The Extraordinary in the Ordinary

It is so easy to judge people by looking at them. In part, the way we dress ourselves, groom ourselves and carry ourselves communicates a lot of information. But inevitably some information is left out. There are extraoridanary people all around us, and we often don't even suspect. This video from "Britain's Got Talent" is as good an illustration as any I've seen. Unfortunately embedding was disabled on YouTube, so you'll have to click on this link to see it. Next time you see someone, whether you know them well or have never met them before, you might wonder what extraordinary talent or skill makes them, well, extraordinary.

If Only I Could Paint

If only I could paint. There is a moment in scripture of profound emotional intensity and depth that fills my soul perhaps more than any other. It is that instant when hope banishes despair.

Imagine you are Mary Magdalene. Just two days ago your teacher, your mentor, your friend, your God was executed. All of your hopes, earthly and eternal, were wrapped up in him. And now he is gone. Dead.

Early Sunday morning, still dark and the air chilled, you walk to his tomb. There had been no time to properly prepare his body before the Sabbath and so now you are bringing spices and herbs to do it right. But upon arriving you find the stone rolled away and as you peer in with your lamp you see the tomb is empty. His death was not enough—now his enemies have stolen his body and most likely desecrated it.

You run to find Simon Peter and John to tell them the crushing news. The two immediately leave to see if it is true. You follow, and after the apostles return to the city you remain, standing and crying, your emotions completely overwhelming you. Out of the corner of your eye you see someone walking toward you in the shadowy light of dawn.

He asks, “Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?”

You reply meekly, “Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.”

There is a pause and then the man speaks again, calling you by name. “Mary.”

You recognize the voice, impossible as it seems. You turn hesitantly, not daring to believe, and see that it is indeed Jesus.

That is the moment, when hopelessness gives way to joy, when defeat yields to triumph, when despair is banished by promise. I can picture Mary’s face, her eyes wet with tears and wide with surprise, her mouth open, her lips trembling, forming an involuntary smile.

That is the moment that sums up the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ, who gives us “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” (Isaiah 61:3)

There are many works of art showing Mary at the tomb, but this exact view I have never seen depicted, at least the way I envision it. If only I could paint. . . .

Birthday Traditions

Nine years ago my wife informed me that we were going out for my birthday. I don’t remember if I was expecting a movie or some other activity, but I didn’t have much time to wonder—we only drove three blocks and stopped in front of a neighbor’s house. “I just have to get something,” she told me, but urged me to come with her to the door. Being somewhat clueless generally, I didn’t suspect anything. Not until the door opened and a dozen people yelled, “Surprise!” Yes, she had planned a surprise birthday party for me with all of our friends in our new neighborhood. And, because she really loved me, she had arranged for the guys to play Risk while the girls played other games. Do I have an awesome wife, or what? (And do not answer, “what.”)

Since then this has become an annual tradition. The attendees have changed from year to year, although the core remains the same. Some years several couldn’t make it, and so Risk had to wait until another year. But it was really about the friendships, anyway.

This year we are going to try and start a new tradition—really an extension of the old. You see, we have been holding these birthday parties in our old neighborhood in Orem with the friends we have there. Now we want to do the same thing with our new friends in Provo. So, if you’re reading this and have some time to come by on April 24th, you are heartily invited, whether you live in our Provo neighborhood or not. It promises to be a pretty large gathering. Games* will be played. A good time will be had by all. I hope to see you there.

(*Games include, but are not limited to, Apples to Apples, Risk, Cranium, Flux (Monty Python Edition), The Great Dalmuti, and many others. Bring your own! And I should mention that my brother-in-law gave me a new version of Risk for my birthday this year. It took some time to learn, but it’s a lot of fun, too. I’m sure it will be one of the games out on the 25th.)

Another Trip Around the Sun

Yesterday while attending Red Pepper’s soccer game I ran into someone I used to work with. In the course of our conversation we discovered that we both celebrated our 40th birthdays within a week of each other. His question to me caught me a little off guard: “Was it as devastating for you as it was for me?” I remarked something to the effect that I notice that I don’t bounce back physically as quickly as I used to, but otherwise couldn’t relate and so I said nothing more on that subject.

I wonder what it was specifically that so devastated him. Did he feel that his best days were behind him? Did he look forward and see steadily decreasing vitality? Did he once excel in sports and could feel the difference that 20 years has made?

First of all, let’s keep this real: 40 just isn’t that old, no matter what my kids think. Sure, the lines on my face are getting deeper and I have a few more gray hairs than I used to. And an eight-minute mile feels a lot faster than when I ran track in high school. There are other signs that remind me on a regular basis that I’m no longer a young man. And I’m not exactly thrilled about these things. Nor am I terribly excited about the colonoscopy that I still haven’t scheduled but need to.

But age brings benefits, too. While I have to admit I find myself re-learning too many lessons in life, some I have learned quite well. A little wisdom is definitely a good thing. It has brought me my wife, who has been my best friend for more than half of my life. It has allowed me to truly appreciate my parents and love my children. Mostly it has brought me experiences, which is more than saying memories. Memories are something I am reminded of when sitting on the couch and looking in a photo album. Experiences, on the other hand, are those things in the past that guide my present and future. And that’s where I choose to live—in the present and future.

Aging is neither good nor bad. It just is. So why waste my time railing against or lamenting something that I can’t control? No, I choose to embrace (sometimes hesitantly, admittedly) these birthdays that keep coming, and the changes that they represent. I am no longer the person I was 20 years ago. He doesn’t exist. I’m not even the person I was yesterday. I’m here today. Today touches the past and the future, but it’s the only thing that really matters, because it’s the only thing I can control in any degree.

And for that reason, to me despising a birthday is a rejection of today. It is trying to hold on to a past that no longer exists, and fearing a future that isn’t real. No, a birthday should be a celebration of those trips we’ve made around the sun and what they have brought us.

Flight Attendant Rap

Being in the flying industry, I always appreciate when someone steps out to make it more enjoyable. For example, the pre-departure briefing given by the flight attendents: this can be canned and boring (nearly all the time) or it can be fun. I vote for fun, and evidently, so does this flight attendent. Enjoy!

Because Sometimes Once Just Isn’t Enough

What do you do with a two-year-old who takes delight in chaos? My wife already blogged about The Snow Incident.

But evidently once just wasn't enough! Act II of The Snow Incident happened Sunday, just before our whole family was to meet with the bishop for recommends to attend the Draper Temple dedication. Yes, baby powder was everywhere. I vacuumed, hoping that would do a good enough job. It helped, but there was still a fine layer of powder on the pergo floor, which made it extra slippery. Fun, but he already broke his leg once. So I mopped it as well. And wiped it off of the furniture and bedding and. . . well, just about everything. It took me well over an hour to clean. On the bright side, I don't think his room has been that clean since we moved in.

The baby powder is no longer located in Jack-Jack's room.

Oh, but he's crafty. Yesterday he found the itch cream and squeezed it out of the tube onto his diapers. Naturally it didn’t stay there. It got all over the floor and his furniture, and all over him, too.

The itch cream is no longer located in Jack-Jack’s room, either.

Nor is the Aquaphor, nor anything else that could be shaken or squeezed within his room.

I suppose one solution is to give up on nap time. But that means my wife will also have to give up nap time. Not happening. Another solution is duct tape, but that seems a little extreme.

So I ask you, what do you do with a two-year-old who thrives on creating chaos?

The Coolness That is Facebook

Several months ago I received an invitation in my email to join Facebook.

It was from my mother.

Yes, my mom is more with it than I am.

I signed up and within just a few days I found my email full of people “friending” me who I had known in high school, college, my mission and even friends just down the street. It was very cool to re-connect with people I hadn’t talked to in 20 years or more and see where life had led them. Months later I still seem to add a friend or two every couple of weeks. I tend to check in when I’m on the road and see what’s going on. From what I hear some people get really wrapped up in it, spending hours of their day on Facebook. Sort of like World of Warcraft fro the non-Geek crowd, I guess.

Now my daughter, Banana, is on Facebook, as well as several of her friends. Two have invited me to be “friends.” I ignored the first request, because I just think it looks creepy that I’m friends with 13 and 14 year-old girls. But I mentioned it to someone at work and he said to go for it because then I’ll know what they’re up to—and know what my daughter may be up to. Her friends are pretty level-headed, as is she, but there may be some wisdom in that thought.

At least she doesn’t have a MySpace account. Then I might have something to worry about.

Now, I realize that I only have three or four people who read my blog, but if you're on Facebook and we haven't added each other as friends, well, what are you waiting for?