It’s interesting considering what you can glean about a soul in the signs they give before their arrival.
On Monday 1/20/25, someone asked me if I wanted to play basketball that night, I said I probably shouldn’t because Beth wouldn’t appreciate that. He asked when the baby was coming. I said, “Any day now. She’s being stubborn.”
Maybe because Ivy and Sage both came a week early, maybe because Beth was extremely done with this pregnancy, maybe a combination of factors, but for 14 days leading up to Monday 1/20 we were thinking it would be any day.
That led to a lot of anticipation. WHY AREN’T WE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL?
Friday 1/17 Beth and I spent the night on the couch as she was having irregular contractions most of the night. We were ready at any moment to pack up and leave.
Flash forward to 1/20 and I was at basketball practice when Beth called. She thought it was really happening this time. I told the team and was off, not super optimistic that it was actually happening. Once I arrived at the house, I knew it was happening.
We quickly gathered our bags and were out the door. Ivy and Sage waved with Grandma and Aunt Jane from the front door. I’ll probably always remember that image. My two girls, my world, not fully realizing how their worlds were about to change – in challenging but amazing ways.
I’m writing this from the hospital and I’m so excited for them to meet their new sister.
What Wren lacked in initiative pushing us to the hospital she made up for once we arrived. We got to the hospital around 5:00pm and she was born at 6:05pm.
Ivy and Sage’s births were fast and felt whirlwind-like. This had a whirlwind feel given the pace, but it really didn’t feel frantic at all. It felt very under control. Of course, who am I to say? Beth would probably say it was a complete whirlwind of chaos.
When Beth and I were planning to get married our Bishop at the time had a sit down with us. I remember him commenting on how Beth came from a family of five children and I came from a family of six. He made a statement that I’ve remembered ever since. It was something like, “You two will have no problem having children.”
I’m not sure how he meant it at the time, but with how Ivy, Sage, and now Wren have come, I can’t help but feel like it was a Bishop’s blessing. That’s how I’ve taken it ever since.
Wren’s coming could not have gone any more smoothly.
It felt like a blessed and sanctified process.
It felt guided and protected.
Again, Beth might not agree, I’m ultimately just a bystander to the process. I think she would agree though. Maybe we should ask her.
This isn’t to say that difficult pregnancies or deliveries are any less special. On the contrary, challenges sometimes make the blessings more powerful. We all have our own experiences with this miracle. And that’s what each and every birth is: A miracle.
I am grateful for a strong and capable wife that can do this unimaginable thing. We are blessed that this process has gone well for us three times. I do not take this for granted.
So Wren arrived with a lot more hair at 6:05pm.
I’ve described this process before. See Ivy and Sage’s welcome to life posts. I’ll try to put it into words for a third time.
My heart didn’t split, it expanded. As I looked at Wren, Ivy and Sage flashed before my eyes. I thought about how I loved each of them so powerfully. I can’t remember if I was brought to tears immediately with the other two. Maybe I should go back and read their posts. I wanted to write this before reading Ivy or Sage’s so this could be completely original.
But as I looked at Wren I had to hold back tears. Not sure why the third hit me so hard. Maybe it was the pace of things. Maybe three is a special number, and when your heart expands that third time, something special happens.
I don’t know.
All I know is I love her so much.
It’s crazy, you know. I can’t believe I’m here, on earth. I can’t believe I’ve been given the power and ability to create life. The greatest gift of all existence, the power to create life, and it’s been entrusted to me. I can’t believe I have three daughters. I can’t believe I have a wife that is so special and such a great mother. I can’t believe I’ll get to be with them forever, for the rest of this life, and beyond. I can’t believe Wren was born into a covenant, ensuring that as long as I do my part she will be mine forever. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I often think about what I did to deserve all this. And I can’t for the life of me figure it out.
But I’m anxious to say thank you one day.
So, welcome to this life Wren. It’s hard but rewarding. It’s scary, but if you know why you’re here, there is peace. It is overwhelming, but you’ve been given a family to help with that.
I love you baby girl and look so forward to seeing how your personality shapes and develops to add to our family. Thank you for coming to join us. We love you so.
In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, our temples are sacred. Many people know this by the fact that they aren’t allowed in. This can, understandably, cause some negative emotions. Nobody likes to be excluded from anything.
I heard an anecdote that really stuck with me.
A man was telling a story about when he was a missionary and held Q&A sessions with local churches in the Bible Belt south. One of these sessions, a nice little elderly woman asked a not so nice question, “Why is your church exclusionary and doesn’t let people into your temples?”
The man explained that he immediately realized this woman wasn’t able to attend the sealing of someone she cared about, which created this understandable animosity. He asked the old woman and learned she wasn’t able to attend the temple sealing of a beloved granddaughter.
A somewhat standard response to this question is that it is about worthiness, that you must be worthy to enter the temple. Many Biblical examples can be used to illustrate this point.
As the man was about to respond this way, he felt an impression to not give this standard response. He realized talking about worthiness wouldn’t be right with this woman. This was a Bible loving, Christ loving, Bible belt evangelical Christian. Telling her she wasn’t worthy wouldn’t be fair.
Personally, I would have explained covenants in this moment. That one needs to make sacred covenants to enter certain places. This man received an altogether different impression, and this is the part that struck me.
He asked her, “Do you believe that the Book of Mormon is the word of God.”
She replied, “No offense, but no.”
He asked her, “Do you believe this is Christ’s true church on the face of the earth?”
She replied, “No offense, no, I don’t believe that.”
He asked her, “Do you believe that Joseph Smith is a prophet?”
She replied, “No offense, no.”
Each time he told her he didn’t blame her for not believing it. That if it weren’t for the witness of the spirit to him, he wouldn’t believe it himself. He then asked her, “Do you believe that ancient prophets came to earth to bestow the keys of the sealing power to bind on earth what is bound in heaven as Matthew details in chapter 16?”
She replied, “That’s in Matthew 16? I never thought of that. But no, I don’t believe that.”
The man told her that’s OK, but he does believe all those things. Then he transitioned somewhere I did not expect, the story of Jairus’s daughter being raised from the dead (Mark 5:22-43, Luke 8:40-56).
The man asked her if she knew the story and of course this avid Bible studier knew it.
He directed her attention to the moment when Christ arrived at the home. The girl was dead. Those there mourning mocked Christ when He said she was just sleeping.
Then what did Christ do?
He “put them all out.”
Christ had to remove all the lack of faith from the room. Christ, the Master. He let Peter, James, and John stay. He let the mother and the father stay. They had faith. He removed all those that didn’t believe.
The man explained that when he goes to a temple, it’s not a marriage ceremony. It’s not until death do us part. Just like when Christ brought that girl back from the dead, telling death that it had no power before Him, the same is happening in temples. The priesthood power of temple sealing is telling death, “You can’t have this couple. This couple is protected. This couple is sealed. Even in death, death can not split them up. They are one. They are united.” It’s as if Christ Himself is saying, “They are mine, and you cannot have them.”
That is what happens in Christ’s temples. Couples are sealed.
The man then explained that when he attends a temple sealing, his faith becomes part of it. He contributes his faith to that couple. His provides his belief that they will be sealed for eternity.
He then explained, “You admitted you don’t believe these things. Would you mingle your lack of belief in a place of faith? Would you have Christ keep the nonbelievers in the room to see the miracle?”
Now, this isn’t the only reason people who aren’t members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints can’t enter temples. Worthiness is a part of it. As I already mentioned, covenants are a part of it.
But I loved this part I’d never thought about, faith is also part of it.
I am grateful that God provided a plan and His Son so that I can be sealed to my family for eternity. I love my family. I never want to leave them. Now I look at Ivy, Sage, Beth. I can’t fathom a life without them. They are everything. I thank God every day for the sealing power and the gift He has allowed me to be sealed to them for time and all eternity.
I don’t know why it happened. I don’t know what happened. That’s why I’m writing it. Maybe writing it down will help me to understand.
It’s 1/2/25 at 9:00 in the morning. It’s my first day back at work in something like 2 weeks. I’m driving to a client’s office. I’m listening to a podcast called Y Religion. They’re discussing 50 relics of the restoration; 50 items from the time the gospel of Jesus Christ was being restored.
They mention a microphone used by Spencer W. Kimball. I love Spencer W. Kimball. He is one of my favorite prophets.
As I’m writing this, I’m remembering what they talked about before this microphone. What they talked about before this microphone was the original manuscript of Jesus the Christ written by James E. Talmage. They emphasized that the writing of Jesus the Christ, one of the most impactful books of my life, was inspired by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints attempting to re-emphasize its focus on what is most important: Jesus Christ.
The podcasters said sometimes the culture needs to be reminded of what our most important focus is.
I wondered if the Church needs that reminder again today.
I remember thinking that President Russell M. Nelson, a prophet today, is trying.
They talked about the microphone. Brad Wilcox, the provider of one of my all-time favorite talks/speeches/dissertations (His Grace is Sufficient) started talking about Spencer W. Kimball. He shared a story from when he was on his mission and for the first time would hear a radio broadcast of General Conference. Back in those days, certain countries only got Conference in written word months after Conference completed. Brad Wilcox as a young missionary was disappointed when the radio turned on and he realized it was just a translator. Of course it was a translator. The message needed to be broadcast to this particular area in Spanish.
Then, he said, Spencer W. Kimball came on the radio with his telltale, well-known scratchy voice. The small group of saints asked Brad, “Who is that????”
He replied, and as he told the story he choked up, “That is the prophet of God.”
On the podcast, they then started to discuss the sacrifice that Spencer Kimball went through – losing his vocal cords and continuing to preach, speak regularly, and guide God’s church.
I thought about that sacrifice.
What have we gone through?
Have we lost our vocal cords and then been asked to continue to preach?
I thought about that sacrifice. I thought about that prophet of God. I thought about that voice.
And while I was driving in the car, I was crying. I didn’t even know I was crying. I didn’t know why I was crying. I still don’t know why I was crying.
I started thinking about why I was crying.
They talked about the kindness of Spencer W. Kimball and how losing his vocal cords made him so gentle, so empathetic to the suffering of others.
I thought about my current calling as Elders Quorum President.
I thought about how much I fall short in that calling.
I thought about telling my quorum that I’m a bad ministering brother. But I try. And asking them, who are also bad ministering brothers, to also try.
I thought about all the suffering I’ve learned about in our ward since becoming president. I thought about all the loneliness and sickness and illness and suffering and heartache.
I thought about my daughters.
I thought about the client I was about to see and some of the personal things he had told me about his family when he invited me to a Suns game once.
I thought about the suffering of his family.
I thought about all the suffering my daughters would have to endure in this life.
And I asked why.
And I cried harder.
And I reminded myself of why.
We know the why. Luckily, I know the why. I’ve written about it here a hundred times.
And then I pulled up to a light. And I looked directly at a homeless man. And I thought about giving him a dollar. And I wondered if the light was going to change. And I thought about how I didn’t want him to have to limp over to me for a dollar. Then he started to limp over to me. And I let him pass. And I let him walk back by me. And I wondered if he had a drug addiction.
And I thought about all the suffering in the world.
And I cried.
I wrote this. And I still don’t know quite what it means.
I know the world is going to get a lot harder and there’s going to be a lot of suffering.
And I’m going to ask why, despite knowing the answer.
And I realize that sometimes knowing why will make it easier, maybe even help, and sometimes, maybe it won’t.
And I worry about my daughters.
And I worry about this world.
And I worry about all the lost and lonely people.
And I wonder why.
And I want Jesus Christ to come back so it can stop. I want to help. But my efforts seem so small and fruitless. I’m a bad ministering brother and a bad Elders Quorum President and I wonder, I can’t possibly be who God needs in this position now.
And I feel so small.
And I just want Christ to come back and fix it all.
But I know before that happens this all has to get a lot harder. It has to get so much harder.
And I worry.
And I have faith.
And I wonder if my faith is enough.
And I cry.
So I wipe my eyes and blow my nose, hoping the client can’t tell that I’ve been crying. And I go about my day, always with why in the back of my mind.
On 11/2/24 I learned an Olympic Triathlon includes a .93 mile swim, 25 mile cycle, and 6.2 mile run. I also learned an Ironman includes a swim of 2.4 miles, cycle of 112 miles, and run of 26 miles.
I learned this at the tail end of completing roughly 2x an Olympic Triathlon or roughly ½ an Ironman. At no point, until I was near the end of this challenge, did I know that’s what I was doing.
Here is the story.
The word Misogi is a Japanese word that means “water cleansing.”
Misogi has come to represent a challenge that pushes your limits to help expand what you believe is possible.
There are two requirements to a Misogi challenge:
1 – There must be no risk of death.
2 – There must be at least a 50% chance of failure.
I heard about the concept of a Misogi a few months ago. I immediately started putting together my list of possible Misogi challenges.
Another important aspect of a Misogi challenge is that it should be unexpected. The idea is to be physically and mentally prepared at all times.
I discussed it with my brother when I first heard of the idea. He had heard of it already. I sent him my list of ideas.
Flash forward a few months and Misogi couldn’t be farther from my mind.
Beth had an unknown appointment on our family calendar labeled “Beth Plans.” Mysterious. I assumed it was a shopping appointment or something. My second hint was my work’s on-call schedule was being put together and I asked Beth about “Beth Plans.” She let me know I would not have cell service all of Saturday.
I didn’t have much time to think about this though, because life is busy.
Friday night I went to sleep not knowing what was happening the next day.
I woke up to a message from Beth:
“Pack a bag with:
Swimsuit and goggles and towel
Running clothes and good socks (including your basketball tights)
Wear:
Basketball tights and basketball shorts
Athletic top
Athletic jacket
Your best shoes for running
Good socks”
30 minutes later I opened our front door to my mom and dad, brothers Garrick and Easton, and soon-to-be sister-in-law Arielle.
It wasn’t until then that I noticed the last line of Beth’s text:
“Stretch like you would for basketball.”
I got a little stretching in before I was off to I didn’t know what. I received another hint from the bikes on the back of my parents’ car. It was during the drive that I learned we were doing a Misogi.
We drove to P+R Power Road. My dad, Garrick, Easton, and I mounted our bikes and started for the mountains to Butcher Jones Recreation Area:
We biked 16.55 miles in 1 hour and 23 minutes.
There were stretches during this 16.55 miles that I thought, “This is it? Surely Garrick planned something harder than this.” Careful what you wish for.
I spent much of that 16 miles breathing, meditating, and praying in gratitude for a family that not only let me do crazy things but planned crazy things for me to do.
We got to Saguaro Lake. I’d never been there. It was a beautiful lake.
I was told we were swimming. Before I changed into my swimsuit I emphasized that I wasn’t sure I could swim at all. But I’d try. Our trail car had gone ahead and we took a kayak into the water to make sure we didn’t drown.
As we stepped into the water, it was freezing. Remember this was November. Garrick said it was the perfect temperature for a long-distance swim. He almost convinced me. We started swimming. We swam along the side of the lake. We swam out to the edge and Garrick said we could swim back. I realized we didn’t have a destination, just a distance to accomplish.
We swam back toward shore and started swimming back out again. On the way back out to the edge I asked Garrick, for the first time in any of this, how long we were swimming. He said 1 mile. Oh, great, we could do that no problem. How far had we swum? I asked. I was thinking we’d already done half a mile and I could easily do what I’d done so far one more time. 0.2 miles was the response. What?!
We started swimming out around the edge. We lost Easton. He stopped along the side of the hill next to the water. The rest of us went out into open water. Multiple parts of my body were starting to cramp. We got to a rocky shore around the edge and all of us started to shiver uncontrollably.
In hopes that movement would warm us up, we dove out into the water again. I realized movement was not helping. I was completely numb. We’d done roughly half a mile and I was shaking uncontrollably. Garrick finally admitted it was cold. We had swam .5 miles in 40 minutes.
We got back to the rocky side shore, apparently less than .2 miles from starting shore, and were ferried back one at a time as my groin/hamstring/leg/neck cramped repeatedly. My dad’s feet were white/blue. Garrick was practically convulsing with shivers.
When I got taken to shore I went and sat on a park bench in the sun to warm up. I found myself staring in fascination at ants. I think my brain was low on oxygen or something. I felt funny.
We got back to the car and I was told the joke made earlier – that we were biking back – wasn’t a joke. I said I seriously didn’t think I could do that. Most of the final mile or two of that 16.55 miles to Saguaro Lake was straight downhill. So, being the brilliant person I am, I realized the first two miles out of here would be straight uphill.
For the second time that day, after saying I didn’t think it was possible, I mounted my bike and tried.
Easton decided not to join us on this stretch of the bike ride.
Those couple miles uphill were moderately strenuous. But I realized it was a relatively moderate incline. From there it was an easy 2-mile coast to our next checkpoint.
I was feeling great. Bring on the world.
We did a quick water/nutrient refill. Easton, having bailed on the last bike ride, was having major regrets so he joined back up for the next stretch.
We discussed our options. The plan was to take a more scenic route back to our original starting point at P+R Power Road instead of going the way we had come. Bring it on. Little did we know.
Usery Mountain Pass. It must have been an 80-degree incline
For those who don’t understand math, that’s a joke. Point is it was steep. It was straight uphill. We didn’t know that until we kept going… and going… and going… and going… all uphill.
At one point we finally took a break. Legs were about to give out. Chests were rupturing with exploding lungs. Hearts were failing.
“It’s gotta be downhill at the end of this last incline, at that curve up ahead.”
Yeah… sure, Garrick. Just like that water at Saguaro Lake wasn’t cold. In our hearts, we knew better. We’d all thought the last dozen curves up ahead would lead to our desired downhill. They all continued to go upward.
That was 4 miles straight uphill. We took two breaks. It was brutal.
It was so strange coming out of the trail back into society. It’s not like we travelled out into a wilderness but… I guess we kind of did. We went from this mountain pass to starting to see a smattering of houses, to suddenly going over a highway overpass. I wondered what we looked like to civilized folk. Disheveled, shirtless, covered in lake and other gunk. We were suddenly thrust back onto paved roads with real bike paths.
The good thing about going up is you then get to go down. Though, those four miles were so long and arduous I did start to question the laws of physics. Eventually, we did come to a peak. The way down was much more enjoyable.
We got back to our car where my mom and Arielle were waiting.
Remember, I never knew what was coming next. Like biking straight uphill, with the thought of a peak and downward slope to come, I approached every checkpoint wondering if this was the end, or at least close to it.
I cautiously monitored reactions, trying to get a read on the situation. Garrick was constantly making jokes about what was next. It wasn’t until the very end of the Misogi Challenge that I realized Garrick was never joking. His comments just seemed so ludicrous and impossible that I assumed they were jokes.
As we sat around the car, me gauging the situation, Garrick said we had 20 miles to go on the bike.
“Not going to happen.” My reply.
But, my body hadn’t given up yet. I asked if there were any 4-mile uphill stretches to contend with. I was assured it was level ground to our next stop.
Here’s the thing, when you haven’t been on a bike for more than a 30-minute stretch in at least 5 years, miles 30-50 are pretty hard, no matter the terrain or steepness.
My dad decided to take a break. Seemed like his bike was vastly underperforming to the other three so it was a smart decision. Garrick, Easton, and I mounted our bikes and started off.
We rode 10 miles to a Dunkin Doughnuts. As we approached the Dunkin my hamstrings started to cramp so bad that I had to stretch full length any chance I got to coast on my bike, which wasn’t often. The thing with level terrain is you’re peddling almost nonstop.
At Dunkin I chugged as much water as I could. I felt like I drank too much water and might throw up. I told everyone I would try the last 10 miles but warned our trail car to be ready to come pick me up. The water chugging apparently saved my cramping for another 10 miles. I only had to stop once and stretch my legs. After that, I was able to make it.
Proof of Dunkin Stop
We rode our bikes to a parking lot at a park near Rio Salado Pathway. As we approached the car, I asked Garrick how many miles we had done total on our bikes. 49.25. That’s no good. So we rode around the parking lot 3 times to hit an even 50 miles on the bike.
Tally so far:
50 miles on bike.
½ mile freezing swim.
I could barely walk.
What now?
Garrick asked me the most continuous miles I had ever run. I said probably 2 miles. Everyone laughed.
A 13-mile run was planned.
Again I thought he was joking. How many times during this adventure had I said, “Not going to happen”?
Yet again, I decided I’d try. This was the point of a Misogi after all.
My mom and Arielle rode bikes along with us on the trail as we started jogging. “Jogging” may be a generous term. I was putting one foot in front of the other, I’ll say that.
I did roughly 0.75-1 mile jog, 0.25 mile walk for 11 miles. It was going to be 10 miles but somehow we missed our turn on the way back and ended up going half a mile further than intended. All I can say is my mind wasn’t functioning at full capacity.
By the end, jogging was nearly impossible for my body. I won’t say impossible. But a lot of things were starting to give out.
We coordinated dinner and met Beth at a Mexican restaurant. When we arrived Sage was screaming but happy to see me. I almost turned down holding her, afraid I would fall with her in my arms. For the last time that day, I did something I wasn’t sure I could do. I held Sage and stayed standing, one step in front of the other, to go get a table reserved.
We started our journey at around 9:30am and walked off Rio Salado Trail around 7:30pm.
What I learned:
As with any Misogi, I learned the primary lesson: we can do much more than we think we’re capable of. Our bodies are capable of amazing things.
Another thing I learned was how much a break could do for the body. When we were on that uphill climb on Usery Mountain Pass, I was sure I would need to start walking my bike. My legs felt like they were completely done. I wasn’t sure I could walk my bike, but I “knew” I couldn’t ride it. We took a 2-minute break and I felt like a new man. It encouraged me to know that, no matter how much it seemed like my body was giving out, all it really needed was a short reprieve to be able to pick right back up.
The same thing happened in those last ten miles of biking. When my hamstrings were both cramping, all I needed was 5 bottles of water and a 5-minute break and my body was able to keep going. When I thought I would die jogging, I would start walking, and I could jog again within a couple minutes.
The whole day was more a mental battle than a physical battle. If I’d known what was in store, I may have given up much earlier in the day. I always thought, “Maybe this is it,” which kept me putting one foot in front of the other.
There are already whispers of plans for next year’s Misogi Challenge.
There is a Neil deGrasse Tyson video that I watched early on in my parenting journey that has helped me ever since. In the video, Tyson points out that when a child makes a mess, or destroys something, or does something seemingly with the only purpose being to drive a parent insane, they’re really just experimenting. Everything around a child is new to them. When a child throws their plate off the table for the tenth time, they’re doing their tenth experiment to see how that plate flies, where it lands, and how the food splatters.
Children aren’t trying to make a mess. They’re trying to experiment. When you realize this fact you can also realize that being too harsh on a child making a mess sometimes discourages them from experimentation that can help their mind grow.
It goes without saying that sometimes you need to draw the line: some experiments can be dangerous, and that eleventh plate throw doesn’t necessarily need to happen.
I couldn’t find the exact Neil deGrasse Tyson video I saw those years ago, but these three videos share similar messages that I believe are extremely beneficial for parents to see, especially new parents.
“Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3).
I think about this scripture often. There are so many traits of children. Which ones were Jesus Christ primarily referring to?
Humility.
Kindness.
Trust.
Faith.
Joy.
Enthusiasm.
Curiosity.
Forgiving.
Energetic.
I read this quote recently:
“Your child is endlessly curious — maybe you’ll learn something, too. Your child is so enthusiastic — maybe some of that energy will rub off on you. Your child is forgiving — no matter what happens today, you can count on a 3-year-old to start tomorrow with a fresh outlook and ready smile. Your child sees the world with wonder.”
I think that quote sums up what Christ meant when He said we should be like children.
Curious.
Enthusiastic.
Forgiving.
Fresh outlook.
Ready smile.
Wonder.
In the midst of being a parent – the chaos of day-to-day life – sometimes it’s easy to forget the miracle that children are. I’m glad I have my kids to look at every day and see the wonder, the ready smiles, the fresh outlooks. The forgiveness, the enthusiasm, and the curiosity.
As I sit here finishing writing this and Sage slowly walks around a coffee table with a little toy motorcycle, and sees me looking at her, and excitedly holds up the motorcycle and says “Look Daddy!” And Ivy, pretending to be Luna Lovegood, brings me, Harry Potter, a new “project” of French fries and dominos on a paper plate, and happily gives it to me, I’m reminded that I need to be a little more childlike today.
I’ll put this away now so I can go be a child with my girls.
No Coincidences 