What goes around...

Several days ago I was having a real heart-to-heart discussion with Teeny Bopper about obedience. During the discussion I explained to her that my demand for obedience was not a power trip for me. I am larger and stronger than her and, if it came down to it, I could force her to comply with my requests by brute strength (at least until the cops came). My desire for her to be obedient was much more important than my personal ego. I explained that her mother and I have been around the block a few more times than she has and can see things that are beyond the horizons of her personal experience. More importantly, if she learned to be obedient in the small things that we asked of her (i.e. pick up your room, do your homework, stop beating your sister with a board, etc.) then obedience would be easier for her in the big moments of decision. (i.e. - chastity, word of wisdom, tithing, no dating till your 16, etc.)
In the middle of this discussion I had a flashback to when I was 12 years old and my dad was telling me: "Obedience is the 1st law of Heaven, and the sooner you learn that the easier your life will be."
Here I was, 23 years later, having the same discussion with my daughter. As I remembered that talk with my own dad the whole lesson he was trying to get through to me came together in a blinding moment of clarity. I understood why it was so important to be obedient, and how it really does make life easier once you have that lesson learned. I understood what Dad was saying and why.
Another revelation to me was that my dad's lessons actually got through my thick head and were still there to help me as an adult. I felt an overwhelming love for Dad and all of the times he taught me life's lessons and then repeated them over and over again. It also gave me great hope that the things I am telling my own kids are getting through to them and will one day help them out when they need it. Who knows? Maybe Teeny Bopper will have this discussion with her oldest child and remember her dad saying: "If you learn to be obedient in the small things, then it will be easy to be obedient to the big things." And maybe, just maybe, she will feel like saying what I am saying to my Dad in this post: "Thanks Dad!"

The Price of Freedom

Today is Memorial Day, and while I would love to wax eloquent about the meaning of the day and the price paid for our freedoms, the picture above says far more than I ever could. Marine Staff Sergeant Marcus "Marc" Golczynski was killed on March 27, 2007 during his second tour of duty in Iraq - a tour he volunteered for. This picture shows 8 year old Christian, receiving the flag that covered his daddy's casket from Lt. Col Ric Thompson at the conclusion of Marc's funeral services on April 4, 2007.

As we relish the "freedom" of a three-day weekend, let's remember the real meaning of freedom and the price paid for us to have that freedom.

God bless our Veterans and their families.

Oh, what a beautiful morning...

I spent this morning in the Temple with Teeny Bopper (top secret blogging code name for my oldest daughter) and young women from our ward and two others in the stake. Although we had to get up really early it was a great experience for both of us. I baptized about thirty young women for between 10 and 15 people each and had a wonderful time. For four of these young ladies it was their first time doing baptisms and I could see that they were impressed by the spirit they felt.

This wasn't Teeny Bopper's first opportunity to do baptisms, but it was her first time in the Mesa Arizona Temple. It was neat to see her there and to talk with her afterwards about how she felt, the meaning of the ordinances, why we have temples, and how come all of this is important.
I would love to go on and on about my experience this morning, but I don’t have the time or mental energy right now (this is two days in a row getting up at 4am). I just wanted to record this experience before I got too busy to remember what a great morning I had.

I am grateful to live so close to the Temple, and thankful for a young lady who shared a very early morning with me in a holy place.

Confessions of a Scrapbooker's Husband

My sweet wife has an addiction to rubber stamps, paper cutouts, brads, hole punches, picture layouts, colored paper, ink, toner, ribbons, scissors and tape. All signs indicate that she has contracted that life-altering infection commonly known as "Scrapbookus Giganticus Obsessium" or "Recordum Lifeus Largo" Some of the more obvious signs of this addiction include a dizzying array of colored ink pads, enough paper to make the environuts go postal, and photographs scattered from heck to breakfast throughout the house. An ever increasing number of scrapbooks seem to absorb an ever diminishing supply of bookshelf real estate, and the one thing in the house my wife can always find is her camera.

Like most clueless husbands, I originally ignored the increasingly obvious signs of my wife's affliction with this bug. "This is just a fad." I would say. "She will enjoy this for a little while and then everything will return to normal." I was so naive, so innocent, so blind.

In its current state, my wife's affliction has ratcheted up her creativity (already impressive) to heights never explored before. She has become much more tech saavy with her digital camera and the computer that organizes a plethora of pictures each week. She can turn ordinary events into a celebration of family life, and records them in a way that drive us back to the books time and again to relive fun times and remember those moments which help shape our family's character.

In the not so distant past, my wife took her scrapbooking out to the blogosphere where she has not only recorded images of our life, but written her own thoughts about the images shown there and how they have affected her. I confess that I look at her blog daily, to see what has happened with our family and to get her wonderful perspective on life and parenting. I also confess that, while I personally am not addicted to scrapbooking, I am addicted to the way that my wife is recording our family history. My children and I are indebted to her for taking the time to record our lives and her observations on them. I enjoy her talent to capture our family activities and turn them into permanent exhibits on who we are and what we do.

I am grateful for my wife and her attention to the details that make up our experiences here. I thoroughly enjoy her hobby and am glad that she has found something exciting for her to work on during the few quiet hours she gets at home.

Thanks Dulcinea!

Riding to Victory! OK - Riding A Victory

(Pictured in the order I rode them - Hammer S, Kingpin, Vision Tour, Kingpin Tour)

The Victory Motorcycles Demo Fleet is in town today and I spent a good chunk of my day test riding these beautiful bikes. I started out with a Hammer S and was immediately impressed with the, shall we say, "frijoles" this bike has. Rolling on the throttle rocketed me down the road, especially when I got on the freeway. Hitting 90mph took seconds.

The Hammer seemed to be appropriately named. I felt like my kidneys got the whey beat out of them by the time I got back to the launch pad, but this might be more of a comment on the size of my posterior than the ergonomics of the bike. Other than my tail end not feeling too welcome, it was one sweet ride. It handled like a dream, cornered with ease, and accelerated like a real thoroughbred.

My next adventure in Victory-land was on the Kingpin. Again - "frijoles". The saddle accomodated my "assetts" much better, the forward controls were in perfect position and I shot down the rode with my fists in the wind and a maniacal grin on my face. Hands down, it was my favorite bike.

I couldn't keep doing this alone, so I ran home and cajoled my lovely wife to join me on the next two rides. She hopped on the back of my current ride and we went back for our next adventure. We decided to try the Victory Vision for our first two-up ride. This behemoth looks like something straight out of Star Trek. I was a little apprehensive at first, because I have never ridden a bike that big, and I started out with the wife with me, which makes it a little trickier to ride. Other than taking my first two turns a little wider than I would have liked, it worked out all right. It had good get-up-and-go, but not quite as much as the other two I tried. (The additional weight of the bike surely had something to do with that.) The saddle was wonderful, the stereo rocked, and the controls were in intuitive locations. There were a lot of displays and gauges up front, the most interesting being the gear indicator. It didn't tell you what gear you were in, it told you what gear you should be in. Sally and I both enjoyed the seats. Very roomy and comfortable. Unfortunately the passenger floorboards weren't high enough to do Dulcinea any good. She said that the ride wasn't as smooth as she expected and I would have to agree with that assesment. Crossing the railroad tracks was fun - we were hauling and Dulcinea caught air as we road over. (She didn't like that as much as I did)
While the bike is beautiful and impressive, I can't see myself ever owning one. It just wasn't my style. I didn't like not being able to see my front wheel, the fairings blocked so much wind that I couldn't cool down very well, and I felt like I was riding a two wheeled convertible more than a honest-to-goodness motorcycle.

After a quick bite to eat we hopped on our last bike of the day - the Kingpin Tour. The floorboards were perfect for both of us, and my saddle was comfortable, but Dulcinea didn't like hers that much. She didn't have very much room. (She did, however, have it better than the girl that was riding right in front of us on the back of the Hammer S. That poor girl didn't have a saddle much bigger than a postage stamp and had to hang on for dear life.) I was dissapointed that the ride wasn't comfortable for Dulcinea. If she isn't comfortable on the back, it pretty much shoots the reason for getting it.

Victory motorcycles are beautiful machines. The paint schemes are eyecatching, the engines stand up and deliver great performance, they handle like a dream, and they feel authentically American. My only dissapointment was that they weren't very comfortable for my wife. If I were to buy one it would be either the standard Kingpin or the Vegas Low. But it would have to be a 3rd motorcycle for me. After today's test rides I am thoroughly convinced that my next 2 (yes, 2) bikes are going to be Harley's. Right-on Baby!!!

Final note - My current bike, my lovely Honda Shadow A.C.E. Deluxe, felt small and weak after riding these bikes. I am afraid I will have to upgrade soon just to keep my manly pride intact. :-)

Behold the Wounds in Jesus' Hands

These are the lyrics to one of my favorite Easter songs. It was written by John V. Pearson and put to music by David R. Naylor.

Behold the wounds in Jesus' hands,

The Marks upon His side.

Then ponder who He meant to save

when on the cross He died.

We cannot see the love of God

Which saves us from the fall,

Yet know that Christ from wood and nails

built mansions for us all.

Behold the outstreched hands of Christ,

Our God, who came to save,

Whose love and grace redeems our souls

And lifts us from the grave.

Though bruised and battered as we stray

His loving hands caress,

He washes and annoints with oil

Then in His arms we rest.

Behold the wounds in Jesus' hands,

Look to your Lord and live

He yearns to bless you with His love

And all your sins forgive.

Oh empty is the heart of man

When it is filled with sin.

Come open wide your broken heart

And let your Savior in!

Behold His wounded hands and feet!

Come touch and see and feel

The wounds and marks that you may know

His love for you is real.

Then as you fall to worship Him

And wash His feet in tears,

Your Savior takes you in His arms

And quiets all your fears.

Your Savior takes you in His arms

And quiets all your fears.

The Stone Cut Without Hands

When I first started my mission in Chile, I had the privilege of serving with an elder who was completing his mission just a month and a half after my arrival. The day before Elder Araya's departure we had picked up my new companion, Elder Drake, and had settled him into our apartment. The next morning, I bid Elder Araya goodbye and went out into the area with Elder Drake to continue the work we had been called to perform. When we came back for lunch, Elder Araya had gone home.

Two short years later my last companion, Elder Zuchel, walked me to the bus stop with his new companion where he helped me load my luggage on the bus before giving me a farewell abrazo. As the bus pulled away I turned to look out the back window and watched these two missionaries begin their work for the day, continuing where I had left off and not missing a beat. When the bus dropped down the hill and I lost sight of the two missionaries, I remembered that morning two years earlier when I had said goodbye to Elder Araya and then continued the work I had been called to do. I remembered how, later that day, I commented to my new companion that the church was like an enormous merry go round. People get on and off of it, but it never stopped moving.

Looking back now, I realize that there is a much better analogy of this phenomenon of continuity:

"The keys of the kingdom of God are committed unto man on the earth, and from thence shall the gospel roll forth unto the ends of the earth, as the stone which is cut out of the mountain without hands shall roll forth, until it has filled the whole earth." (D&C 65:2)

These keys are with the Church today, and are held by our new prophet, President Thomas S. Monson.

The calling of a new prophet has always been a renewal of my testimony that God lives, that He loves us, and that He is directing the work of His Church. He never leaves us without leadership. Even when the First Presidency is dissolved upon the death of the prophet, the keys are not taken away from us. They continue with the Church and, as a result, the work of the Church continues towards the fulfillment of its divine mission. There is never a pause in this work, it is too important.

I am grateful for President Monson and his two able couselors, President Eyring and President Uchtdorf. These men, together with their associates in the Quorum of the 12, are prophets, seers, and revelators. They hold all of the keys to bring the gospel to the whole world, to govern the affairs of the Church, and to open the doors of salvation to all of us through the Atonement of Christ

I know that President Monson has been called of God to be our prophet at this stage of the world's history, and I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is God's kingdom here on the earth. This stone that is cut out of the mountain without hands will roll forth until it has filled the whole earth, and each of us has the privilege of being a part of this great work.

Let us each square our shoulders to the tasks that are before us and join with President Monson, his counelors, and the other General Authorities in rolling this Church onward towards its divine destiny.