Christmas thoughts...

We attended our ward Christmas program this past Sunday and a quote was shared that we keep pondering.

"I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." — C.S. Lewis

The speaker went on to talk about how Christmas should also be a reflection of more than just the story of baby Jesus in the manger. That was the glorious beginning, the birth of the literal son of God. We must remember that the little baby grew up. Luke tells us that "Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man." He began his formal ministry at age thirty and his mortal life ended at thirty-three. In all his years he did nothing but what his Father would have him do. He spent all of his time helping and blessing those in need. He was the only sinless person to ever grace the earth and all of us are forever in his debt.

One of our favorite scriptures about the Savior and his mission is found in the Book of Mormon. It comes from the book of Alma, chapter 7. It reads:

11 And he shall go forth, suffering pains and ^aafflictions and ^btemptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will ^ctake upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.

12 And he will take upon him ^adeath, that he may ^bloose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to ^csuccor his people according to their infirmities.

Each of us at various points in our lives have been or will be affected by this precious gift of atonement from our Savior. Perhaps we were touched by him as a child or a youth. Maybe he touched us in our role as a husband or wife, a daughter or son. Perhaps he was with us when we suffered some injustice, some illness, or through our loneliest moments.

The truth is that if we have eyes to see and hearts to understand, we will comprehend that the Savior has touched our lives multiple times throughout our journey.

The older we grow, the more we come to understand this truth. We, like C.S. Lewis wish to see everything through the lens of Christianity. Truly Christ is the reason we are here.

May we all rejoice this Christmas season. May we never forget the true meaning of the season and may that spirit shine through us throughout all the year.

Showtunes Saturday Night

Last Saturday Brett and Sarah performed in our Stake Broadway Night. Brett had a blast preparing and practicing his lines all month. Even Samuel could quote lines from My Fair Lady..."why can't a women be more like a man." We all got a kick out of it.

We had to include a snippet of our dear friend Brenda playing Eliza Doolittle. She and Brett were fantastic.

Enjoy!

Rock & Roll, Baby!

We Nielson's are music freaks. We love all kinds of music; classical, pop, jazz, latin, broadway, and even country sometimes. I get a huge kick out of sharing my musical tastes with my kids. It was I who first introduced them to classic rock. Now everyone of them can sing songs from Yes, Queen, Led Zepplin, Journey, Styx and even a little Metallica.

You should see Joseph dancing to Mr. Roboto. He's got it down! All my girls sing all the verses to "Bohemian Rhapsody" and even Samuel sings songs in the car with his Mom. Matthew is still partial to Rihanna's "Please Don't Stop the Music ". I don't have him quite converted to classic rock yet, but that's okay. He's got music in his soul.

Lately I've been a little disturbed, I must admit. Sarah, my 15 year old, has been rocking out to songs like "Welcome to the Jungle", and "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC. We were driving to her cello lesson together one fine afternoon and an AC/DC song started blasting on the radio. I looked over and saw my beautiful daughter's eyes grow wide and witnessed her immediately start to belt at the top of her lungs, "Thunder!!!! Thunder!!!!"

"Sarah please, can we pick something a little better than that song?" I asked.

"Sure," she replied not too disturbed. "Don't you like that song?"

"Not really," I admitted.

She changed the radio station and we drove on a little further.

"Why don't you like AC/DC, Dad?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, you mean why don't I like the Anti-Christ/Devil's Children group? Is that the group you're talking about?"

"Daaaad! Are you serious?"

"You mean the group that sings about going down straight to hell with no stop signs or speed limits? That group?" I asked with complete sincerity.

"Daaad, stop it!"

"Oh, I'm sorry my dear one. Certainly you could not have meant that you like to listen to Satan's little helpers, now could you? I'm certain you are not referring to the group whose concerts were enthusiastically attended all those black robed, hooded individuals passing out unholy literature designed to attract foolish youngsters like yourself into profane rituals and unadulterated devil worship."

"Oh my Gosh! Daaad!" she exclaimed with eyes a' rolling.

"I'm sure I must have been mistaken, that you, of all people, would choose to listen to individuals who sole desire is to hurl your mortal soul down to the infernal pit of encircling flames. Not you my precious firstborn. Not you, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bones! Of course, you would never in a million years choose to affiliate yourself with servants of "He, who must not be named." I don't know.... Could I mean, Satan?

"Oh brother, Dad! OK. I get it. I get it. I shouldn't be listening to a bunch of devil worshipers. I'm really not interested in hell or the devil anyway. I just like their songs. Okay?"

"Oh. I understand. I'm not too awfully concerned. I've always known that you will always choose to follow the light, my sweet daughter."

"Ya. Whatever, Dad. I get it. By the way, did you ever listen to that song by Billy Idol back in the 80s called "Flesh for Fantasy"?

Ugh! I think I just got ill.

Pay Day

I don't know about you but I get paid every two weeks on Fridays. I always look forward to that solitary day because as you know, we have a lot of needs around here. I always take a big sigh of relief as soon as I see that money has been deposited into my bank account and I busily go about paying my bills and budgeting my resources for another two weeks. Pay day is like a breath of fresh air and my stress level goes down for a little while. By the end of the two weeks I feel myself looking forward again to getting paid.

I'm thankful for my job. It provides my family with all the necessities and some wants too. I have been blessed with some success which has allowed us to purchase our home and provide our children with opportunities for growth.

I'm also lucky that I enjoy my job. I have the opportunity to work from home and travel the state of Utah talking with educators about wonderful software products that help improve the lives of children who are in the process of learning how to read and do math.

It's a good life on the whole. My income does fluctuate from year to year, but that's life. I can't complain. We have enough for our needs in a down year and we have prospered significantly in good years.

Today I want to talk a little about a different kind of pay day. This kind of pay day occurs at various times and doesn't come in the form of a bank deposit. It also doesn't come signed by a chief financial officer of a company and it certainly doesn't provide me with currency with which to purchase goods and services at local establishments. This kind of pay day comes from above and is manifested through the unspeakable gift of the Holy Ghost.

Let me share an experience of a spiritual pay day that happened just this last Sunday.

Sunday was the last day before school started for my six children. Like many LDS fathers, I was planning on taking time that evening to give father's blessings to each one of the kids. I always look forward to this because it has always been such a rewarding experience in the past.

This time we had a few small challenges. The first was that we lost power to our home for about 7 hours. While the power was off, we decided to take a walk up to the new Wasatch Junior High. The workers had been going 24/7 it seemed to get ready for the start of school. It was dusk and the school looked radiant and beaming ready to welcome new students. We all "ooohed" and "aaawed" at the grandeur. We were not alone. There were lots of neighborhood people out walking, running, biking and driving past the school at the same time.

After we passed the school and were headed back home, the kids started talking about receiving their father's blessings.

"I don't want a blessing." Sarah our 15 year old said. "They don't come true. I have a lot of faith and it just didn't work last year. It was the worst year of my life!"

"You don't want a blessing?" Analisa asked incredulous. "I need all the help that I can get. I can't wait to get a blessing."

"Me too!" chimed in Katherine, our 11 year old.

"A lot depends on you!" I jumped in a little irked. I struggled for a moment not to be miffed and over react to my beloved eldest daughter.

When we got home, the power had come on. "Great!" I thought. "We don't have to give blessings in the dark."

After a little while, I was able to herd all the cats, I mean children into the living room. I wanted to talk to them first, before attempting to give blessings. I don't ever want to give a blessing when we haven't properly prepared ourselves to be in tune with the spirit. I know that you have to open your soul and listen intently with your your spiritual senses in order to be able to hear a divine message.

"Free your minds." I said. "Clear your hearts. You can't hear anything or understand anything of the spirit until you're quiet inside. Don't talk. Just open up your heart and the Lord's spirit will communicate with you.

Have you ever had a conversation with a friend, but your friend never stops talking long enough to listen to anything you have to say? It can be frustrating, can't it? Well that's how the Lord feels. He is constantly trying to communicate with us, but if we don't take the time to be still and listen, how can we ever hear when he is speaking to us or what he is saying? Learn to be quiet inside.

Do you understand what the spirit feels like?"

"It feels good. You feel happy inside." Katherine replied.

"That's right."

"You want to cry sometimes." said Matthew, our eight year old.

"Yes. The spirit usually gives you feelings of peace, joy, and love. If you are not in tune with your feelings you will miss the messages that the Lord is sending."

Just then the power went off again and everyone scrambled to get flash lights and candles so that we could see again. When we all settled down I continued my lesson.

"What's the difference between a fortune teller and a priesthood holder giving a blessing?"

"A fortune teller is not telling the truth!" Analisa, our 14 year old replied. "They just want money."

"What else?"

"A priesthood holder says what Heavenly Father wants him to say." Sarah said.

"You're right. A fortune teller may tell a person the kinds of things that he or she wants to hear. They take common life experiences and make predictions that may easily come true. They also may get some of their inspiration from a bad source, from Satan. Satan will tell us anything that may deviate us from listening to Heavenly Father. He sets up a kind of false religion that tells people what they want to hear and gets them to forget about the kinds of things that the Lord wants them to hear.

A priesthood holder strives to live a life guided by the spirit. He tries to keep the commandments and be kind to his fellow man. He wants no reward for giving a blessing and he sincerely tries to prepare himself to receive inspiration on what to say to the person to whom he is giving the blessing.

Do blessings always come true immediately?"

"Of course, Dad." Joseph, our 7 year old answered with a smile.

"Well, we would like them to, but it doesn't always happen that way. The Lord is not like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. Blessings are not just given out like candy on Halloween.

A priesthood holder does his best to say what the Lord would like to have said. Then it is up to the person receiving the blessing to exercise faith and diligence in helping the promises in the blessing to come to pass.

We are not on this earth just to have everything easy for us. We are here to prove ourselves and live the gospel in spite of all the trials and contradictions of life."

"That sounds hard!" Sarah exclaimed. "Why can't we just have everything in life be easy. Then we would all be happy."

"I know Sarah, but then we would all be weaklings. We would never grow our spiritual muscles. We would never learn to be like Heavenly Father and for that reason, we would never experience the joy that he enjoys and more importantly we could never really respect ourselves because we would have never accomplished anything or overcome any trials.

Here's my recommendation for you older kids. After you receive your blessing tonight, write down some notes on what your blessing said. Ask Heavenly Father to help you live so that the promises in the blessing can come true. Then reread your notes in a month. See if you made any progress. Then check back in 6 months and then at the end of the year. My guess is that when you look back, many of the things in the blessing will have come true."

The kids seemed to be listening now. They became calm for the most part and the older kids shushed the younger ones. They wanted to free their minds and hearts so that they could listen.

I decided to start with the youngest first this year. I wanted to give the older ones more time to prepare.

Samuel, our 4 year old, jumped up and sat down on the stool in front of me. He was smiling with his little curls bobbing around as he moved his head. His blessing was short and sweet and he went bounding off the chair as soon as it was finished.

Next, I motioned for Joseph to come up. As I placed my hands on his head he started giggling. After a few moments I had to stop because he couldn't stop laughing. I started to get stern with him about reverence but Sarah chimed in.

"It's ok Dad. He is just feeling the spirit and doesn't know how to react to it."

I think Sarah was right about that. He was feeling the spirit and was laughing because he felt so special and loved. I still had to have him calm down a bit before I could proceed. I'll admit that it's hard for me to stay in tune while my little boy is laughing. I decided to move on to Matthew.

Matthew had the same problem as Joseph and when I had to stop because of his laughing he blamed Joseph for giving him the giggles. I had to move the boys to the end of the lineup, but they both let me know that they still wanted their blessings.

Next was Katherine. I told her that she would be able to do well in school and that she would be a wonderful influence on the other children in her class because of her tender kindness and the light that emanates from her. After her blessing was finished she told everyone that when I placed my hands on her head she could feel something beautiful come inside her body. She felt the spirit physically as well as spiritually.

Analisa was blessed in her school work and her ability to organize all her tasks, something that has been a challenge in the past. As I write this she is sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework without even being asked. She wants to stay on top of things so that she can be free to enjoy her junior high experience without too much self imposed pressure.

I felt impressed to bless Sarah with peace. That's what she needed the most. She had been so worried about high school and all the bad kids there. After the blessing she seemed more at ease and when she came back from school today, she told Claudia and me that she felt fine at school now and that she had a good day. There was nothing to worry about.

Now, back to those giggling boys. I blessed Matthew that he would learn how to work hard and told him that he should listen to everything his instructors teach him and to do all his work. He should also keep making friends with his classmates. That night at bedtime, Matthew prayed that he would learn how to work hard. I was so glad to hear it and I think that with prayers like that, the Lord is bound to help him.

I told Joseph that he would be successful in school as long as he worked hard and asked his teacher and his parents for help. I also told him that he has a special light and that people love to be around him because he is so good and has such enthusiasm for life. Joseph was beaming afterward and gave me a big hug.

To tell you the truth, it was a wonderful experience for us all. I am so proud of my family. I think the most important thing that I can ever teach them is what we talked about on Sunday. What else could possibly be more important than teaching them the gospel and how to communicate with their Heavenly Father? There is nothing. If I died now, at least I would know that I taught them the most important things on earth that a father can teach.

The biggest pay day came on Sunday because I think they heard and understood what I was teaching them. I saw them listen and absorb the lesson and then when it came time for the actual blessing, they truly received it. If they can learn these lessons now, there is no end to what they can accomplish and what they can become and how much joy they can receive in this life and the next. I am so glad that I have had the chance to teach these great people. It is a true privilege for me. I hope that every father can experience something as beautiful as this special pay day that arrived without warning last Sabbath.

Jean's Conversion

Remember the story about my friend Kent's conversion? Here is his Mom's story. It's awesome!

WHY I BELIEVE AND HOW I GOT THERE

I grew up with goodly parents and two brothers and a
sister.  My parents were great but religion was not
a part of their lives or ours as a family except on
the occasional Christmas Eve and Easter. Every now
and then we would go through a spurt and attend
church(Episcopal)for a little while but pretty soon
mom and dad were dropping us off and then pretty soon
that even went by the wayside. I'd have to say that
my knowledge of God and the Bible pretty much consisted
of the Christmas story and the Easter story.  I didn't
know anything about the Old Testament or the New
Testament, nothing about a second coming and nothing
about death and where we went. I knew two prayers,
"Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep" and "The Lord's Prayer".
I didn't worry about it, think about it and as such,
it wasn't a part of my life.

Heavenly Father knows so well when the timing is
right for a change and when the spirit is willing to
listen. After Ross and I were married and had our
three boys,Kent, Matt, and Colin, things began to
change and I had a yearning for something more and I
wanted to know what happens after this life,if
anything.  I began a search,began to read books,
Buddhism, Catholicism,Judaism and our church(Episcopal).
We even found an Episcopal church in Chicago where we
were living at the time and began to go on a more
regular basis.  I met with a w women's group,and at
one of the meetings the Priest was there and talking
about a group of 4 and 5 year olds.  He said that he
asked them to draw a picture of God and when they were
done,everyone without exception had drawn a picture of
a man. So I asked him what he would have drawn and he
said he would have drawn a picture of vibrant colors
and if possible a powerful source of energy.  It would
be an all powerful being that nobody could really draw.
So I asked again," So do we worship that powerful being?"
and he said yes. I thought there and then that was the
biggest rip-off, if after you die, you spend eternity
sitting around and worshiping a God that we couldn't
even relate to. That ended my church going there. There
were some things with each one of the churches that I
could sort of buy into but on the whole, I was left with
an emptiness in the area of the most important answers,
what happens when you die and what is expected of us,
or was nothing expected? And most importantly, who is
God?

Now we were living in Cincinnati, our boys were in grade
school and Kindergarten.  I know Heavenly Father knows
where we need to be for that which needs to happen.
Enter the Nielson family into the picture and into the
neighborhood.  Everybody found out in short order that
they were MORMONS!!   We knew nothing about Mormons.
I only knew because someone told me that Joe Smith was
a strong man who had carried cement tablets over some
mountains and they didn't plant grass, as at that time
the Nielsons had not yet put in their lawn.  It turned
out that their oldest son, Brett and our oldest son,
Kent, became best friends. They were never apart.
Their other son, and Colin our youngest became buds and
Matt was friends with both. David and Judith, the
parents turned out to be a really cool couple in the
neighborhood and came to all of our parties.  I began
to also notice that their family was different in a
really good way and I couldn't put my finger on what
it was.

During this period of time, my mom died unexpectedly
and that was extremely hard for me because it was the
first experience I had with death and I had all these
unanswered questions.   After mom's death, I remember
standing at the kitchen window watching the boys and
Ross playing football in the backyard.  It was a
beautiful day and I thought to myself, "Is this really
all there is?" Surely I must owe God something for the
good life I had.   My search intensified.  I signed up
for a transactional analysis class which was supposed
to help you know yourself, value yourself, and help
you help your children with self-esteem issues. I
pretty much felt like I did know myself but was
willing to take the class and see if I got anything
out of it.

During that period of time, Kent was going to some of
the Primary activities with Brett and came home after
one of the activities and said he wanted to be a
Mormon when he grew up.  I didn't think too much about
it at the time, but Heavenly Father works his plan...
I had a luncheon for the women in the neighborhood,
Judith came,left and came back after it was over for
some reason. I told her about the class I was taking
and she told me that you learn that from the time you
are a small child in her church.  Something went off
in my head and I began to feel feelings of great
excitement and told her about Kent's statement and
asked her if she had anything that I could read that
would tell me about the church.  I devoured everything
she gave me to read, it was if I couldn't read enough.
I knew what I was reading was true, and as I knew that
I had found what I had been searching for.  I was like
someone who had been without water for too long and
couldn't get enough. Every question that I had was
answered, I finally knew why I was here and where I
was going.  I knew I could have my family for
eternity. There was nothing that was going to keep me
from joining this church. We did listen to the
missionaries and as soon as we were finished, Matt and
Kent and I entered into the waters of baptism.  Ross
wasn't ready (another story as he is now a member) and
Colin was too young.

Now after many years in the church, serving in many
capacities, realizing the power of the atonement,as we,
who are so imperfect,deal with each other within the
framework of the church, how grateful I am for the
framework which is perfect and is the vehicle which
brings us back to Christ.  How grateful I am to have
the answers as we deal with the uncertainties and
storms of life that we all face. As we have dealt
with the tragedy of losing our youngest son, Colin,
to cancer at the age of 33, I'm not sure how I could
have weathered the intense storm of grief, if I
didn't know that this life is merely a blink and we
have eternity with our loved ones, we will be with
Colin again, in a few moments for him and longer for
us.  How glad I am tofinally know the answers.

There is no doubt in my mind that the church is so,so,
so true, that if we live by it's teachings, our
blessings are unmeasurable, the Holy ghost has
witnessed this to me.  As I look back on my life,
both before joining the Church and after, I see
Heavenly Father's guidance bringing me where I am
today.

Pioneers for Pioneer Day

I have always loved Pioneer Day. While I didn't grow up in Utah, I remember on several occasions I was here in Utah during the July 24th celebration. I remember being so excited to go to the parade downtown and I was never disappointed. It had all the feeling of the promised land for me and I dreamed about what it would be like to live here among all the smiling and friendly saints.

Growing up as a Mormon kid outside of Utah, I had a very idealized view of Utah and like a-lot of kids, I wished we could live here. It was tough in a-lot of ways growing up as a strange minority in Ohio and Georgia and I was always teased about my Mormon background. I don't regret this. I was never one to back down about who I am and I was very proud of my heritage. This didn't stop me, however, from looking with longing to live in a land where the majority held my beliefs and standards. I know that lots of kids living in areas where they are the religious minority feel the same way. The sad thing is that sometimes the reality of living in Utah doesn't live up to what we thought. We sometimes become disillusioned because some people here don't live up to our naive expectations. That's not Utah's fault. It's just that our young dreams of a perfect world aren't yet reality and we haven't grown up enough yet to understand that.

My former bishop told me a story once that illustrates how one could get disillusioned here. My former Bishop is Mexican-American and his family came to Utah many years ago. Most of his family was born in Mexico and they all converted to the church. Once as a young man he was at a party where several prominent LDS people were in attendance. One of the well respected women at the party made an interesting comment. It went something like this: "Well, you aren't anyone if you didn't descend from the Mormon pioneers." My bishop was taken back a little by the comment but smiled and replied, "I come from pioneers. When my family was driving to Utah and their car broke down in the desert, they all just jumped out of the car and started pushing!" Thank goodness my bishop had a sense of humor and didn't let the comment hold him back from progressing in his testimony. It's beyond me how educated people can make such ignorant comments, but unfortunately they do occur sometimes. Luckily, I think that comments like these are becoming less and less common.

I come from Mormon pioneers myself. Some of these pioneers were close friends of the prophet, Joseph Smith, and many came across the plains to settle in Utah. When I go back and read their stories, I'm amazed and awe struck at their sacrifices and testimonies and I am so proud to call them my ancestors. I can't wait to someday meet them. I want to thank them from the bottom of my heart for what they've done for me and my children. Because of what they accomplished, my children and I have so many blessings and opportunities. Truly, without them I could not be made perfect as the scriptures allude.

I am very well aware, notwithstanding, that I can't make it back to live with Heavenly Father based on their lives and sacrifices. I can in no way take credit for them. It's all up to me to live my life as a true disciple of Jesus Christ. At the final judgment, I don't believe that the Savior will look at me and consider who my ancestors are. If anything it will count against me if I don't live up to their legacy. I can just hear him say, "I gave this man a wonderful heritage of faith. He had righteous examples placed before him, but he chose to ignore them and become a law unto himself. He cannot enter in with those who took up their cross and followed me. He is not worthy of that association."

In conclusion, I celebrate all true pioneers both ancient and modern. Those who truly follow Christ deserve the title of pioneer whether they lived in the 1800's or now, whether they have light skin or dark, whether they be rich or poor, whether they be educated or not. Those who choose to follow Christ are my true brothers and sisters and I claim their stories of faith as I claim the blood of the early Mormon pioneers in my veins. All who follow Christ are from the same family and will receive the unsurpassed joy of the spirit and the grand association of a loving family of true hearted believers.

Below are some pictures of some true pioneer women and a little bit about them.



This is Lydia Knight. She and her husband Newel were personal friends of the prophet, Joseph Smith. They were the first couple he legally married as minister of a new faith. Lydia was left almost destitute with a small child by her first husband. Later she heard the gospel preached by Joseph Smith himself and became a courageous convert to the gospel. She married a wonderful man named Newel Knight who had also lost a spouse to illness. She never wavered in her faith even though she was left again while on the plains in route to Utah. Newel, her faithful companion died in Nebraska of illness related to exposure. Lydia was miraculously preserved on her journey to Zion and died firm in the faith of Jesus Christ.






This is my beautiful Grandma Mary Schindler Nielson. Mary was born in London, England at the turn of the 20th century. She was an orthodox Jew and remembers being persecuted by the local people of the time for being Jewish. Both her parents died while she was still a child. She and her two sisters struggled to make ends meet being orphans and being despised for no other reason than being Jewish. She was introduced to the gospel of Jesus Christ by her sister Rebecca. My grandmother said that when she first entered the doors of the Mormon church in London, she knew immediately that it was the true church of God. She did not hesitate to be baptized over the vehement objections of the local rabbis. She was shunned by the local Jewish community.

At the age of 16 she alone boarded a ship to America and worked as an indentured servant when she arrived. She managed to save enough money to bring her sister Leah over to America as well. Later she moved to Salt Lake, married my Grandfather, and remained faithful to the end of her years. If you asked my Grandmother how she felt about giving up Judaism she would reply, "I never gave it up. I extended it. "

A Tennis Story for Budding Young Tennis Stars

I was losing this tennis match the other day and I wasn't liking it. The heat was bearing down so hard at just under 100 degrees Fahrenheit that I couldn't think straight. I willed my body to move but I felt like a bag of wet towels just pulled out of the washing machine. "Move your feet!" I kept telling myself. "Wake up! Your energy will kick in any minute now."

I had felt sluggish from the beginning. I felt none of my usual spark. I wasn't feeling great that day to begin with and now I was down 5-2 in the first set. I squinted my eyes and peered toward the other side of the court where my opponent was preparing to serve.

Pow! His first serve came flat from his racket at high velocity down the middle of the service line on the deuce side, a perfect ace. 15 - Love.

I moved to the add side. This time he hit his first serve into the net. His second serve was softer and I moved forward to take it, trying desperately to hit my lefty cross court forehand winner. The angle was good but I went for too much and the return flew wide. 30 - Love. Dang it!

I moved to the deuce side again. This time I blocked back a hard first serve and began a rally. After several strokes I managed to pull him wide to my right. My opponent scrambled to get to it and managed to send a bullet back, but it went into the net. 30-15.

The next two points and the first set were lost by a forehand slice into the net and an overzealous lob attempt on my part. Dang! What a disaster! I was down a set and hadn't even tested my opponent yet. What was wrong with me? I couldn't move. I was dieing of thirst, and the only way to win now was to fight my way back to take two consecutive sets. The heat was stifling and I could see that even my opponent had started to slow down some.

The second set started better. I had been getting beat when I approached the net so I decided to only approach when I had a good reason, like a short weak ball from my opponent or an exceptionally good approach shot. It began to dawn on me that the longer I could keep him in a rally the better chance I had of winning the point. He was prone to over hitting so if I was patient it might work to my advantage. I took the first game.

Little by little I began to notice a few other chinks in his armor that I might take advantage of. One was that he liked to charge the net. This had worked to his advantage in the first set. I began to concentrate on hitting deeper balls to him and moving him back and forth along the base line. Soon I had him running more than me which is always a good sign in a match. I went up 3-2 in the second set.

Next, I began to notice that when my opponent approached the net, he would come straight up the center leaving a nice gap for my down the line forehand. I passed him several times on this and his advantage at the net began to erode. I reduced my own net errors by choosing my spots to approach. It was so hot and I was so tired I wasn't too anxious to go to my weaker net game anyway. I'm not bad at the net in doubles but I haven't worked it all out in the singles game yet. I went up 5-3.

Lastly, I began to slow down on my stroke, not the stroke speed, but the stroke timing. I've always been a little quick on the draw. I concentrated on letting the ball drop a little more and I made sure that I didn't travel if I could help it during the shot. If I got my front foot down and waited for the ball to drop more, I could hit a more effective ground stroke with topspin or under spin. I won the second set. 6-3.

Now, what to do in the third and final set? Remember, I was exhausted and it was almost 100 degrees out. We both were dieing. If I could manage to win this one, the match would be mine. I decided to stick with what had helped me in the second set. He hadn't been been able to stop me with those tactics so why was I going to change now? It turned out that I was right to stick with it. I ended up winning the last set 6-2 by continuing to do what was working for me.

By the end of the match, we both nearly collapsed from heat exhaustion but I came out the happier of the two of us. I won 2-6, 6-3, 6-2. So children, here's the moral of the story. Here's what I learned.

1. In tennis as in life, you never give up at any point no matter how bad you are losing or how bad you feel.

2. In tennis as in life, you figure out what it is you are doing wrong and stop doing it.

3. In tennis as in life, you figure out what is right and keep doing it.

4. In tennis as in life, when you go off course, you make on court adjustments. You don't keep doing the same thing that doesn't work over and over again and you don't wait 'till the next day. You do it now!

5. Always be nice and obey your parents. Oops! How did that get in there? It's good advice anyway, so do that too!

Finally, lest you think that I'm boasting here, you should know that I've lost as many matches as I've won so far. The one thing I can say is that I learn from every match, win or lose.

Gratitude for this Country and its People

Recently I had a moment to reflect on the incredible miracle known as the United States of America. I think we constantly need to remind ourselves of the fabulous blessings we enjoy as a result of living here. Very few countries on this earth have ever been blessed with so much freedom, opportunity and prosperity. I feel so grateful because I recognize that everything I have has come to me as a result of living here and being a citizen of this wonderful nation.

Personally, I don't believe that it was an accident that this country was established and I do believe that it was for a divine purpose. That purpose has to do with our Heavenly Father's desire to bless his children. This country has acted as a catalyst for good things around the world in my opinion. Although we have made mistakes, I would hate to see a world without the United States.



Some may wonder, how can I support this country after all the mistakes it has made? Is this not the country that allowed the practice of slavery? Did we not act horribly in our treatment of Native American tribes, forcing them off their land and breaking treaties with them time and time again? Is this not the country that allowed mobs to force the removal of thousands of innocent adherents to the new LDS faith in the 19th century? Is this not the country that is so eager to rid itself of all illegal aliens while at the same time enjoying all the benefits they provide?

The truth is, our intolerance against minority groups has always stunted our growth. If we've done as well as we have in spite of this fact, think of what we could do if we were able to eliminate that anger and hate of groups different from us.

If you look back on what past empires have done in this world you can draw some interesting conclusions. The ideas I present here came from a wonderful book called: Day of Empire: How Hyperpowers Rise to Global Dominance -- and How They Fall by Dr. Amy Chua. What Dr. Chua does in the book is to walk us through the rise and fall of the most successful empires. They all have a couple of things in common. They rose and reached their apex when they successfully included and tolerated differences amongst the vast peoples of their realms. Conversely they began to decline and eventually fall as a result of moving away from those principles.

Take Spain for instance. While Dr. Chua admits that Spain was never a hyperpower, they perhaps could have been had they not decimated their own strength when they sought to exclude all Jews and Muslims from their society. They did this via the abominable Spanish Inquisition. Spain never reached its potential as an empire because of its extreme intolerance for anyone not professing belief in the Roman Catholic Church. They killed the innate talent of those groups on which they depended and thus denied themselves of the benefits that they undeniably brought to the table.

The Roman Empire, a true hyperpower, succeeded for many centuries because they offered citizenship to all conquered peoples thus incorporating the talents of individuals of many diverse groups. Conquered peoples actually began to have more of a stake in their own realities after being conquered by Rome than they had enjoyed under their previous governments. The empire began to decline when it moved away from this model. Rome began to form its own special Roman club that no one else was allowed to join. This attitude led to their eventual overthrow by the Goths. The disenfranchised eventually had enough and they revolted.

Prejudice also stymied the United Kingdom. India for example was loving being part of the British Empire until they realized that no matter how they served, they were ever to be loathed by the British for their brown skin and different religion.

This cycle has repeated itself many times over the centuries. The Macedonian, the Mongolian, the Ottoman, the Byzantine, and the Ming Dynasty in China all rose and fell because of what we are discussing here.

The United States although not an empire in the same vein as those mentioned, nevertheless has been a hyperpower since the fall of the Soviet Union. We have continued to capitalize on the talent and ability of a country full of immigrants and diverse peoples. We have done this in spite of the overwhelming prejudice of many individual Americans. I think this success has to do with our constitution being written the way it is. I believe that it is an inspired document. I also think that although prejudice exists, there are still more people here who want to do the right thing than those who want continue in blind prejudice and hatred. Many things that were wrong here have been righted. Slavery no longer exists as an institution and the civil rights movement was a tremendous success. The government has done just about everything it can do to erradicate discrimination in the work place and some can argue that the government is now doing too much, citing the evils of political correctness and racial quotas. I'm sure that these individuals have some merit in their arguments but no one can deny the the progress that has been made in the United States on the issue of tolerance and the outlawing of discrimination based on race, color, creed, or religion. Thank goodness that the country has continued in a positive direction in this regard instead of embracing the racial superiority model espoused at the end of the great Ming Dynasty in China or the horrific abomination of Nazi Germany.

How much longer can we continue to prosper? I hope indefinitely. I think there is still much work to be done in helping our brothers and sisters, our fellow Americans, to give up prejudice and intolerance in their hearts where it resides the deepest. I think we can also still work to erradicate those feelings from our own hearts. We must admit that many of us were raised to think and feel that way, but we must reject that and hold to the good. Remember this scripture in the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 26: 33

For none of these iniquities come of the Lord; for he doeth that which is good among the children of men; and he doeth nothing save it be plain unto the children of men; and he ^ainviteth them ^ball to ^ccome unto him and partake of his goodness; and he ^ddenieth none that come unto him, black and white, ^ebond and free, male and female; and he remembereth the ^fheathen; and all are alike unto God, both Jew and Gentile.

What a beautiful truth is presented here. "All are alike unto God, both Jew and Gentile." Can't it be so for us as well? I hope so, because if we can't overcome this part of ourselves, how can we expect to live with Heavenly Father again? He is no respecter of persons and invites all to come unto him. Can we do the same?

In conclusion, if someone were to ask my advice, this is what I would recommend regarding our treatment of our fellow human beings: Next time we feel ourselves getting riled up inside when we see a person with brown skin working on a home in our subdivision, or see a black child in our daughter's class, or we see those Asian kids speaking in a language we can't understand, let's stop for a moment and enjoy. Let's permit ourselves to love them, appreciate them. They are children of God just like we are and remember that he loves them. They are our brothers and sisters. They come from beautiful cultures and they have endless possibilities, just like we do. We may even want to greet them and be friendly to them. We may even want to learn from them.

I think that if the majority of us embrace these ideas, our country will continue to grow and prosper and we will also help prepare this country for its ultimate destiny, the establishment of true Zion. I don't know about you but I'm for that. Let's join together with our diverse heritage and remember who we are, true brothers and sisters of a loving Heavenly Father.

Why I Still Believe

I saw a headline in the news the other day that read something like this: "California Mormons angry at their Church over stand on Gay Marriage." One man was quoted as saying, "I thought I could be a cultural Mormon, but it's obvious that I can't. I'm sending a letter to church headquarters to have my name removed from the records of the church." Another person was quoted as saying, "The church has no right to force it's morals on the state constitution." Apparently the church's stand against same sex marriage has gotten some members of the church upset. They just can't understand how the church that normally stays politically neutral could take a stand that they feel hurts their gay loved ones. For them, this action is the last straw and they want nothing more to do with the church. The older I get the more I notice this happening and it makes me sad.


Over my lifetime, I have seen people leave the church for some of the following reasons: (This is a partial list.)

1. Being offended by something someone said or how they were treated at church.
2. Difficulty with church doctrines or former church practices.
3. The inability to believe in the prophetic calling of Joseph Smith.
4. Dissatisfaction with the perceived role of women in the church.
5. Focusing too much on one special doctrine instead of maintaining a healthy balance.
6. Dissatisfaction with local leaders and how they perform their callings.
7. Proud intellectualism denying the need for God.
8. The desire to be popular in the eyes of the world.
9. Placing too much importance on material possessions.
10. Believing that one is more qualified or chosen to be the true leader of the church than the one that holds the calling.

I could go on and on because the stated reasons are endless and unique to each individual who decides not to believe. The truth of the matter however, really comes down to desire. People want to believe or they don't. If they don't want to believe they can enumerate many reasons why not similar to the ones previously stated. It's easy for us to find these kinds of reasons because life is full of negative experiences and it's not hard to find one that can be used to justify the point.

In our journey on this earth we are all looking for validation, love and fulfillment. Sometimes those immediate needs seem to be more easily satisfied outside the church. It's easier to get some of our emotional needs filled via succeeding in our careers, academic achievements, or through the accumulation of wealth than it is to find the peace and fulfillment that may come through our church experience. Finding that peace within the church requires something different in our beings. It requires something that is hard for us to do. That is the ability to forget our own concerns and place Heavenly Father first despite all the injustices and contradictions we may experience here. We have to be truly willing to say "nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done." Therein lies the rub to many. That's the true reason why so many leave or abandon faith altogether. Who wants to submit one's will to a higher power? Who wants someone else to tell them what to do? We know better. Right? Are we really willing to "give away all my sins to know thee" like the Lamanite King from the Book of Mormon? Perhaps we love our sins too much or think too highly of our own wisdom.

I must confess that I have been pushed and pulled by many of these feelings at different times in my life. I certainly have been offended at church. Haven't we all? I have felt unused and under appreciated at church. I have had serious problems supporting my leaders at times. I have wondered and been bothered by doctrines that I have not immediately understood. I have even felt that Heavenly Father has left me alone at times in my life. I can tell you that I have been pushed to the brink with regards to my testimony and that it came to that point because of my very painful experiences in the church. Does that surprise you? Perhaps not.

So why do I still cling to my belief? Why do I keep going and taking my family every week? Why do I keep paying my tithing?

I can give my answer in two parts. One is that I have come to realize that those things happen and those feelings exist as part of the carefully designed condition that we all live in called mortal life. Down here, everything is designed to be a challenge. Why? To grow and develop us. Once, during a difficult period, I recall crying out inside my heart to Heavenly Father. "Why does it have to be like this?" The Lord must have known that I needed some help at that time because I heard His reply in my mind. "To stretch you." That may not be the answer I wanted to hear, but I believe it was true. He envisions more for us than what we do for ourselves and the only way to get us there is to allow us to have trials.

Growing can be painful. We weren't born with a perfect knowledge of anything so we have to develop our faith a little bit at a time. There are numerous challenges to our faith throughout our lives. Like I tell my kids, "I'm not raising you to be weak. I'm raising you to be strong." I think that's what the Lord is saying to us when we have those very difficult challenges.

The other part of why I still believe has to do with my growing knowledge about the Holy Ghost. The truth is that he is with us more than I ever realized before. My mind became illuminated recently while reading a new book: Learning to Hear the Voice of the Lord by Gerald Lund a member of the Seventy.

I was walking in the University Mall in Orem a couple of months back between business appointments. I stopped by the Deseret Book Store and happened upon the aforementioned book. Normally books like this don't interest me. I always figured that I can study the scriptures for myself and don't need someone else to walk me through them. Proud attitude. Right? Well something about this book grabbed my interest and I felt something inside as well. I went ahead and purchased the book.

What I came to realize is that Heavenly Father has never left me during my life. He has always been with me. No matter what my challenges have been, things have always worked out for the best. That is not a coincidence. He's been talking to me all my life. I just never realized. Now that I look back at all the events that have happened, I see the hand of the Lord. I am much more content now because I have faith that Heavenly Father is guiding my path. "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." After realizing this fact, I am brought to the remembrance that the Lord really does love me, that each time I feel the spirit it is a demonstration of his love. Should I not feel successful now having that understanding? What is more, the feeling of the spirit is sweet and beautiful and if I can feel it on a weekly or daily basis then I know for sure that Heavenly Father loves me and is forgiving me of my sins. I can feel peace, happiness and joy in my life. It has nothing to do with my success at work, or my worldly accomplishments. It doesn't even have to do with my temporal circumstances. The spirit transcends those things.


Brigham Young said this:


"There is no doubt, if a person lives according to the revelations given to God's people, he may have the Spirit of the Lord to signify to him His will, and to guide and to direct him in the discharge of his duties, in his temporal as well as his spiritual exercises. I am satisfied, however, that in this respect, we live far beneath our privileges."


I believe that what happens to many of us is that we forget what we have. A negative experience happens perhaps, and it is so painful that we begin to turn off our hearing. We put a stop to receiving the sacred communication that comes from above. We change the channel either because we are hurt or we think we can find easier satisfaction in the world that doesn't require that we yield up our will.

The sad thing is that we don't realize that yielding up our will leads to an even greater portion of the Holy Spirit. It is that very Spirit that gives us greater peace, happiness, and joy in our lives than anything else we can possibly think of. In order to be truly happy on this earth, we should do everything that we can to prepare ourselves to feel that Spirit and ask for it on a daily basis. D&C 112: 13 states the following promise: "And after their temptations, and much tribulation, behold, I the Lord, will feel after them, and if they harden not their hearts, and stiffen not their necks against me, they shall be converted, and I will heal them."


In this verse, the Lord acknowledges that we will have temptations and tribulations. He knows that we will be wounded from painful experience. That is part of mortality. But if we harden not our hearts and stiffen not our necks against him, we will be healed and be able to experience greater joy than we ever thought possible.


I can say that this promise has been fulfilled in my life. Some of you may know that my mission experience was extremely difficult for me. It was during that time period that I experienced some of the most disturbing contradictions and injustices of my life. It was a time that I had prepared all my young life for and I was devastated by the disillusioning things I experienced. When I returned home, my heart had already begun to harden. I was so hurt and angry over the circumstances over which I had no control that I began to reject the spirit that had so bountifully fed me over my lifetime. I was bitter and could not understand why the Lord had placed me in a situation that was so blatantly unfair and nonspiritual. I was angry over who the brethren had placed as my leaders and what I considered to be their thoughtlessness, pride, and incompetence. I was also angry over my still suffering health conditions and the lack of relief that I felt I received from the Lord on this. It's hard when you go for so long trying to be so good and yet the results of those efforts seem to yield so little and most of the time you are suffering from physical and emotional pain. It's during times like these that you feel that your spirit is going to break and you feel like you are on the brink of falling into sin and despair. I know how that feels. I have been there. I can assure you that I haven't just skipped through life walking on rose petals and puffy white clouds.



When I came home I was definitely wounded but I hadn't been completely destroyed. There was still a belief in my heart and a hope that in time my experiences would come to make sense to me. I continued to attend church even though I was angry and little by little that anger began to abate. Healing did not come all at once for me and it took several years for me to completely heal the bitterness in my heart but it did finally come.



Had I decided to throw away my testimony because of what I had experienced I would still be bitter today, over twenty years later. I would still be harboring anger towards Heavenly Father and His church here on the earth. How can anyone truly be happy with anger festering? That's why Heavenly Father asks us to forgive and let Him be the judge. Though it may be extremely difficult to let go of our anger, we must do so. If we don't, we will never be able to experience the happiness the our Father desires that we experience here on earth. We will always be cankered and damaged inside. If we truly turn our anger over to God he will lift our burdens and heal us. That type of healing is priceless and allows us to experience the incredible joy and happiness that comes when we have companionship with the Holy Ghost.



I have noticed that the older I get and the more I learn about these things, the happier my life has become. I now have a life free of the bitterness that has threatened me in the past on more than one occasion. I am able to find true joy in my family and friends. I'm able to see my children grow beautiful and strong and my heart leaps when I see their progress. I am able to feel the spirit in my life and that has made my existence meaningful and enriched in every way. I can truly say that I am happy now. I don't envy what I don't have and I am grateful for all the incredible blessings I have received. Every day has become beautiful in its own way and I don't worry that Heavenly Father will leave me or that I will experience a trial that I can't handle. I have truly been changed inside and I look for the good now.



In conclusion I say this: If you are at a place where I was and you feel that your heart will break or that you no longer need the Lord because you are so smart and don't need him, I implore you. Think again. You have no idea what you will be missing if you choose to ignore the spirit. There is nothing you can do to make up in any way what the Lord has prepared for you. You cannot make it up with anything of this world and you will always be searching for satisfaction and you will never completely have it. You may become rich or famous or distinguished, but I will never envy you because I have been where you are in your mind and I have thought about what you are thinking about. I know and have tasted what the Lord has prepared for you and me and I will never give it up now. I hope you won't either. It's my hope that you and I continue together as friends and brothers and sisters in the gospel and experience together the incredible blessings that our mutual Father has for us.



Sincerely,



Your Friend and Brother

Part 3: Conversion

"Oh that I were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart, that I might go forth and speak with the trump of God, with a voice to shake the earth, and cry repentance unto every people!

Yea, I would declare unto every soul, as with the voice of thunder, repentance and the plan of redemption, that they should repent and come unto our God, that there might not be more sorrow upon all the face of the earth."

Alma 29: 1-2

This scripture describes the feelings that reside in me and have been there since my early childhood. I don't share this information with you to pat myself on the back or to exalt myself. I know I'm not perfect. I can say, however, that I am a work in progress and I've come a long way and am still climbing. I don't give up. I'll give myself that much credit.

I share this scripture with you so that I can tell you this story. This is the story of true conversion. This is the story of how my best friend Kent Richards came to hear and accept the gospel of Jesus Christ when he was 11 years old.

As you can surmise from previous posts, Kent and I had many adventures together back in Fairfield, Ohio in the 70s. In some ways it was an idyllic time for us. We were very young and our minds were open. We could learn new things. We could accept new truths. The spirit could communicate with us because we were pure hearted boys. We hadn't corrupted ourselves and

weren't shackled down by dogmas or societal prejudices.

That's what it was like when I started to tell Kent what I knew about the gospel. It started slowly at first between football games and army battles. Between dirt clod fights and expeditions I began to open my mouth and it was filled with words. Words about an ancient people that lived in the Americas. Words about how God had led them here and how they believed in Christ, the Messiah, even though they were Jews that had escaped from destruction in Jerusalem 600 years before He was born. I talked about how this group split into two, one that consisted of believers and the other that rejected that belief. I talked about how Christ had come to visit them after his resurrection. I spoke about these things like I knew them, almost like I had been a witness to the events themselves.

I spoke to him about a young 14 year old farm boy in New York named Joseph that lived back in the 1800s and how he had been searching to know which church he should join. I spoke about the miraculous appearance of God the Father himself, and his son Jesus Christ to this young man, how they told him to join none of them. I rehearsed to Kent all about how Joseph was led by an angel to some gold plates which he later translated in to the Book of Mormon which contained the story about that group of Jews from Jerusalem that came to the Americas.

Later on I told Kent about things like the Word of Wisdom, which urges people not to drink alcohol, use tobacco, or consume hot drinks ie. coffee and tea etc.

The interesting thing about Kent was that he never challenged my words. He just listened and asked a few clarifying questions here and there. The more I spoke, the more he listened. He seemed to take it all in like he had heard it before, like it all made sense. He didn't seem to grow tired of listening to my stories of the Book of Mormon, nor my invitations for him to pray about what I said and to be baptized if he learned it was true. I remember that I often spoke with him about these things and I had no doubt that what I was telling him was true.

When I look back on it now I realize, Kent and I had been given some spiritual gifts:

"To some it is given by the Holy Ghost to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and that he was crucified for the sins of the world.

To others it is given to believe on their words, that they also might have eternal life if they continue faithful."

D&C 46: 13-14

One fine day my parents received a knock on the door. My mother opened it and standing there was Jean Richards, Kent's mom. She introduced herself and explained that she had been talking to her oldest son. He had been saying some very peculiar things and she wanted some clarification. Apparently when offered a nice cold glass of Coca Cola Kent had refused. "Sorry Mom." he said. "When I grow up I think I'm going to be a Mormon, so I might as well stop drinking Coke now."

That was the beginning of a fabulous story that brought a beautiful young family into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. For the rest of the story, I invite Jean Richards to post the next edition of "Conversion" to tell from her perspective what transpired for the Richards family in the 70s in Fairfield, Ohio.

Click here to read Kent's version of the story written for the Friend magazine in 1977. It's called "Our Lives Changed."

Childhood Friends Part 2

There was a girl in my fifth grade class named Cathleen Holt. She had dark hair and blue eyes. I guess I must have liked her because she looked a little bit like my mother and I remember she was more quiet and soft spoken than a-lot of other kids. I don't remember much more about her personality. As I said before, it's been over 30 years. I do remember though that she did live in my neighborhood at the top of a hill next to an undeveloped area. Behind her house was wide open space with dirt bike trails that Kent and I used to use along with a-lot of other kids.

It was behind her house at dusk one night that I remember seeing UFOs. I don't know if Kent remembers this but I do. We were at the top of the hill looking down on to the trails right as the sun was going down when I glimpsed at the top of my line of vision two or three flying saucers. During that time in the seventies, everyone was talking about UFOs. There were articles about them in the newspaper and everyone was all a buzz with conversations about aliens and unidentified spacecraft. These UFOs had red lights all around them and they were flying low below the clouds. As I look back now, of course they were just some aircraft shuttling around in our area, but with the effect of the sun setting and the long shadows being cast out on the ground and with everyone talking about flying saucers, I couldn't help but imagine them as alien spaceships. It was exciting to think about and I told Kent so. That was right before we both had to head home on our bikes for dinner.

Later that year, during the winter, Kent and I headed back up to the area around Cathleen Holt's house. This time we had a plan, a different mission if you will. I remember it was cold outside and there was snow on the ground. The plan was that Kent was going to walk up to Cathleen's house and knock on the door. I was going to wait furtively behind a bush about a block away. His mission was to make contact with Cathleen and ask her if she liked me after which he was to disengage from her and return immediately and inform me of the results of the said conversation.

As I peered from behind the bush I observed Kent approach and knock on the door. Amazingly enough it was Cathleen that answered. She poked her head out but kept the rest of her body safe behind the half opened door. I couldn't hear what they said but I distinctly remember that she moved her head up and down twice. I felt hope come alive as I witnessed this and impatiently waited for Kent's return in order to obtain verbal confirmation of what I thought her response was.

"She said she likes you." he said.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, that's what she said."

"Oh, wow!"

That was just beyond belief for me. Victory was mine, my friends. I had triumphed. Now I could go back to school with confidence. Even though Cathleen and I barely spoke to each other, I knew that she liked me. I also knew that she knew that I liked her. And I knew that she knew that I knew that she liked me. In other words, there was a-lot of knowing going on and she and I were in the know together. I could continue to admire her from afar and not talk with her and she could do the same for me. We could keep looking at each other when the other was not looking, stolen looks at various moments during the day. It was a perfect arrangement of unspoken knowing and liking. What could be better for a fifth grader? Please tell me, my friends, if you know.

I had the chance later to help Kent on one of his romantic escapades. He and I sallied forth shirtless one warm summer day (shirtless because we thought we were studs). We crossed the creek behind Denise Hawkin's house and climbed uphill through some woods where we played army. This was Jenny Lewis' neighborhood. Kent had been smitten with this girl for several months. She also was in his class at school. Interestingly, Jenny had light brown hair, a slim frame, and green eyes. She reminded me a little bit of Kent's mom, Jean, which probably goes to reason.

I remember that Kent was bold and determined to approach Jenny himself. There was to be no intermediary used this time. He would move forward and acquit himself in a manly way and ask her if she liked him. For my part I would provide moral support. Win or lose I would be there for my friend. The stakes were high. Within moments Kent could come away with the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat. I bid farewell and good luck to my friend and watched him as he approached Jenny's house. I hung out in a half constructed home next door which there were many of at the time.

A few minutes passed and I watched as my friend returned. I could not immediately discern from his demeanor the results of the encounter.

"What happened? What did she say?" I inquired with bated breath.

"Well. She doesn't like me."

"What?! She doesn't like you?"

"No, she doesn't. "

"Well, why not?"

"She called me an a------."

"She called you an a------?! I can't believe it! I just can't believe it!

"Well it's true."

I tried my best to console my comrade at that moment. It was a difficult time for him I know. Sometimes you have to roll the dice and see what happens in life. Sometimes the roll of that dice just wreaks to high heaven. That's just the way it is and we learn to live with it. "She wasn't worth it anyway." I told him. "No way! You can do better."

Fortunately Kent rebounded quickly. In a week or so he was no worse for the wear. I found out later that while he and I we were out playing in large cement tubes to be placed in the ground around our subdivision that he sneaked a kiss from Kim Brinker while I wasn't looking. I guess you could say that my friend was bold indeed. He siezed life by the horns.

Carpe Diem Kent! Carpe Diem!

Childhood Friends

I was 9 years old when we moved from our town house in Wildwood, (an apartment home complex in Fairfield of Ohio) to our new home in the same town. Fairfield is a suburb outside of Cincinnati. It was the 70's back then. Fairfield was just at the point of changing from a rural town to a full blown suburb. It had an interesting mix of rural, blue collar, and upwardly mobile professionals living there although the city was 99% white. Based on my best recollection, I think that there were more blue collar folks living there than any other group. At least that's what it seemed like back then. We came from the more upwardly mobile group. My Dad was a furniture rep. and was fast becoming a successful one too.

I was just getting used to my new neighborhood when I met a kid that was 10, just a year older than me. He was about my size, had sandy brown hair and a few freckles on his cheeks. He had sort of a mischevious glint in his eye, and was wearing a coon skin cap straight off the Daniel Boone show. "Daniel Boone" and "Davy Crockett" were huge shows back then. I can still sing the theme songs from them if you push me to it. That's been over 30 years.

His name was Kent. When we first met, we eyed each other warily and soon issued each other a challenge to a wrestling match. I think it was he that threw me first and then I got up and threw him. I remember he ripped my winter coat during the struggle. We proceeded to throw each other back and forth several times before we were through. If I had to compare Kent to a famous literary character, I would have to say it would be Tom Sawyer. He was full of cleverness and imagination.

We got along because we had some things in common. We both were the oldest of our siblings. He had two younger brothers and I had a younger brother and sister at the time. We both loved sports. The Dallas Cowboys was my favorite football team at the time and we played many hours in the back yard either tackle football or "Kill the Guy." Some people called that game "Smear the Queer." "Queer" back then didn't quite hold the same exact meaning as it does today. The Cincinnati Reds were our major league baseball team. The Big Red Machine won the world series when we were there with the help of Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Tony Perez, Dave Concepcion, Joe Morgan and others.

One of was funnest things about Kent was his love for storytelling. I'd sleep over at his house sometimes with other neighborhood kids and we'd listen long into the night while he spun outlandish tales. We all starred as characters in his stories. There were always a couple of common themes. One was that we could all fly. The other was that we always had the hottest girls with us during our escapades. We were always the heroes and the females always gushed over us. What young boy wouldn't like stories like those?

I remember that Kent and I played army together, explored the woods and the creek that ran through our neighbor's back yard and tried to escape from our tag along little brothers. I also remember that I started a detective club with Kent and we went around searching for clues about childhood crimes that occured in the neighborhood. I don't think we ever managed to solve one, but I think we ended up blaming Kent's little brother, Matt, for all the crimes.

Evil Knievel was big back then and we set up ramps on our street and spent hours jumping our bikes on them. When we weren't jumping ramps, we were having dirt clod fights where foundations for new homes had been dug out. When we weren't having dirt clod fights we were exploring abandoned old farm houses that still existed in the area.

Here are couple of pictures on Kent and me creating the illusion of Superman. Sometimes we went shirtless in the summer. We thought we were studs.

One time time we went exploring an old farm house and ended up removing a support beam holding up an old dilapidated wall. I was the one that was crazy enough to hold it up while Kent and his brothers escaped the collapse. Luckily I was able to move out of the way before it overcame me.

Later that day we spied on a teenage couple making out in the woods nearby. I think we ruined their experience by shouting out secret signals to each other from different sides of the woods. "Cuckoo, Cuckaw!" Serves them right. They weren't supposed to be out in the woods in clear daylight making out in front of young explorers like us.

Kent and I became loyal friends. I remember once that he defended me from a kid from the other side of the neighborhood. Kenny Reeman was his name and his group of kids were our rivals. This kid, Kenny was older than me and had been threatening me on the bus home from school. (Not an uncommon occurance in Fairfield.) After we got off the bus, I remember that Kent started pushing him. "I'm not going to let you hurt my friend!" I remember him shouting. There was a short squirmish that ensued but broke up quickly between my side of Valley Forge Dr. and their side.

He was with me another time when a kid we called "Camper Bob" started punching me in the stomach on the bus one day. He started out just playing but then started hitting me harder and harder. Once I realized what was happening I twice launched my right fist into the side of his face. I remember this well because when I connected it sounded just like a punch sounds on "Gunsmoke." "Pop! Pop!" He quit hitting me. I was proud for defending myself, but Camper Bob had it out for me ever after that experience. Kent just laughed and kept calling the kid and his little brother, "Camper Bob and Little Slob". I don't remember what their real names were.

It wasn't too long before Kent's family decided to move to another town in Ohio. I was very sad to have my best buddy leaving me. We hadn't had enough time being buds. It was only something like a year or so that we lived in the same neighborhood. When I consider all the memories that we packed into such a short time, it's amazing. I could go on and on telling you stories about our childhood experiences and the era and town we lived in. There is more to the story I want to share but this post borders on being too long. Stay tuned for the next edition of Childhood Friends.

Part 2: The Second Gift

I was a colicky baby I've been told. I used to cry inordinately as an infant. My mother says I had a chronic upset stomach. One fine day, my Grandma Ada was all set to take me to the hospital after several hours of crying. When she got me into the car and began the trip, I finally found restful sleep to the rhythm and temperature of the car engine.

As I grew into childhood, I was strong like my Dad. The only problem was that I kept getting sick. Lot's of colds, flues and other ailments. Once when I was about 9 or so, I was out playing with some friends in a corn field in Fairfield, Ohio. I hadn't been out there too long when my eyes began to itch with the kind of itch that doesn't go away but just gets worse the more you rub. Soon the itch began to move down into my lungs. It changed from being an itch at that point and began to transform itself into a vice. The normal airflow that one takes for granted, begins to require great exertion for a person like me. I could hear my lungs whistling at that point, an ugly tune with no discernible melody. I couldn't expand my chest cavity to full capacity. A full breath wasn't possible and it was hard to push out what little air I could take in. I made it home to an alarmed mother. By the time I reached her, I could barely see. The bags under bloodshot eyes were filled to brimming. They were virtually swollen shut.

This didn't stop me at the time from pursuing my dreams. As I said before, dreams are powerful things. They take hold of the imagination and emblazon themselves upon your mind and heart. Soon I began along with my parents down the road of visiting many medical experts to see if they could improve my symptoms if not my condition itself. Asthma and allergies are treatable conditions or so they seemed. But the truth is that they are not the only complications that have vexed me. For years I have suffered from chronic fatigue, food intolerances and other things. I have never found a doctor yet who understood the symptoms I have described to them. That was part of the test for me. Life would have been much easier to deal with if all my symptoms were easily attributed to some known condition. Instead I have dealt with mystery illnesses with no answers. This was especially hard for me while I was growing up. Many times I didn't look sick on the outside. I wished that I had some broken bone that was visible so that people would know I wasn't faking.


Here are a couple of pictures of me during my early dreaming years:

The picture on the left was when I was first starting out with my big dreams. I was nine years old and it was my first year of tackle football.

The picture on the right was when I was about 14 years old. I was a champion wrestler for my team. I only lost once that year and I was able to avenge the loss against that opponent later in a subsequent match. Both pictures were taken in Fairfield, Ohio.

I don't look sick in these pictures and I wasn't all the time, but the older I got, the sicker I got.

By the time I got to 10th grade we had moved from Ohio to Atlanta, GA. My asthma and allergy problems got so bad there that I came to a point where I could no longer successfully compete. I decided to retire from sports after that sophomore year, a decision that caused me considerable mental and emotional anguish. That pain was heightened by the fact that I didn't look sick to my coaches or my peers. They now thought of me as a "quitter", a "could have been", titles that in no way represented the true me.

I could never explain how this trial affected me on so many levels. It still affects me to this day. I still have my limitations, though thankfully I don't have the same pressure to win at all costs like I did when I was growing up.

I can tell you that I spent many hours consulting with God about the issue. As you might guess, I used many arguments and proposed many deals and contracts to have these health issues removed from me. I did my best to try to change God's mind. It reminds me of the scripture in 2 Corinthians 12: 7-8. It has become precious to me.

"And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure.

For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me."

Like Paul I was answered through blessings and the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

"My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness."

Only recently in my forties have I begun to feel the rest of the sentiment that Paul expressed.

"Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

Paul goes on to say, "Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."

I have also come to love a new scripture that I discovered recently that helps a dreamer on his way.

"He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully." 2 Corinthians 9: 6

We may not be able to reach all of our childhood dreams in this life. Every crop we plant doesn't always flourish. However, I know this, the more you try, the more you gain. We can sow and reap bountifully in all areas of our lives and of course, the greatest gift I mentioned is still available to all, the gift of eternal life.

Please join me in pursuing that dream which transcends all other dreams.

Reflections of a Sporting Dreamer

Are you a dreamer? I am, and unabashedly so. Dreams are what make life worth living, the incredible prize waiting just over the next ridge. They are the substance of things not yet realized. They can be said to be closely related to the principals of faith and hope. If the dream is powerful enough, it can change your life. Not only can it change your life, it can transform your life. It's done so for others. It probably has done so for you too, for dreams define you. We are who we are now because of all those choices we made based on our dreams.


I continue in my adult life to have many dreams. My desire for good things has not dimmed with the passing years. My wife can attest that this is true. When I see something worth loving, I desire that thing and my spirit leaps inside me. I fearlessly attempt to capture that goal, acquire that skill or attribute. This sometimes causes my wife and children some embarrassment. I suppose that just because I can hear and appreciate a famous Broadway singer float on the wings of angels while he renders my favorite selection, "Bring Him Home" from Les Miserables, it doesn't necessarily mean that I can immediately do the same. Go figure. But there's nothing wrong with trying and reaching for something is there? I can say that I've gained much more by trying and reaching than by playing it safe. How do you think I won my wife all those years ago? Winning her was not for the faint of heart.

When I was younger I had big dreams; the biggest. I wanted to grow up and play football for the great Mormon University, BYU. I also wanted to win an Olympic gold medal in wrestling. I just knew I could do it. I was one of those kids who was self motivated, someone who was willing to work his guts out to become the best. I also had some talent. I could just visualize myself cutting, weaving, and bulldozing my way to pay dirt in the end zone of what was then, Cougar Stadium. I could also imagine myself setting up a giant Russian wrestler, fishhooking his right tricep, pulling down on his neck with the other forearm knowing that he would resist and thus provide me with an opening to get his momentum moving forward against me, then slipping underneath him and jacking him up with a fireman's carry move to win the gold medal at the Olympics.

It was glorious in my imagination. I repeated this vision in my mind and heart 'till it became so ingrained in me as to become part of my young identity. Brett, the superstar, the stud athlete. Nothing was going to stop me. The gift of imagination is powerful my friends, more powerful than many people comprehend. I told God and the universe what I wanted and then I went to work to make it become reality.

I was fortunate because I was born to parents who supported me 100%. My Dad was my idol, a superhero in his own right. He had been an all state football player in high school. I revelled in his stories from the past and longed to create my own. He quickly saw my potential and provided numerous opportunities for me to grow and develop. It was he that first taught me to bump and spin to escape opponents on the football field. It was he that taught me to stiff arm would be tacklers. "Stiff arm them right in the helmet" he said. "Knock 'em back when you do it." He also taught me to cut block and take the legs right out from under defenders as often as I could on blocking assignments. I was a good learner and quickly became very adept all of these skills.

During the early years I had great success. Nothing could stop me it seemed. My future looked bright. It appeared to me that my dreams were getting closer. I could smell them as they began to take on flesh and bone. What I created within the walls of my mental and spiritual universe were becoming real.

Little did I comprehend that wrapped carefully and securely within the bright package of physical gifts that God endowed me with at birth was another gift. This gift was different. It had rough edges. It was heavy to carry. It could and would cause pain. It even didn't seem to be a gift to me, nor did I recognize it as such for many years. Nevertheless, as the first gift fades a little with time and age, the latter gift remains with me, my companion for life. Like a child who is disappointed at a Christmas gift she didn't want, I was sure I didn't want this second gift. "Please, not the second gift," I said to God. "I'll take the first one. I just don't want the second one," or so I thought for a long time. Only recently have I begun to appreciate the second gift. Only recently have I begun to understand what the second gift does.

The truth is that the second gift has been the one helping me to prepare for the greatest gift to come much later. The greatest gift is what I've truly wanted from my core from the beginning. How can I despise this second gift when it is the one doing all the work?

Next Edition: The Second Gift