My PhD studies focus a lot on the intersection of facts, perspective, and truth.

About five years ago I noticed a bump on my forehead. It grew slowly, but noticeably. After nearly a year I had a doctor take a look. It was clear that it was under the skin and attached to my skull. As the doctor looked it over, he called my bump a lesion. He ordered up an ultrasound followed by an MRI. After the ultrasound, the bump/lesion name changed again to an occlusion. An ultrasound essentially looks at one side of the occlusion. That was the incentive for the MRI. After the MRI, the name changed again to an osteoma. It was described to me by the doctor in another way. He called it a benign bone tumor. The nature of the thing on my head never changed, but the technical tools used to look at it, and the names those tools inspired changed. So too did my level of stress over what it might mean for my future health. In the end, there is no health risk. Its growth stopped. If I ever want to have it go away, they can cut open my forehead and grind the bone. Sounds gross, and it’s not all that noticeable as it is. In fact, if I don’t mention it people generally don’t even notice. However, if I point it out, a person can’t help but notice.

This all seems analogous to truth to me. Truth does not change. It simply is, regardless what we call it, what we use to discover it, or how we feel about it. In my academic studies a large question is whether truth is 'discovered' or 'manufactured'. In the gospel sense, we seek truth through study and faith. For me, faith means doing. We can certainly understand some things intellectually. I assume you have met people who are ‘convinced’ of gospel truths, yet fail to commit. That’s because they are not willing to exercise faith by acting on invitations. What one believes is not the same as truth necessarily. It’s our individual responsibility to seek. Just like my bump, people often don’t notice the gospel until someone points it out to them. Then they can’t ignore it. They are forced to accept or reject. They can’t not consider it once they hear the word. That’s probably true of any idea, whether it be true or false, but gospel truth is only confirmed through BOTH study AND taking faith-based action.
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About a year ago, my wife and I had a bit of an adventure. We were driving from our home in VA to our other home in GA, moving some of our stuff. She was in our little Subaru pulling our smaller open trailer with parts of our bed in it. I was in the Jeep with the enclosed trailer with a bunch of other furniture. About an hour before the end of our trip I heard a loud bang. I looked in the mirror just in time to see several large chunks of rubber bouncing in the road behind me and other cars swerving to avoid it. There was a loud thumping noise and I knew instantly I had a blown tire. I called my wife on the phone as she was ahead of me so she would pull off the road. I did the same but was able to drive far enough to catch up to her. The rear tire on the driver side was still inflated but there was no tread left on it. I was planning on replacing them all after we got done moving everything in another month as the tread on all of them was getting worn. This just moved up the time schedule. I changed the bad tire with the spare and we got through the rest of the journey with no issue. It cost us nearly $1200 to replace all four tires. There was more damage I needed to fix as well. The back door handle was gone. The rear light on the driver side was shattered. The plastic fender disappeared with the tire parts. The license was gone along with half of the plate holder. The zip-in side canvas window was ripped up. The trailer has a dent in it, but no real damage and I can eventually get in there and hammer the dent back out. I’m glad I have some basic skills to deal with these fairly easy repairs.

Both our cars are getting up there. Her Subaru is a 2018 and already had a little over 100,000 miles on it. My Jeep is a 2010 and just crossed 195,000 miles on this specific trip to GA. Having cars get up there reminds me of an old truck we had back in the day. We bought it when we lived in CA and I was in the Navy. It was a 1974 Ford F-150. We bought it about 1990 and it was pretty beat up. It lasted until about 1996 while we were moving to NE from CO (yes that's CO and not CA). Suddenly, while we were in the middle of NE and a long way from our final destination in Lincoln, all the electrical went out on it. It drove fine, but night was falling and we had no lights. It was full of household effects as part of our move. We decided to stop and stay in a hotel for the night so we could drive the rest of the way in the daylight the next day. That truck had failed bad once before on a trip with the church young men in CO. There was a crack in the manifold and it blew hot air onto the electrical stuff. We were going from our home in Leadville, CO to Lake Powell in southern UT pulling a sailboat and hauling half a dozen young men. We had to be towed the last 20 miles or so and had the garage near the marina fix it while we spent a few days sailing and camping.

That last story is only the latter half of the trials of that trip. We had a Suburban that we had started the trip with and the engine blew up. It cost about $2000 to repair the Suburban and another $500 to fix the F-150. That was by far the most personally expensive church trip I was ever involved in.

That old F-150 inspired a poem. It was showing its age, and so was I, or so it seemed. It makes me laugh now at nearly 60 to think how in my 30s I thought I was getting old. Thankfully for you I won’t make you suffer through reading the poem. In any case, it’s easy at times to think of all the little things in life that seem burdensome. So I’ll leave you with better language from the Master than I could ever muster.

Matthew 11
28. Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

I continue a lot of back and forth between DC and GA. One positive about driving all that distance is I get about 10 hours of alone time since I’m almost always by myself. I take advantage of listening. Sometimes that’s the radio. Sometimes it’s a podcast or music. I have a lot of reading for my school so I sometimes download a softcopy of an academic paper or two, then allow my phone to read them to me as I drive. At times I pray and ponder. In those moments I have felt Heavenly Father share some insights that have been important to me, if meaningless to others.

At times both the drive and my listening are interrupted. On one trip, Michelle and I were in separate cars. We occasionally chatted with each other through calls and texts. Don’t worry. We both have the tools we need to do hands-free texting. I would also get messaged from others at work asking about one thing or another. Those communications make the drive less burdensome, but can also interrupt my train of thought, my listening. Yet, sometimes those interruptions themselves can be an answer in one way or another. This particular drive was interrupted twice with backed-up traffic. Once in NC and again just south of Fredericksburg, VA. It was tempting to be grumpy. If we had some sort of deadline I might have been. We had no deadline and neither of us let the backups throw us. Thankfully we didn’t. In both cases the traffic was backed up because of pretty bad accidents. We could see just how bad as we slowly passed by each accident eventually. Clearly, those involved had more to worry about than we did with our minor inconvenience.

Not long after the drive, my stake assignment at the time took me to the King George ward conference. One of the speakers was Sister Avery from the Hartwood Ward. She is the Stake Relief Society President. She is also a bee-keeper. In her talk she noted that she has four hives and something like 40,000 bees. Her operation is small from her perspective. By small, she means her bees produce about 60 pounds of honey in a year. To me that sounds like a lot of honey. But what does it take for the bees to make that amount? Sister Avery described how each honey bee will create only about one-twelfth of one teaspoon of honey throughout its lifespan. The honey each creates is not even for itself, but for the next generation of bees in the hive.

There are a number of lessons this example immediately brings to mind. For Sister Avery, bees represent industry and sacrifice. The conference theme was ‘one work’ meaning any effort we do for others on either side of the veil is all part of the same work. Missionaries are focused entirely on bringing others unto Christ with love, sharing, and an invitation to those who have not yet accepted the gospel. They likely also do some of that same work among less-active members. The other area of focus we should all typically look to is family history and temple work.

Two ideas came to my mind as Sister Avery spoke. One reminder to me was that this is His work. We do our small little part, our one-twelfth of a teaspoon, but it is Him who enables the 60 pounds. The other idea that came to me was how this sort of ratio holds true for us as individuals as well.

2 Ne 25: 23
… “for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.”

Even for ourselves, we do our best, but our efforts are such a small amount compared to what He does for us through His grace. 
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And so it is. Even something as mundane as mooring a crab boat. We keep our little sailboat in a marina at Solomon’s Island, MD. Today, the normal sleepy routine of the place has been overrun by the 21st Annual Calvert County Watermen's Festival and Boat Docking Competition. Maybe 100 feet or so from our slip there are hundreds of people sitting on temporary aluminum stadium seats cheering for their favorites.

What happens at this sort of event? Fairly large diesel-powered crab fishing boats back into a dock. At the sound of a loud horn, they come roaring out, water flying and black smoke spewing. They leave one slip bow first, move about two slips over, then back into the dock slot. When they toss the requisite lines over specific pylons to make the boat fast to them, another horn blows and the timer stops. When they do well, cheers go up. When a crew member misses the tie-up point while tossing the mooring line with a hula-hoop-sized ring on the end, the crowd expresses pity with the requisite “oh”.

Aside from the bleachers, hundreds more spectators climb over docked and anchored boats of every size and shape. Bikini-clad beauties and beer-bellied men slowly bake in the sun as they indulge in whatever beverage they prefer. At times it seems they pay more attention to their own on-boat parties than to the docking competition.

The competing boats have fun names such as Outlaw, Island Fever, Crab Place, and Miss Julie. It looked like nearly a dozen were competing. I was cheering for Some Beach, given my last name. My baby sister will find this interesting. Some Beach was piloted by a lady with the first name of Crystal. Outlaw and Crab Place seemed crowd favorites as they made the biggest noise, and the biggest waves. They both also tended to get the best times. I noticed there was a paramedic boat strategically placed at the conjuncture between the competing area and the party boats anchored just outside the marina. Smart.

Under Pressure got some positive crowd energy as it was at times piloted by a youngster. I don’t know if Hard to Handle referred to the boat, or perhaps someone associated with her in some way. Crusher was another that tended to make big waves and smoke. Throughout, Big Worm stayed tied up and acted as the judging platform. As time waned, she pulled out and did her own demonstration of quickly exiting one slip, then backing into another. She has the right name. Big Worm is easily twice the size of the others and painted a very bright neon green.

The atmosphere was definitely festive. The competition seemed real, but friendly. The same dock where the events were happening is well-known to the boat captains. Most mornings I see a predawn ritual happen when the crowd is nowhere to be seen. Boats pull up to meet a seafood truck. They offload their crabby cargo, then head out. I don’t know if they go right back out for daytime harvesting, or are just heading home at that hour. The same ritual happens at other times of the day as well so I suspect there is some sort of rotation for offload times.

On this comfortable September Sunday afternoon in a small touristy fishing and sailing town, an American microcosm is on display. We can make just about anything into a fun competition… and an excuse for a party.
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At the end of June, I was able to help the Stake YM Presidency run a two day Aaronic Priesthood Encampment. Because of COVID we were asked to keep the camp local to prevent a long drive. We were also asked to make the camp a series of day-camps to eliminate overnight tent camping. So we did. We managed to offer two long days that included canoeing/kayaking, rifle/shotgun shooting, archery, geocaching, service projects, and competitions. At the end of the first night, each ward met separately and the bishops had time to hold a fireside discussion with their own youth. On the second night, the stake presidency came to camp and offered an inspirational fireside for the entire camp. We had nearly 200 campers including youth and leaders. As far as I can tell the boys enjoyed the camp. The front room in our home holds a number of lost-and-found items.

For camp we focused on the 2021 youth theme: A Great Work.

Doctrine and Covenants 64: 33-34

• 33 Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.
• 34 Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind; and the willing and obedient shall eat the good of the land of Zion in these last days.
  

There certainly are many ideas to unpack here. ‘Be not weary’ speaks to my experience from time to time. We each need to find a balance to keep being about His work ‘in well-doing’ without burning out. ‘Out of small things’ feels like a fair description of me and my efforts. We tried to stress to the young men that we are the small things bringing about a great work, but we ourselves are the great work. Our immortality and eternal life is God’s ‘work and glory’.

The idea of a ‘willing mind’ is close to my personal thoughts. From my limited perspective, our personal will is the only thing we have that is truly our own. Everything else we have, including our agency, is a gift from Heavenly Father. Our will is our own. Everything else we might ‘sacrifice’ would be only returning to God that which He gave to us in the first place. For example, our time is measured. We have no idea how much we have in this short life, but we know it will eventually end. Our money we earn, but only by using the gifts of health, personal talents, the political and economic environment we live in, and the culture we are raised in as a few examples. Agency is another area to consider. There was a time that I thought of my agency as mine, but actually my agency has been given to me. We all have agency, but with limitation imposed by both earthly and heavenly powers. Our choices with the agency given to us often removes future agency. Every person sitting in prison has much less freedom to exercise agency than those of us not in that circumstance. People whose choices led them to physical or mental health issues have lost some agency as well.

I’m sure each of us can gain much more from a study of these two verses. One note about an experience that brought me some pleasure at camp. The events were held at two separate locations, The Accakeek Sportsman Club, and the Virginia Outdoor Center. Aside from participating in activities, the youth participated in service projects at both locations. Staff and leaders of both places repeatedly told us how impressed they were at the way the boys acted during the event, and how well they worked during the service portion of camp. It was clear the boys’ actions spoke to camp staff. They were doing very good missionary work. All the staff from both facilities understood what our organization is and which church we are a part of. 
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​Like many, December is my favorite time of the year. The holidays are at the core of why, but it may be as much about breaking the normal patterns of life as well. Thanks to COVID most of my days tend to blend together. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve all give each of us a change from the norm. 

Toward the end of summer I participated in a virtual missionary reunion. One of the elders who arrived in the mission at the same time I did, and who served for several months in one of the same cities I did, lives not that far from here. He reached out and we have been in contact again. My best memory of Elder Hoffman happened while we were both serving in the city of Algeciras, Spain. It was Christmas time. For the day before and the day of, we were not supposed to be out tracting (knocking on doors in a neighborhood to see if anyone was interested in our message). Elder Hoffman’s parents sent him some extra money and told him to do something good with it. There were four of us in the city (two companionships). He decided to use the money to purchase some nice fruit baskets. The four of us waited until after nightfall on Christmas Eve. We made up a list of families we knew would really benefit from the gift. Then we had fun stealthily putting the basket on each door step, knocking on the door, then running away laughing to some place where we could see them, but they couldn’t see us. I remember the look of surprise and joy as each door answerer picked up the present, then looked around to try to spy who might have done such a thing.

Algeciras was a very small unit. It was much like the branch where I grew up in Berwick, PA. They met in a rented apartment modified for meetings. The numbers were few. To give you an idea, when I first arrived, my senior companion was from Madrid and was serving as the Branch President. He was a young (20-ish-year-old) missionary like me. Can you imagine? When he transferred to another city a member brother was called to replace him as the branch leader. This brother had only been a member of the church about nine months at the time he was called to the position. It was up to us young missionaries to help the branch leadership with advice. We didn’t really know anything about how to carry out that sort of calling, but we could each share a bit of what we had seen of local leaders as we grew up in the church.

I’ve always appreciated the Christmas I spent in Spain. The next year I was actually supposed to transfer home in early January at the end of my missionary service. Instead of that, our group all got to go home about a week before Christmas. I’ve since had other holiday seasons away. One year while serving in the US Navy I spent Christmas day in 90°F weather in the Philippines. On that Christmas day I went SCUBA diving on Grande Island with several other sailors I knew including several SEALs. It was a bit surreal.

I hope we each can find ourselves closer to the Savior as we remember and celebrate His birth. As miraculous as His birth was, it is important of course because of his mission to atone for the sins of all of us, and bring about the resurrection as well. I am thankful for my testimony of the truth of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful that He lives and leads the church through a prophet of God.

My wife and I recently drove south to Georgia to spend Thanksgiving week with our daughter Kyra and her family. Like several of our children, Kyra is a certified SCUBA diver, but has not done much diving since her certification. She and I made a side trip to north Florida to go diving in a popular diving spring known as The Blue Grotto. It’s not far from where our nephew lives with his family so we were able to visit with them for a night. We got a short night dive that Friday, then two dives on Saturday before driving back to Georgia.

One of my church responsibilities is to work with the Stake Young Women President on stake sponsored youth activities. The activity planned last month was a movie night. I got the assignment to make sure all the tech was set up and working. I got word there is a portable large screen in the stake building. I called a brother I know in Aquia Ward to see if he knew anything about it. He described where he thought the screen is stored. Unfortunately to get to it required getting into the building. I have keys for a closet in the building, but not to the building itself. In the mean time I was scanning the Internet looking for screens to buy as an alternative, but for one reason or another never hit the add-to-cart button.

While wondering how to resolve the screen-need issue I decided to check my personal email. In it I found a note from Brother Zappe of the Garrisonville Ward. He is the Stake Executive Secretary. He sent me a personal code to give me access to the building. I had not reached out to him with a request. As a result I sent him this email:

Thank you! Perfect timing. You seem to be listening to the Spirit. I was just considering how I could get in to find and inspect the large projection screen we will need for the next stake youth activity. Brother Gillespie told me about it and where it is, but I had no way into the building.

Here is the response I got from him:

Great!! Well, likely the case. I was sitting here and it popped into my head that I need to issue the remainder of the codes. Glad it worked out!

As we celebrate the Thanksgiving season and I think what I am thankful for, I am thankful that Heavenly Father is involved in the details of the individual life of each of us. I’m grateful for the influence of the Spirit. I’m comforted to see others who are paying attention to moments of inspiration and acting on those promptings.

I hope each of us has experiences of similar note. Always act on them. I know in today’s culture being a ‘tool’ is thought of as a negative, but for me purposely being a tool of Heavenly Father is a goal. It’s His work. We can be a tool in His hands for the blessing of others.
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It’s the beginning of autumn. School has started up again, including seminary. Michelle has been called as a seminary teacher. She has had this calling a number of times in the past, in a number of different states. This year things are different as you might guess. In our stake, seminary is currently a virtual synchronous activity. They are using Zoom. In order to make the audio work better for her we invested in a nice set of headphones with a microphone built in. At the time we bought them the local Best Buy really only had the kind designed for online gamers. So now she sits in our living room, a little old lady, talking with teens as she communicates with them through a cool headset some of them wish they had. It’s funny to think about, sort of like that Beach Boys song, The Little Old Lady from Pasadena who is known for driving a hot-rod car.

In the past few weeks my Book of Mormon study has led me through the early parts of 3 Nephi. In particular my thoughts have dwelt some on the portion of events that happened immediately following the atonement and resurrection of Jesus in Jerusalem. Among the Nephite and Lamanite people what followed were three hours of destruction, then three days of darkness. In the midst of the darkness, the voice of the Lord was heard with a number of messages. In particular these stood out to me:

3 Nephi 6: 13 & 15

13. Some were lifted up in pride, and others were exceedingly humble; some did return railing for railing, while others would receive railing and persecution and all manner of afflictions, and would not turn and revile again, but were humble and penitent before God.

AND

15. Now the cause of this iniquity of the people was this—Satan had great power, unto the stirring up of the people to do all manner of iniquity, and to the puffing them up with pride, tempting them to seek for power, and authority, and riches, and the vain things of the world.

As I reviewed these words I could not help being reminded of images of violence and vitriol we see constantly splashed on our screens these days within our country. It saddens my heart, but also makes me wonder. If I were personally attacked would I return railing for railing? There have certainly been times in the past when I would have with little thought. Even now when looking at current events and listening to how so much of what I hear seems disingenuous, it is hard not to become angered at how off track so many people seem to be. I firmly believe in the adage “by their fruit ye shall know them.” Sadly, by the fruit of what I see there appears to be so much negativity in the hearts of so many. Late last week I was listening to a talk entitled Fulfillment of Prophecy, by Elder Ronald A. Rasband, given in the most recent (April 2020) general conference. Quoting Joseph Smith, he said, “No unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing; persecutions may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble, calumny may defame, but the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent, till it has penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done.”
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For me, standing firm in the faith of the Savior is the antidote to the fear and anger that is growing in the world. May we find and share comfort through our faith.

July brought our family a momentous event. We took a week to join together at Yellowstone National Park. My wife and I enjoyed spending an entire week with all our children, their spouses, and most especially our ten grandchildren. We rented a vacation home in Island Park, Idaho which is about a 20-minute drive from the west entrance to the park.

Each day we enjoyed games, visiting the park, meals together, and family prayers. We had full-blown family meals as well. Most of the time was organized chaos. A few evenings we enjoyed sitting around the fire pit outside, and cooking hot dogs and s’mores. Several good conversations happened then as well.

One of the highlights came on Sunday. Our son Jacob and his wife Kanneisha recently welcomed their first child into their home, Lucy Paulene Beach. Their bishop gave permission for us to hold the baby blessing at the cabin with Melchizedek priesthood holders joining the blessing circle. Some of Kanneisha’s family traveled up from Logan, Utah to join us for the blessing as well.

Outside of visiting the park each day we scheduled one afternoon for a group horse ride on a nearby ranch. Another day we drove up to Gardiner, Montana to take a two-hour whitewater rafting ride. These side trips were lots of fun.

My wife and I were happy to find a way to make all this happen financially. We plan these reunions every third summer. We do it at this interval to give our children a summer with their in-laws and one on their own should they choose that approach. The reason we put so much emphasis on this is that we believe strongly that giving our family experiences is much more important than giving them stuff. We also get to see the solidarity and love within our extended family. We believe these memories will bring more strength to all of us in times of difficulty. Knowing we have others who care and will be there for us whenever we wrestle with difficult life moments brings some peace. These events also give us an opportunity to share direct testimony. Though we did not make a formal arrangement for sharing testimonies, there were a number of them shared in various settings with groups larger and smaller throughout the week.

Three specific thoughts come to me from the family proclamation in connection with our week together.

• Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children. “Children are an heritage of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3).
• Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.
• Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.

It was my privilege and joy to witness these words displayed directly as I watched all of them. We are very blessed.

Adjustment. Flexibility. Willingness to change. These and similar phrases are becoming more familiar than ever before. I’m impressed with how so many people have been able not only to adjust to restrictions, but have found ways to be at least as productive, if not more so, then before. At work I am interacting with more people than usual. For example, in the past we would put on a meeting we call a ‘brown bag’. The idea is some specific topic gets discussed over whatever lunch you bring with you, like in a (figurative) brown paper bag. Pre-pandemic, we tended to do them about once a month in our division. We might get something like 50% attendance. Since the pandemic, we’ve moved these meetings to every two weeks (remote of course), and our attendance went up to something like 80%, holding there pretty much every meeting.

A similar phenomena is happening in our church priesthood quorum meetings. Every two weeks on Sunday our ward holds this meeting over Zoom. When we met face-to-face it would be normal for maybe 10 brethren to attend. Now we routinely see something like double that. Granted, some of those brothers are normally acting in callings that keep them from attending, but even accounting for that we see the improvement.

Family history work is an obvious church-related activity that can benefit from more people at home on their computers. Recently, my wife and I participated in a new way. There is an Internet site called Billion Graves where you go to a cemetery not yet uploaded, snap a picture of each headstone linked to your GPS position, then go online and transcribe the information into a form. Most of the popular family history apps (including the church sites) have access to the picture and transcribed data. It was fun. We were able to upload pictures of 75 grave markers from Peoples Union Baptist Church in King George, VA.

The other church-related activity that has to be done different is missionary work. I have been thinking about my days as a full-time missionary in 1982 and 1983. Like many others, until lately, missionary work for us involved being among people. Whether in a home, at church, or on the street, missionary work was all about direct contact with others. I’ve been watching the missionaries assigned here in our ward. They are frustrated, I’m sure, with having to exercise social distancing. Despite that, they are not letting it get in the way of fishers-of-men work. The mission has established a Facebook site, Followers of Christ in Stafford, which invites engagement with people who show an interest in the topic. Members of the stake are adding testimonies, videos, and other kinds of info to assist the missionaries to share content with those investigating. Our ward is having success with it. The teaching pool, though remote, continues to stay full, and investigators are joining the church in our ward. I know that had similar circumstances come about when I was a young missionary back in the day, this adjustment would likely have been discouraging to me. If our elders are feeling discouraged, they don’t show it. They are certainly exercising faith and succeeding at finding the elect of God who are ready now to accept the Gospel.

I hope whatever approach our life’s work is employing, we are able to avoid discouragement and continue to exercise faith.

​Events continue to change as you are quite aware, both on the global and the local. In the area known as the DMV (DC, MD, VA) a combination of escalating orders have come from government officials and employers as the threat of COVID infections grows. As a result, my wife and I are both home. I work remotely, but I have a 24/7 operations center that cannot run fully remote without serious impact to distribution of public radio content throughout America. The DMV by-and-large have closed schools for the rest of the school year (though online assignments continue for students). Non-essential businesses are by-and-large closed putting lots of people out of work. Stay-at-home orders have been issued. For us that means we should stay home as much as possible, but it is fine to go to the store, order takeout food, pick up medications, etc. In VA there is not any real enforcement. Nobody is getting arrested or fined that I have heard of. So I work remote, get inside and outside projects done around the house, and dress more comfortably.

Early in April was General Conference for the church. It was certainly memorable as had been promised by the prophet six months ago. Everything was remote. There were no congregates onsite where the discourses were given. Everyone attended virtually, at home, through technology. That said, the Spirit was still strong. Because of the 200th anniversary of the first vision, when Joseph the prophet first saw God the Father, and His son Jesus Christ, we all participated in a solemn assembly which included the hosanna shout, usually reserved for temple dedicatory services. As seems so common these days, more temple construction notices were given. Michelle and I discussed a number of the messages we heard, and shared times when we each particularly felt the Spirit touch our hearts.

The next day, was my birthday. I got some birthday fun when I could open and install a new docking station for my Surface tablet. The tablet only has one USB port. With the docking station I can attach multiple devices through the single port. So far I have added my digital microphone/headset, and an external hard drive. Eventually I’ll add a keyboard/mouse, and large monitor. The other desk in our little home office has been cleared away and I’m able to actually use it for work, while I use the smaller desk with our old tower computer set up for things like typing this posting. Thanks to all of you who were able to reach out with birthday well wishes.

Other than setting up the new toy, the rest of my birthday was pretty heavily booked with meetings, including several that I played a leadership role in. My evening was taken up attending a class I’m enrolled in as part of my post-graduate work at Virginia Tech. There were two groups presenting last night, and my group was one of those. No rest for the weary I guess.

As the prophet asked, we participated in a global fast the Sunday before general conference. He asked us to do it again the following Friday (10 Apr), so we did. I’ve always found fasting a strengthening process. Aside from the standard approach of monthly fasting on the first Sunday of the month, I have found fasting at additional times for specific reasons a fruitful tool for me.

​I hope you are able to bring some good out of the challenging times we live in. Let go of any fear and have confidence in Heavenly Father.
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The arrival of March brought with it more comfortable weather. For the first time in a long time I was able to wander around outside without a sweater or jacket. Flowers were up. The frogs in the swamp at the bottom of our road got very loud. Our fruit trees had small leaves emerging. I became ready mentally to get some outside work done around the house. You might think it strange, but I consider that sort of thing as my therapy. It’s much cheaper than the professional sort, and probably more effective.

This spring has brought something new with it in the form of the COVID-19 (corona) virus. Our son Matthew lives in northern Italy. His area was quarantined early. He could still go to work each day, and make some trips around the area (shopping, etc.), but he couldn't, and still can’t, leave the country, or even drive to other parts of Italy. Jacob, and his family live in Bellingham, WA. That’s just north of Seattle, another hotspot for the virus. So far there have not be so drastic actions there as Matthew has experienced in Italy. Here in DC cases have been diagnosed so we’ll see what sort of effects it will make in our life. The main effect for us so far has just been policy changes at my work. Several trips I had planned are now cancelled, and we are prepping for the possibility of a significant portion of our staff being unavailable to work. Many can work from home, but others can’t. If they are sick they can’t work even if work from home is an option.

Before stay-at-home orders came to our area I was busy with a lot of church obligations. Stake High Council meetings, ward activities, and the like. One Saturday night in March I helped set up the sound system for the youth dance, conducted the Stake AP and YW Committee meeting, and then chaperoned at the dance. That’s a late night for an old guy like me. That same Saturday night was  the shift to daylight savings time so we lost an hour of sleep. Next morning I had to get up early to participate in the King George ward conference. On the way home from that event I pulled off the side of the rode to snap some picks of an old house that is slowly succumbing to encroaching nature. The day didn’t end there. In the afternoon I attended the Rising Generation meeting at Bishop Johnson’s house. That’s a monthly meeting the stake sponsors during the school year for graduating high school seniors. Finally my wife and I finished up our evening with a ministering visit to one of our families. It makes me tired just thinking about it all. This is how people get gray hair and bad knees!

Prior to general conference President Nelson challenged us all to consider the words of Heavenly Father when he encouraged Joseph Smith, and others in the scriptures, to ‘Hear Him’. He was of course referring to the Savior. This has been a topic I’ve been considering for some time now. How does one have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ? I felt for some time this was a puzzle. For example I pray to Heavenly Father and receive answers through the Holy Ghost. In this way I felt like I can have a direct relationship through direct interaction with two members of the Godhead. The role of Jesus Christ as my mediator is of course important, even critical, but that would make my relationship with him more indirect. Back then, after a few months of focused study I came to the conclusion, and felt a confirmation through the Spirit, that I have a direct relationship with Him when I repent and feel the healing power of the Atonement. That really helped and has built my testimony.
Fast forward to President Nelson’s challenge. How do I ‘hear Him’?

As part of my normal routine, while riding the train into Washington DC every day I spend some time praying, then reading for school. As I approach the city I put up my reading, put on my ear buds, and listen to a chapter of the Book of Mormon, followed by other audio. A few weeks into the invitation by the prophet I was listening to 2 Nephi 27. I heard the following in verse 23: “For behold, I am God; and I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever; and I work not among the children of men save it be according to their faith.” It quickly came to me that in this verse were the words of the Savior being quoted to us by the prophet Nephi. Because I was listening to the words through technology, I was literally hearing Him. My direct relationship with Jesus Christ could come, at least, through listening (literally or figuratively) to His words as they come to us in the scriptures. What a blessing!

There are so many competing ideas in the world. I am deeply studying many topics around the disciplines of science and technology. This semester approaches these topics from the angle of philosophy. I’m thankful for a measure of truth I can use with which to gauge other ideas. Confirmation by the Spirit trumps all logical debate, especially since most of the debate finds no real agreement even among the scholars who advance their respective areas of study.
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As the world begins to consider and fear an advancing virus, we can find peace knowing such challenges, though concerning, are but temporary. Despite quarantines and travel restrictions, we can find joy in the positives of life. Believe me, I have seen some of the worst this world has to offer. I understand how so many people can despair, or at least feel discouraged. I encourage each of us to follow the words of the prophet and ‘hear Him.’
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