That Others Might Live

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Last night, my good friend and I talked for hours on the phone. He reminded me that I can have my shed back now, as I've been storing things in it for our late friend for several years. I hadn't even thought about that yet, because aside from a few things that are in the way, I don't think a lot about them because they are out of sight. You see, I have been thinking about getting rid of many of the things that remind me of those I lost because they are painful. I have a box in the bottom of the closet marked "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past" in which I keep some meaningful scrimshaw from women I love. I do not look in the box often at all, because I know that some of the emotions that will arise will be painful as they were for me this morning. Every woman I have ever loved who isn't family is gone, and the things they leave behind are not material.

I believe that things that we have are of very little actual value. Most of the time, they mean something to us because of the memories we associate with them. I mentioned a while ago the scrimshaw I display on a bookcase in the front room. Some of the items have a meager market value, but all of them have a story, a symbolic worth, which is why they stay there. You see, what matters most in our life is not what we have or what we do with what we have, but it is really the people in our lives who mean something to us that give our lives meaning. Perhaps this is why I didn't enjoy Alaska, because I was there not only by myself, but I also spent most of the time away from anyone at all, including away from the denizens. Even Boston means more, even though it's only because I share the stories of the families who thought it sad that I was there by myself. At least for me, the things I treasure most are because I associate them with memories of people who mean something to me.

For a long time, I have maintained that life is richer when you share it. If we were all meant to be alone, God would have arranged for us to each be born on our own planets. As my friend and I sat watching a thunderstorm roll in over us in the mountains today, we talked about the things that we have and what to do about them. My friend says he'll live a good life for our late friend now that she died in the prime of her life. It was an interesting notion, and it was one that would actually show up later in the day.

This afternoon, I came across an article by Brad Wilcox. I remember seeing Brad as a teenager and somewhere I have one of his books or talks on tape. He recounts a story of a conversation he has with a woman on the meaning of Christ's sacrifice for us, because it's a huge misconception in my Faith that we have to earn our way into heaven. Although some people think that everything is finished when you "accept Christ", Brad points out in his article something that rang true with me. Yes, Christ already paid the price that we might all live again. Our obedience to His commandments is not to qualify for blessings but to show our appreciation for what He did. Enzio Busche has also said, "out of the depths of gratitude for Christ's suffering, you show your appreciation by diligently serving Him". It shows appreciation, and it shows what His life and gift means to us.

Many people today abide the misbegotten notion that "you only live once, so live it up" rather than "you only live once, so live well". In living a good life, we show that we appreciate the fact that they lived, that they were an important part of our life, and that they really meant something to us. Just as we keep mementos of people who mean something to us, we keep in remembrance by continuing to live well to show our appreciation for the good people in our lives and especially for Him who died that all might live. I frequently tell my students to show that it's worth the price someone else paid by doing well in the course, and it kind of struck me just now about what it means to keep things in remembrance.

People make time for the things and people that matter to them. When they exit our lives, sometimes we give time to them still because they really mattered to us. Some of the people I know judge me for "living in the past" when I reminisce about people who mean something to be but whom I no longer see, but these people contributed to my present, and insomuch as their contribution led to something good, they were also good things in my life. I keep things, particularly pictures, to remind me of things that have value to me, even if the scrimshaw itself is pretty worthless. You see, people photograph things they desire to remember. Sometimes I just wish I had someone with whom to share the memories.

I decided to commemorate the people I love, the family into which I was born, and the Master I serve by living well. I will do what I can to show them that they mean something to me, and that our time together meant something. I will remember the good about them and strive to be a better person, the person they thought I was when we knew one another. I will try to be the person my dog thinks I am, or even that my kat thinks I am. To any of you who may read this I once loved, know that I wouldn't trade our time together for anything. Our lives are about the people who are in them, and you are still important to me, because you played a part in who I am, and I like who I am. Thank you for being part of my life, for helping me have a life, and for, willingly or not, acting as catalyst for me to turn to the Source of all Life. As I grow closer to Him, I also have the chance to help others live.

Cut Off

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For several days, I've been considering how to address this and whether i ought to mention it at all. August has been an emotionally challenging month for me. A woman for whom I had strong feelings unexpectedly and uncharacteristically asked me to no longer contact her and to not expect any more communication from her ever. Another woman I knew well, who after the former woman cut me off was the only woman I have known longer than a year who still talked with me directly, took her own life this week. I feel very cut off, and I don't really understand how this happened.

Maybe I'm just an idiot, but I didn't see either of these things coming. All the indications from the former woman were that she would choose me and support me and be with me. All the indications from my other friend were that she was getting some semblance of what she wanted. Sure, there were problems, but nothing was of the scale that predicted either of these outcomes, and I can't help but look at myself and ask what I did wrong or what more I could have done or done differently.

Perhaps it's just because I don't control either of these situations that it bothers me. I don't really know that I could have done anything or that anything of which I was capable was justified or righteous. I try very hard to live the things I write on this blog, and so I have reluctantly decided to let the first woman go and respect her even though I finally found someone with whom I actually wanted a family. Reluctantly too, I am accepting another kind of death, a literal loss of life in a friend who stood by me and introduced to me another better friend with whom I spend most of my weekends. If not for her, he and I might never have met, and then I don't know what I would have done with all my free time before I met the woman I loved and now that she has chosen another path.

I don't know what happened to make these women cut me off. The first one gave me very little information, and the second gave me none at all. In fact, the second had been in town last weekend, but she didn't contact me or let me know she was here. I don't know how to be better in the future. I don't know what to change to be a better mate or a better friend. Neither of these women have given me anything with which to work, and I spend most of the day agitated and upset because there is a feedback loop that will not close.

I spent some time on memory lane tonight with both of these women. I have a photo text from the one who took her own life that I saved to my phone months ago. It's the last picture I have of her. I actually drove by the other woman's house for the first time ever, but I chickened out and didn't knock on the door or call. I was trying to respect her choice. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm the villain. I am just really confused at this point, and I don't know what to do. I have very strong feelings about both of these women, and I am torn up to have lost them both. What tears me up about the first is that I know exactly where to go, but I don't want to go talk to her if I'm unwelcome. That's the only data I have.

This is kind of par for my life. This happened before, and that's partly why I am so agitated now. This latest woman assured me that things would be different, that she would heal what others had damaged. She was choice, and I thought I was her choice. Now I'm just lost because of what I lost, and because I love her, I have to let her go.

My thoughts are conflicted with the thoughts of other people. I have read things that reverberate and heard other things that echo, and I don't know what to do. I just know that I am not complete without the first and will probably never really recover from the loss of the second. I've never had a friend take their life, and I don't understand what happened to the life I thought I had with the other. I may never really know.

Defining Moments

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At least for my part, my life comes across as a Kobiashi Maru- the no-win scenario from Star Trek that tests an officer's character. Every time I am forced to choose, it reveals a little more of my character. I don't mind this so much, because I learn things about myself, and sometimes I am pleased to discover virtues in how I act. However, it's a two-edged sword. You see, you cannot tempt or compel a person to virtue like you can to vice. Consequently, it is often the virtuous who get the shaft. I have however identified at least 10 defining moments in my life that forged my character and revealed to me the person that I really am. For the record, they are as follows:

1. The day I first went under the stairs and prayed on my own to my Maker 

2. The day I first received an unrequested answer to a prayer and went to the Whitehead's house for refuge 

3. Visiting the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, NY 

4. Serving as Elder Andreas Wenig's mission companion 

5. Becoming the Zone Leader in Tyrolia 

6. My marriage to Kim and being divorced 

7. Visiting Washington DC 

8. Visiting Boston 

9. The Sunshine Affair 

10. Becoming a Chemistry Professor 

The list almost went to eleven, but the eleventh has resolved itself in a way that left me the same.

Each of these gave me an opportunity to see the person I am and learn a lesson about life. Each of these gave me fuel for the idiom I use: Improve when you can; hold your ground when you get there. Each of these were opportunities to practice what I believe, what I preach, and what I was taught, and each of them asked me to back it up or back it off. Some of the details of each of these moments are not things of which I am particularly proud, but there were amazing things in them that really surprised me to learn about myself and what kind of a person I am. Although I didn't necessarily walk away from them with anything other than self-epiphanies, it is empowering to know who you really are.

F Enzio Busche once said that all learning is unproductive unless it leads to truth. We learn all sorts of things about all sorts of things, but like I told my class last night, some people aren't looking for truth as much as they are looking for validation. Defining moments invite us to choose the person we really desire to be. Sometimes, we learn in the moment because we choose to be our best selves, and other times we choose to be a better person because of what happened in that defining moment. After all, there is a true you, no matter how many hats you may wear or how many disguises you may don or how many lies you may handle, and eventually the true you comes through. If not sooner, the true you is a known entity to your creator, and He cannot be fooled by how you act because He knows who you are.

Frequently, I am sad to discover that what I believed was true is an act. It seems that more of us than are willing to admit are thespians, repeating rehearsed lines and painting pleasant pictures to gain some advantage. The advantage is never lasting, because if people discover our deception they frequently treat us worse than if we were our true selves from the start. One thing marriage taught me was that if I was going to be damned anyway, I would be damned for who I really am. Lately, I have prayed for the return of Christ, although I am not really ready to greet Him, because I don't know if I really can be better and because I am at peace with who I am.

Each of us is defined ultimately by the choices that we make. When presented with these defining moments, even if they are not no-win scenarios, they tell others about our true character. Forgive me another of the poems that my grandfather often recited. 

 My mother says she doesn't care / About the color of my hair, / Or if my eyes are blue or brown, / Or if my nose turns up or down. / She says these things don't matter. 

My mother says she doesn't care / If I'm dark or if I'm fair, / If I'm thin or if I'm fat. / She doesn't fret o'er things like that. / She says these things don't matter. 

But if I cheat or tell a lie, / Or do mean things to make folks cry, / Or if I'm rude or impolite, / And do not try to do what's right... / Well she says that these things matter. 

It isn't looks that makes us great; / It's character that seals our fate. / It's what's within our hearts, you see, / That makes or mars our destiny. / And that's what really matters. 

Our character is forged link by link, yard by yard, from the time we are able to choose for ourselves (whether or not others allow us to or let us think we are able) until we die. The evil that men do is oft remembered while the good lies interred with their bones. In my case, this is often because even when I do the right thing, the only thing I seem to reap is the knowledge that I did the right thing. You see, Ludwig von Mises understood me, because he wrote that the virtuous value virtue more than any advantage the alternatives afford even if they seem left holding nothing when it's over. Characters may be remembered for a while, but men of character are held up, venerated, and honored eventually because they did things that really matter.

IDs, Insults, and Intelligence

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Someone other than me accessed one of my bank accounts recently, and when I logged in yesterday, I was informed that the account was shut down. Although we went through a lengthy verification process over the phone, I was informed that I now need to go visit a branch and show a government issued photo ID. Isn’t that racist? The Obama Administration argues that it’s racist to require people to show a photo ID to vote, but to protect my own money, I have to show one. Clever.

What I do online, I do with full knowledge that it opens me up to certain things. I monitor my accounts regularly, check my credit report every few months, and change my passwords when the state tells me I should. I started text alerts to notify me when accounts are accessed, and I do a lot of things per post, knowing that it's a lot easier to steal my information, identity, and wealth electronically than any other way. Like I told the fraud specialist, I intentionally access my banking from fixed IP desktops and avoid using wifi or smartphones because it makes it easier for people to capture, even if they're not trying to. When I write on this blog or my twitter, I know that people will not like what I say betimes or be in possession of information with which to cause me damage, but I take this risk with full knowledge and purpose to put out what I think. Some things I keep to myself because they are none of your business.

Upon arrival at the bank, I learned that my initial phone call had not been properly documented. By the time we got back in touch with someone who knew what was going on, was authorized to act, and was interested in acting, I had been at the bank for an hour. I felt annoyed that I had to prove who I was but when this person who tried accessing my account multiple times on Monday and Tuesday had not been asked to verify their identity like I had. Racists. I told the banker, with whom I have no personal beef, that this was every incentive to subsequently close my accounts, especially since I had just proved that I was me, before someone tried again to purloin my pelf.

I find it slightly odd that in a time of unrestricted surveillance that they do not know who did this and that I am who I claim to be. I access the internet from the same three fixed IP addresses all the time. When I travel, I inform the companies so that they don't shut down my credit cards. I am glad they shut it down. I am annoyed that they insisted on inconveniencing ME so much while they just prevent the perpetrator from subsequent attempts. During my initial phone conversation, I pointed out that the woman on the phone had essentially told me "this is really too bad, but I can do nothing for you" and asked her to consider how annoyed she might be if our positions were reversed. I am annoyed with this bank that it took me three hours to get things back on track. I am glad they shut it down before any damage was done. I wish they offered the same controls as my major bank to vouchsafe the integrity of my accounts, but I suspect they don't because I don't have "enough" money in their control. Sometimes organizations get so big that their left hand has no idea what the right hand is doing. As for the branch banker, he was fine, and he totally understood my frustrations. He didn't however offer anything to make it right.

Rescues, Rescuers, and Rescued

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Apparently, the last 24 hours in my life had a theme. Last night, I rescued some abused pets. This morning, I pondered on a rescue I performed last summer and hoped the gentleman is doing well. On the way to work, I pondered when I was rescued several years ago and a rescue I have not been asked but would be willing to do. You see, rescues are a matter of love, and I was surprised to discover as I pondered these things that I love as much as I do. I would move heaven and earth to rescue something or someone that I loved.

For over two hours last night, a friend of mine from Florida tried to convince me to help her rescue a family of sugar gliders. They are malnurished, inappropriately nourished, inappropriately housed, and they have a young joey who will probably die if someone does not intervene. Gliders are my friend's passion, and although I do not have any inclination to add more pets to my house, I have compassion on them and on my friend, and so I agreed to pay the ransom to redeem them from their disheveled state and care for them until she can rehome them somewhere where they will be loved and nurtured. I know from my own experiences breeding beagles that some of the people involved are interested only in the money that pets generate and care very little for the animals themselves. It's probably why I was never interested in working in a pet store, because I feared I might want to take home all of the animals, and it's probably why I don't work at the pound because I would not be able to put down an animal. I once had to put down my sister in law's dog (i forget why it became my burden), and it was hard. I did not have the means then; I do now.

Last summer, I arrived for class one night just in time to avoid being hit by another car. I watched the driver keep going until he slammed into a concrete barrier. Knowing that at this time of night on the edge of the desert and campus in a dark area nobody else was likely to respond, I responded to the scene. The driver had been thrown through the windshield although not ejected due to his seatbelt. He bled from several lacerations and seemed incoherent. For the first time in my life, I called 911 and monitored the driver until paramedics and police arrived to tend to the man. I left my statement and even made it to class on time. None of my students came over although many of them recognized my car at the scene, and I decided that it was a good thing I responded. I hope the man is doing well.

About seven years ago, I found myself stuck in snow just north of Berlin NV in an area void of cell coverage and human habitation. Within minutes of rising from prayer, a truck drove around the corner. The driver, about whom I can recollect very little, cut branches from the trees and pushed me back up onto the road, and then he followed me down the mountain until we were clear of snow albeit distal to the highway. At this point he vanished. I have pondered many times the fortuitous nature of my own rescue that day since nobody knew where I was exactly or was likely to go look for me.

The funny thing about rescue that runs a common theme in these stories is that the rescue only comes once the danger is present. We are usually not spared from danger as often as we are rescued from it. In many cases, the rescue only comes when people ask for help. You see, you can't really help people who don't want your help. I pull over on the highway often only to be waved on by people who prefer to do things themselves or already secured aid. The offer stands; what I await is for them to accept the offer and ask me to help.

Likewise, when it comes to our lives, the price of rescue has already been paid. What remains for us is to avail ourselves of the atonement and call upon God and His Christ to save us. He never intercedes against our will. He never comes and forces us to follow Him or come with Him. He is ready any time if and when we call to come to our aid with legions of angels if necessary to deliver us out of the Egypts of our lives and lead us to a land of promise. This He does because He loves us, both the rescue as well as waiting until we ask. You see, when you force a man to be rescued, the man is often angry, but the man who asks for, receives, and values the rescue is prone to pass on the beneficence afforded him.

I am not someone who imposes his will on others even when I love them. I know plenty of people who do things "for your own good" when in reality it's not about you at all in some cases. Like my friend, like the pet, and like the bleeding stranger, I offered to help because I loved them, or at least because I didn't have any reason not to love them. Although I am not able to do everything, I offer what I can. It's just an offer, and they are free to accept or reject it. When people wave me on, I keep driving, but at least I gave them the chance to accept it. I stand ready to assist, I have the means to assist, and I will come rescue you if I can and if you ask and pay forward the rescues I experienced that made it possible for me to be alive today.

Camping Etiquette

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I celebrate the fact that a large number of my fellow Americans choose to enjoy and avail themselves of our national parks. I wish that some of them were considerate and aware of the reasons why people such as myself go into the wilderness. I know that many of them are there to share life with their families. Unless they invite me to join their festivities, a few pieces of etiquette should be remembered. You are not the only camper, and you are not the only living thing in the campground, and we are apt to disrupt nature when we go to enjoy it. Our world is not harmonious with the still of the wild, and that's why I go there, to re harmonize with the way life actually flows.

Flashlights should be pointed at the ground. The first night in Sequoia, we looked to the sky to see the Perseid Meteor Shower. Frequently, people would shine their flashlights right in our eyes, as if they expect to find a highwayman at 6000 feet in an organized campground. You can find your way just fine by pointing it at the ground. You do not need to know everything about your neighboring campers, and the lights are annoying if you're trying to watch for something in the woods or the sky or if it's time to turn in for the night. Children I can understand. The adults should learn to respect the fact that when it's night it's supposed to be dark, and I like that about the wilderness.

Noise should be kept to a reasonable rumble during reasonable hours. Our last night, we heard the resonant bark of a DOG in the distance. The group camp was loud, but they desisted from their libations by around 9:30PM, which was perfectly reasonable. In fact, most of the campers at Dorst Campground were respectful as per noise. In fact, it was so quiet, that when the first people stirred forth some mornings, it seemed loud compared to the absolute stillness of the woods. However, if you happen to meet a black bear, noise is the appropriate response. You can tell that the wildlife are unaccustomed to people because they do not seem stirred by us. The still of nature, the cry of the wind, and the whisper of the trees are easily drown out by the din of noise we carry along with us betimes. The Utahans are typically the worst, bringing their iPODs along for music along the trails.

Pack out more than you brought with you. There is always trash in the wilderness. As might as the forest is, some of the things we bring are either toxic or of a material type that the wild cannot easily recycle the materials we leave behind. I found it sad to see so much trash lying around in the Sequoias despite the abundance of trash receptacles and the percentage of beatniks in the park, particularly when there is such a problem with bears. Additionally, it makes me sad because our first day we reached a peak from which we could see the ghastly cloud of smog from the California coast, the effects of which are felt in the park. Fortunately for Sequoias, they seem to benefit by so-called manmade "global warming", but I digress. The trash doesn't belong there, and I filled my pockets with wrappers, cigarette butts, and other garbage, some of which made it all the way into the drier at home. Leave it so that others can enjoy it when you leave.

When Teddy Roosevelt envisioned the Park System, he did so with the idea that it may be preserved for future generations to enjoy. Although not technically a legitimate function of government, I am happy to support the NPS so that other people can see and appreciate the wonderful things I have been blessed to experience. Our intrusions into nature with the conveniences of modernity disrupt nature. The suggestions made here are there to help us harmonize with and benefit from our visits in the wilderness. I forget who said it, but there is a quote at the northernmost visitor center about the notion that wilderness is for the preservation of the human spirit. It's for us to reconnect with what is truly in OUR nature as well. I really liked that the park had no internet or cell service. It allowed me to unplug from the distractions of the digital age and remember the joys and happiness when I was a boy and my father took us camping to enjoy things to please the eye, gladden the heart, and enlarge the soul. As you keep these ideas in mind, you will harmonize better and help others re synchronize with the earth from whence we sprang.

Lessons Learned From Sequoias

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I just returned from a week in Sequoia and Kings Canyon National park. It was intended to be a final hurrah to summer and to allow me to recharge before I return to school on August 26th. Also, I needed to get out and get away and busy my mind with something I actually control rather than baking at home in my own juices stewing over struggles that I ultimately don't control. Trips like this allow me to disconnect from the rest of the worldliness of the modern world and reconnect with things that are real and down to earth. Choosing Sequoia National Park proved to be a good thing, and the trees taught me many things.

Sequoia trees show that it's ok to enlarge and improve yourself. The strength and size of the sequoia does nothing to inhibit the growth of neighboring trees or interfere with things around them. In fact, they are not necessarily the tallest tree in the forest. Sometimes, we hold ourselves back because people around us get upset that we get smarter, healthier, richer, or any number of possible improvement avenues than they are. They want to drag us down. You know what drags down a sequoia? Wind. Eventually, the wind breaks off the top of the tree, and it stops growing taller. They continue, for as long as 2200 years, grow wider and enlarge in width and breadth until they finally topple because they have reached the measure of their creation. Grow big! Go big! Become everything you can be.

Sequoia national park reiterated the importance of commitment. On the middle day of our journey, we tackled a huge escarpment at the end of the Lodgepole Camping Area. I cannot be exactly sure, but we climbed from the valley floor 1000 meters in a distance of 1000 horizontal meters to the top of the escarpment. It took hours, but I realized that by the time I realized I might have overreached, it was easier to press forward to the top than to go back down the way we came. A local at the trail on top was impressed; he was not sure that it could be done. I don't know that I'd do it again, but I feel a sense of accomplishment. When you look at the trees in the park, you will see that some of them grow in precipitous locations buttressed by large environmental resistance. That same escarpment we climbed is constantly buffeted by wind; it is subject to rockslides, landslides, and avalanche (snowpack permitting). Some of the trees are over 30 meters in height, but they are there, and they know that they either see it through or die.

Giant sequoia trees are designed on purpose to resist the greatest dangers in the forest- drought and fire. They accomplish this by growing a layer of bark anywhere from 30cm to 90cm thick. The chemicals in this outer skin are difficult to ignite or penetrate, meaning that the trees lose hardly anything through transpiration and that they can withstand large and frequent fires. Like those trees, we would do well to grow a thick skin. Things will challenge our position, our existence, and our strength, but the thicker and less reactive our skin the more likely we will be to rise above the ashes of adversity and continue to stand tall and proud and pass on the best of us to our posterity.

Besides their size, Sequoia trees provide much for us to admire and emulate. I am certain there are more lessons we can learn from theses trees. They show us that it hurts only us when we hold ourselves back, and they tell us that it's ok to grow as much as you can. They show us a tenacity and commitment unparalleled in our own world as they tackle the threats created by man as well as nature to their survival and enlargement. Finally, they show us how we can overcome adversity, that what doesn't kill us can make us stronger and worthy of emulation. I highly suggest that every person who can do so visit this amazing forest and feel the strength of the trees. Clearly, as CS Lewis wrote, some of these trees are on our side.

The images in this post are proprietary.

Letting Go

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I've had to let go of a lot of things, usually because to continue to hold them would do me harm. It's not always easy, but I have never regretted letting them go. Plus, you know they say that if you let something go and it comes back, then you know it's yours. This technique works also with things that I take to God in prayer. When I pray, I lay everything out for Him, and then I ask Him to give me back only the portions that are mine to handle. He'll be up all night anyway. Finally, I love nothing so selfishly that I will not let it go for its own good.

Far too often in my mind we assume that we know what's best. I testify to you that I am sometimes thankful to God that I didn't get what I wanted because I realized later that it was not going to be or do what I hoped. However, those times, as is also true this morning, I know that I do not possess all the facts. Sure, I make decisions based on the set of facts I have, and in that case the choice may be the best given the data at hand. No matter how good the information may be that I possess, sometimes there are things I cannot see. After I realize that, I feel blessed that some things in life are not up to me.

Even with this attitude of submissiveness to God's will, sometimes sadness remains. I am sad sometimes to have to have a courageous conversation with a friend or move to another place or honor the request of someone for whom I care who requests that I no longer contact them. I actually do love them, and so I let them go. Maybe one of these days, they will return. If not, then I guess they were never really going to be part of my life.

People and things come into our lives sometimes just for a season. Sometimes that season is shorter than we'd like. I do not know why these things must be that way, but I know that God loves me and that He loves them, and I testify that He would not allow those things to be if they were not somehow calculated to our best eternal good. If there is something for me to do, I know God will tell me. For now, I am letting go and holding my peace and trusting in God's grace, His wisdom, and His timing.

While still a teenager, I heard the following song for the very first time. It helps cushion the pain sometimes when I am forced to let go of something before I am ready. Out of love, for myself, for other people, and for my God, I let it go, knowing that, although I once had a chance to sue someone and become a millionaire, it has been better for me to simply let it go. May you find strength to let go of bad things that hold you back and good things to see if they come back. I hope and pray that you will find peace and truth as you exercise submissiveness to the Lord.

Rise and Rise Again

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I’ve been wrestling of late with a weighty personal matter and avoided writing so as to avoid making it public. At the same time, I’ve been wrestling with the end of summer term, which is just long enough to cover anything but not long enough to enjoy the synergy of a spontaneous reaction with students. Both of these things have now cleared up, and I am left alone to my thoughts for a few weeks before I get to start the uphill climb with students again.

Last night during the in-class review for the final, I quoted a poem. My grandfather memorized quite a few of these, and I picked some up passively due to his frequent repetitions. A poem comes to mind, and I will leave that as my thoughts.

“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!”

They shout at me and plead. “There’s just too much against you now. This time you can’t succeed!” And as I start to hang my head In front of failure’s face. My downward fall is broken by The memory of a race. And hope refills my weakened will As I recall that scene: For just the thought of that short race Rejuvenates my being. A children’s race-young boys, young men-how I remember well. Excitement, sure! But also fear; It wasn’t hard to tell. They all lined up so full of hope Each thought to win that race. Or tie for first, or if not that, At least take second place. And fathers watched from off the side Each cheering for his son. And each boy hoped to show his dad That he would be the one. The whistle blew and off they went! Young hearts and hopes afire. To win and be the hero there Was each young boy’s desire. And one boy in particular Whose dad was in the crowd, Was running near the lead and thought: “My dad will be so proud!” But as they speeded down the field Across a shallow dip, The little boy who thought to win Lost his step and slipped. Trying hard to catch himself His hands flew out to brace, And mid the laughter of the crowd He fell flat on his face. So down he fell and with him hope –He couldn’t win it now– Embarrassed, sad, he only wished To disappear somehow. But as he fell his dad stood up And showed his anxious face, Which to the boy so clearly said: “Get up and win the race.” He quickly rose, no damage done, –Behind a bit, that’s all– And ran with all his mind and might To make up for his fall. So anxious to restore himself –To catch up and to win– His mind went faster than his legs: He slipped and fell again! He wished then he had quit before With only one disgrace. “I’m hopeless as a runner now; I shouldn’t try to race.” But in the laughing crowd he searched And found his father’s face: That steady look which said again: “Get up and win the race!” So up he jumped to try again –Ten yards behind the last– “If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought “I’ve got to move real fast.” Exerting everything he had He regained eight or ten, But trying so hard to catch the lead He slipped and fell again! Defeat! He lied there silently –A tear dropped from his eye– “There’s no sense running any more; Three strikes: I’m out! Why try?” The will to rise had disappeared; All hope had fled away; So far behind, so error prone; A loser all the way. “I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.” But then he thought about his dad Who soon he’d have to face. “Get up,” an echo sounded low. “Get up and take your place; You were not meant for failure here. Get up and win the race.” “With borrowed will get up,” it said, “You haven’t lost at all. For winning is no more than this: To rise each time you fall.” So up he rose to run once more, And with a new commit He resolved that win or lose At least he wouldn’t quit. So far behind the others now, –The most he’d ever been– Still he gave it all he had And ran as though to win. Three times he’d fallen, stumbling; Three times he rose again; Too far behind to hope to win He still ran to the end. They cheered the winning runner As he crossed the line first place; Head high, and proud, and happy; No falling, no disgrace. But when the fallen youngster Crossed the line last place, The crowd gave him the greater cheer For finishing the race. And even though he came in last With head bowed low, unproud, You would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd. And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do too well.” “To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.” Now when things seem dark and hard And difficult to face, The memory of that little boy Helps me in my race. For all of life is like that race, With ups and downs and all. And all you have to do to win, Is rise each time you fall. “Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!” They still shout in my face. But another voice with me says: “GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”

One other thought that comes to mind is the comment of John Taylor to Wilfred Woodruff when he returned from an unsuccessful proselytizing effort in Japan. “His success was that he continued in the absence of success.” I will get up anyway, sow anyway, and rise and rise again until lambs become lions, knowing that the law of the harvest, the law of restitution, the law of compensation, and the newton’s laws of motion apply- you reap what you sow. Eventually, there will be a harvest, and when that day comes, I invite you all to come and rejoice with me in the fruits of my labors at a Thanksgiving to God for bounteous fruit.