No Coincidences

Tag: kindness

  • 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.

  • Book Review: LeGrand Richards Beloved Apostle

    Book Review: LeGrand Richards Beloved Apostle

    LeGrand Richards: Beloved Apostle

    By Lucile Christenson Tate

    Copyright 1982

    _______________________

    I was excited to read this book because LeGrand Richards wrote one of the most impactful books for my life that I’ve ever read – A Marvelous Work and a Wonder.

    I think the best way to honor this book is to honor the amazing man LeGrand Richards was.

    Testimony Archives - BYU Speeches

    He was a mission president, presiding Bishop, and member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He was an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ.  I believe near the end of his life he was in very close communication with Jesus Christ.

    One of his greatest contributions to the building up of God’s kingdom here on earth has been the writing A Marvelous Work and a Wonder.   One of my favorite books of all time.  I don’t know how a person can read that book and still question the claims of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

    In life LeGrand was one of the greatest missionaries of this dispensation.  He was described by someone in this book as the Paul of the latter days.  I was extremely motivated by his example and boldness in sharing the gospel throughout his life. 

    One great missionary story about LeGrand Richards in the book comes from Bruce R. McConkie. Elder McConkie tells of a time he was sitting in the back of a plane waiting for it to take off.  LeGrand got on the plane and shook the hand of every single person. “He started at the front and walked the full length of the plane shaking the hands of everyone aboard – people he’d never seen before – and he asked each one if he or she was a Mormon.” After speaking to each person on the plane he went back up to the front, turned, and said, “There are seventeen of us on board tonight. Isn’t it wonderful to belong to the Church?” Bruce R. McConkie continued, “The plane was full of non-Mormons, some had never heard of Mormons, but that is exactly what he did…all over the plane people smiled, laughed, were pleased. He hadn’t offended. He hadn’t hurt anyone’s feelings and he’d left a good impression and feeling for the Church.” He was a kind, gentle, and somewhat funny old man.  Can you imagine the impact this act had on that plane?  The feeling of fellowship that would be present?  The missionary discussions and promotion of the Gospel of Jesus Christ that could then occur?

    I can imagine someone leaning over, “who is that man?”

    A response, “He is an Apostle of the Lord, Jesus Christ.”

    To LeGrand Richards:  Thank you.  Thank you for writing amazing books.  Thank you for being an example of service to the Lord, and to others.  Thank you for being a source of truth and light to this world.  All I know of you is what I’ve read.  That’s enough to tell me I greatly look forward to meeting you one day, if I ever get that privilege.

    ________________________

    LeGrand Richards spoke in General Conference a total of 22 times. He was known for speaking purely from his heart and through the spirit. He could go on and on with profound spiritual insights. Here is his second talk in General Conference in October of 1971, “Laying a Foundation for the Millennium.”

  • White Privilege

    White Privilege

    I’ve tried to think if there’s something I can write right now.  There’s nothing I can write that will change the world.  That’s desperately what I’d like to do.  Maybe I could write something that makes a tiny difference. A friend of mine who is in a better position to speak on the pain being experienced by so many said in a video that it helps when we speak up. So, I’m speaking up.

    I’ve tried to decide if there’s something I can write for my black brothers and sisters.

    Let me start there.  I’m not saying African American.  No one calls me Finnish-American.  I am American.  My brothers and sisters aren’t African American.  Few of my friends have ever been to Africa.  They’re as American as I am.

    I’m going to give a personal anecdote that taught me something. Before you read, know going in, this is not me giving a commentary about how discrimination happens to white people too or to share that we are all discriminated against. Please get to my point at the end of the story.

    One early evening a couple years ago Beth and I left my condo to go get food.  I took a right turn a bit hastily through a red light, I didn’t yield as I should have.  I saw the police officer behind me.  He followed me briefly and pulled me over.  He came to my window.  He was a young, white, male officer.  Couldn’t have been older than 30.  He approached my window and asked for license and registration.  I handed it to him.

    He took my information back to his vehicle.  He came back and discussed why he pulled me over.  I knew why. 

    He was not being pleasant.  He was not kind.  He seemed angry at the inconvenience of having to pull me over.  He proceeded to tell me that recently someone was killed at a crosswalk because someone like me didn’t yield.  I apologized and said I understood.  I made a mistake and shouldn’t drive like that through crosswalks.  To this day I think about it almost every time I approach a red light.  I should have been more cautious.

    The officer was very…unkind.  I don’t know how else to describe it.  His tone, his demeanor, his stance, everything was aggressive.  Then he looked in at Beth and told her to give him her license.  She told him she didn’t have her license since she wasn’t driving.  This is where the whole situation turned.  He got really angry.  He told her she was required to provide her identification, and not in a nice way.  Beth said that wasn’t true.  She didn’t say it in a nasty way, just stated that wasn’t true and anyways she didn’t have her license on her.

    He then continued by saying that he didn’t know if we had just stolen this car and he needed her license to verify that, and that she was required to provide it.  He had my license and registration for my car in his hands so he knew the car wasn’t stolen.  I politely stated I lived just down the street and we could get her license if it was necessary.  But now he was being nasty and Beth was upset.  He started aggressively telling her, basically, that she was dumb for thinking she didn’t need her license when she left the house. 

    He got out a pen and paper and took down her information and looked her up.  He then told us he had bigger criminals to catch and to get out of here.  He didn’t give me a ticket, just told us to leave.  He told us we wasted his time because he wanted to catch criminals.

    For those wondering – I’ve since checked the legality of leaving your home without identification.  “It is absolutely not illegal to walk around on the street without ID in the United States of America. Under the 4th Amendment of the Constitution you are secure from unreasonable searches and providing your identification is a form of search.”

    I left that interaction feeling uncomfortable. Beth was extremely upset. I felt uneasy. I felt a little abused. I felt like a man took an opportunity from a position of power to make me feel small, to insult my girlfriend, to show his power.

    I’ve told this story to lead to one big, important point:

    At no point in that interaction did I ever fear for my life or fear for the safety of my (then) girlfriend.  It was uncomfortable.  That was it.  I never felt truly threatened. I’ve since thought what it would be like to be in that situation, to feel everything I felt that day, with the added feeling that my life might be in danger. I’ll likely never know what that feels like.

    I know there are good cops everywhere.  I know only some are bad.  Let’s get that completely out of the way.  That is not what this is about.

    That’s not what I’m talking about.  I’m talking about fear and oppression.  I don’t fear like that.  Why?  Why do some of my brothers and sisters have to fear?

    The title of this post is White Privilege. I want to say something I think I’ve realized far too late. Saying white people have white privilege isn’t an insult to white people.  I am white.  There may have been a time when I heard “white privilege” and took offense to this phrase.  Not anymore.  It’s time we accept that we’ve been given a leg up compared to so many others.  White privilege isn’t a personal attack on me.  It’s a fact.  We have to stop taking these statements of fact as an insult.  They’re not.  They’re facts.

    I’m sorry.  I know these words don’t change anything.  I know things need to change. I’m sorry I don’t know how to help change it.  I’m sorry I don’t know how to bring more love into the hearts of every person here.  I’m sorry there are people that hate.  I’m sorry there are people who discriminate.  I’m sorry there are people that kill.  I’m sorry there are people without empathy when a man is begging for air.  I’m sorry.  I know it doesn’t change anything. 

    I love my black brothers and sisters.  I’m sorry you have to fear.  It’s not right.

    I’d like to share two things a friend of mine shared, two ways we can start to make a small difference.

    1. Stop saying the N word. Don’t say it. Ever.
    2. Don’t let the little comments slide by. When you hear racist remarks or comments, speak up. Say something.

    All I can do is speak up, say my part. I know it’s not much. I love you. Many more people love you than you realize. There is more good in the world than we’re lead to believe.  I have to believe that.  I have to hold on to that.  I know that doesn’t change the world.  All I can do is hope.  Hope that love will eventually prevail.  Hope that discrimination and hate will end.  Maybe it won’t in this life. Or maybe we can still change. Maybe we can still make a difference.

    _________________________

    These are some links, videos, music that I’ve viewed recently that have impacted me. Please listen and read:

    President Nelson Calls for Repentance in Statement on Racism:

    https://www.ldsliving.com/President-Nelson-Calls-for-Repentance-in-Statement-on-Racism/s/92936

    Life of Privilege Explained:

    ****EXPLICIT CONTENT WARNING****:

  • Love is Powerful

    Love is Powerful

    I was once asked a question I surprisingly had never truly dived into.  What was different about the first time I met with the bishop when coming back to church?   Why did I come back?

    I’ve written about some of the coincidences leading to me getting to the Bishop’s office and ultimately coming back to church.  But how did I stay?  Coming back once, for a fleeting moment of revival, that’s easy.  What really brought me back?

    I wrote in The Inspiration about cancelling that first appointment with the bishop.  That appointment eventually got rescheduled. 

    I remember walking into Bishop Thurston’s office.  It was a small room, like most bishop’s offices.  I believe there was a picture of the First Presidency, and Christ.  At other points in my life both pictures might have made me feel uncomfortable, unworthy, judged.  Maybe not the picture of Christ.  His image has always brought me warmth, if not alongside guilt.

    First Presidency February 2008 – January  2018

    I remember being so nervous.  What were we going to talk about?  It had been almost 10 years since I sat in a bishop’s office.  Was he going to grill me?  Was I going to have to confess all my sins?  Was this going to be a moment I looked back on in disgust?  Was he going to judge me?  Was he going to wonder what brought this messed up individual into his office?

    And then he smiled.  He shook my hand.

    If you’ve seen the smile of Kody Thurston, you know it.  If you’ve seen the smile of a loving bishop anywhere in this world, you know this smile.  They’re the same anywhere.

    He asked me to sit and I believe he offered the prayer.  Then we started to talk.  I remember not knowing what to do with my hands, I was fiddling with them in my lap.  I remember looking down a lot.  Every time I looked up he would be looking right at me.

    We talked about where I’d been, where I was going, my family.  We got to know each other.  I don’t remember much about the exact conversation.  I do remember what I didn’t feel, judged.

    Then he asked the question, I think it was, “Do you have anything you need to talk about?”  It was a loaded question, but it didn’t feel like it.  I knew if I said no he would move on.

    I had come into that room with zero intention of confessing my sins and opening my heart to a stranger.  Then this strange thing happens in a room with a person who has been sent and commissioned by Jesus Christ for this very purpose.  There’s a feeling in a room when the spirit is there.  It’s overwhelming.  I didn’t say much.  I implied some things; I got some things off my chest.  He didn’t ask much.  He moved forward.  That’s what I remember.  Moving forward.

    I talk about no coincidences.  I know it wasn’t a coincidence that I came back at that time.  Maybe it’s an excuse for me taking so long, but I know that God knew who and what I needed when I came back.  I firmly believe that God waited until I was ready and put Bishop Thurston in a position to be there when I was ready.  I don’t think I would have made it without him.

    When I was getting ready to leave, he said he wanted to see me again soon, within the week.  He told me to reach out to his assistant and schedule it soon.  He told me to tell his assistant to make it happen in the next week no matter what, even if I had to come to his house.  That’s another thing I’ll never forget.  Come to his house?  Why did this stranger want to see me again so soon?

    I was once asked what made me come back?  Love.  Love made me come back.  I knew when I left that office, without a shadow of a doubt, that the stranger I just met cared about me so deeply.  Is that something I could know?  I guess not, I couldn’t know it.  He could have been faking it.  The reason it has stuck with me, and the reason I came back, is because it wasn’t something I knew, it was something I felt. Like testimony or faith, it was something I couldn’t deny and something I’ll never forget.  At the end of that meeting I felt like I’d just met somebody who would do anything in his power, anything he possibly could, to help me.  I felt the love of Jesus Christ for me, displayed through this stranger so potently, with such power. 

    I left that office feeling good.  I’ll admit something.  I tried to keep it together.  I really tried.  I drove away from the building.  I pulled over within a minute.  I cried and I cried.  It was like the love I wouldn’t allow myself to feel Christ giving me for so long poured over me with such intensity.  I cry today thinking about it.

    Those first few weeks coming back were really hard.  Really, really hard.  When it got to feel like too much to continue on that path, like I couldn’t do it, I thought about the love I felt that day. I thought about that little bishop’s office where I felt something, and my heart changed.  I thought about the moment in my car after.  I realized I never wanted to be without that love, ever again.  That’s what brought me back and kept me coming back.

    Love is powerful.

  • Judged

    Heading into my ninth-grade year my family moved.  This resulted in me attending a new ward.  I got a zone variance so I could go to the school I would have gone to if I didn’t move.  I had developed friendships through middle school that I didn’t want to give up.  The funny thing is how quickly those friendships dissolved.  Not because of falling out or anything dramatic, just growing up and growing apart.  I played basketball and that became my friend group.

    My new ward had a few guys my age.  From day one, I don’t think I ever felt like I completely belonged.  They had been friends their whole lives and I was new.  On top of that, we had no similar interests.  For example, I played sports; they played video games, and that sort of thing.

    I’ve looked back and thought a lot about those years.  During my time in that ward I started to drift further and further away.  It got to the point that I just felt unwelcome.  Back then, being a popular basketball player at my high school was more important than anything. I looked down on this group of friends that I never belonged to.  As I got a girlfriend, I started to think I was cool.  As I started to make serious mistakes, I started to think I was better than them because I was experiencing the world and I thought I was more mature.

    Then I started to feel judged by them.  I started to feel ostracized.  I still remember meeting with my bishop at the time.  He was the father of one of those friends in the group.  He was a young, kind man.  He was easy to get along with and a good guy.  I remember telling him I wasn’t worthy to bless the sacrament.  I couldn’t help but feel that he’d told his son, who’d told his friends, and the ostracizing got worse. 

    Over time, that feeling festered.  I didn’t think about it too intensely, but I had this idea that they all knew and they all judged me for it.  In hindsight, that bishop was a great guy and there’s very little chance he ever told his son anything about my transgressions.  He may have told his son to look out for me or to help me. That could have made his son think some things.  I strongly doubt he told him anything about my mistakes.  Yet, over time, this thought became something I assumed was true.

    Now I look back on these days with a much different perspective.  Something I’ve come to realize is that I was never judged by that group of friends.  They tried to welcome me and they tried to make me a member of their group.  Any judgment I felt was my own.

    It’s been a long journey to get to this point.  To come to the realization that I was the one ostracizing myself.  I was the one judging myself.  I didn’t feel welcome because I was making myself unwelcome.  It wasn’t something I realized until I looked back. Many years later I was able to see it, after some growth and real maturing. 

    What helped me come to this realization was reading the story of Cain and Abel.  The scriptures say that Cain loved Satan more than God.  Satan tricked Cain and misled him.  That’s what happened to me those many years ago. Satan tricked and misled me.  He led me to believe these good, kind, friendly individuals didn’t like me.  I allowed my pride to make me think I was better than them.  Satan promoted that thinking.  Satan led me to be mindful of the world and I followed along.

    It was only through the grace of Jesus Christ and His atonement that I was able to come away from that part of my life with an understanding of what was actually happening.  I’m grateful that time didn’t foster even more of a feeling of animosity or negativity towards the church.  I’m glad I was always able to separate perceived wrongs and unkindness of individuals from the love of my Savior.  It’s now these years later, because of my Savior, that I’m able to see I was wrong and judging myself.  I learned to love God more than the world.  The atonement of Jesus Christ allowed me to be forgiven for those mistakes I made and also gave me the perspective to see the humble kindness I was always surrounded by.

    I hope everyone out there can separate the people of Christ’s Church, imperfect as we are, from Christ Himself.  Christ loves us so much.  He knows us.  He judges us only with love.  Members of the Church always fall short.  We’re not there yet.  As long as we keep trying, maybe we’ll one day get there.  But for now, I plead for you to remember Christ is perfect, we’re not.  Make sure you have a testimony of Him first.  Everything else will fall in line.

    If anyone has felt judged or would like to share your experience, I’d love to hear it.  Thanks for reading.