Recommitting Myself

Two weeks ago I had an epiphany. But I guess technically it wasn’t really an epiphany, which is defined as “a moment of sudden and great revelation.” I was missing the “sudden” part, but it was definitely a moment, or at least a conglomeration of many mini-moments, that produced a great revelation.

It all started on August 23 when I read Pear’s blog on being good. Like Pear, it’s not that I’ve been bad, but maybe my problem is something like going through the motions. I’ve had good intentions for sure, but honestly the reservoir was getting pretty low. I remembered Elder Eyring’s talk from a few years ago on how our spiritual reserves only last for so long. The interesting thing was, though, that it wasn’t until two weeks ago that I realized that I was getting to dead pool stage (dead pool meaning that even if there is a little bit left, it’s so low that it’s completely useless) – a step dangerously close to what you see in the image above. I then started thinking about an article from the August 2009 Ensign, which had some interesting suggestions but wasn’t quite compelling enough at the time to make me act on those suggestions. After reading Pear’s blog, I re-visited that article and read the following (for real this time):

“Do you want to feel the love of God more powerfully in your life? Do you want to feel more in ‘tune with His Spirit? Do you want to have the heavens opened to you daily?’ There is a way you can feel a daily renewal of God’s everlasting love and drink from ‘the fountain of living waters’ (1 Nephi 11:25). It follows a pattern set by the Prophet Joseph Smith when he went to a grove of trees early one morning in 1820 seeking answers to his questions. I speak of a morning devotional time spent in prayer, meditation, and scripture study. If you have a devotional every morning, even if only for a few minutes, you will be deeply blessed. I know this to be true. . . . There is great power in setting aside quiet, prayerful, meditative time. In the stillness that accompanies our pondering, we can come to know the Father and His Son (see Psalm 46:10; D&C 101:16).” - Elder Kikuchi, “Opening the Heavens.”

I wanted that; I needed that in my life. That was what was drying up very quickly for me. But as often happens with good ideas that require changes in your routines, I was already making up excuses: I already get up early enough to go running. I’m too tired in the morning to read my scriptures. Etc. But on the flip side, I thought: So, what’s the big deal just getting up 5-10 minutes earlier? I am more alert after running anyway, so the tiredness excuse is pretty lame. I’ve been trying so hard to find a time to pray in the morning without being rushed – this presents the perfect opportunity. So, I thought about it for a few more days. And then came Sunday August 30.

This particular Sunday was fairly routine: Church at 9, beginning with Priesthood/Relief Society, then Sunday School, and finally Sacrament meeting. But it ended up being far from routine for me because of the most amazing lessons I learned that day.

1. Our combined 5th Sunday lesson taught by the Bishop was about reverence in Sacrament meeting. But it was also so much more than that. He shared with us his concern, not because we were doing so badly, but because we were actually doing such a great job, that he felt we were ready to take it to a higher level. The way he taught the lesson with such love was amazing. I was wondering whether it would generate any negative comments, but somewhat to my surprise, I heard person after person expressing gratitude for the lesson and the desire to recommit to bringing a reverent attitude to our meetings.

2. And then we had Sunday school, where our incredibly prepared teacher taught from D&C 135, which is John Taylor’s testimony about Joseph Smith after the martyrdom. The lesson handout had a number of quotes from people sharing their impressions of Joseph Smith. The one that caught my attention was from Josiah Quincy (former mayor of Boston):

“It is by no means improbable that some future textbook, for the use of generations yet unborn, will contain a question something like this: What historical American of the nineteenth century has exerted the most powerful influence upon the destinies of his countrymen? And it is by no means impossible that the answer to the interrogatory may be thus written: Joseph Smith, the 'Mormon' Prophet. And the reply, absurd as it doubtless seems to most men now living, may be an obvious commonplace to their descendants. History deals in surprises and paradoxes quite as startling as this. The man who established a religion in this age of free debate, who was and is today accepted by hundreds of thousands as a direct emissary from the Most High - such a rare human being is not to be disposed of by pelting his memory with unsavory epithets.” (quoted by B.H. Roberts in, Joseph Smith, The Prophet Teacher, pp8-9).

3. In Sacrament meeting the Bishop asked that an impromptu choir present prelude music for us as we entered the chapel to promote greater reverence for the occasion. That was a different kind of reverence than I have felt in a long time in Sacrament Meeting and was something I definitely wanted to feel again.

4. Our Sacrament Hymn (169) was one we sing often, but this time one line in particular really spoke to me: “And silently we pray for courage to accept thy will, to listen and obey.”

5. In her talk on the influence of the gospel in our lives, one of our Sacrament meeting speakers shared this powerful thought: “Faith is based on a correct understanding of who God is.”

6. A young family of late 30 year old parents and 6 children sang “A Child’s Prayer,” one of my most favorite primary songs. They later joked with me about how they feel like the Von Trapp family singers, but when they were singing, I was so impressed with the unity and love they obviously shared with each other and hoped that someday my own family would be like that.

7. Our 2nd counselor closed the meeting with some thoughts on reverence, and by the end there was the most amazing feeling of unity and love in the ward as we finished out a wonderful 3 hours together.

And so over the course of a few weeks, this epiphany evolved. Even though I hadn’t fully acted on anything by the time that Sunday came around, the desire was completely there, which prepared me to hear and internalize all the things that happened that day. Beginning with Pear’s blog, to the Ensign Article, to the events of that Sunday, each presented personal revelations to me. Consequently, that Sunday pretty much sealed the deal for me and helped me decide that day that I was ready to 100% recommit myself do the following: have a morning devotional, practice reverence both in church and in life in general, follow the prophet’s example by confidently standing up for what I believe and being an emissary for God, bring the spirit into my home through good music, have the courage to do His will, pray and read the scriptures to have a correct understanding of who God is, work towards achieving my goals of raising a family like our Von Trapp family and other great families in the ward, and continue to participate in the ward in such a way to promote love and unity within the ward family.

It has been two weeks now and I must say that I started doing these things not a moment too soon. The first day of my new routine presented some challenges at work like none I’d ever experienced, and so, even from day one, these activities were already helping me to stay calm and focused as I dealt with that particular challenge and others that have followed for the past two weeks. Now the trick is to remain committed no matter what, which is why I’ve written this blog – to remember what I have learned and felt so that I won’t let my reservoir run dry.

Sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa Rasmussen's House!

Last night I had an unexpected experience. But before I tell you about it, I must begin with what happened earlier in the evening. Over delicious chocolate sheet cake after dinner, Grandma Rasmussen asked me if I would be seeing my chiropractor the following morning. Yes, I replied. She then informed – didn’t ask – me that the bed in her guestroom would be all ready for me to spend the night. Wow, I thought. With mom and dad’s very full house, I was prepared to throw the old green mattress pad down in whatever random place that would suit me at the time and try to sleep. (At least I brought my own pillow.) And here, I had this amazing offer to spend the night in my own room in a peaceful and quiet, and DARK environment to get some MUCH needed sleep. Not only did Grandma invite me to stay the night last night, but ANY time, unless there were other houseguests. And so, while everyone was watching Star Trek II (The Wrath of Khan), which I just cannot bring myself to watch again because it came very close to being the first movie to give me nightmares, I gleefully trotted my way across the yard and entered my new bedroom. And this is where the unexpected begins, although in retrospect, I should not have been surprised.

Grandma and Grandpa, both separately and together, spent a few minutes reminding me of where the nightlights were and which door locks were engaged, and instructing me to feel free to open/close the bedroom blinds. Grandma left for a minute, and while she was gone, Grandpa shut the door slightly to reveal a beautiful picture of his “dear mama, Katie Johanna.” (His words.) He told me about how she had died from some hemorrhaging shortly after childbirth when Grandpa was 14 years old. He described to me a moment at the graveside, where after looking down into the grave he heard in his mind something to the effect of, “This is not the last time you’ll see me.” (I can’t remember the exact words, but it was a beautiful sentiment.) He said he felt such comfort from those words at that time and continues to feel so now as he sees family and friends go. It was a short conversation, but one I’ll never forget. Grandma then returned and asked if I’d spent the night there before. Yes, I replied, but I think mostly in the basement. The last time I remembered being in that room was when I was in 7th grade and had a sleepover with (cousin) Gretchen Mills. We stood there for a moment as I reviewed that night in my mind. It really HAD been a long time since I'd had a sleepover at any of my grandparents' homes, and I was starting to feel kind of giddy about it. What fun! And then we had a group hug good-night.

I shut the door and sat on the bed in a very reflective mood. It felt strange, but in a good way, to be there again 20 years later; to be loved and cared for like that; to be able to have that conversation with Grandpa. I took a turn around the room (sort of) looking at all the pictures of aunts, uncles, and cousins through the years and retrieving many dormant memories of my own from some of those days. I thought about how amazingly beautiful and handsome the Rasmussen girls and boy! were (and still are!), and how lucky all of us cousins were to be in such a wonderful family. I also looked carefully at the pictures of Sue, Paul, and Gary and enjoyed seeing them in their 20s -- they also looked (and look) amazing, too! And then I found myself musing on the old Chapel Circle home where I had spent several nights as a child, having conversations with the grandparents just like last night’s conversation, looking at these pictures and feeling the same things I was feeling last night. Those days are long past, but the memories from the Chapel Circle home are as clear to me as if they’d happened last night. I then thought about this current home and all the wonderful times I’ve had there. I opened the closet doors and stood by the sewing machine, thinking about the many hours I spent there working on junior high and high school sewing projects and other Christmas projects, realizing how dumb I am now when it comes to sewing, but loving the memories of those days. I walked into the bathroom and saw the same green, pink, yellow and white clothes-pins on the towel rack that I’ve known my whole life from both homes. Sometimes they were holding nylons – last night it was sachet bags. Before turning out the light I started browsing through the home magazines (Better Homes and Gardens, Colonial Homes, etc.) in the bedroom and the basket in the bathroom and was suddenly back to my teen years when I had spent hours perusing those magazines, imagining that every single picture of the many rooms in those magazines were actually rooms from my dream house. And before I knew it, there I was last night on the bed flipping through those same magazines, just like I did 10 and 20 years ago. I own my home now, so I don’t have to imagine a dream home, but I still loved looking at the pictures.

And so the night went on like that. In many ways I felt like I’d just had a Christmas Carol experience where I was literally seeing shadows of my past, but unlike Scrooge, I loved every second of it. I felt like the world was perfect. Everything was silent, including my brain, which was a miracle. I felt a complete peace. I was in a home with grandparents who unconditionally loved me and where I was surrounded with memories and reminders of very happy moments in my life. And with that, I fell asleep.

My Work Made the News! (But not for a good reason)

As some of you may be aware, last weekend in Logan a small canal on a hill-side breached, causing a landslide that destroyed millions of dollars' worth of property and took three lives. You can read all about it on any Utah news website if you are interested in further information. A few days later, some citizens of Utah County contacted KSL expressing their concern about the safety of the unlined, opened Provo Reservoir Canal (aka, the Murdock Canal), which runs from Provo Canyon to the Point of the Mountain. (It is the same canal that runs behind John and Mary's former home in Highland.)

You can read KSL's story and comments on the story here. The main complaint by the residents is that they said they were promised five years ago that the Canal would be enclosed, but nothing has happened since then. I have been intimately involved in the details of the project described in this news story for the past 5 1/2 of my 6 years as an attorney with the U.S. Department of the Interior. It's always nice to see your work reported in the news, but not necessarily under these circumstances and when the story and the comments to the story are negative and/or uninformed. Because of some discrepancies and inaccuracies in KSL's story and especially the reader comments, I thought I'd share the real story. I've written this as a really bad fairy tale in an effort to keep names and events vague because this is an ongoing project. Enjoy.

Once upon a time, a long time ago (as in the 1930s), the Kingdom of the United States bought an opened, unlined canal in one of its northern-central provinces. The Kingdom owned many such canals, and so by law entered into an agreement with a small non-profit provincial organization to take care of the canal. Over the next 60 years, many people died or otherwise suffered serious harm as a consequence of swimming, wading, or diving illegally in the canal. About ten years ago, the provincial organization decided it was time to enclose the canal and bring greater safety to its citizens. However, because the provincial organization did not actually own the canal, the construction costs and taxes that would be assessed to the provincial organization for this project were far more expensive than the provincial organization could afford. Consequently, the provincial organization sought permission from the Kingdom to take title to the canal and further sought financial assistance for the enclosure from four other organizations. Following a year of negotiations the Kingdom agreed to transfer title, and the other 4 organizations agreed to provide the necessary financial assistance to the provincial organization. For the next five years the Kingdom, the provincial organization, and the 4 other organizations met weekly, and oft-times multi-weekly, to negotiate the details of the title transfer and financial arrangements. They were within months of consummating the transfer and financial arrangements when, suddenly, the provincial organization discovered that this transaction would result in a tax upon it of a third of the cost of enclosing the canal. (And if you are confused by now, you have good reason.) Paraphrasing from Beowulf, this was not a good bargain. Following 18 hours of discussion over 3 days, the Kingdom benevolently agreed to retain title to the canal and oversee the enclosure of the canal so that the provincial organization would not be impossibly burdened by the taxes it would have been otherwise assessed. Coincidentally, another major event that occurred at this time was that the local provincial government informed the provincial organization that the local provincial government would be willing to consider paying half the cost of the enclosure so long as the provincial organization could show by mid-August that the enclosure project was ready to go. And so, for the past eight weeks the Kingdom, the provincial organization, and the 4 organizations have been meeting up to three times a week to finalize the agreements for the enclosure of the canal and the financial arrangements. They are just weeks away from the deadline to meet with the local provincial government, and now the provincial organization is arguing that the Kingdom is asserting itself too much into the details of the enclosure of the canal -- which, I must now remind the reader, is still owned and may forever be owned by the Kingdom. The provincial organization is also complaining that if and when it finally takes title to the canal, the costs of owning, operating, and maintaining the canal will be too much for them to bear alone, and the other 4 organizations should therefore be obligated to help pay for those costs (including the provincial organization's taxes) in perpetuity. Given that the other 4 organizations are collectively paying for almost half the cost of the enclosure, these organizations have vehemently disagreed that they should pay the provincial organization's additional costs that are simply incidental to its ownership of the canal. And so, as of this writing, the Kingdom, the provincial organization, and the other 4 organizations may never live happily ever after. The End.

Writer's notes: Contrary to the provincial organization's characterization of the delay in the KSL story, this is clearly not about working out "little details" nor, as some citizens have suggested through their comments, about delays caused by the Kingdom. No, the "little details" causing the delay are none other than the provincial organization's financial problems, including the $50 million tax problem that it should have recognized and resolved 5 years ago and that the Kingdom has now voluntarily agreed to help resolve. Indeed, assuming the provincial organization and the other 4 organizations can cooperate with each other, the Kingdom will accomplish in 2 months what has taken all the organizations 5 years to try to do. But of course, none of this was in the story or the comments. And you wonder why I'm a little frustrated.

Citizens of the World

Just days before Iran’s election, Jason Jones, a correspondent for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, traveled to Iran to hang out and do a little reporting on the election and other goings-on in Iran. As an abashed Jon Stewart reminded his viewers each night, the Daily Show producers did not know that Jason would be in Iran during a most exciting but quite dangerous and volatile time in the country’s history. Despite those dangers, this also presented an amazing opportunity for the Daily Show to show a side of Iran that we might have otherwise never seen. You can see the 4 parts of this series using the following links: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; and Part 4. Although this series was rife with the usual sardonic humor, silliness, and other antics you expect from the Daily Show, it was impossible to not feel touched by the beauty of the people of Iran and to realize how much we share in terms of ideas, expectations, desires, dreams, and hopes for a better more peaceful future.

As I continue to think about this series, I am taken back to my travels around the United States and the world: 39 states, Mexico, Canada, Germany, Switzerland, France, England, Wales, and most recently China. On my last day in China, our family happened to be walking through a very small town during the school recess time. Somewhat to my surprise we passed by a number of games of Chinese jumprope. (I guess I didn't really think that Chinese jumprope was actually a Chinese game.) Watching those kids took me back 20 years to when I was their age playing the exact same game on my playground at recess at Cherry Hill Elementary School in Orem, Utah. I realize that this may seem insignificant to most, but it left such an indelible impression on me – one generation and literally a world apart (over 6000 miles) I found something I could totally relate to with these children.

Positive experiences like these were abundant in China. The one annoyance I felt throughout our two weeks there were all the people who wanted to touch us and take our pictures. As I've thought about this since returning home, I have come to understand that behind this behavior is their enormous desire to connect with the western world, and for a variety of reasons we westerners who visit their country ARE that opportunity – maybe the only opportunity they’ll ever have – for that connection. Many Chinese nationals have never left and probably never will leave China, much less the provinces and areas they’re in, so seeing western culture is almost unheard of unless we come to them. And truthfully, many of us in western society are equally clueless about eastern culture, so making those connections, here or there, is really important for all of us as we come to understand that we are all together sharing this earth. Indeed, while we should acknowledge and celebrate our differences, those differences should never be an impediment to those things that connect us as human beings–the things that bring us happiness, sadness, excitement, serenity, anger, and love. This world is held together by the tapestry of humanity, and one loose or stray thread would eventually cause the whole tapestry to fall apart.

And so, back to Iran, I think it’s fair to say that Jon Stewart, the studio audience, and everyone who has seen this series feels an overwhelming sense of compassion for the Iranian people, and we hope for a swift and peaceful end to the violence that has marred this country in recent weeks, because Iran's success in achieving peace will help to effect more peace around the world.

My Worst Nightmare

This was in yesterday's Deseret News:

"Kimberly Warner was chatting on the phone and washing the red grapes she had just purchased from the Orem Costco on Monday afternoon when she spotted it: a big, black spider. 'I thought it was just a big, monster grape spider,' the Provo homemaker and mother of three said. Then Warner saw the hourglass shape on the spider's back." (http://www.deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,705312635,00.html.)

I bought red grapes at Costco last week. And I have arachnophobia. Just looking at pictures of spiders is enough to stop my heart from beating for a second. I sometimes hang a plastic spider on a web in my office during Halloween, and it looks so real that it scares ME every time I look at it even though I'm the one that put it up! Now I'll probably be checking my grapes every 5 minutes to make sure I have no black widows. No one said phobias aren't irrational.

A Father's Day Tribute

Happy Father’s Day to Dad, Grandpas Rasmussen and Thomas, Dave, John, Matt, Bryce, and Curtis.

At the request of Parade Magazine, President Obama wrote his reflections on what fatherhood means to him. It is a beautiful essay that in many respects is reminiscent of the counsel we receive from our church leaders in General Conference. You can read the whole text at http://www.parade.com/export/sites/default/news/2009/06/barack-obama-we-need-fathers-to-step-up.html. Here are a few excerpts from his remarks that were particularly thoughtful:

“We [fathers] need to realize that we are our children’s first and best teachers. When we are selfish or inconsiderate, when we mistreat our wives or girlfriends, when we cut corners or fail to control our tempers, our children learn from that—and it’s no surprise when we see those behaviors in our schools or on our streets.

“But it also works the other way around. When we work hard, treat others with respect, spend within our means, and contribute to our communities, those are the lessons our children learn. And that is what so many fathers are doing every day—coaching soccer and Little League, going to those school assemblies and parent-teacher conferences, scrimping and saving and working that extra shift so their kids can go to college. They are fulfilling their most fundamental duty as fathers: to show their children, by example, the kind of people they want them to become.

“It is rarely easy. There are plenty of days of struggle and heartache when, despite our best efforts, we fail to live up to our responsibilities. I know I have been an imperfect father. I know I have made mistakes. I have lost count of all the times, over the years, when the demands of work have taken me from the duties of fatherhood. There were many days out on the campaign trail when I felt like my family was a million miles away, and I knew I was missing moments of my daughters’ lives that I’d never get back. It is a loss I will never fully accept. . . .

“On this Father’s Day, I am recommitting myself to that work, to those duties that all parents share: to build a foundation for our children’s dreams, to give them the love and support they need to fulfill them, and to stick with them the whole way through, no matter what doubts we may feel or difficulties we may face. That is my prayer for all of us on this Father’s Day, and that is my hope for this nation in the months and years ahead.”

I am so grateful for my dad who has always exemplified this commitment toward his duties as a father. Dad has always been a great example to me of someone who works hard, exercises great patience, and readily expresses his unconditional love to our family. I love you, Dad!

On Death

Yesterday morning my co-worker came to my office to say hi. As is customary, I asked him how his weekend was and he kind of drew a long face and said it was good and bad. He had a good time canyoneering with some scouts from another ward, led by none other than our cousin Joel Mills. After returning home, he received a call from his dad Saturday evening informing him that his grandpa (his dad’s dad) was not doing so well. At this point, I’m thinking, oh his grandpa is in the hospital now and that’s why he’s so glum. But then he concluded by saying that on Sunday, at age 94 and surrounded by his family, his grandpa died. I’ve actually met my co-worker’s grandpa before and heard so many stories about him. One of the things his grandpa did as a matter of tradition at family reunions was to offer his unintentionally melodramatic rendition of The Holy City in its entirety. (That's the really long song that goes "Jerusalem, Jerusalem....Hosanna in the highest!!") A few months ago my co-worker played me an excerpt of a recording they made and it was so great. My co-worker had a close relationship with his grandpa, including being in the same ward and same high priest group with him. So, he’s sharing this with me and I’m doing my best to fight back the tears, but I finally yielded and let the tears flow. I apologized to him, not really knowing exactly why I was crying, but in retrospect, it is clear that I was thinking about my own grandparents and relating his relationship with his grandpa to my relationship with my grandparents. Growing up in the same neighborhood as my grandparents has provided them an opportunity to actively participate in so much of my life. Losing them will feel like losing my parents.

I remember when President Hinckley died, I cried for several days for 3 reasons: First, he was my friend’s grandpa. Second, I knew that if Pres. Hinckley had to die, then so do the rest of us. And third, I thought, now Grandpa is going to die. (As an aside, I mentioned to my co-worker my fear of Grandpa dying, and he told me that he had the exact same thought about his grandpa, who was 92 at the time.) It was the first time that our grandparents’ mortality really hit home for me, and now it has happened again this week. But President Hinckley did leave us some words of comfort in his poem called What is This Thing That Men Call Death.

What is this thing that men call death?
This quiet passing in the night?
‘Tis not the end but genesis
Of better worlds and greater light
O God, touch Thou my aching heart
And calm my troubled, haunting fears
Let hope and faith, transcendent, pure
Give strength and peace beyond my tears.
There is no death, but only change
With recompense for vict’ry won
The gift of Him who loved all men
The Son of God, the Holy One.

My co-worker’s grandpa’s death was about as ideal as a death can be, I guess. He was not suffering from any diseases or other painful afflictions. He was just old. He lived a good full life and, most importantly, was surrounded by family as he peacefully passed away. Nonetheless, no matter what your beliefs and perspectives are about life after death, death is still hard for those left behind. I have no doubt that for those who die, it feels like no time has passed before we join them, but for us mortals, it can be anywhere from a day to 100 years before we see our loved ones again. That is such a raw deal and it hurts to think about it.

A few years ago I had an opportunity to talk to Grandpa Rasmussen about our philosophies of death. Sort of a weird topic to be discussing with him, but he was writing a talk for my friend’s grandma’s funeral, so it was a natural discussion to have. He told me that before my friend’s grandma died, she started having a lot of serious questions about life after death and whether she really believed everything she was taught. He was called to give her a blessing to release her from this life. Before doing so, in response to her growing fears about dying, Grandpa shared with her these beautiful and unforgettable words: “I think death is a sweet experience of exploration and new discovery.”

This is not the end of this discussion for me, but for now I go on with life, completely unprepared to deal with the deaths of my loved ones, certain that it will hurt more than I can even imagine now, but also taking great comfort in Pres. Hinckley's and Grandpa’s words and holding them close to me as those times quickly approach.