No Coincidences

Tag: comfort

  • Bengie

    Bengie

    We met it seems, such a short time ago.

    You looked at me, needing me so.

    Yet from your sadness our happiness grew.

    And I found out I needed you too.

    I remember how we used to play.

    I recall those rainy days.

    Goodbye may seem forever.

    Farewell is like the end.

    But in my heart’s a memory.

    And there, you’ll always be.

    Bengie started with Grandma Leach. He was too high energy. My grandparents didn’t know even a puppy could have that much energy.

    Laura, Jon, and Sydney took Bengie next. Bengie became Laura’s comfort dog through all her time being sick. He would often be found cuddling with her, especially at the end. I visited Bengie when I was 21 and lost. I talked to Bengie when I wasn’t talking to God.

    Grandma is no longer with us.

    When Grandma was around, Bengie would run to her. It may have been due to Grandma having a weak spot for sneaking him food from the kitchen. Bengie remembered his first companion.

    When Laura no longer needed Bengie and Beth had a hole to fill, Bengie stepped in with honor.

    Bengie took care of a lot of people while he was here.

    If we believe there is a plan in this life, which I do, then Bengie was here for many important reasons. Few dogs get to accomplish so much.

    I’m having a difficult time writing this because I’ve tried not to think about how he’s gone. I couldn’t be there when it happened. I asked Beth to do it because Beth is tougher than me.

    Bengie was struggling for a long time.

    Before he left for the last time with Beth, I took him on one last walk. He hadn’t been going on walks with us for a long time. That last walk confirmed to me the right decision was being made. He could hardly navigate even the open space, stumbling from bush to bush.

    It had been so long since Bengie had been himself, I’d almost forgotten. Beth showed me some videos that reminded me of all the fun we used to have. Before kids I played with him everyday. Now I play with my girls everyday.

    We used to take Bengie on long bike rides. Bengie would run alongside us. Sometimes I would take him off the leash and I was amazed at how he could fly. When we’d go on bike trips, inevitably an old Scottsdale woman would show concern about the little dog running alongside a bike in the heat. Little did they know when we got home he’d run around nonstop until we finally went to bed. Bengie could run forever.

    Bengie used to cuddle with anyone that would sit still. He loved laying with Ivy before she started walking.

    He was a great dog.

    You know that movie All Dogs go to Heaven?

    I believe all dogs do go to heaven. There is a special place reserved for the companions sent here to comfort us.

    Death isn’t the end, even for pets. That’s awesome. I’m glad I’ll be able to see Bengie again. Next time I see him, maybe he’ll even be able to talk, who knows?

    That’ll be a day.

  • The Lesser Talked about Sacrifice of the Atonement

    The Lesser Talked about Sacrifice of the Atonement

    One of the tragedies the trinitarian belief (that God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit are one being) has taken away is appreciation and understanding of God’s part of the sacrifice in the Atonement.

    “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son.”

    Doesn’t mean much if there isn’t actually a God giving up his Only Begotten Son, right?

    We talk so much about the sacrifice that Jesus Christ did for us, for good reason. His Atonement paved the way for us to return home. He suffered, bled, felt the crushing pain of a universe of sickness, pain, and sin, and died for us. He did that. There’s reason we talk about Him. He is the only way to God, our Heavenly Father.

    Speaking of God’s part in that sacrifice shouldn’t diminish what Christ Himself did for us.

    I’m a father.

    The other day Ivy was on the top of the couch and fell backward to the cushion. She wasn’t hurt at all. She was fine, but try telling her that. She was scared, and she was screaming and freaking out. She was fine, but she was still upset.

    Now, if Ivy was really hurt, if she fell from the cushion down to the floor, I would have moved so fast. I would have been there. As it was, I stayed in my seat and tried to tell her how awesome a fall that was.

    If Ivy or Sage are in real pain, I’m there.

    I can’t imagine the torment, the suffering, the heart-wrenching anguish of watching my children suffer. I can’t imagine it.

    God can.

    God watched His Son be spit upon, scourged, beaten, slapped, ridiculed, and finally nailed to a cross to die a slow, painful, and seemingly humiliating death.

    Words from Jeffery R. Holland in a 1999 talk:

    “I am a father, inadequate to be sure, but I cannot comprehend the burden it must have been for God in His heaven to witness the deep suffering and Crucifixion of His Beloved Son in such a manner. His every impulse and instinct must have been to stop it, to send angels to intervene-but He did not intervene. He endured what He saw because it was the only way that a saving, vicarious payment could be made for the sins of all His other children from Adam and Eve to the end of the world. I am eternally grateful for a perfect Father and His perfect Son, neither of whom shrank from the bitter cup nor forsook the rest of us who are imperfect, who fall short and stumble, who too often miss the mark” (“The Hands of the Fathers,” Ensign, May 1999, 14).

    What I realize is that God knew His Son. He knew Jesus Christ was going to fulfill His destiny. He knew what His Son, Jesus Christ, would do on the cross. LIke me on the couch, knowing Ivy was ultimately going to be OK, God knew Jesus Christ would be OK. He knew that Christ so loved us, that He would suffer it all for us. Why did God do it though? Why didn’t He send angels to intervene? Wouldn’t that be what a loving Father would do? He didn’t intervene because He so loved the world. The world is us. He loves us so much that He was willing to suffer this pain of watching His Son suffer. The ultimate sacrifice, of Father and Son.

    If that doesn’t bring you to tears, I don’t know what will.

    God loves you.

    I don’t know how it all works. I don’t know how the celestial kingdom, heaven, a place of infinite joy and peace, can also have weeping. But I know that my God weeps.

    Don’t let us forget that God suffered that day too. He suffered an anguish hardly imaginable. The anguish of watching His only begotten in pain.

    In the case of the suffering of Jesus Christ, the payment had to be made to save us. In some grand cosmic mystery that I don’t yet understand, we can’t return home until we are perfected through the blood of Christ. God allowed that sacrifice, and contributed His sacrifice, because he loves the world. He loves us.

    I believe God does weep over the evil, heartache, pain, suffering, and sadness in this world. He weeps over sin. He weeps over us.

    But ultimately, we have fallen to a soft cushion. We are safe. We are secure. We are secure in the blood of Jesus Christ. We are secure only because of Jesus Christ and what He did for us.

    While God wants to come comfort us, He doesn’t stop suffering because we’re still on the couch cushion. And if it helps us grow, does that make it any easier for Him to watch us suffer? Maybe. I knew Ivy wasn’t really suffering. I knew it was temporary fear she felt. I was always there for her.

    This is my reminder to you: God is there for you. He will never leave you. He is always aware of your hardships. In addition to God, Jesus Christ isn’t only there with your hardships, He already felt your hardships. He understands it all, because He felt it all.

    God loves you. Jesus Christ loves you. They love you so much that they sacrificed for you. Don’t forget that. It will give you strength.

  • Time I Felt Safe

    Time I Felt Safe

    During a guided meditation I was asked to picture a time when I felt safe.

    Interestingly, as I was asked to picture a time that I felt safe, the first image that came to mind was after my ATV accident. I saw the image of me in that ATV with my brother holding down on the back of my head. That’s the image that came to me of a time when I felt safe.

    I’ve thought about that since. Why was that the first image to come to mind? Was it because it was a moment I felt the opposite of safe? As I’ve pondered this question, I don’t think that’s the reason. I think that image came to mind because it really was a moment that I felt safe. I think it’s the most powerful moment in my life where I knew whose hands I was in. It was the most vulnerable and helpless I’d felt since I was a young boy, and yet I felt safe. I was reminded whose I am and who watches over me. And I knew, whatever happened, I was safe.

    How do you value the Gospel of Jesus Christ? What’s it really worth? What’s it really worth knowing who you are, where you come from, why you’re here, where you’re going, and who your Father is? What’s that worth? It’s worth everything.

  • Maybe (The Story of the Chinese Farmer)

    Maybe (The Story of the Chinese Farmer)

    “There once was a farmer whose horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. ‘Such bad fortune,’ they said, full of sympathy.

    “‘Maybe,’ the farmer replied.

    “The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. ‘What great fortune!’ The neighbors exclaimed.

    “‘Maybe,’ replied the old man.

    “The following day, the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the untamed horses. He was thrown off and broke his leg. The son would forever limp. ‘What terrible fortune!’ The neighbors cried.

    “‘Maybe,’ answered the farmer.

    “The next morning the army came through the farmer’s village to draft young able-bodied men for the war. Seeing his son’s limp, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer. ‘What wonderful fortune!’ They said.

    “‘Maybe,’ said the farmer.”

    So, it’s hard to know which experiences will turn out to be fortuitous and which will be unfortunate.

    Another story to consider.

    A dog is at the vet. It is there with its wonderful owner. The dog knows his owner loves him very much. The dog’s owner provides food and shelter to him every day. His owner takes him for walks every day and loves him so much. His owner would never do anything to harm him.

    At the vet, the dog is due to get shots.

    The owner knows the importance of these shots. The owner knows the dog needs the shots to keep him healthy. The owner knows the shots are for her dog’s ultimate benefit.

    While the dog is getting shots, all he can think is, “why oh why is my owner letting them do this to me? It hurts so bad! Why is she letting this happen?” The dog looks at his owner and cries and cries. He’s in so much pain. “Why is she standing there ignoring my pain? Why isn’t she doing anything? Doesn’t she love me?”

    The gap between the dog’s understanding and his owner’s understanding is vast. If the owner tried to explain to her dog germ theory and why he needed his shots, he wouldn’t understand any of it.

    The gap between God and us must be infinitely more expansive than the gap between our understanding and that of our pets.

    We don’t know completely why bad things happen to good people. We don’t know why some live while some die.

    The restored gospel of Jesus Christ tells us some key information. This information doesn’t completely answer the question of why bad things happen to good people, but it does add important information.

    We all chose to come here.

    We all knew it would be hard.

    Some knew they would experience unimaginable pain.

    We all chose to come here.

    The good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that no pain, no hardship, no difficulty, no tragedy, is without meaning or purpose. It’s all for one great design: to make us better and stronger. Even as I say that, “to make us better and stronger” those words fall flat. Someone experiencing immense pain doesn’t care that they’ll be stronger in the end. Saying “to make us better and stronger” is akin to telling the dog, it’s going to be ok. Our understanding is limited. That doesn’t take away from the fact that everything that happens here is meant for our ultimate good. Everything here is to help us to reach our full potential.

    Do you think that dog understands those shots will help him live longer? Could we possibly understand if God tried to explain to us the mysteries of the universe and how that unimaginable pain can be for our benefit?

    Does this make unimaginable pain easier to endure? I think it does. I’m not in the throes of pain at the moment, though.

    When I thought I might die, and I thought how desperately I would miss my wife and my one month old daughter, when I thought about how I wouldn’t get to teach her to talk, shoot a basketball, or ride a bike, my heart hurt. But then I knew something amazing. I knew that, even if I had to leave my daughter and my wife, I’d see them again. Life is one eternal round with God and nothing would be lost. I knew that if I had to leave, it was for my ultimate benefit, and the benefit of my family. I had to trust God in that moment. That brought me peace.

    Could the farmer’s son have realized that breaking his leg and being limp for the rest of his life would actually save his life? He couldn’t know it. But someone did.

    When bad things happen, take comfort. Trust Him.

    How do we know what is a blessing and what isn’t? We don’t. Someone does. Trust Him.

  • Do I Learn from Ivy?

    Do I Learn from Ivy?

    Sometimes I find myself praying for God to change Ivy.  Not big changes, stuff like, “help her to not be grumpy,” “make her sleep well,” “help her to be happy.”

    Then something hit me that I of course knew but needed to come face to face with. Ivy is just going through her motions.  It’s more important for me to learn to control mine. 

    Ivy can be grumpy, mean, crying, not sleeping, screaming, and causing all other sorts of havoc.  That’s not what matters.  What matters is my patience, my learning, my growth.

    I’ll say it again, Ivy’s going through her motions, and I’m learning to control mine.

    There will come a point when she will be responsible for her actions and will be accountable for her behavior.  How can I expect her to be great at controlling her behavior as she gets older if I haven’t mastered my own behavior yet?  She will learn from my (and Beth’s) example.  It makes me think of the Macklemore song called Growing Up where he says,

    “I’ll be patient, one more month

    You’ll wrap your fingers round my thumb

    Times are changing, I know

    But who am I if I’m the person you become

    If I’m still growing up”

    (Side note, as writing this I almostttt lost my patience as I pulled a piece of paper out of Ivy’s mouth and kept her from deleting everything I just typed.  The joys of fatherhood 😊)

    Back to my point, Ivy does what she does and is what she is, innocent and perfect.  I’m the one that needs to change.

    So, when I find myself mistakenly saying, “Heavenly Father, please comfort Ivy and make her know she is safe and watched over so she can sleep tonight,” instead I say, “Heavenly Father, give me the strength, energy, and patience, that even if Ivy doesn’t sleep a wink tonight, I can help her know she is watched over, I can make her feel comforted, and I can have complete patience with her as she helps me to grow.”

    I am eternally grateful for fatherhood and all it is teaching me.