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Homeschool Awesomeness

Let me lay out a scenario that I frequently encounter:

I walk up to someone and introduce myself; we shake hands, exchange a couple of questions about where they’re from, maybe talk about a mutual friend, and we usually hit it off–I like people and most of them like me well enough.

We talk about where we grew up, and they ask if I knew their friend so-and-so who also grew up in Las Vegas. “What high school did you go to?”

I respond, “Actually, I was homeschooled. I didn’t attend high school.”

The amazed and confounded expression is as constant as it is priceless. “Wait. You were homeschooled? But… you look so… normal!”

Yeah, no duh.

With a look of confusion and doubt they ask, “So what did you do all day? Watch TV?”

The answer to that question, what did I do at home all day as a child and a teenager, is what I’m writing about today.

Smiling, I tell them, “No, I read books.”

Books! What fools learn from books? Don’t you need trained administrators and education professionals to give a child an education? What most people don’t understand is that my parents gave me access to the best administrators and educational professionals money could buy. In fact, they were the best and greatest minds the world has ever seen. Charles Dickens was my guidance counselor and George Washington was my 10th grade teacher. And they didn’t just feed me facts–they mentored me, challenged me, and helped me to become who I am. I had books!

One summer I spent a winter in a tank in the Battle of the Bulge in the France and Belgium of 1944. Later, I marched with Joshua Chamberlain to Gettysburg and cried with General Jackson’s wife when he slipped away in death. I even sat around a campfire and listened to men debate whether two men should be hanged. I’ve witnessed the consequences of a million decisions and have been in the minds of men and women when those decisions were made; you gain a lot of experience when you’ve done all the things that I’ve done in my lives.

The gift that I’d like to give you today is a little window into one of the lives I’ve lived with my favorite mentor, Louis L’Amour. I recently had a conversation with Mr. L’Amour in the form of his book, The Walking Drum, where I was reminded of many of the lessons I learned from him.

I now give you some of the gems I gleaned from my most recent reading of this book. Read these treasures well for they are like gold to me. Take notes. And if you’d like to experience the fullness of this ancient life, here’s the link to the Kindle store.

 

On Studying History

“Unhappily, history as presented in our schools virtually ignores two thirds of the world, confining itself to limited areas around the Mediterranean, to western Europe, and north America. Of China, India, and the Moslem world almost nothing is said, yet their contribution to our civilization was enormous, and they are now powers with which we must deal both today and tomorrow, and which it would be well for us to understand.
“One of the best means of introduction to any history is the historical novel.”

“The company, the word taken from com-panis, meaning bread-sharer, had come into being to share perils of travel at a time when the roads were beset with brigands, robber barons, and armies of warlike monks who left their monasteries to attack and pillage caravans.”


“The Chinese, Hindus, Arabs, and Greeks long knew it was nothing of the kind [that the world was flat]. So did many people in western Europe. The story of belief in a flat world has been endlessly repeated by those who would magnify the voyage of Columbus out of all proportion. As a matter of fact, if one studies maritime navigation before and after it will be seen that Columbus had rather an easy time of it. His ships were small by our standards, but oceans have ben crossed by many much smaller craft both before and after his time.
“Traveling the routes he followed in his earlier years, visiting or residing in Genoa, Lisbon, etc., Columbus would have had to be both deaf and blind not to have heard of Atlantic voyages. Columbus and his brother made their livings, for a time, copying charts.
“Ancient sea voyaging was much more extensive than has been suspected, and there was probably to land on earth that had not been visited before recorded history. Evidences of man have been found on even the most remote islands.
“The secret of making a discover then, as now, was to make it at the right time with proper attention to publicity.”
 

On Doing

“A little pompously, for I was young, I told him who my father was. ‘Men of my family were captains among the Veneti when they fought Caesar, and it is said that there was a Kerbouchard among the monks who welcomed the Vikings when they first came to Iceland.’
“‘A ship does not sail with yesterday’s wind,’ Red Mark replied. I know what Breton corsairing men have done, but what of you? 

“To be reckless is not to be brave, it is only to be a fool.
“Caution always, but when a man acts he should act suddenly and with decision.” 

“It has seemed to me that each year one should pause to take stock of himself, to ask: Where am I going? What am I becoming? What do I wish to do and become?
“Most people whom I encountered were without purpose, people who had given themselves to no goal. The first goal need not be the final one, for a sailing ship sails first by one wind, then another. The point is that it is always going somewhere, proceeding toward a final destination.” 

“Yesterday I arrived hungry and in rags; today I was the confidant of kings; so can a man’s fortune change.
Yet power, riches, and the friendship of kings are but transitory things. Riches are a claim to distinction for those who have no other right to it. Ancestry is most important to those who have done nothing themselves and often the ancestor from whom they claim descent is one they would not allow in the house if they met him today.
“…Only the weak blame parents, their race, their times, lack of good fortune, or the quirks of fate. Everyone has it within his power to say, this I am today, that I shall be tomorrow. the wish, however, must be implemented by deeds.” 

“If an enemy can be pushed into moving in haste, he may be pushed into mistakes and indiscretions. It was an old policy: Never let an enemy get set; keep him moving.
“Countermeasures, whether in diplomacy or war, are never so good as direct measures. Attack, always attack should be the policy of all men, all nations, when facing an enemy. Attack here, there, somewhere else; always keep the enemy on the defensive and in a state of uncertainty as to where the next blow may fall.”
 

On Who I Want to Become

“His name, I discovered, was Redwan, and he was a warrior as well as a statesman, a man of consequence.” 

“Yet here, now, lay the land of my dreams. Here were the cities of Granada, Seville, Toledo, and Córdoba. How long had I dreamed, waking and sleeping, of such cities? For I wanted a life wider and deeper than my own Breton shores could offer. To make my way in a larger world, to see more, to learn more, to be more. This was my dream.”
 

On Manhood

“Alone I was, but he who stands alone is often the strongest. By standing alone he becomes stronger and remains strong.” 

“This–this was what made life: a moment of quiet, the water falling in the fountain, the girl’s voice… a moment of captured beauty. He who is truly wise will never permit such moments to escape.” 

“An old man’s advice? Speak little, listen much.” 

“You have made a powerful enemy, but a man may be judged by who his enemies are, and their power.” 

“Trust you instincts. Life teaches us much of which we are not aware. Our senses perceive things that do not impinge upon our awareness, but they lie dormant within us and affect our recognition of people and conditions. But you must be patient. In impatience there is danger.” 

“Win or lose I must make an effort, for if I remained hanging there, I must surely fall, and there was no one to come to my rescue.” 

“Akim was no coward, and he had a half-dozen men to help him, but he was accustomed to fear. In the old days he would have met my challenge at once, but he had been spoiled by the fear of those around him, and the idea of facing again a man who was unafraid took some getting used to.” 

“It was ever my way to go toward an enemy, and I went now.” 

I have never known a man who better understood his role. He accepted rights due him without comment or apology, and he made the responsibilities of command seem a privilege.” 

“Whatever plans one has were best kept to oneself, for those with whom you share them might themselves share them with someone else, and he is a wise man who mentally keeps a hand on the door latch.” 

“Remember this, Julot, even a rebel grows old, and sometimes wiser. He finds the things he rebelled against are now the things he must defend against newer rebels. Aging bones creak in the cold. Seek warmth, my friend; be discreet, but follow your own mind. When you have obtained position you will have influence. Otherwise you will tear at the bars until your strength is gone, and you will have accomplished nothing but to rant and rave.” 

“A man should not compromise his principles, but he need not flaunt them, as a banner. There is a time to talk and a time to be still. if a wrong is being done, then is the time to speak out.” 

“We stopped will back under the trees, for an observer who knows his business remains back under the trees where he is concealed but can see just as well.” 

“Suzanne, a wise man fights to win, but he is twice a fool who has no plan for possible defeat.” 

“I, son of Kerbouchard the Corsair, a seafaring man, a swordsman, a merchant, a scholar, a linguist, a physician, and even an alchemist of sorts, had the possibilities of being an acrobat or a magician, but what trade is beyond a man with wit?” 

“‘I am not alone,’ I told him; ‘I have my sword.'” 

“‘I shall come,’ I repeated, ‘for today he who rides before an army may tomorrow lie in its dust. I have only a sword, but a strong man need wish for no more than this: a sword in the hand, a horse between his knees, and the woman he loves at the battle’s end.’
“‘Nobly spoken.'” 

“‘I have said to stay away, but if you do stay away, you are a fool.'” 

“There is no miraculous change that takes place in a boy that makes him a man. He becomes a man by being a man, acting like a man.
“Now was the time to show what I was made of. No help would be coming from the outside. I was alone.
“So it ever is in moments of trial or decision. One is born alone, one dies alone, and usually faces the trials and tribulations alone.” 

“‘Go,’ he said, ‘it is the way of sons, and better so. A knife is sharpened on stone, steel is tempered by fire, but men must be sharpened by men.'”
 

On Education

“‘Your sword is not enough?’
“‘A sword is never enough. The mind is also a weapon, but like the sword it must be honed and kept sharp.’
“‘Why do you wish to learn? Do you seek power? Riches?’
“‘What I shall seek tomorrow, I do not know. Today, I seek only to know. My mind asks questions for which I have no answers. Within me there is a loneliness for knowledge. I would know what is thought by wise mean and what is believed in other lands, far from here. I would open the dark and empty avenues of my mind to the brightness of a new sun and populate it with ideas.'”

“The wider my knowledge became the more I realized my ignorance. It is only the ignorant who can be positive, only the ignorant who can become fanatics, for the more I learned the more I became aware that there are shadings and relationships in all things.
“…In knowledge lay not only power but freedom from fear, for generally speaking one only fears what one does not understand.” 

“He glared at me, furious. He liked me not one bit, and I liked him no more, nor was I to be put upon by boasting. I could match him, lie for lie, boast for boast. It was true I was no soldier, although trained in arms. My blade had been blooded as a good blade must be, yet at such a time the truth is for those lacking imagination. If it was war he wanted, I would match him war for war, battle for battle, and lie the better as I was the better read.” 

“There is power in the word whether written or spoken, for words can create images for those who have not themselves seen.” 

“It was a concession from Akim that he suggested I stay on, and I learned then that many a victory is easier won with words than a sword–and the results are better.” 

“Learning to me is a way of life. I do not learn to obtain position or reputation. I want only to know.” 

“I am an empty gourd that must fill itself.” 

“A fair question. What kind of scholar was I? Or was I a scholar at all? My ignorance was enormous. Beside it my knowledge was nothing. My hunger for learning, not so much to improve my lot as to understand my world, had led me to study and to thought. Reading without thinking is as nothing, for a book is less important for what it says than for what it makes you think.” 

“‘You asked if I have reverence? I have reverence for truth, but I do not know what truth is. I suspect there are many truths, and therefore, I suspect all who claim to have the truth.’
“Walking my horse a few steps cooer, I added, ‘I have reverence for the inquirer, for the seeker. I have no reverence for those who accept any idea, mine included, without question.'” 

“There is no curtain knowledge cannot penetrate, although the process can be slowed.” 

“No, I am no blasphemer, but something worse, I am an asker of questions.” 

“The merchants of the caravans, while they kept their thoughts to themselves for safety’s sake, were generations ahead of these students, for they had traveled and they had listened.” 

“In a sense I had always been alien. …I had mingled with the men of [my father’s] crews, almost half of which had come from other lands, other cultures, until I had become a stranger in my own land.” 

“Study, Julot, gain prestige, and people will ask you solemnly for advice about things of which you know nothing.” 

“My Druidic training taught me the basic principles of reasoning: to first define the problem, for a problem clearly defined is already half solved, to gather evidence pro and con, to discard the irrelevant, to formulate a tentative solution, and finally to put the solution to the test.”
 

On Human Nature

“Her fear gave me strength, for when is one not the stronger through being needed?” 

“Much of command is the ability to take command.” 

“Honor can be a troublesome thing, but if one has it one does not lightly yield it.” 

“My father, a skilled fighting man, always told me to notice the position of a man’s feet, for if a man can be taken off-balance he can be beaten. There is a limit to how far a man can reach without shifting his feet.” 

“Even in a comparatively small city, and Córdoba was a large one, a man can lose himself by choosing another way of life.” 

“It had been my experience that the political or ecclesiastical mind is laggard in making decisions.” 

“Authority, in this world in which I moved, implied belief in and acceptance of a dogma, and dogma is invariably wrong, as knowledge is always in a state of transition. The radical ideas of today are often the conservative policies of tomorrow, and dogma is left protesting by the wayside.
“Each generation has a group that wishes to impose a static pattern on events, a static pattern that would hold society forever immobile in a position favorable to the group in question.” 

“If people were sold only what they wanted, there would be little trade, my lady. The should of business is to inspire people to buy that which they neither want nor need.” 

“Before too many factors are involved the vision is often clearer.” 

“Smiling, I remembered a saying: Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad.”

 

On Love and Women

“Sharasa could be trouble, yet a woman worth having must be fought for, or stolen.” 

“So far the sword had been my weapon, and I had not learned that wit and wisdom are keys to open any door, with the heart of any woman.” 

“Man’s greatest advantage in the battle of the sexes is woman’s curiosity.” 

“We had known each other for many months, and she was always disturbing to me, yet there is a moment in the acquaintance of a man and woman and once that moment is passed it may never be recaptured. Not at least with the same essence.” 

“‘Come then.’ I took her hand and helped her through the grass, something she was perfectly capable of doing without me, but I have observed the easiest way to reassure a woman is simply to be courteous, as with anyone else.” 

“‘I have been a fool,’ she said then.
“Who is not a fool? Often when one is in love one can only win by losing.” 

“Nor was I one to shield a woman from truth. Women are neither weaklings nor fools, and they, too, must plan for what is to come. He does not prepare his woman for disaster is a fool.” 

“A man who has not known many women cannot appreciate the value of one.” 

“Now I, who had been invulnerable, was so no longer, for now I knew what love was, and knew too late. That sound! A sound like the beat of the walking drum, that was my heart beating out sadness from the emptiness within me.” 

“I had made a slave of myself to dark eyes and long dark lashes, to a slim waist and graceful hands!
“Yet, why not? If slave a man must be, why not, then, be a slave to these?”
 
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Adventures in Thailand, Posts

Silence Implies Assent

Most people probably don’t notice, but I don’t really get into the realm of public debate. No one really notices, because I’m really good at faking conversational commitment. I rarely bring up politically charged subjects, but often friends or family will talk to me about one of these subjects and I’ll nod along with the conversation, offering an obligatory, though noncommittal, “uh-huh” or “totally” or “that’s awful,” all the while letting them think I’m nodding in agreement, when, in reality, I’ve only ever offered nods of understanding. Nice, right? I call it the “noncommittal conversational dodge” (I’m going to copyright that one day).

I utilize the “dodge” for a couple of reasons: first, I tend to be a people pleaser—I like it when people like me; I like it when people are happy. I’m afraid that if I disagree with the people I care about, especially in such emotionally charged subjects, they’ll take offense or like me less. I recognize that this is kind of silly.

Another other reason I “dodge” is that I don’t know—I don’t know all the facts and, chances are, I haven’t developed my own opinion about the matter. I’m very open-minded, and chances are that I might agree with you, though I also might not. I just don’t know yet.

Finally, I “dodge” because I’ve lived my life outside the proverbial “box.” Why should I put myself in the box of liberalism or conservatism, right or left, or, worst of all, be labeled a radical? I don’t want people’s perception of me and what I do or say to be tainted by the unfortunate filter of a label, which filter is tinted with the words and actions of others; I want my words and actions to be seen in the light of who I am, in the light of the life of service and discipleship that I’ve tried to build. A label would taint that.

But guess what: some very loud voices are speaking up and causing change. In our families, communities, nations, and in our world, tides of change are moving us, but they are tides we can fight against and even reverse. But we know that if good men do nothing, evil will triumph. Some of those voices are evil and some are not, but I’m a good man, so I should do something.

There has been a theme in the last several General Conferences of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints about standing up for the truth, even (and I might add “especially”) when it’s not popular. I believe that the men who speak to us at General Conference are prophets, seers, and revelators—men who speak a loving God’s words—so how can I ignore their inspired counsel? I’ve decided that it’s time for me to start doing something.

Once, I had a professor tell me that, in many instances, “silence implies assent.” I’ve been silently assenting to the adoption of many ideas and practices in our culture, many of which I don’t agree with. I’m not going to be silent any more. There are ideas and practices that I support and, conversely, which I oppose, and I’m going to start talking about them.

I realize that in taking and stating my position I may offend some, but let this serve as a disclaimer and preemptive appology: in nothing I say is there any intentional malice or intolerance; I simply make judgment calls, based on reasoned arguments and the truths that I understand, and statements of belief. I write in a spirit of understanding and seeking to understand, and in the spirit of scholarly debate; I sincerely pray that these underlying principles will be understood and returned in kind. If the reader does not agree with me, I invite you to become a participant in the conversation, rather than take offense and leave the conversation. We might not agree in the end, but at least we can come to a mutual understanding and maintain our friendship.

As I open up about my opinions and formulate arguments I fully recognize that I don’t have all the facts, and I may often make or adopt invalid arguments. Again, I sincerely pray that no one will be offended by what I say, for offense is not my purpose.

Underpinning my arguments is my belief in an objective right and wrong—a definitive black and white. However, I also believe that in many issues there is no clearly defined line, and that grey area is meet for debate and fleshing out. Therefore, I’ll play in the grey area in light of the black and white.

Finally, I think it is important to do our due diligence when engaging in public debate. While an argument with false premise might still be valid, it is not sound; so let’s all fact-check, huh? I’m guilty of not fact-checking, and I think we all are. Let’s be honest, the argument that “Mormons aren’t Christians because they don’t believe in Jesus Christ” is not a sound argument, and there are a whole lot of assumptions in that argument that need fleshing out. We believe in Jesus Christ. The world would be a much better place if people fact-checked.

Oh, and if you’re spreading misinformation on purpose, just stop. You’re not CIA or KGB.

It is important to be vocal about one’s beliefs and I believe that I have something of worth to say, something that requires more of me than passively reposting articles on Facebook. Thank you for reading my introduction and disclaimer. I hope that by taking time to read this you can forgive my mistakes and inaccuracies; I further hope that you are inspired to join the conversation! Finally, I hope that my sincere arguments might be strong enough to sway some sincere reader, and maybe even find some unchanging truths in a tumultuous world. That would be nice.

To what are you assenting by remaining silent?

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Crossing roads

No, this is not about a metaphorical crossing of roads, nor is it a joke. This is a tutorial on how to cross roads in Thailand.
First of all, it’s important to understand a distinct difference between the way the West and the East think. In the West, we have a concept of “way”–as in I’m heading in a direction, and others shouldn’t get in my “way.” We even gave ourselves a right to have a clear path to direct our momentum–we call it “right of way.” Things are different in the East. They don’t think it terms of way; rather, they think spatially. Basically, when you occupy a space, it is yours. But nothing outside your space. Example: there is a portable stand that sells drinks immediately outside every 7-11 store here. 7-11 doesn’t occupy the sidewalk, so someone else does.
So how does this apply to crossing the street? You kinda just do it. “But won’t you get hit by cars?!?!” You forget: I occupy my space. Even if it’s in the middle of the road. Crazy? Maybe. Exciting? Definitely.
So here are some general rules about crossing traffic in Thailand:
1. Look for spaces. Again, if the space isn’t occupied, you can take it.
2. Remember that cars do take a couple of seconds to stop. That’s if the driver sees you.
3. Either put your head down and go (risks getting hit cuz you don’t know if the drivers see you) or look the drivers in the eye (risks not finding an empty space–they’ll fill it because they know you see them).
4. Follow the drunk guy. He’s always eager to jump out and stop traffic, thereby giving you a chance to occupy the road spaces.
5. Pay attention to the traffic lights: red means just a few scooters will try to occupy space before you do; green means that there will be many cars trying to occupy space before you. But don’t let that stop you from just jumping in the mix!
And there you have it. Don’t go out the door before reading this!
Happy crossing!

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A Necessary Condition for a Good Adventure…

I have a firm belief that in order for an adventure to be any good, then somebody has to go to the hospital. Think about it: how many times did Jason Bourne end up in the hospital? Luke Skywalker had his own little stint in an intergalactic ER. Even Indiana Jones had to take a turn under the watchful eye of his nurse, Mariam, in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Are you starting to see my point? Therefore, in order to achieve the fullest stature of my adventure, I decided to go to the hospital today.

Like any good adventure, there’s some kind of plot twist; often the person the hero trusts the most turns out to be the villain. Thus it was in my case. Thai food–my truest friend–turned out to be my greatest enemy. I reference my last post here–the one that made inferences that Thai food was akin to lava flowing in my bowels. It it a moving tale, and I proceed to relate it to you.

Yesterday started of normally. I woke up in my apartment to Come Thou Fount, an hymn that always puts me in a good mood. After showering, I left my apartment and walked twenty minutes to the office, stopping to pick up breakfast: a small container of white rice, with teriyaki chicken and a fried egg, and a small bag of sliced, fresh papaya. Thais don’t have a dedicated breakfast food, which was disappointing to me at first, but it’s something that I’ve gotten over. As I chose my breakfast that day, I purposely avoided anything that looked overly spicy, like the spicy, stir-fried bamboo shoots, due to the amount of discomfort I’d been experiencing from spicy food.

I took my breakfast to the office and proceeded to eat while answering phone calls and responding to emails. Nothing too eventful. But then I received an instant message around ten o’clock, informing me that I had been invited to the a going-away lunch for one of the parallels who would be returning to North America. I had a foreboding feeling as I responded, “Affirmative!” in the groups chat–I knew my life would never be the same.

I was late to lunch, due to Kristen calling me. I chatted with her for about fifteen minutes, then descended in an elevator to the front of the office building. I didn’t know which restaurant everyone had gone to, so I called my friend Watt, who was with them, but he didn’t answer. I called again, and again and again, but no answer. I almost missed that fateful lunch altogether, but as we learn from the story of Oedipus, you can’t escape fate. My phone finally rang as Watt returned my phone calls, and directed me to the appropriate restaurant.

I was ecstatic as I got to the table–everyone had mostly finished eating, but some of my favorite dishes were left over, including the spicy “Thai Green Curry” and the spicy “Minced pork with Thai Basil.” And when I say “spicy,” I mean “scorching.” I ate a lot, there being a lot of food left over–I always considered myself a human disposal, eating up all the excess–and left the restaurant happily sweating from the amount of pure chili oil left coating my mouth and insides. But I was happy… for a while.

Immediately upon returning to me desk and returning to my work, my stomach started rumbling. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t comfortable either. After an hour of this churning, I ran to the toilet, but nothing came out. I drank a lot of water to try and calm things down, but the water’s only effect was to make me pee. I went back to the bathroom several more times, but nothing besides nice clear urine came out. (I’m sorry if this grosses anyone out, but it’s vital to the narrative.)

As dinner-time approached, I was informed that the server would be down, meaning that I couldn’t do much work for the rest of the evening. Watt suggested that we go to a mall for a Western dinner, and I agreed. During this whole time, including the trip to the mall, walking around, looking for some place to eat, and actually eating, my stomach and intestines churned. It was a dark, evil churning. No pain, but a constant churning. I tried to relieve myself, but to no avail. So I ate my cheeseburger as I churned.

I finally went to bed, letting the constant churning lull me to sleep.

5:24 a.m. came upon me suddenly, as the churning suddenly stopped, and the time for relief had come, or so I thought. I ran to the bathroom and it came like a flood. Then it came again. And again. And then the nausea came, and I vomited. Then it came again. The flood came from beneath, and then it came from above–again and again and again. It was the first time I could say that I was actually “violently ill.”

I ended up on the floor of my very small bathroom, with my towels over and under me, because I was shivering so much. I was doubled-up from abdominal pains and nausea. I made about fourteen calls to the three people who’s cell phone numbers I had, but no one answered! Finally, amidst a flurry of fervent prayers and frantic texts, Watt called me. I told him where I was, and he said he’d come over. Fifteen minutes later, he was there.

He found me on the floor still, and helped me get dressed. We walked downstairs (very slowly) and he caught a cab. The cab was freezing cold when I got in, and I had to ask the guy twice to turn down the air. I was in pretty bad shape when we finally got to the Bangkok Christian Hospital. They got me in a wheelchair and then to a bed pretty quickly. The doctor was nice and spoke good English, which, with Watt serving as a translator, made it very easy for me to communicate the source of my pain. They gave me a large dose of something via a large syringe, and not long after I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was still in the hospital. Watt was back with a bag full of prescription drugs, and I was told that I was discharged. I felt a whole lot better. Watt and I made it back to my apartment without further incident, and he left me there while he ran and picked up some groceries. Watt was really the hero of the day, because after picking up a lot of food for me, he forced me to eat it. I was dehydrated and had nothing in my system any more, and he forced me to refill. He also stuck around and talked to me for an hour, making sure I was coherent and could be left alone. When he was finally assured that I wasn’t going to end up on the bathroom floor again, he left for work.

I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping. When I finally woke up, I read a good portion of Great Expectations, and even felt well enough to unpack, something I still hadn’t done after moving into my new apartment several days before. Watt returned around 7:30 in the evening to bring me dinner and a neck massage, both of which I was very grateful for!

All in all, my day was very eventful. I’m feeling very good now, though I am tired and ready to go to sleep. The drugs are working and I’m recovering. However, Thai food and I will never have the same relationship we had before my stay in the hospital. Think Harry Osborne and Peter Parker. They tell me that the food is too strong; that my stomach is too weak. It that the cause? Could it have been food-poisoning? I think a convincing case could be made for that. However, I have a different hypothesis entirely: just like in RoboCop, when the police chief turned out to be the dirty one, my friend, my Thai food, betrayed me. It turned out to be dirty. Not inherently evil, it’s weakness and greed turned it against me. Thai food maliciously attacked me, but not until it had won my trust.

And here I am, having reached the light at the end of the tunnel of my tribulation. I have come off conquerer, thanks to prayer, Watt, and modern medicine. Where will my next adventure take me? Only time will tell.

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Molten

My bosom burns:

I am molten.

I am pain.

I can hardly walk any longer than five minutes without the burn. Last night it came at a party. Then it came on the way home. Today it came as I was leaving the office. Then it came five minutes into my twenty-five minute walk.

It’s fire, it’s lava, it’s Thai food. It’s the best kind of burn going in, and the worst coming out and in-between.

I am molten.

I am pain.

And it’s not going away.

 

Also, I accidentally walked into a huge anti-government rally. It was kind of exciting.

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Tyland. Get it?

I’m in Thailand, in case you were wondering. Thailand, Taiwan; Thai, Tai, Ty… Tyler. I see a pattern.

I arrived here nine days ago. Just like the last time I flew into a “Ty” country, I walked off the airplane and headfirst into a wall of humidity. I breezed through immigration to the sound of Needtobreathe, which I’ve been listening to a lot of since I arrived, and walked out from behind fogged glass to be met by Rob. I was in Thailand! He caught me up to speed on a little of the history of the region and how it coalesced into the more recent political scheme, then showed me my hotel and a nearby 7-11, before heading home. Before I called home to let everyone know I had made it safely, I bought a little rice-thing from Seven (7-11) that they heated for me. When I made it back to my room, I was introduced for the first time to what is called “Thai spicy.” It’s been a constant theme.

My first day of work in Thailand was Friday–it was technically a national holiday, but Rob and I both had things to do, so I went in at 9:00 am. And honestly, that’s about all I remember of that day. Jet lag hit me pretty severely at around 3:00 in the afternoon, and I was out-cold by six. I also remember something about sushi… Lunch?

Saturday was a blast: I woke up at seven to a barrage of emails and Facebook notifications from Rob and Naomi, inviting me to go on an excursion with them and Naomi’s family to the Autthaya ruins. Don’t ask me how to pronounce that. Two of my greatest fears are (1) of being a burden on others and (2) not being in control; as I climbed into the rented minivan with the family I didn’t belong to, I felt like a burden to them, taking up a seat, and totally out of control. But those feelings quickly faded as Hannah, Naomi’s sister, offered to share with me the foodstuffs they had purchased from the street vendors. Sometimes, it’s little things, like meatballs on a stick, that make the biggest impact.

We saw some amazing 700 year old ruins, got amazing sunburns, and had a grand old time. Around two in the afternoon, Tom, the patriarch of the family, rented a long, narrow boat and an accompanying driver, for a river tour around a large island. The first half of the trip and got to sit with Peter, Rob’s son–he and I had hit it off, although it took the toddler a couple of hours to get adjusted to me. He sat on my knee and pointed at the boats we passed as the wind rushed by us, and he’d get excited every time the boat’s spray got him wet. When he climbed to the row behind me to have fun with grandpa, I laid down on the small bench and closed my eyes: I felt peace. Quiet moments of introspection don’t come often, as I like to keep up a busy pace, but they are beautiful when they do come. That time, the Spirit whispered to me that I was in a good place, and I felt Heavenly Father’s love.

When our boat ride was finished (our boat’s engine actually died and we were rescued by another one), Tom bought us a great Thai dinner–he had been the source of wonderful Thai treats all day, for which I was extremely grateful, we headed back to Bangkok. I don’t remember what happened for the rest of that day after we got back–jet lag kicked in again.

Sunday was very neat: I walked the eight minutes to Rob’s apartment building, where I joined him and Naomi’s family to share a cap to the international ward for church. Taxis are VERY cheap in Bangkok, costing less than $10 for a trip across town, but even so we decided to pack five adults and two kids in some poor cab driver’s Corolla. Sacrament meeting was neat: we heard from a girl who was adopted from China at age eight, and who was now preparing to serve her mission in Taiwan. Sunday School was taught by Rob’s brother-in-law, who was actually visiting from another ward–the invitation to teach was very spur of the moment. And Priesthood was taught by a brother from Scotland who had a SICK accent. I could’ve listened to him all day! What was neat about the ward was that we had members from the Middle East, all over South East Asia, Africa, India, North America, and several European countries. The two things that connected us were the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the English language, although the Gospel provided the greatest connection. There were some very humble testimonies borne, and I felt a special spirit there.

Monday through Friday was pretty basic: I worked a lot to make up for the time I missed while traveling. At lunchtime I’d go grab something with the Thai lawyers and Rob, then run back to my desk with a bag of fresh fruit in my hand for desert. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent at Thammassat University’s outdoor job fair with Watt, who works for the firm as well. Did I mention that Thailand is really hot? And humid? Well it is. That was a long two days. Evenings were usually spent in the air conditioned fortress of solitude that was my hotel room. I’d been working on a John Grisham, and was intent on finishing it, so the evenings alone were nice. Thursday afternoon, I received a message from Watt asking me if I’d like to go catch a late showing of Robocop; he said he didn’t have high hopes for the movie, but that it would probably be fun. I agreed to go, and I’m really glad I did: the theater was AMAZING, and there was a really neat tribute to the Kind that played after the previews, but before the film, that we all stood for. And when I say “we all” I mean myself and Watt, and the four other people in the theater–there was a huge protest raging nearby, so most people stayed home that night… and Robocop was pretty awful. The plot was about as deep as a kiddie pool and about as thick as McDonald’s beef patty.

Friday was another long day… but it ended with Rob and Naomi taking me to my first Thai massage! It was so nice. I felt so awkward at first–my third biggest fear is not knowing what to do, and I had no idea what I was doing or what I was in for when that small Thai man entered my room. Everything went nicely for the first minute and a half, and then I fell asleep as the little guy worked on me. And boy, I felt great afterwards! Coconut ice cream helped too. Let’s hear it for Rob and Naomi, everyone! You may applaud now.

Saturday morning, I woke up, packed, and ran to Rob’s apartment to do my laundry. Rob and I talked while we waited for my clothes to be washed, and had a great conversation about the way our two families started homeschooling, what our methodologies were, and how we would approach education in our own families. Rob and I have a lot in common–in upbringing, education, and desires–and yet I always feel like he has a way of thinking so much deeper than me. It’s like his thoughts are always one level deeper than mine, and it’s something I really respect and admire about him. And I am so glad that I’m out here with him and Naomi! I just love the two of them so much! Anyway, it turned out that we severely underestimated the time necessary for my clothes to dry, so Rob and I loaded my wet things into bags, stuffed them into my suitcase, and I was off to the airport! I shared a cab with Nan, an accountant from Chiang Mai who was in Bangkok for training, and she was my guide through the airport, onto the plane, and from the Chiang Mai airport to the house of Songlak and Rawee, a husband and wife team who work in our Chiang Mai office.

When I arrived at Songlak and Rawee’s house, I was just in time for the beginning of a going-away party for James, the Chiang Mai office manager. He is leaving the firm in a couple of weeks, but they office staff threw a great party for him. I experienced Thai barbecue, which was fantastic, and the office staff, mostly single Thai women in their mid-twenties, talked me into doing one of those dancing games on the Xbox 360. I won, in case you were wondering. I also ended up on YouTube. And Facebook. I knew better. The really neat part of the evening was seeing how much of a family unity James had built in his office. They loved him for the compassion and encouragement he had shown them in his two year stay in the office. It’ll be sad to see him go.

Today, I went to church in one of the Chiang Mai branches. Because I had unceremoniously shoved my wet, white dress shirt into a small plastic bag, it was very wrinkled when I was finally able to hang it out to dry last night. When I went downstairs to ask the hotel staff for an iron and ironing board, the old lady at the desk just stared at me. I tried all the sign language I could think of, even showing her the wrinkles in my shirt, then stretching it so there weren’t any wrinkles, but nothing I tried got through to her. So I went to church in a wrinkled shirt. Songlak, from last night’s party, picked me up, along with an older Canadian couple who have been in the city for the last two months working with the firm. Wayne, the husband, upon hearing my experience with the hotel staff, assured me that my situation could be worse: he then related a story about how his friend had been forced to act out “urine infection” for a pharmacist somewhere in backwards South America. I no longer felt so trodden upon.

In spite of my shirt’s unfortunate “first world problem,” church was excellent. The branch was Thai speaking, but a missionary translated for the foreigners in the bunch. After the two main speakers, four of the branch’s members were asked to speak: they had just returned from a temple trip to Hong Kong. They each bore beautiful testimonies of the power of the temple ordinances. But what had an even greater impact on me, was that each one said, almost verbatim (at least as far as the interpreting missionary put it), “and the whole time I couldn’t help but think of you brothers and sisters and wish you were here with us!” Their humility and selflessness taught me a great lesson.

There were enough English-speakers in the meeting to warrant an English Sunday School class (although someone tried to persuade to attend the “singles” Sunday School class), which was taught by Wayne, who was a former stake president and patriarch. We talked about Lot’s experience as he tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to live a righteous life in the midst of a wicked city. The most profound statement of the class was when someone said, “there’s nothing wrong with being involved in your community, but with the pitching his tent toward Sodom and Gomorra, and eventually moving into the city, Lot demonstrated that he liked what he saw there.” When we look at the things of the world, how often do we like what we see? How often do we think, “that’d be nice.” And how often do we go as far as setting up our “tents” with the door facing the world? These were my thoughts as I listened to the lesson.

Priesthood was a little bit of a mess: Thais talk very quietly, and the foreigners had been relegated to the back of the classroom so that the missionary providing translation wouldn’t disrupt the Thai members’ learning experience. These factors combined to make translating very difficult for the poor missionary who was helping us. It also didn’t help that he’d only been out four months. The guy who sat next to me had been in Bangkok the week before–he and his wife just graduated from BYU and are traveling through South East Asia and had ended up in the same ward as me two weeks in a row, entirely by accident–we couldn’t help but laugh at how hard it was to translate in general. I told him about the Taiwanese missionary who translated for most Zone Conferences, which were held in English: instead of trying to explain the joke, whenever an English-speaking missionary tried to be funny on the stand, this one Elder would say, “he’s telling a joke, so everyone laugh in three, two, one… hahahaha.” This guy and I eventually started trying to read the Thai that was written on the chalkboard… Some of those characters look eerily like poorly-written English letters…

I didn’t know where to find food last night, so I didn’t have anything for today. When dinner came around, I made a brief trek to the recently-discovered 7-11, where I bought an unappetizing-looking sandwich and a chocolate milk, then walked back towards my hotel. On the way back, I passed a table where three older Thai women were selling some food. I saw something that looked like food I knew–a large leaf wrapped around something I thought was rice. When I asked to buy it, I got three blank stares back. Finally, one lady said to me, “Chicken Curry!” like she didn’t think I knew what I was getting my self into. I just smiled and nodded my head. Sometimes I wonder what these people see when a tall American walks down the streets that usually don’t get tourist traffic. “Wow he’s tall!” “I wonder why he’s all the way over here.” “Is he lost?” I wonder these things.

But now it’s time to go to bed. I’ve been writing for over an hour now, and it feels good to be creative. I’m alive; I’m healthy; I’m happy; I’m excited to go home. I’ve had a whole new cultural experience, and have been given the opportunity to reevaluate my preconceived biases stemming from a serious case of American Exceptionalism. Yes, there are wider roads in the States. Does that make us better? I’m not so sure. Does this mean I’ve given up on the States and American culture? No, I really like those wide roads and powerful air conditioning systems. But this experience is opening my eyes.

And the food is really spicy. ALL of it.

Love you!

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Rain

I love the rain. Rain invokes memories.

My first memory of rain is sitting inside the sliding glass door of my Nana’s house, as she held my little sister and explained how fun, and not scary, thunder was. We’d jump and laugh with every crash of thunder; I was awed at every flash of lightning.

Rain, and anything involving thunder, is extremely rare in the desert of Las Vegas, which might be the reason I love it so much. For as long as I can remember, every time it rained my dad would take a deep breath and at least once say, “I love the smell of rain in the desert!” So I would follow suit by taking a deep breath and agreeing with him–that’s what kids do. Every time I took a deep breath and let the smell of fresh rain on scorched dirt and asphalt flow over me, I loved it even more. The smell of rain has become like a dog-eared page in the book of my life; every time I smell rain, I go back to those dog-eared pages easily.

I didn’t know what rain really was until I went to Taiwan. My first big storm surprised me: it was a torrential downpour, like huge buckets of water being dumped from the sky, thrown against the sliding front door of our apartment by the wind. My companion and I didn’t dare go outside that time, but most of the time, rain can’t be avoided. Rain was my companion as I rode my bike through miles and miles of downpours, my rear tire kicking up the rain and everything else that it mixed with on the road–oil, rocks, mud, and sewage.

Rain has been there during some of my happiest times–like when it surprised me up on a wooded hill in Virginia. I was with a large group of friends, sitting around a campfire, listening to people sing and play guitar. Things were winding down, when the sky suddenly opened up and let loose with a huge deluge of water. Girls screamed and guys laughed as guitars were hurriedly packed away and everyone rushed down the muddy path. It was an exciting way to end a great night.

Rain has been there for some rough times as well. It was there when I sat in its puddles, trying to comfort the girl who wouldn’t let me date her, but always came to me to be her crying shoulder. It was there when I prayed, sitting in my car–my fortress of solitude–for help and relief from my trials, or speaking to my Heavenly Father about my desires and dreams. Rain was there when I sat in my lonely office, struggling to fulfill all my responsibilities. And rain lulled me to sleep for three years.

Is it any wonder I yearn to live in a place where it rains? The rain has so many deep memories for me, and they are recalled every time I hear or smell it. When I have trouble sleeping, I put my earbuds in, turn on my “thunderstorm” app, close my eyes, and I am taken back to my bed, with the window open just far enough to let the sound of the rain into the room. And then I fall asleep.

I love the rain.

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“If we teach by the Spirit and you listen by the Spirit, some one of us will touch on your circumstance, sending a personal prophetic epistle just to you,” –Elder Holland

I am so grateful to have the knowledge that the Living God’s messengers speak to us and address our present conditions and concerns. I have a lot of questions about what is going on in this crazy world, but I know that I can count on conference messages to give me direction as to what I need to do to be a true disciple and servant.

Tune in at http://www.lds.org/general-conference/watch?cid=HPFR100413105&lang=eng.

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The First Post

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Never, in peace or war, commit your virtue or your happiness to the future. Happy work is best done by the man who takes his long-term plans somewhat lightly and works from moment to moment “as to the Lord.” It is only our daily bread that we are encouraged to ask for. The present is the only time in which any duty can be done or any grace received.

— C. S. Lewis

I have been wanting to blog for a really long time now. That’s why I started a blog. But that was in May. It’s now September and I’ve only written one post. It wasn’t a true blog post, but it’s content, and that’s what matters, right? I don’t really think so.

My purpose is wanting to blog is to share my thoughts with my friends and family. But what has stopped me is my need for “compelling content” in order to be a “thought leader,” or something like that. I read a book called Start: Punch Fear in the Face; it describes a couple of fears that are pretty universal to everyone. For example, fear likes to tell us that we’re “not qualified,” that it’s “too late,” and other lies. So today, I decided to overcome my fears and just start.

Up to this point, I’ve just been writing my thoughts without much editing. I’d like to keep these posts short, but I’d like to explain why I chose my cover photo and tag line.

I’ve been trying to see the future consequences of my actions, like a bad Nicholas Cage flick (but aren’t all of his movies horrible). Over the past couple of months, the one message that keeps coming back to me is expressed in the hymn, Lead, Kindly Light:

Keep thou my feet; I do not

   ask to see

The distant scene–one step

  enough for me.

“One step enough for me.” And yet, sometimes we don’t even get to see that one step. So what do we do? Just like the quote by C. S. Lewis says, we live moment-to-moment, committing our happiness to the present, and to the choices we make therein.

As for the picture; well, as Peter Banning (who had rediscovered the “Peter Pan” inside himself) says, in the Disney movie, Hook: “To live… to live would be an awfully big adventure.” My life has been an awfully big adventure.

I’m ready for the next adventure. Are you?

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My Mother’s Day Talk

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A couple of weeks ago I was at a meeting where Mitt Romney spoke. One of the stories that he shared was of an experience he had with his wife, Ann. The two of them had been invited, along with two other couples, to the Harvard Business School to speak to students about their choice of careers. Now, as most of you know, Ann Romney spent her adult life as a stay-at-home mom, so she was understandably nervous to speak to business students about her “profession.”

On the day of the discussion, Ann ended up being the last speaker, and this is how she described her “job:” being a professional mother required a high degree of skill in “persuasion, psychology, instruction, tutoring, organization, management, health care, and compassion.” She described her job as “the most important, most demanding, and most rewarding career she could think of.”

When she finished speaking the audience gave her a standing ovation. Today, we get to honor our own mothers, not with a standing ovation, but we honor them for taking on the most important, demanding, and rewarding career out there. I personally think that my mother deserves a little extra laud, because she had to develop an extra degree of skill in persuasion, tutoring, compassion, etc.: she homeschooled all of her kids. Kudos, mom!

My purpose in speaking to you today is to share four lessons on Christlike Motherhood that I have learned from my mother. And it is my hope and prayer that you will listen intently, and applying these principles in your lives now, because these are not just principles of Christlike motherhood, but of Christlike living as well.

The four lessons in Christlike motherhood that I learned from my mother are (1) to live a Christ-centered life, (2) to build a Christ-centered home, (3) the importance of obedience and service, and (4) confidence in who you are as a child of God. These lessons are also supported by Elder Scott’s address from the April 2013 General Conference.

I. My mother lives a Christ-centered life

One of the ways in which my mother lives a Christ-centered life is by developing a relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ through prayer. My mom is always praying. One of the best places she prays is in the car–on drives when she’s all alone, she’ll turn off the radio and pray out loud. And most importantly, she doesn’t just pray, she has a conversation–she’ll discuss issues and bring up questions, and work them through with Heavenly Father. This has significantly built her relationship with the Savior and brought her important direction in times of need.

My mom has shared some of her experiences with praying in the car with me, and a couple of years ago I decided to try it for the first time. I was driving from Washington, D.C. to Southern Virginia University, and I was all by myself with a 3 hour drive ahead of me. I remembered my mom’s experiences of praying in the car, and I decided to try it. I don’t remember what I prayed about, but I do remember the sweet feeling of the Spirit, and receiving needed comfort and direction for issues I was facing at that time.

Elder Scott said this: “Regardless of your circumstances, you can center your home and your life of the Lord Jesus Christ, for He is the source of true peace in this life.” She lives a Christ-centered life, and she has true peace.

II. My mother built a Christ-centered home

Elder Scott said, “I’m sure you can identify the fundamental principles that center your home on the Savior. The prophetic counsel to have daily personal and family prayer, daily personal and family scripture study, and weekly family home evening are the essential, weight-bearing beams in the construction of a Christ-centered home.”

One thing we’ve always been very consistent with is family prayer. We kneel in a circle as a family, whether we have friends over or not, and one person acts as voice. After the “amen,” we all stand up and give each other hugs, including the friends. This is one of my favorite family memories.

My mom tried really hard to be consistent with family scripture reading. Life was a little crazy though, and so were the kids, so it didn’t always work out. We would come home from seminary, eat breakfast, say family prayers, dad would run out the door to work, and mom would sit us down. We tried to sleep, read other books, and sometimes be just plain obnoxious. But she persevered. Today, I cannot remember what passages we read–though I know we completed the Book of Mormon at least twice–but I can remember the Spirit that was in the room when my mom would expound and expand on the scriptures, then bear her testimony.

I don’t remember whether we held family home evening every week, but I do remember it being consistent. Also, I don’t remember a single lesson or game we played (though I know we played Phase 10 a lot–a game that I hate now because I lost so much), but I remember the times we each received a father’s blessing at least twice a year. And I remember the time, after we had received our blessings, that my mom piped up and reminded my dad that I was now an Elder, and that he could now receive a priesthood blessing. I gave my dad a priesthood blessing. I remember those things.

Finally, I took a few minutes this morning to walk around the ground floor of our house and count pictures. First of all, we have a TON of family pictures. They’re everywhere, and I love it. I counted eight pictures of the Savior (eighteen pictures if you count one frame with a bunch of small pictures) prominently displayed in our home. I also counted nine pictures of the temple, also prominently displayed. Yes, my mother has built a Christ-centered home.

III. My mother taught us obedience and service

As I reflect back, I can’t remember a single lesson on obedience. This confused me for a little while, until I realized that specific lessons on obedience never had to be taught because obedience was simply expected. The MacKay’s go to their church meetings, accept callings, go to seminary, fulfill missions, and get married in the temple. There was no question about these things, and my parents–mother and father–were great examples of this.

One of the foundations of our home was service. I distinctly remember an experience when I was seven or eight years old: it was dark outside and in the car where our family sat. I was holding a loaf of bread my mom had baked, and it was my job to run up to the front door of Papa Frogley’s house (our Stake Patriarch and friend), drop the loaf on the doorstep, knock, and run back to the car without being seen! Experiences like this made service fun.

As we grew up, each of the kids took up a musical instrument–I chose the violin–and my mom forced us to use them to serve. She would take us to my great-grandmother’s assisted living facility and we’d play fun music for her and the other residents there: they would all gather together in the big room for us. They loved it. My mom would also take us around to our neighbors to play Christmas carols on their doorsteps. I hated it. I was so embarrassed! But now, because of those experiences, I love service, and I find a lot of joy in it. So thank you, Mom.

Elder Scott said, “When we obey the commandments of the Lord and serve His children unselfishly, the natural consequence is power from God–power to do more than we can do by ourselves. Our insights, our talents, our abilities are expanded because we receive strength and power from the Lord. His power is a fundamental component to establishing a home filled with peace.” I have experienced that power from God as I’ve obeyed and served, and it has brought peace to my life and to my home.

IV. My mother is confident in who she is as a daughter of God

My mother is fun and unique. She is always the first one in the water when we hit the beach on family vacations, while we sit on the sand afraid of the cold water. Several weeks ago, she was seen hanging 40 feet off the ground at a youth rappelling activity. The other leaders were frustrated that they could only get pictures of the youth’s legs as they rappelled down the cliff, so she volunteered to hang on the cliff for over an hour to take cool pictures of the youth. Finally, when I was a teenager, I refused to clean my room or make my bed, so she took my bed! She is creative, sweet, and a lot of fun.

Because of my mother’s confidence in who she is, I have the confidence to be who I am, regardless of what others think, because I also know that I am a child of God, and what He thinks matters.

In conclusion, these four lessons on Christlike motherhood that I learned from my mother–living a Christ-centered life, building a Christ-centered home, obedience and service, and confidence in the knowledge that we are children of God–have taught me about the kind of life that I want to live, and about the kind of marriage and home I want to establish. My mom isn’t perfect, but she’s pretty great. As a missionary I carried a small, laminated picture of my family in my breast pocket. Every time I met a member or taught an investigator about eternal families I’d show them this picture. And every time one of these Taiwanese women would see the picture they would snatch it out of my hand, look at it very closely, then look at me and say, “your mother is so beautiful!” I would just smile, because I knew that she was beautiful on the inside and on the outside, because she lived these four principles.

My testimony is that we do have a loving Heavenly Father–and I’m convinced that we also have a beautiful Heavenly Mother, who loves us equally, if not more–and that He sent us the Gospel, through His Son, Jesus Christ, so that we may have happy families now, and prepare for eternal relationships in the future. And when we’re not perfect, and when our families struggle and fall apart, the Atonement of Jesus Christ is there to heal us, and to assure us that if we live the Gospel faithfully, we can receive all the blessings that have been promised us. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

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