Alma 32

Alma 32:33 And now, behold, because ye have tried the experiment, and planted the seed, and it swelleth and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow, ye must needs know that the seed is good.

This is a verse in the Book of Mormon about faith, and trying out a new way of thinking, of viewing the world. In context, it is one of faith. It was a section that I knew well as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints back in my early 20's. It is the foundational book of the church and one that we hawked non-stop for my two years in the service. While I personally was embarrassed by some of the story contained in the book, I wasn't ashamed of this chapter in particular. It was one that I used in my own life. I was indeed happier by associating with the church before and after my mission. During, not so much, but I've written enough about that.

Since that time, I've used this verse differently. My faith has faltered as I studied Christianity and my church in particular. Now, before anyone gets all judgemental here, this is MY story. I don't speak to anyone's experience but my own.

Still, coming to terms with this new information wasn't comforting. I found it difficult to operate in my old paradigm. I wrote new friends and old trying to make sense of what I was reading and learning. I wrote blog posts on other blogs to document what I felt and when. When I confided with Tracy about what I was going through, I was beside myself because unbelief is the worst thing a man can do to anyone, and I was expressing my unbelief to the person that meant the most to me. That it didn't go over well is an understatement.

After a hard year of endless discussion, I/we decided that we would try Alma's experiment in reverse. We stopped going to church as our nerves for both of us were on edge.

It worked. I had such deep-seated self-loathing because of who I was and how I felt and that it was wrong in the eyes of the church and ultimately, the Lord, that it affected most of my world-view. I began to look at things entirely differently. My political leanings became more centered. My feelings of empathy became so much stronger. I forgave myself of what I had done in the past and realized that I was a pretty decent person and that if God couldn't accept me as I was, then he/she had issues, not me. I honestly and visibly became happier outside of the church instead of in it. I think the same could be said of the rest of my family. In many ways, we have flourished in just being ourselves without fear of judgment.

Yes, in many respects, the church made me happy at one time. I became more social than I would have been otherwise. I met some of the greatest people in my life. I had a great education. My family, in many respects, is here because of the church.

I listened to others. I read books by members of the church that brought into question the foundational claims of Christianity and the church in particular. I started, I feel, to honestly evaluate all the history that I knew and ask myself if I wanted this in my life especially since I couldn't give it my ringing endorsement any longer. I didn't believe in magic, and that is where the Book of Mormon came from. I couldn't believe in the Restoration of the Priesthood, because that seemed to be a later fabrication. Everything that I read talked about how the scriptures changed with time, why members left when they did (and it seemed like the reasonable thing to do if I was in the same position). Indeed, as a father, if Joseph Smith asked of me what he asked of his followers, I would have asked for his arrest. Since that time, these "anti-mormon lies" have been admitted to by the church essays, if you care to read the footnotes and make fairly logical conclusions, you might think the same.

But I'm happier outside of it. I put the experiment to the test in reverse, and I'm happier without it in my life. Who knew?

The Priest, The Lemon, and The Secret

There was once a priest who went to see the world after taking his oath. After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger's hand and immediately he asked:

Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn't in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn't even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

Thank you priest for being so good and giving me half a lemon.

Don't mention it son, -said the priest- but please tell me, what do you need it for?! - by the time he finished his sentence the man was already running, but the priest was close behind. They were running for a while and the priest was starting to feel exhausted when they arrived at a wide and swift river. The stranger without thinking threw himself into the river and swam across the river and disappeared on the other side. The priest didn't follow because he couldn't swim. He was annoyed when he got home. He spent the next week learning to swim at the swimming pool in the small town 25 km's away. He was anxiously waiting for the next Sunday; now he was sure that the weird fellow would visit again. On Sunday, as he was closing the church, the gate creaked, and entered the man:

Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was good, went back, put on his swimming trunks, his running shoes, grabbed half of the lemon and took it to the stranger:

Here it is, my son, but please tell me already, why do you need it? - the guy was terrified, rushed out the gate with the priest following. Reached the river, swam across, the priest right behind him. He kept running on the other side of the river and the priest was still on his tail. They kept running until they got to a tall tree on the verge of a deep ravine. The man climbed the tree with the agility of a cat, the priest not knowing how to climb a tree, stood on the ground. He was cursing everything as he walked back home. The following week the villagers watched as the priest in the garden of the church climbs trees, jumping back and forth, and generally behaving very strangely. The priest didn't care, he was exercising obsessively, preparing himself for the meeting. On Sunday before the mass, he put on his trunks and running shoes under his cassock. In fact, he was good and put half a lemon in his pocket in advance. The mass finished much earlier than usually, and he emptied the church as soon as possible so he could warm up. In the same exact time the mass should have ended, the strange man entered the churchyard.

Priest, please be good... - the priest was already handing him half of a lemon, and asked:

Son, why do you need it for God's sake? - the man ran away terrified, the priest followed him. They ran to the river, swam across, ran to the tree, climbed up. The priest almost catched the stranger when he grabbed a vine and swung to the other side of the ravine. The priest was about to have a stroke, but then he saw another vine. Whoop, he grabbed it and swung across. There, however, he encountered an unexpected obstacle: it was a plane graveyard and the man closed himself in one of the wreckages. The priest was raging as he walked around the wreckage several times, but he found no entrance except for the sealed door on the side of the plane; he had to open it somehow. He was furious but he went home. He spent every day at the village's locksmith and learned every possible way of opening a lock. On Sunday he held the mass in his swimming trunks, running shoes, on his back in a waterproof backpack was a crowbar, a cutting torch, a wrench and a drill, then he stood in front of the church and waited for the man. He was there on time.

Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon!

There you go, son - handing him the lemon, because he was good, but in the same time he grabbed the stranger's arm, pulled him close, and with obsession in his eyes, asked:

But what do you need it for?! - panic came over the man as he made his escape from the priest's hands and ran away, but the priest was very close behind. Racing to the river they quickly got across, running up the tree almost breaking their necks, one after the other swung across the ravine, the man barely managed to close the door of the wreckege in the priest's face. Little did he know that the priest would not stop there, because he grabbed his backpack and started working on the lock with his tools. In less than an hour the heavy door creaked open. Inside, the stranger was shivering in horror, he was afraid of the priest's fierce and triumphant look. The priest slowly strode up to the man, crouched down, and very quietly, with a friendly smile on his face, gently asked:

Son. You have been asking for half a lemon for the last few weeks. I'm very happy to give it to you, even in the future, I am only asking in return that you tell me: why do you need it?

All right, priest ... - came the answer in a trembling tone - I will answer your question, but please, be good, and do not tell anyone.

The priest was good, and never told anyone.

Guest Post - Biggest Fear

A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life.
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

~~~~~~~

I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.

After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.

She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.

Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.

The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.

The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.

Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.

I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.

~unknown

The Door

I'll let you in on a well-known secret. I suck at home improvement. I can't do much of anything in that respect. I try, and I do the things that I can afford to screw up on. However, the big stuff will have to be left to the professionals.

So when my brother-in-law came to visit, I asked him how to do some weather stripping on one of our doors that has suffered over the years. "Oh, there's this little insert do-hickey at the bottom that pops in there. Simple." So he showed me how to take it off. I went to Menards and found a replacement, I cut it off to the right length and bingo. Didn't even have to take the door off.

Then I was walking towards the laundry room a week later while Tracy was getting ready to take the kids somewhere, and since it turns dark around, oh, 2pm, the lights of the car were on. I saw this wide strip of light under the door. Great. Time to put the skills I learned and replace the strip on that door. Hmmmm. No way to do this without taking the door off. Well, I'll wait til a warmer day and when I have help to get the door on and off. I had about a week before a time presented itself. Tracy and I had some time free so "Let's do this thing!"

Tracy clearly was not that excited to do it. Clearly and unmistakably. Being the insecure relationship dude that I am, I thought back to a repair we worked on during our first year of marriage. Let's just say without reservation, I was an ass. It was one of the times where I think I was on my worst behavior. I go back to it because it was such a contrast to how I want to be. Even at the time, I knew I was an ass. No reflection necessary. It was one of those profound moments when I thought those girls that broke up with me were right, that there was something wrong with me and the thing I craved the most, a strong relationship, was out of my reach because I truly was an ass. So my mind went back to that. I tried to be as kind and polite as I could to show my wife, who has put up with so much from me, that I am a nice man and that she shouldn't leave me because our door is now off its hinges.

We went to Manards with the old part in hand, picked up what we needed and headed back. She helped me with putting it in the slot and getting the door set up. When I wanted to put some grease on the hinges before reassembling them, she warned me not to get any grease on her. Well, of course, I'll try not to get any on her. I'm already stressed by our pending divorce because she was sending out waves of emotional disgust by having to do this. While the door was hard to close because of the fresh insert, we wouldn't be losing much heat from that door this year.

I made mention of it later, letting her know how uncomfortable that was for me. Best to get it out in the open. So, was the problem with how I acted 26 years ago? "No, I just didn't want to do it. I was happy being lazy. I can't even remember about what you are talking about."

OK, she doesn't remember. Thank the Maker. But I remember it and it was a lesson to me. I have bouts of assitude occasionally and I try to learn from them. I probably shouldn't write or talk about them anymore, lest the accumulation of history makes her realize that she's better off without that crap in her life.

So, life is good here. I hope this holiday season is all good on ya too.

Dellyce

I met Dellyce in my first year of college at Brigham Young University. At least, that is what I'm told. I find the details rather murky. I guess that is what age does to you. Still, I can't say I knew the moment even at the time. I just remember her being there. Looking back, she just was one of those constants during those years, always present, as if she belonged there. Of course, my dating her roommate had something to do with that. What followed that year was the building up of one of the most trusting relationships I've ever had. Through that year of double-dating, I got to know one of the most engaging women I have ever known.

Dellyce, at least as I knew her, was a quiet and reserved person. I say that as more of a contrast to myself. I had an extroverted humor and a quick tongue. I remember so well her looks toward me when I said something risque or a little off color and her muted chuckle. The knowing glances we shared told me a lot about her. She had a wicked sense of humor.

I want to write a little bit about the period when I spent the most time with Dellyce. It seems a bit egocentric considering that in order to write about what I know about a person, I have to make mention of what was going on in my life but I'm not sure how else to approach it. The year before my mission was one of the best of my life. I built friendships that I wanted to keep the rest of my life. George and Dellyce were some of the closest friends I had up to that point. I remember one moment in particular on a double date we had up to Temple Square to look at the lights. When looking at the Christus through the window from outside, I was overcome with gratitude for my friends, for school and how things were turning out with me. I am particularly driven by gratitude in my life and for the love of friends and in my thankfulness for being with such wonderful people, I committed to go on a mission.

The best year of my life (at least to that point) was followed by my worst. I relied on George and Dellyce for emotional support through it all. I felt so dependent upon the few people that I remained in contact with and I'm so happy that George and Dellyce were there for me.

After returning, I had limited contact with them because I was immersed in my schoolwork. I remember vaguely the times when my fiance, Tracy, and I visited them, probably for tacit approval of our relationship, as their opinion meant a lot to me. I attended their blessing of Richard. George also took our engagement photo and was there for our wedding, also taking our wedding pictures after the ceremony. For some reason, they tolerated my rambling and horrid humor for all those years.

After graduation, Tracy and I moved to Southern Utah and later to Phoenix. We made frequent trips back to Utah, always making sure we visited to renew our friendships. That tradition continued even after moving to Chicago and my trips back became less frequent. Often I or my family would visit and stay with them for a time. Dellyce was sometimes there, sometimes not as she was also out and about visiting her family.

One of the last times seeing Dellyce was during a visit where my life seemed to be falling apart for a lot of reasons. It was particularly raw because there were so many things I was trying to figure out and any guard I kept over my emotions was absent. If there were any two people I felt I could trust with almost anything, it was these two. It was a very emotional trip for me and they still didn't cut any ties with me afterward. I couldn't find two better people for me to meet and bond with so many years previous.

Earlier this year, George called and told me of Dellyce's illness and her decision to not seek treatment. Within an hour Tracy had me booked on a flight so I could go and say goodbye to my friend. Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to tell her but I hope that she knew how much she was loved by Tracy and me.

I can't say I have any profound things more to say. I'll miss my friend. She saw me at my best and my worst. She tolerated my irreverent humor and her smile and laugh are permanently enshrined in my memory. Of the few people I would do anything in the world for, she was one of them.

I'll miss you Dellyce. Until we can get together and make fun of Utah again, I'll do what I can on my own. I'll also continue to pester George as much as I can.

To Those Intelligent, Beautiful Women that have Graced My Life

Having passed a particular milestone, seeing 50 years in the rear-view, I should probably pay homage to those women that have made my life richer and well, tolerable really. This list isn't exhaustive so if I forget or don't mention someone and they feel slighted, please understand that 50 years is a lot to hold in retrospect during a blog post.

My first confidant was my sister. All through High School, she is the one I told my secrets, challenges, and frustrations. I can't tell you how important she is to me.

Dating. Dating was a mess. I knew that I wanted a strong, deep relationship in my life but I knew during High School just how unprepared I was for it. My first date was taking a girl to Burger King and she kept looking at me like there was something wrong with me. When I called her, she was guarded. She probably didn't know what to do with this guy that just wanted to find out what she was about. Short lived non-romance. 

Serious dating wasn't all that much better as I entered college. The first girl I had a longer term relationship with was frustrating me and for the first time, I realized the social pressures involved with mutual friends and the larger circles of culture. It didn't end well.

Between my first and second years, I had several dates while at home away from Utah. I was just starting to become at ease with longer, deeper discussions with the women I went out with. While in Utah I found it hard to get a girl to notice me because I wasn't a "Returned Missionary" yet at home, girls wanted to go out with me because I did interesting things and I was smart and going to a good school. I was also getting rid of my awkwardness bit by bit. 

Then I dated the woman that would probably affect my life, or at least expectations, more than any other. She was real. I don't know if that makes any sense, but when you meet those real people, or at least become aware of them, it affects you. Smart, witty, sarcastic, independent, not afraid to speak her mind and let others know what her opinion was, she was someone that I envied and looked up to. Even if her frustrations were directed toward me, I took it as an opportunity to improve. 

As I started to become an emotional basket case as mission and school pressures started exerting themselves, I was still driven in trying to improve. Unfortunately, the mission drove me into a depression (which I didn't know what it was called until much later) that changed me into someone I hated and loathed. I crawled my way out of it determined to become a better person. While in one area, a girl befriended me and helped me understand myself to the point where I wanted to name my future daughter after her. She and her family provided a haven from my self-imposed prison. After so much rejection day after day, any bit of acceptance was so welcome.

I was a different person by the time I came back to BYU. I know I was more confident in myself and I knew that I was going to date like mad. I wanted to have some fun. I wanted to find someone that might understand me. Yes, school was the priority. I was in engineering. Dang right it took most of my time and effort. Still, I knew now the kind of person I was looking for.

I can't say that they were that easy to find. 

Almost immediately I fell into a relationship that I didn't want with someone I didn't respect and I knew it. Still, having real conversations, adult conversations, with the women around me let me know that I needed someone else. Right off I relearned again that breakups can be messy. More so when the women were older and knew the buttons to push. 

I worked at the stadium that summer and fall and I worked with a woman, an engaged woman, that had such a wit and quick mind that I swear I was staring in awe of her most of the time. The fact that I could hold a conversation with such a person was a marvel in itself. I mean, I knew that intelligence, and not just emotional intelligence, was attractive to me but I didn't realize how strong it was. I never attempted to do anything untoward with this woman, but it just reinforced how much I needed this kind of person around me. I had no ego in that I needed to be smarter than the women I dated. I felt very comfortable with the idea that some of the women I might date were smarter than me. 

I changed who I was dating at the time. If I didn't feel that spark, that chemistry right off, I didn't date that person long. I was trying to find that someone and I wasn't wasting much time. One of my roommates once commented when he saw me with a girl, "Which one is this?" 

Dating Tracy was different. I had two semesters of German with her so I knew a bit about her before I ever asked her out, and that chemistry was there, at least for me. Still, I've been in more one-sided relationships before and this was quickly taking that route. After a few dates, and even though I was crazy about her, I wasn't getting any response from her. I wasn't angry, I was frustrated. But, and this is major for me, I had enough respect for myself that I wasn't going to waste my energies with someone that clearly didn't want to be with me. I was still dating others that wanted to be with me, nerd that I was.

And then Tracy's mother talked to her. Next thing I know, I'm spending all my available time with this clever, wonderful woman (Tracy), the one that wasn't interested previously. Twitterpation merged more with a comfort than I ever felt before. Not saying that I wasn't still awkward and clumsy, but as we spent time with each other, we fell more into a rhythm. I guess that's how it goes.

I've always found it easier for me to talk to women, and that really didn't change much over the years. As Tracy and I lived on, we wanted to have a family. We adopted Hayden. When we felt that there was room in our home and hearts, we tried to adopt again. That was an expensive and laborious process as we wanted to adopt internationally, to help those in dire straights. During this period I spent a good deal of time getting to know a woman I worked with that was from Bolivia. She lived an interesting life and I felt honored to be her friend and make her laugh once in a while. When my church was going to stop the adoption program we entered, I didn't know what to do. Tracy had called and told me and I was beside myself. I walked the quarter mile from my side of the building to where she sat and I promptly lost any and all composure. I was weeping in her cube and she realized that I was in no mood to drive. She drove me home, with a stop along the way where we talked some more, and I cried some more. I can't thank her enough for that afternoon that she spent with me, trying to recover enough to function.

Then came Facebook as well as some pretty in-depth reading of philosophy in religion and things started to become uneasy. I connected with people that I didn't think I would reconnect with in my lifetime. I was coming more empathetic in my outlook and questioning events and decisions in my life. I went up to Wisconsin to talk to a woman I've known, loved and respected from my college days. I didn't have an agenda but I did want to talk about my life before I met her because I was becoming brave enough to talk about it and I wanted someone to hear me, if nothing else.

Shortly thereafter, my life came crashing down all at once, or so it seemed. I know it took time, but it felt as though everything changed so quickly. My beliefs left me. I needed to recontextualize my life. While I learned to open up with Tracy, our marriage became strained and I wondered if she would still love me and respect me as I felt like I became a different person than the one she married. Hours and days and months of talking and re-examining our relationship followed. I don't think I ever appreciated her more as we worked things out and recentered on each other.

During all of this, I found friendship and support from a woman at work with just talking about things as we walked around the building. A woman in Wyoming and I spent time talking about relationships and books and helped me cope with long-buried feelings. A woman in Oregon helped me by letting me write, letting the narration in my head have an outlet.

I also couldn't leave this period without giving my thanks to a woman I attended High-School with but never really spoke during that time. Talking to her about our mutual friends and our different lives helped me find myself and discover the person I have become. I cannot thank her enough for the support and time spent talking about our lives and goals.

Lately, I haven't had any existential dreads in my life, but I do want to mention another woman that I worked with briefly, but we chat often. She helped me rediscover my love of learning and she tolerates my age-addled mind. She was born the year I left on my mission so there is quite an age difference, on top of the numerous cultural differences, our having been raised on the other sides of the planet from each other. Still, she helped provide the impetus to get me back to the screens to learn new ways of doing things.

I don't know where I would be without these wonderful people in my life, and I hope I can still learn from them to become a better person than I am now.

Probably Didn't Count On That

I was just thinking about expectations. We all have them. I considered some of the expectations of my own life. Sometimes things don't meet expectations though. This is when I thought about what my parents might have expected. The church I used to attend gives people a lot of expectations. You see, because if you don't meet their expectations, you don't get to have your family in eternity. And if you personally don't meet their expectations, you don't get to go either.

Did my parents raise good kids? Yes. Well, eventually. Maybe they moved around a bit in the morality of their youth, but they are good people. Still, in a religion where the family is paramount, two of their kids don't have their own families, at least in the 1950's definition. My brother never married. My sister is a lesbian and is married to her partner. Me? Well, I married. No kids for awhile, at least until we adopted. So we have an african-american son and two hispanic children. We do have a naturally occurring child between us too. But in the past few years we had a "faith-crisis" or what may be properly called a "truth-crisis" and we left the religion that we grew up with.

So, did my parents get their expectations? Maybe not. I can't speak for them. However, we are a different bunch. Are we still good kids? Yes. Darn good kids if I may be so bold. My parents have a wonderful family. Do they consider us good kids? I don't know. I know by the standards of my former religion, I'm a miserable apostate, not to be trusted. My sister is partly responsible for the downfall of society, and my brother is, at best, available to the lower parts of heaven because he never married.

The damage in this is because my religion has taught each of us that we are "less than", my parents and absolutely my former church considers us "less than". I have felt that way for most of my adult life. No more. We are flawed people, but we are also somewhere high in the Awesome Scale.

For a bit more of this and how it affects people and our happiness, I offer this video from Thinker of Thoughts and Stuff.