No Coincidences

Tag: sunday

  • Little Red Mark

    Little Red Mark

    I have a white church shirt with a little red permanent mark on the left cuff.

    A few years ago, in the Young Single Adult (YSA) Ward of my church, there was a young girl that started coming every so often. She had a family ward she more often went to, but every once in a while, would visit the YSA. She had a young son. He was a toddler, probably two years old.

    I was drawn to this girl. I could imagine how difficult it was for her to bring her young son with her to the YSA ward, a place full of single people with entirely different life situations. I could imagine how she felt judged and out of place. I could relate to how she felt. I’d been her a short year or two before. 

    At the time, I was the Sunday School President. That meant that once a month myself and my counselors led a teacher’s council with all the teachers in our ward to discuss how we could be better teachers, and how we could teach in the Savior’s way. 

    Whenever this young girl came to our ward, I would try to get her to stay for second hour and go to Sunday School. That was my job as Sunday School President, after all. More than that, it was my job as a disciple of Jesus Christ. 

    One Sunday I was inviting this girl to go to one of our Sunday School classes. The difference this week was I wouldn’t be going with her. I had my Teacher’s Council. I could tell that she was going to leave if I wasn’t going to attend the class with her. She was clearly worried about how her young child might be a distraction in class. So, I invited her to my teacher’s council. It took some explaining, letting her know it was open to anyone and she was completely welcome. She came to our council that day.

    I don’t remember anything we taught. I don’t remember an enlightening teaching moment or momentous thing learned on how to be a more Christ-like teacher, though I’m sure some of that occurred. I don’t remember it.

    What I do remember is spending time with that girl’s young son. My counselors were leading most of the discussion so I could spend time with him at the white board with markers, letting him play and keeping him occupied. When I did need to get up front and talk for a bit, I brought him with me. I look back at this moment fondly as a parent now with two daughters I’m constantly bringing to the front with me.

    I didn’t care if he was a distraction to the class. Some things are more important.

    That’s the point, right?

    At one point while watching him, he accidentally marked my white shirt with a red marker. I’ve thought about throwing that shirt out. It’s not a huge or extremely noticeable mark, but it’s there, and it is noticeable. I’ve kept that shirt. I wear it often. I use it as a reminder that some things are more important than a marked shirt.

    I sometimes wonder if someone might see that mark on my shirt and think, “how tacky, throw that shirt out, it has a red mark on it.”  Then I think about that young boy, his mother, and what’s more important, and decide it’s worth wearing that marked shirt.

    Reminder to everyone that we all have little red marks on our shirts. Sometimes they’re self-inflicted and sometimes they’re not. It doesn’t matter. The point is to not judge and to love without bounds.

    I recently got to see a young man that young girl was dating enter the waters of baptism. I hadn’t seen her little son in a few years. It’s crazy how quickly a two-year-old becomes an active, thinking, 5-year-old. I said hi to the now five-year-old boy. He, of course, didn’t remember me. But I showed him that mark on my shirt. It’s probably my imagination, but I saw recognition in those eyes. Like, whether or not he actually remembered making that mark (probably not), somehow, he recognized the significance. I felt like his eyes said, “I made that mark, and you kept it?” I told him I kept the shirt to remember him. He smiled.

    That young girl watched a man she had been dating get baptized. They were civilly married and as soon as they were able to, got sealed in God’s temple. They will be sealed in a temple for time and all eternity. That young boy will be sealed to them. Forever. That’s what it’s really all about, right?

  • Uncle Mike!

    Uncle Mike!

    A few years ago, I completely cut football out of my life, cold turkey. It started when I came back to church and realized I didn’t want to be watching football all day on the Sabbath. I would still watch the occasional ASU football game. The only football I kept religiously in my life was Washington State and Mississippi State games. I watched pretty much every one of Mike’s games.

    Beth hates football. Football was out of my life by the time we got serious, so football was never an issue. Beth often says she’s so happy I don’t watch football. She really hates it. She hates it so much that, despite knowing it’s family and I have to watch, she even didn’t like watching Mississippi State games. Each week when I’d turn on Mike’s game she’d say “not footballlllll” but then would silently resign herself to the fact that it had to be watched. Whether that entailed sitting through the game or leaving the room was always up to her discretion.

    Ivy will watch whatever I watch and enjoy it. It’s something Beth doesn’t quite comprehend. Beth used to fight it, but I think she’s given up. She used to walk into the living room to Ivy and me watching basketball or Impractical Jokers and say, “Ivy doesn’t want to watch this.”

    I would always say, “Ivy what do you want to watch?”

    “Impractical Jokers” or “dunk it” (code for basketball) would be the immediate reply.

    Beth would be flabbergasted. “She doesn’t really want to watch Impractical Jokers. She just says that because she knows you want to watch it.”

    Nonetheless, Ivy will sit with me and watch basketball endlessly without complaint.

    Part of the reason Ivy loves watching what I want to watch is because I make sure to get her involved in it. When we watch basketball, I try to constantly say, “Ivy did you see that!? He dunked it!” Or, for Impractical Jokers, “Ivy, Joe is so funny, he’s our favorite, huh?” Of course, Joe is our favorite.

    My strategy for getting Ivy engaged in football games was obvious. I was fighting Ivy’s = bias against football that was apparently engrained in her DNA from Beth. In the beginning, Ivy seemed to have an intense predisposition against football. My master plan to get Ivy engaged was to point out Uncle Mike every time he showed up on the TV.

    We’d watch Mississippi State football games and every sideline shot, interview, video, or moment that Mike showed up in I’d say enthusiastically, “Ivy who is that!?!?”

    “Uncle Mike!” She always yelled with excitement.

    If football is on the TV, Ivy will still say, “Uncle Mike.” Uncle Mike became to football what “dunk it” is to basketball. But we don’t watch football anymore.

    I never watched Mike’s last game against Ole Miss. I kept it recorded and always planned to watch it. Now I’m saving it for a time when I’m prepared to watch and think, remember, consider life and its shortness; think about how Ivy can’t watch football anymore and yell, “Uncle Mike!” Or can she?

    It’s sad that Ivy will never get to meet Mike, but he lives on. Every time a football game comes on the TV he lives through Ivy’s, “Uncle Mike.”

  • He Hears your Prayers

    He Hears your Prayers

    When I go through difficult times, for whatever reason that might be, I often find myself thinking to myself a lyric from the song “A Child’s Prayer.” 

    “Heavenly Father, are you really there?”

    I was recently having one of those difficult times and was thinking this phrase.

    I went to church that Sunday and said a prayer asking that if there was some guidance I could receive, that I’d hear it.  It was a particularly distracted day with Ivy in church.  Quick side note, it’s amazing how distracting a toddler can be in church.  Ivy is really good in church, and yet I still find it so difficult to focus on the speakers while also making sure she’s ok and entertained.

    Despite the normal distractions, I caught a speaker mentioning, “Heavenly Father, are you really there?”  I can’t remember in what context.  I believe it might have been the youth speaker.  I perked up, but that was it, the moment passed.

    It was a thoroughly uplifting Sunday that day and I found myself feeling in much better spirits.  Still, there were those lingering “difficulties” in the background.

    The next day I was with Ivy in her room.  I am more and more convinced that Ivy, and probably all children, are still at least 50% angel.  The coincidences Ivy causes in my life are too perfect.

    I was in her rocking chair on my computer reading and doing stuff while she played. Suddenly she came over to me which isn’t unusual.  I put my computer away and pulled out my phone instead.  I wanted to look up the songs we had in church the previous day because I had a song stuck in my head but didn’t know it’s name.  I pulled up Youtube to play the sacrament song and confirm it was the one stuck in my head.

    We listened to the song and then Ivy reached for the phone, again, not something out of the ordinary by any means.  She started tapping it with her finger.  I saw her click a couple recommended videos that were on the side of the screen and then she pulled her hand away.  A video started playing.  I didn’t recognize the song (at first).  It had a long introduction and then there were images of children with their parents.  Children praying with their parents, being tucked in, coloring, playing. 

    Suddenly it started.

    Heavenly Father, are you really there?
    And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?
    Some say that Heaven is far away
    But I feel it close around me as I pray

    “I feel it close around me as I pray” is the part, during times of difficulty, that I struggle with.  Because in those times I don’t always feel heaven close around me as I pray.

    I started to cry.

    The song continued.

    Heavenly Father, I remember now
    Something that Jesus told disciples long ago
    “Suffer the children to come to me”
    Father, in prayer I’m coming now to thee

    I looked at Ivy.

    Then the song continued.

    Pray, He is there
    Speak, He is listening
    You are His child
    His love now surrounds you
    He hears your prayer
    He loves the children
    Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of Heaven

    It had been so long since I’d heard the full song I truly didn’t remember that part. And when I heard it, it was so clear.  It was so clear.  In moments of challenge I remember the part, “Heavenly Father, are you really there?”  But I’d forgotten the part, “He is there.  Speak, He is listening.  You are His child.  His love now surrounds you.  He hears your prayer.”

    I remembered.

    Sometimes it’s so hard to hear Him.  Sometimes it’s so hard to remember He is there.

    Then He reminds you. 

    I want to remind everyone reading.  He is there.  Speak, He is listening.

    The world can yell at me that it was a complete coincidence that Ivy somehow brought up that song that I’ve never listened to before on Youtube.  I say, that’s ridiculous.  I needed to be reminded that my Father was there and listening, and so he reminded me.  Through my angel.

    I’m grateful for Him.  I’m grateful for all my angels. 

    I know He is there.

  • The Chance of Faith

    The Chance of Faith

    One Sunday I was in my car with a friend, CJ Matthews.  We were driving after church to go do something.  I can’t remember what it was.  Visit someone or give a blessing or something that like.

    A few minutes into the drive I realized I was out of gas. I remembered I’d been out of gas since I left my home that morning to drive to church.  It was 20 minutes to our location. It would be 20 minutes there, 20 minutes back to CJ’s car. Then the drive home. No way I could make it without getting gas.

    Which Gasoline Should You Buy?
    Not me on a Sunday unless CJ is in the car.

    I informed CJ of our dilemma.  I let him know I wouldn’t be getting gas on a Sunday.  God would get us there and get us back.  If you could see the look on CJ’s face!  It was great.  His response, “Is God going to turn air into gasoline for you to return?  Pull over and get gas.  I’m not walking to a gas station.”

    I eventually complied with his request, though begrudgingly.  I had the faith that God would help us accomplish what we needed to accomplish without having to stop for gas.

    This is a topic my wife and I playfully debate often.  I try to say that I have no concern about my life or well-being.  If I’m meant to die, I will die when God needs me back and not a second sooner.  I joke often that the best way to die would be by lightning at the top of a mountain.  That would clearly indicate an urgent need God had for me to return and start serving Him on the other side.

    My wife is in the other school of thought.  She agrees with CJ.  Don’t put yourself in harm’s way.  Don’t put yourself at risk.  Don’t be stupid. Boring!  I’m inclined to be stupid. Sometimes I consider it my way of showing God I have faith. I know, my wife has already told me I’m stupid.

    Anyways.

    I’ve made this a joking introduction but it’s something I truly struggle with. 

    Where does faith end and wise action start?

    The principle is told in a story that I love and think about often.  The story goes like this, I’ll tell my version.

    Flood. Man on the roof of his house

    A great flood comes, and a man gets on top of the roof of his house.  A man comes by in a canoe.  “Hop in!”  he yells.  The man on the roof calmly tells him no thanks.  The water gets higher.  A couple in a boat comes by.  “Get in!  The water is rising!”  The man on the roof calmly denies the gesture and stays on his roof.  The water gets higher.  The man on the roof is close to being overtaken by the water.  A helicopter comes by and throws a rope down.  The man on the roof waves it away.

    The man on the roof is finally overtaken by the water and drowns.

    When in heaven he looks to God and asks, “I prayed the whole time I was on the roof.  Why didn’t you help me?”

    God replies, “I sent you a canoe, a boat, and a helicopter!  What else did you want from me?”

    I know what the scriptures tell us.  I know God wants wise servants.  I know he wants us to be prepared.  I know He wants us to work problems out in our minds and learn to problem solve.  I know we’re here to learn to make good choices. 

    But I also know we’re here to learn faith.  We’re here to learn obedience.  We’re here to learn to trust God.

    I hope I live my life with a firm belief that God will guide me wherever He needs me as long as I do my part.  I often joke about how God holds my hand and guides me to places, decisions, people.  I often joke how God has been there with me every step of the way.  He has blessed me in so many profound ways I can’t deny His loving guidance in every moment of my life.

    I know that God still wants me to do my part.

    So, I put my faith forward.  God will get me there!  Or does God put a gas station directly on my journey so I can get gas?  How often is God up there, exasperated, “I put the gas station right along the way!”  Or even better, “I put CJ and Beth around you to balance out your silly refusal to take care of yourself!”

    I wonder how often I’m turning away the canoe, boat, and helicopter.  I only hope I’m ultimately doing what God wants me to do.  I think that’s the best any of us can do.