No Coincidences

Tag: soul searching

  • How did I get here?

    How did I get here?

    What is my goal in writing this blog?

    Hopefully to uplift someone, anyone.  Believer, nonbeliever.  Member of the Church of Jesus Christ, member of any church, member of no church.  I’d like to teach people who know nothing about this faith some of what I believe.  I’d like to share with members of my faith the things that have impacted my testimony.

    Recently a new motivation has emerged.  With a daughter on the way I realize one day she can read all this.  Whether or not anyone reads any of this.  One day my daughter might.

    Right now, I’m posting individual posts that are unrelated to each other.  Mostly my thoughts and musings.  As I post more, I plan on categorizing posts into certain sections.  If someone could come to this page and read a quick one to two-page entry and leave slightly uplifted, that’s my ultimate goal.  Most of my writing I hope to be somewhat thought provoking.  Just things I’ve thought about or ideas and concepts that have really impacted me and changed the way I’ve looked at life.

    I hope for this to be informational.  I was greatly impacted by the writing of a man, John Pontius.  As I read more, I’m impacted by the writings of many people who took the time to put thoughts on paper.  Maybe something I write one day will help someone.  I also hope to discuss what I feel makes the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ special.  I hope for people not of my faith to read, and maybe have something stirred in their souls.  Something that reminds them of where they came from, and maybe have a desire to learn more about Christ’s Church and what makes it so important. 

    As I write I’ll share a lot about me.  I wanted a section to describe, briefly, who I am and how I got here.

    Anybody reading on my page will immediately notice the strong religious theme.  It’s what I think about most.  For a portion of my life, it was not this way.


    About me:

    I was born in Payson, Utah in 1990.  I moved to St. George, Utah when I was ~5.  I moved to Las Vegas, Nevada when I was ~9.  I lived in three houses from ages 9 to 18 in Las Vegas.  We moved a lot and that was always difficult for me while growing up.  

    History – Payson
    Payson, Utah
    The Establishment & History of St. George - Greater Zion
    St. George, Utah
    New Luxury Homes for Sale in Las Vegas, NV | Shadow Point
    Las Vegas, Nevada

    In 2009 I moved to Arizona to go to Arizona State University.  I decided early on I didn’t want to go to UNLV (University of Nevada Las Vegas) or UNR (University of Nevada Reno).  I wanted to get out of Nevada, I wanted a fresh start.  I had no family in Arizona.  Las Vegas wasn’t far, but I would be completely on my own.

    I still remember when I was driving to Arizona for orientation with my mom.  She got sick on the way and we stopped.  I think we were in Boulder City, about an hour into the drive.  I took her to the emergency room.  My dad drove there to be with my mom.  I had to be at orientation the next morning.  I drove to Arizona by myself.  It was the first time I’d driven that kind of distance alone and was symbolic of me becoming independent.

    I went to ASU for five semesters.  I studied construction management.  I always did well in high school with minimal effort.  I’m one of those obnoxious individuals who brags about never studying in high school.  Boy did I learn my lesson once I got to college.  My grades, with zero work ethic and desire, quickly reflected my effort.  It didn’t help that I soon realized I wasn’t interested in what I was studying.  Construction management can be interesting, but it wasn’t for me.  There’s only so much I could take learning about the strength of concrete.

    The College Dropout Turns Fifteen — Scene+Heard
    Like if you get the reference

    My junior year I officially dropped out of college with (of course) the intention of going back and finishing once I found my passion.  I say “of course” because that’s what we all say.  During school I found that I was much more interested in parties, poker, and basketball than I was in learning about safety standards of construction sites.  When I stopped going to school I continued to live on campus and enjoy college life, minus the higher education part.  I spent a full year couch surfing.  I’m sheepish to admit now, but I look back fondly on that year.  It was a year spent staying up until 5am, waking up at 1pm, sneaking into the student rec center to play basketball, getting food, finding a party, rinse/repeat.  It may sound like a pathetic use of time but it’s something I think I needed to experience.

    If my daughter ever reads this – not everyone needs to experience this.  That’s part of why I’m writing.  To show that I made mistakes and lived life a certain way.  Ultimately, I can’t regret it because it eventually got me to where I am today.  I have learned through my own experiences where true happiness exists.  True happiness comes from serving others, giving yourself to something bigger than yourself.  True happiness comes from loving others.  I had to go a round-about way to learn what’s important in life.  Not everyone has to make things as difficult as I made things for myself.

    During my time couch surfing, I was working odd jobs here and there to have enough money for food and extra-curricular activities.  I went to Utah near the end of this adventure for some “soul searching.” After “finding myself,” or not finding myself, I ended up back in Arizona working as a helpdesk tech for two companies.  I went with one of those companies 3 years later when they switched offices and took over as the Systems Administrator.  I now (as of 2020) work for a managed services provider supporting various companies with their technology needs. 

    As I write this blurb about my journey and my past, many thoughts come to mind of what I learned along the way.  I might refer back to this when I need a topic to write about.  Like my lack of desire studying something I wasn’t passionate about or the years spent partying and what that taught me about what I want out of life.

    Faith-wise, I started falling away from the church, due to my choices, when I was 16.  I always had a testimony of this restored church, of Joseph Smith, the Book of Mormon, and Jesus Christ.  That never changed.  Despite my many mistakes and many wrong decisions, I always knew it was true.  When I went to ASU I lost contact with the church completely.  It amazes me to look back and realize I didn’t even know where the church building/institute building/anything related to the church was on campus.  It’s like I’d lost connection with that part of me.

    Throughout the years I’d attempt half-heartedly to return to church.  It never stuck.  I was completely inactive from about 18-25.  Seven long years of inactivity.

    As of this year, 2020, I’ve been back at church for four years and never been happier.  I hope to express through my writing the joy the gospel has brought me and share some of my experiences that can maybe help others.  That’s the hope.  I’ve felt drawn to writing these entries so if one person is helped it’s a major win.

    And if all these hopes fail, I’ll at least be able to look back on everything I’ve written.  One day I can show my daughter and she can know I always believed.  She can see it wasn’t always easy.  She can see life has ups and downs, but it will work out.  Have faith.  That makes this worth writing.

  • You Sent a Dog to Comfort a Boy

    You Sent a Dog to Comfort a Boy

    I was 21 years old.  I’d been couch surfing for a full year and starting to ask the serious questions.  What was next?  Was this me?  Was there more for me to do?  What do I do?

    Sensing the end of my ‘no attachment to anything’ days I decided I needed to take advantage of my freedom while I still possessed it.  No serious girlfriend, no serious job, no prospects for a serious job.

    I decided to take a trip to the homeland.  I packed up my teal ’98 Pontiac Sunfire and drove to Utah.  I stayed with various family members, intending to be there a week tops.  Weeks went by.  I stayed with a cousin to party, I stayed with an aunt for movies and dinner, I stayed with grandparents for home cooked meals.  Everything back then was tinted with selfish motivations.

    Eventually I ended up at the home of my Aunt Laura, Uncle Jon, and cousin Sydney.  

    They had a dog named Bengie.  He had been around a while.  At this point he must have been around 4 years old.  A little puppy-like dog, full of energy.

    I stayed in the guest bedroom in the basement.  I still don’t know if this was normal for Bengie, but every night I was there, when it came time to go downstairs for bed, he’d saunter down with me.  I’d get in bed and he’d lay at my feet.  Every night.

    This was a soul-searching trip.  One of the most spiritual experiences of my life happened in that basement.  There were many tears.  A lot of growing up and change happened there.  Things were thought about that hadn’t been thought about for a long time.  Options considered.  Prayers said to God that had been avoided for so long.  So many feelings and emotions.  A post later this week called “Jonah and the Whale” will elaborate on these prayers. 

    Through all those emotional moments, I remember a dog.  Sitting on the bed.  Keeping me company.  It was like God was saying, in a way my spiritually dimmed and simple brain could understand, “See him.  He’s here for you.  I brought him here for you.”  Multiple times Bengie was hugged, talked to.  You know, those weird, talk-to-the-dog-like-he’s-a-person moments.  “What am I going to do Bengie?  I’m scared.”  He would look at me and it was like he knew; it was like he understood. 

    If ever there was a dog that understood…

    I had a lot of comfort from that dog those few days. 

    So, when the time came that Bengie needed a home; Sydney was going to college and Uncle Jon wasn’t able to keep up with the day to day care of a still energetic, 11-year-old puppy, I jumped at the opportunity.  My mom was talking to Jon about taking Bengie in.  I asked and was prepared to beg.  Let us take Bengie!  Beth and I had just gotten married, I had just started coaching so Beth was home for hours and hours on her own. 

    It felt like the second time God sent just the right person, a dog, to answer not yet uttered prayers. 

    Today, I tell Beth that Bengie is my best friend, she can take second.  Everyone else has fallen behind.  Just like those days in that basement bedroom, seemingly alone, I’m never alone long.  Any dog lover knows, especially with a velcro dog, he’s always there. 

    It was only a couple months in to having Bengie.  We were at a dog park.  As soon as we walked in a playful pit bull took an extreme interest in Bengie.  It seemed playful.  A small amount of concern set in when the owner of the pit bull quickly intervened, pulling her dog by its harness and dragging it, kicking and screaming, to the other end of the park.  Beth and I continued to walk through the park.  We were dog-sitting a giant golden doodle that day.  So, Archie-the-golden-doodle ran bounding around the perimeter of the park.  Bengie did his normal perusing, checking out the hot spots of the area.

    Bengie was walking on his own, near no other animals or people.  I didn’t go to the dog parks with Beth too often.  It wasn’t in my nature to hover protectively over a dog when I did.  Maybe something did feel off when we came in with the pit bull and the other dogs, being playful, I thought.

    I saw the pit bull sprint right by me.  It ran at Bengie.  I continued walking towards them.  I was maybe 15 feet away.  I thought they were going to play.  Bengie, not appreciating the sudden surprise charge of a bigger dog immediately got defensive.

    It happened really fast.  The pit bull bit Bengie around the neck and started swinging him around.  I ran and grabbed the harness of the pit bull and yanked him back.  Bengie fell out of his mouth.  I pulled the pit away as he kept trying to get back to Bengie who was laying on the ground.  The owner showed up and was trying to calm her dog.  Beth showed up and scooped Bengie off the ground.  I didn’t see it happen; all I saw was the blood pouring from the pit owner’s hand.  I was lucky I got behind the pit bull.  She made the mistake of getting in between a dog and what it now, apparently, deemed prey.

    I’ll jump ahead, I don’t want to leave you in too much suspense.  Bengie survived.  By some miracle the pit bull didn’t get a full grip on his neck.  Only one side of him was punctured, the other side of his neck was just grazed.  If the pit got a proper grip, there’s no chance Bengie would have survived. 

    Puncture Wound

    The next day was really difficult.  Bengie wouldn’t eat or drink.  He couldn’t walk, though he tried to.  You know, because he couldn’t let us be anywhere in our home alone, even when he was near dying.  I don’t know if you’re supposed to bless animals.  I don’t think you’re supposed to.  I didn’t anoint him with oil.  But I held him, and I prayed, and I prayed, and I prayed.

    I know this will be silly to many.  Once upon a time it may have been silly to me.  But I love that dog so much.  In that moment I felt a tiny glimpse into what it’s like to see a child suffer.  I know, I know, he wasn’t a child, I get it. I’m still saying it.  I love him like a child, and it was really, really hard to see him so hurt and in so much pain.

    I can’t begin to understand, even consider the pain of losing a child.  I can’t.  I won’t let my mind go there and hope I never have to.  I learned a tiny, infinitesimal bit of that pain that day.

    Now, as my first daughter makes her way to my life, I realize how much Bengie has taught me.

    I like to think I’ve progressed more from a boy to man in these past 9 years. Since those first days with Bengie, when he comforted me.  He stayed by my side and slept at my feet.  He watched me pray.  He was there to look at me, with (I swear it) care in his eyes as I cried questions I had to ask.

    One day I’ll write about my Aunt Laura and why she was so special. Bengie was her special companion and comforter through her last years. Beth said something interesting recently. She said, “Sometimes I look at him and think about all the comforting he’s done.” For Laura, for me, for Beth. Aren’t we lucky God has sent us such special friends?

    You sent a puppy to comfort a boy. You sent a dog to teach a man.