Wrap up

I never really had a set plan as to what i should write. I would just sit down and whatever popped into my mind first is what i would write about. I realize now though the majority of my blogs are lessons that i have learned, or things that have helped me. I feel that this blog was as much for my audience as it was for me. It is helpful to have a record of you thoughts. When things happen you think ah i will never forget that. This event is stuck in my memory. But, i always seem to forget details. Reading past blogs is like opening a photo album to my thoughts. I am grateful that Sister Steadman had us do blogs. Sometimes we are forced to try things we enjoy.

Stand together

This past week in church we had a lesson on the armor of God. While the teacher was describing the different peices of armor i began to think of past experiences. My brother and i have made armor in the past and fought with it. Essentially we got big sticks, and tried to kill each other. But i realized that some pieces of armor you cant put in for yourself. You need a good friend to have your back. And. even once you got the armor on fighting alone is very hard. But, if you stand beside one another and lock shields then there are few things that can break the line. The whole is greater then the sum of the parts. Since coming to BYU i have found amazing friends. For the first time in my life i have peers that i look up too. I now understand the meaning of the phrase. The strongest climb together.

Grow together

Before coming to BYU i never had really close mormon friends. I was the only active LDS kid in my class. I knew some folk who were younger then me. But, we weren't all that close. Since gettin here i have found tons of LDS friends. It is not that my friends back home were bad folk, i jsut could not share some things with them. They were religious too so church talks always turned into arguements. For the first time in my life i have friends who i wish i could be as them. I see them and think dang! they have got it together. It is so helpful to have the support group of great friends. It is interesting how we reflect nature. The greatest predators hunt together, the tallest trees grow side by side. Life is a group trek, not an indivdiual journey. Never be too busy to stop and help a fellow traveler. And, dont be afraid to reach out for a lil help of your own. You might just find a friend to walk with, afre all traveling all by your lonesome is not very fun.

Polishing the Diamond

Today at the devotional Bishop Burton offered an old chinese proverb he said "it is friction that polishes the diamond." He went on to explain that it is trials that teach us. Adversity is the greatest teacher there is. All the advice and words of inspiration mean nothing if we have never expereinced life. This does not mean we should seek out problems though. Trust me, they will come all by themselve. I have noticed that some people i know are always complaining about something. And i wonder, am i one of those people. I have decided that i need to smile at the cold, and bless the heat. Laugh when i fall down, and smile when i can hardly stand up straight. Bishop Burton made a very profound statement, it was something to the effect of "why build earthly anchors, when ya need to fly on high."

Running

I used to hate running. The thought of pounding my knees against the ground for miles on end was the last thing i would call exciting. But, i guess the reason why i never liked it was because i never really tried it. I was so busy playin sports in high school that i never felt the desire to go runnin. I had already ran plenty of sprints at practice. Since comin to BYU i have had to start runnin to keep in shape since i no longer play sports and it is reall quite pleasent, and a great stress reliever. I still miss the fast-paced action and contact of sports but runnin aint all that bad. I would say that i am still in the warm up laps to my runnin desire.

The Land

This past week i had the oppurtunity to spend some time in good ol' Blythe California. My Father and I saddled up the horses and went for a ride around the farm. It is nothing grand. But, i never realized the connection i feel for that land. It is just dirt. But, it is dirt that has caught the sweat of my family for eighty years. As my father and i rode i came to realize that no matter where i go in this world, or what i become that piece will always be a part of me. The rocks on the river edge have seen more stories then can be written. That land has felt more pain then can be realized. I am proud to say that I was raised on a little patch of heaven in the Palo Verde Valley.

Personal Narrative- Listen

slowly churned the sputtering coals with the charred stick. There was no real purpose to my actions. The sad excuse of a fire did nothing to warm my mood. I contemplated going to get more wood but then lashed back at my own thoughts, “I shouldn’t be on this dumb camping trip anyway! My dad is the one who wanted to come “experience nature”; he can go get the wood.”As I stood glaring into the fire, I felt the bitter cold creeping over my backside. I turned to warm my freezing bottom. This was a grand idea at first, until of course my nose became akin to a popsicle. It was in this inopportune time of frustration that my father said, “Isn’t it so peaceful Clint, to have a chance to stop and listen to the world, a break from all the hub-ub and racket.”
At this point I thought, “Well, I could just stay quiet and suffer through this night, or I could enjoy the evening.” I chose the latter. “Well dad I do find it lovely to stop and listen. However, all I hear is the sound of a wasted weekend.” I retorted in a mock sincere tone. I turned to see my dad’s defeated face. “Great” I thought “now I feel bad too. Ugh.” We sat in silence for a while. I entertained myself with things I could have been doing if I was not busy playing mountain man with my dad. Yet, his face seemed distant.
I now felt thoroughly like a jerk so I tried to strike up a conversation. “It is pretty nippy out here, huh dad.” He paused for a second, bobbing his head as if listening to an unseen orchestra, then said “I reckon it is round’ forty degrees tonight.” I nodded my head and asked, “How did ya figure that out.” He let loose a low chuckle. Then, he looked up at me, and with the fire dancing in his eyes he said “that reminds me of a story you’re my dad told me when I was boy. Would you like to hear it?” “Honestly” I thought, “no I wouldn’t, but there was such love in those old brown eyes I couldn’t say no.” So I nodded my head.
“Well” my dad began slowly “on a night a might like this one a boy and his father were campin’. And, the son asked his dad the same question. His father told him to listen to the crickets for fifteen seconds and then add thirty-seven. The crickets know how cold it is the father explained. The boy, trusting his father, listened and did some quick calculations. He then blurted out “It is just a hair over thirty five degrees dad!” So they spent that evening and many evenings after listening to the crickets.”
I sat patiently listening to my dad. However, I could help but think, “Well, they could just buy a thermometer.” But, I did not voice my opinion and I kept listening to his little tale. My dad picked a stick and began fiddling with it as he went on. “Years later that little boy grew up and became a very rich and very influential business man. He worked in the busy sky scrapers of New York and always seemed to have papers in one hand and a phone in the other. The father, growin’ quite old now, flew to visit his son one weekend. The boy was very busy, but he cancelled a meeting so he could take his dad to lunch. As they were walking down the bustlin’ streets of the Big Apple the father stopped. The son turned about and said, “No father, the restaurant is further down.” The father’s eyes smiled as he said “Can you hear the cricket my boy?” The son looked around at the passin’ cabs and busy business men and women. Slightly exasperated now he said “Dad, this is New York, not the mountains.” The father turned to his left and crossed the street. His son was getting’ frustrated now, “I got a meeting at two” he thought, “I do not have time to play cub scouts with my dad.” He caught up with his father on the other side of the street but as he opened his mouth to chastise his father about his foolish fantasies. The father turned, and in his cupped hands laid a very small cricket. The son laughed and said “Well dad those new hearing aids you got are pretty impressive.”
“The father slowly shook his head and murmured “No, everyone can hear they just don’t listen.” He then reached into his old coat pocket and pulled out a handful of pennies. Raisin’ his arm to shoulder level he dropped the change on the busy New York Street. As the money clattered off the sidewalk every soul within twenty feet turned to look.” My dad stopped. He turned towards me, and those brown eyes seemed to be alive as he said, “You see my son, the problem lies not in the ears. No, the problem lies in the heart.”
I sat there for a long time after that; watching the fire dance around the logs, fighting back at the cold night. Then I said, “Well, it looks like it has gotten a little bit colder dad.” I turned and smiled “we’re down to thirty five.”