No Coincidences

Tag: growth

  • 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.

  • Letter to a Lost Testimony

    Letter to a Lost Testimony

    Someone close to me once said, “I hope you never lose your testimony.  I’ve lost almost everything in life.  I’ve lost a wife, jobs, money, houses, cars, friends; but none of it, none of it, compares to losing my testimony.  I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.”

    This person, I’m very close with, I love him very much.  This person has completely “fallen away” from the Church, as we say. 

    He is a great person.

    I could have been him.

    I could have gotten confused by doctrine, church history, and the plethora of other things to get confused by.  I could have lost sight of the most important thing – Jesus Christ.  It could happen to any of us.

    I’ve long thought and pondered to myself ‘how can I help him return?’ Maybe I’m starting to learn I can maybe help him return, but I won’t be able to make him return.  I’ve thought about lectures on DNA, elephants, steel, and horses.  I’m prepared to discuss it all.  But in the end that doesn’t matter.  It really doesn’t.  The Book of Mormon will have its day.  Every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that Jesus is the Christ. 

    Getting into the discussions that led him away from the church – DNA, horses, elephants – that’s not going to help him return.  Only the spirit, which I know he once felt, can help him return.

    So, here is my letter to you.  This is to a particular person in my life, but I think it can apply to so many people, to so many lives.

    Thank you.  Thank you for that quote you told me once above.  I think about it often.  Thank you for your kind heart, thank you for being an example to me.  Thank you for reminding me that Christ’s Church is sometimes only as good as we make it.  Thank you for encouraging me to read, and study, and KNOW it’s true.  Your study of the gospel is legendary.  I’ve heard of it not just from others.  I know you studied.  At some point you were deceived.  No more flattering words or trying to softly deliver this message to your ego.  You were deceived.

    It’s not too late.  It’s not too late to remember.  It’s not too late to regain your testimony.  You talk as if a testimony, once lost, can never return.  As if you know too much and you can’t go back.  I’m here to remind you, as I know God has over the past decades, that you know nothing.  Try to read again, please.  That’s all I ask.  If only to prove me wrong.  I know where peace comes from, and I want to remind you.

    I know maybe The Church isn’t for everybody in this life.  Or maybe that’s something I think so I don’t feel as bad when I can’t help someone see what I see and find the peace I’ve found.  I know you’re happy.  I know you’re OK.  But I also know you can come back to so much more.

    Finally, you were and are a good dad.  You made mistakes.  Your children love you immensely, I know that.  Don’t ever confuse your mistakes to be unforgivable.  I know life as a father isn’t always perfect.  You have children as stubborn and as difficult as you are (I’m looking at all of you).  Another thing you said about my dad has stuck with me since you said it roughly 9 years ago.  I am lucky to have him, but I want to remind you that your family is lucky to have you too.  We’re all lucky to have you.

    I love you and so does He.

  • The Mourning Dove

    The Mourning Dove

    The Mourning Dove was one of my favorite books of 2020.  It’s the first book I made Beth read.  I read it in 2 days which isn’t much to brag about at only 84 pages.

    The inside cover reads:

    “A tender story of growing up, exploring life, exploring life, and discovering the boundaries and the defining moments of love.”

    The back cover reads:

    “The Mourning Dove is heart touching. It penetrates your soul and makes you glad to be alive.”

    -Mark Victor Hansen, co-author of Chicken Soup for the Soul

    This story is so good, so uplifting, so all the good things.  I will put it at the top of books I would recommend to someone.  It’s especially easy to recommend because it’s such a quick and easy read.  I know people are increasingly busy and it’s hard to find time to sit down and read a long book.  This book is short and sweet.  You will finish it feeling like you’ve grown immensely after spending time with Pop, the main character’s grandpa.

    After finishing the book, I wanted to write a screenplay.  This book would make such a good movie.  The message in it is simple. The story of a young boy learning adult lessons is timeless.

    I had no idea Larry Barkdull wrote another book I loved titled Zion: Seeking the City of Enoch.  Mr. Barkdull has an easy-going writing style that I enjoy because it’s not so difficult to follow.  His stories flow and are combined with good messages.  I’ve walked away from both his books feeling like I’ve learned something about life and myself.

    I can’t say enough good things about this book.  It can be found online for like a dollar.  Buy it.  You won’t regret it.

    Sadly, while looking up information about this book I learned that Larry Barkdull passed away in 2016.  I’d like to share this from his obituary:

    Many will remember him as their gospel doctrine teacher, home teacher and friend, as he tended to the needs of those he loved. Larry also served weekly in the temple as an ordinance worker, a calling he cherished. Above all else, Larry’s greatest joy was his family. The only title he wished to follow his name was D.A.D. He left his family a legacy of great faith and leaves a hole that can never be filled. Words cannot express the least of what we feel. We love you. Our hearts are broken, but we know we will be together again.”

    I don’t know how you can read that without a tear coming to your eye.  Mr. Barkdull was clearly an inspired and important individual sent for an important purpose in God’s plan.  I’m grateful I got to see a glimpse into his soul through his writing. 

  • RIP Coach

    RIP Coach

    I often think about the people God put around me in my life.  I’m obviously not the center of the universe, but sometimes, when I think about all those who have looked out for me throughout my life, it’s hard not to feel like that.

    There’s an individual in my life who played a critical role at two of the most important junctures in my life.  He was a dear friend, coach, mentor. 

    What’s so funny is, Coach Gonzalez never actually coached me.  Jessie Gonzalez was the athletic director at my high school.  Coach Gonzalez got close with most of the teams he looked over as athletic director.  The basketball program was no exception.

    My senior year at Cimarron we went to a tournament in Hawaii.  Coach Gonzalez came on that trip to “watch” us, or chaperone, I guess.  On that trip, Coach Gonzalez went from Coach Gonzalez to Gonzo, or just Coach.

    Gonzo looked out for me throughout high school.  Many don’t know this now, but I needed a lot of looking out for at that time. 

    I had bonded with Gonzo a bit on the Hawaii trip, but he wasn’t someone I would have considered a close friend or confidant.  That is until I really, really needed someone to talk to.  Then he was there, at the most difficult time of my life.  Somehow, for reasons I won’t understand until I see the bigger picture, Gonzo was the phone call I made.  He helped me through some very difficult things. I look forward to speaking to God, and Him showing me how critical that moment was.  I look forward to seeing why Gonzo was there at that precise moment, and why God made sure I reached out to him.

    We stayed in loose contact as I left high school.

    Gonzo had a few of us he took under his wing and looked out for.  I felt truly blessed to be “one of his boys.”

    After high school, this fascinating thing happened where the roles Gonzo played in my life morphed.  He went from 100% mentor to 50% mentor and 50% friend.  Gonzo was only 11 years older than me.  Not that many years, in the grand scheme. 

    In 2015 I went to a birthday party in Houston.  It was a relative of Gonzo’s and made no sense for me to be there.  It was really just an excuse to go to Houston and see Gonzo, who had moved to Michigan, and I hadn’t seen since high school.  That trip is so memorable.  I’m not going to elaborate any further.  During that trip Gonzo stayed a 50% mentor but also became one of my closest friends, a lifelong friend.

    The second, extremely critical cross roads in my life-  I was trying to return to church.  Who did I turn to?  Who talked me through a year plus of difficulty, repentance, trials, temptations, questions, doubts, uncertainties?  Countless hours were spent on the phone with him.  He was going to see me through.

    Gonzo isn’t a member of my church.  He’s a member of a grander organization.  He’s a brother and an angel that was here to look over me and guide me.  I’m not sure I’d be an active member of my church today without his guidance. That was the power of Coach.  He didn’t need to be a member of my church to help me with something so important.  He only needed to listen, love me, help me.

    Another moment I’ll never forget, I was only a couple months into trying to return into activity in the Church.  Satan was hard at work in those first months.  I could go on and on about what he put before me during those months.

    One of those temptations was a staycation at my favorite place at the time, Talking Sticks Resort.  I was still playing poker.  During this weekend that TSR gave me a free suite to stay in, there was a huge summer pool party.  My room overlooked the pool, of course.

    Imagine me for a moment.  Just a couple months into not drinking.  Here I am at Talking Stick Resort, in a super nice room, overlooking a pool filled with beautiful people and all my temptations.  I was literally in the great and spacious building.  I had alcohol in the fridge.  For those who don’t know this feeling, I can’t describe the pull.  I don’t have words to describe the need to drink alcohol, go to the pool, let myself fully embrace this staycation.

    I had worked so hard.  I was going to church and making good choices.  Surely, I could give myself this one weekend, right?

    I was going to drink and join this party.  There was really no doubt.  As much as I told myself I wouldn’t, I was going to. 

    I can’t remember if I called him.  There’s a chance he called me.  I talked to Coach Gonzo.  In true Jessie fashion, he didn’t tell me not to drink.  He talked me through it.  He told me it was a choice I had to make.  He reminded me how hard I’d worked to return to church and stop drinking.

    Then, almost nonchalantly, as if an afterthought, Coach said the most critical thing.  He said, “You can drink and get wild and crazy, but man, after not drinking for as long as you’ve gone, tomorrow is going to suck.  That hangover is going to be bad.  Hangover aside, how are you going to feel about yourself in the morning?”

    That was all I needed to hear.

    For those wondering, I did join the pool party.  I hung out, walked around.  I didn’t embrace the party.  I owe Jessie, Coach, Gonzo for that.  I may owe him my now 5 years of sobriety.

    Jessie Gonzalez left this stage of his coaching journey 6/8/21.  He had some new people to coach and mentor, and he couldn’t do that here.  I will miss him dearly.  I already wonder who I will turn to when I need to be guided through the next trial.  Part of me thinks he could move on because he already got me to the point where I can take care of myself.  Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need him anymore. The greater and more comforting truth is that you always need a mentor and friend like Gonzo, and he’s still there for me, more than ever now.

    He was light.  And he was joy.  Nobody brought together a room like him. 

    He protected me from harm while here, both physically and spiritually.

    I thought of something interesting last night.  It hit me that Gonzo likely, just recently, had his life review.  It brought me so much joy to think of him getting to see all the good he had done.  I considered him getting to see every moment he impacted me and how big a role he played in my life.  I thought about the net of goodness and light he spread while he was here.

    It brought a smile to my face to know that he got to see his Savior.  He was embraced, and loved, and free from the difficulties of this world.

    He can coach in purity now, for, a purer heart there never was. 

    I miss him a lot now. Though I can’t hear his voice or see his face, he’ll continue to be with me, coaching from above. I look forward to the reunion.

    I love you Jessie, Coach, Gonzo, and I thank you for all you did for me.

  • Laura

    Laura

    Tomorrow is the three-year anniversary of my Aunt Laura passing away.  Laura was an inspiration to everyone she met.  She had a profound impact on my life.

    I want to share a little about her and why she was so special.

    Laura was diagnosed with cancer when I was younger.  As long as I can remember, Laura had cancer.  When I first found out, it was scary, but I was young and didn’t understand.  When Laura was still there year after year I really didn’t understand.  What was so scary?  She clearly wasn’t going anywhere, she was as healthy as ever.  I’m pretty sure within a year of her first being diagnosed my next memory of Laura was her, my mom, and another aunt going on a sling shot carnival ride.  I remember thinking, “clearly she’s ok.”

    It wasn’t until I was older that I learned and better understood what Laura went through for many years.  She was diagnosed with cancer at a young age, I believe she was 28.  She wasn’t expected to live too long.  It’s amazing to think that I’m 30 now.  Two years older than she was when she was told she wouldn’t have much longer to live.  I feel invincible every day.  Death is not something that crosses my mind (see Facing Death for the exception to the rule).  The thought of truly coming to terms with my mortality tomorrow is daunting.

    Cancer made Laura live life with a fervor that was powerful to witness.  She lived every moment to its fullest.  She went to school to get (more) degrees, she travelled, she wrote, she served.  She spent every moment in the most worthwhile way.

    When I would visit her, I would want to relax, watch movies, read.  She was a big fan of reading, but relaxing, watching movies?  Not going to happen.  I’ll share a story I told at her funeral. 

    It was 2011 and I was visiting Utah.  I was staying with Laura and my Uncle Jon for a few days.  See You Sent a Dog to Comfort a Boy and Jonah and the Whale posts for more details on this all-important trip in my life.  Laura used a pass she had for me to do a free skiing class.  I had never been on snow with a board or skis in any capacity.  After the class we were able to go up the mountain.  Remember, this is my first time ever on skis.  We’re going up and I’m seeing signs about diamonds and circles and squares.  I don’t know what it all means.  Laura explains Black Diamonds are the hardest.  We’re heading towards a Black Diamond.  I don’t even know how to get off a ski lift.

    Garrick and Laura skiing

    I voiced some concern about this, and she told me to quit worrying, I’d be fine.  So, my first time ever on a mountain and I’m doing Black Diamonds.  How could I possibly argue?  Here’s my aunt in her 40’s daring me to say something so she could call me all sorts of wimpy and scared.

    We started down the mountain and I was having a rough go.  I was up and down constantly.  I was spending more time on my back than on my skis.  I hadn’t mastered stopping yet so whenever I gained speed I would fall to keep from losing control.  Laura, meanwhile, was the epitome of consistency.  Left to right… left to right… slow and steady.  She’d get way ahead of me then stop and watch me clumsily fall down the mountain. 

    When we finished, I was exhilarated.  It was the most fun I’d ever had.  I loved the mountain.  We were driving home and I called my mom.  I excitedly told her about the day.  When I mentioned Laura and I went down the mountain together she yelled over the speaker, “Moofy you what?!?!”  Moofy was Laura’s nickname.  I learned that Laura had recently had pelvic surgery on her pelvic bone that had shattered.  I don’t think she was supposed to leave the house.  Her consistent nature down the mountain was partly to protect her frail bones from any potential impact from falling.  In fact, if she fell, she likely would have broken multiple bones.

    I learned something that day that I’ll never forget.  Laura was consistent, smooth, never wavering.  She was steadfast until the end.  She was always an example of strength and perseverance.  They were qualities I admired in her.  The other thing I learned was that Aunt Laura was never going to let anything slow her down.  She didn’t care if she was supposed to stay in bed, she wanted to ski with her nephew.  No wonder she had no sympathy for my worry about Black Diamonds.  I was young, healthy, the worst that was going to happen to me was a sore backside by the end.  She had the real possibility of a shattered bone with any fall.  What did I have to worry about?

    That is one of my fondest memories.  Laura taught me so much and I’m forever grateful for the example she was to me.  It brings me so much comfort to know she’s now moved on from my angel here on earth to my guardian angel in heaven.  I know she’s very busy up there because someone with her will, faith, and drive is being put to work by Heavenly Father.  But, in times when I’m in the most need, I will pray for Heavenly Father to spare her for a brief moment to be with and comfort me.  When I make this request, it warms my heart to know she’s quickly coming to my side.  I am excited to one day see her again and thank her for all she did for me here. 

    Love you, Aunt Laura.

    Rest in peace doesn’t work for you so instead I’ll say, keep busy, and I’ll see you soon.