No Coincidences

Tag: utah

  • Attack on Mormons

    Attack on Mormons

    Legend has it my grandfather has a hidden room in his home for the day that followers of Christ are rounded up like Jews were in Europe during World War II. I spent much time trying to find that room without luck. I’m still not convinced it doesn’t exist.

    Beth and I recently finished a TV show called Under the Banner of Heaven. If anyone wants to see every anti-Mormon falsehood spouted in 7 hour+ long episodes, I highly recommend it.

    A story made headlines recently. A highly recruited quarterback from Utah was visiting an Oregon football game. He left the game when the student section started chanting “f- the Mormons.”

    The play “The Book of Mormon.”

    Southpark parodies.

    Imagine another religion being treated this way. Can you picture the outrage if a student section chanted “f- the Jews” for example? I felt wrong just typing that.

    And yet the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not shielded from this. Why is that?

    Under the Banner of Heaven being my most recent exposure to anti-Mormon media, that’s where I’ll focus this post, with my point at the end. Stay with me. Even if you haven’t seen the show (and despite what I said above, I DON’T recommend it) this will still be pertinent.

    An article was written in the Atlantic about the show. That article can be found HERE.

    If you’re interested, you should read the whole article. It’s well written and helped me understand the underlying feelings I had about this show.

    Here are some highlights from that article that I agree with:

    “[It] felt like seeing my religious life in a funhouse mirror, each detail-from the sacred to the mundane-twisted and stretched and distorted to appear frightening and strange.”

    When talking about the absurd use of the phrase “Heavenly Father” in the show, “But I gave up after a few episodes [counting the weird usages of “Heavenly Father], once I realized what was going on. To say that I have never met a Mormon in my life who talks like this would be to miss the point. These lines were not intended as shibboleths for Mormon viewers-they are there to serve a stereotype, to exoticize a people and flatten their faith tradition.”

    “Under the Banner of Heaven is one of the most openly hostile treatments of a minority religious group to appear in popular American entertainment this century. It is also an unqualified hit.”

    I could go on about the flawed and insulting nature of this show.

    Elder Bednar, an apostle for our church, was asked his thoughts on the show. He responded, “We don’t like it, but we don’t spend all of our time responding to it. We have a mission to fulfill.”

    The writer of the Atlantic article stated he initially felt good about Bednar’s response. Then on further thought:

    “But almost immediately, I doubted myself. Wasn’t I just taking the same path of least resistance – above-the-fray politeness, studious nonconfrontation – that Latter-day Saints always seem to take when faced with stuff like this?”

    This is exactly the struggle I deal with. I am in a constant “polite, studious nonconfrontation”-like attitude. It’s how I was raised. I was pretty heated by the end of the final episode. Episodes 1-6 I was just “bluh.” A feeling of, “whatever. They’re making us look weird, the show is weird.” Then that turned into the show is upsetting me. I found myself having an unsettled feeling after each episode that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Truly, it wasn’t until reading the Atlantic article that full outrage started to settle inside me. How could a show treat my religion like this? Where would it be acceptable to treat any other religion like this? What’s next?

    It was to the point that I didn’t mention to friends I was watching this show because I didn’t want them to watch it. This included close friends that know me and my religion and (I hope) would see through much of the nonsense of the show.

    I hesitated to share because maybe this fear of others seeing my religion as cooky exists inside me. I know what my religion is. It’s precious to me. It’s sacred. It has provided every blessing in my life, I can’t spit upon and laugh at my Church, it’s too important to me.

    So, Bednar’s statement. I like it, in that, it’s how I would respond. Forgive. Turn the other cheek. Don’t get emotional. Don’t get upset. Above all else, don’t let them see you’re upset. But then, at what point do you stop being a cultural punching bag? Is there a point where you stand up for the church and religion that you love? After all, I know this to be Jesus Christ’s Church. Is a show like this really insulting Him? That causes real outrage inside me that I’m willing to speak out about. Spit on me, spit on my faith, spit on my church and my religion. Don’t spit on Him. Maybe that’s ultimately what got me upset. The idea being perpetuated through this show that it was Christ’s church that caused some extremist men to kill a woman and her daughter. I feel for Brenda’s family, her sister, who rightly pointed out that this show unfairly portrays her murder.

    And as the article points out, where is the apology? Where is the script before the show plays saying “Mormons are not an extremist, murdering people. This is a dramatization.”

    In an age where Disney has to apologize before The Lady and the Tramp, Under the Banner of Heaven needs no disclaimer apology for this? Remember that football player at the Oregon game, Oregon apologized for their student section’s behavior.

    As the article points out, we are moving backwards. Rather, we are being pushed backwards. Saints rarely live peacefully in a wicked world.

    What other religion could be ridiculed, spit upon, and disrespected in this way, without public outcry and support, besides the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?

    In our forgiveness, we laugh it off and shrug. But a dangerous thing is happening out there. As Satan does in any dispensation where there are Saints to God, he is stirring up the masses against us.

    This leads to my point.

    The attack of this show on a religion seems like a small enough matter. “Who really cares” some might say, as I did, initially. It does matter. The attack on religion, on faith, on Christ is increasing daily. It seems dramatic to even consider the idea that Latter-day Saints could be rounded up like what happened 80 years ago. We can trick ourselves into thinking we’ve gotten better as a world and as society since then.

    Media attack on faith and on Christ are widespread and increasing. It’s not just the Church of Jesus Christ being attacked when shows and plays and TV openly mock it, it’s all followers of Christ and ultimately Christ Himself.

    This attack is going to increase, and we need to be aware of it. I hope that all my friends and especially those who don’t believe in God realize how important this is to be aware of. Believers need the support of nonbelievers in our defense. Otherwise, this world becomes a scary world for those of faith.

    Maybe it’s time for a return trip to my grandparent’s home to search out that hidden room. I hope it’s not.

  • The Social Dilemma part 2

    The Social Dilemma part 2

    I am worried about the youth today.

    I don’t have a Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, how many etceteras do I need nowadays?

    I’ve really tried to follow the advice I wrote about from my first post on The Social Dilemma (Netflix).  For a while I turned off suggested videos in YouTube, but I found the blank pages and the difficulty in finding what I was looking for to be too much to deal with.  Instead, I only go to YouTube with a purpose and try as best as I can to watch only the video I go there to watch. As of this writing the suggested videos in my YouTube has ballooned to 273 (273 videos!) since I’ve stopped looking at suggested videos. That’s a little red 273 on my phone home screen. That’s 273 times YouTube has said, “this video is just right for you.” That is countless hours (or hours I don’t want to count) of video footage YouTube has suggested to me. Yikes. I’m going to continue to avoid those videos and see how ludicrous that 273 number can become.

    I’ve also tried not to use Google which I’ve found to be way harder than I anticipated.  There’s a reason Google has the best search results, and that reason is they don’t care about your privacy.  With my job in IT support, I’ve found it impossible to use other search engines.  I still have the Qwant extension installed in my Google Chrome but find myself searching through Google anyway. 

    Like YouTube, I avoid Facebook as much as I can. As I write this, checking my battery usage, Facebook is still 11% of my total battery used.  When I do get on Facebook, the worst thing that can happen is I watch a video.  It’s the same reason I avoid YouTube as much as possible.  Facebook I find to be much worse than YouTube, at least for me.  Let me explain what happens when I get on Facebook and if I watch a video:

    1. I stumble upon a video title that I can’t avoid watching.  Something like, “The reason Donovan Mitchell will never win a championship for Utah.” 
      • Now I’m stuck.
    2. That video ends and is followed by, “I gave $1,000,000 to a stranger on the street!”
      •  I’m losing my free will.
    3. Next video, “I bought 10,000 black widows and put them in my mom’s bathroom!” 

    I’ll emerge from a sequence of videos like the above hours later and think to myself, “what just happened?”

    The above is only a slight exaggeration.

    The disconcerting, uncomfortable, and completely frightening truth is – once I watch that first, then second, then third video that has clearly been sent because they know it catches my attention – it’s really difficult for me to get away.  I’ll feel it happening.  Like, I’ll be on minute 6 of a 9-minute video and think, “after this one I’m done.”  Then as minute 8 starts to end I get this feeling, this urge.  Like – I have to watch another one.  I’ll feel this urge.  I’ll fight it.  And somehow, I end up watching another video.  I may sound dramatic, but it’s truly terrifying.

    Am I the only one?

    Beth and I have gotten into a routine with Ivy’s sleeping where I’m usually up briefly with Ivy around 11pm and Beth is up with her briefly around 4am. 

    Every once in a while (not often), I wake in the morning to a 4:15am text from Beth with some video or article.  I realize that, in a stupor, she was drawn to her phone.  This likely happened while she was lying in bed watching the baby monitor, waiting to see if Ivy would fall back asleep so she could go to sleep.

    Recently Beth took a picture of Ivy and I together on the couch.  I watched Beth open Facebook to share the picture.  I watched Beth somehow end up finding herself watching some video.  10 minutes later, talking to herself, Beth said something like, “what was I doing?…”

    I told her she likely looked at her phone to post a picture.

    “Oh yeah…” was her reply.

    I’m not the only one.

    Beth and I aren’t the only ones.

    Back to the first sentence I wrote for this post.  I am AFRAID for the youth today.  How do they survive in a world where advertisers know what they want to see, then put it directly into their hand over.. and over…and over…..and over……

    Something needs to be done for our youth, but I’m not sure what.  It’s too easy for them to be completely enveloped in this digital world.  We are frighteningly close to a Black Mirror-esc existence where kids only exist in their phones.  Maybe the only way we can help our youth is leading by example.

    I try to only be on my phone to read the scriptures. I’m not even great at responding to messages, as some of you know.  I read physical books.  I’m aware of Facebook’s and other social media companies’ pull on my attention, and I try to fight it.  I think it’s important we teach our kids the same thing.

    This must be the way we can help kids today. Lead by example. Read books. Show that the phone can be set aside. Go on day trips where the phone is not allowed to come. Set a requirement where there are no phones after dinner. I don’t know, anything! Something needs to be done and this is the first place to start.

    Otherwise the below picture is every family’s future. And that is a sad future.

    *Credit to photographer Eric Pickersgill who took these pictures depicting people with their mobile phones and devices removed from the photo.

  • Facing Death

    Facing Death

    “We need to wait for a helicopter.  It’s 2 hours by road to the nearest hospital.  You might have internal bleeding in your brain.  You might die before we could get you there.” 

    I was in the back of an ambulance for the first time.  It’s an interesting thing to wonder if you’re being melodramatic about dying and then being told by an EMT that you might die.  It becomes a real possibility, if it wasn’t already. 

    My family rented ATVs over the weekend.  We rented a cabin and stayed in Duck Creek, near Cedar City, Utah.  We had the ATVs for four hours.  My family went out first while Beth and I stayed at the cabin with Ivy.  Then Beth and I swapped in for my mom and sister. 

    There were nine of us total and three ATVs.  Two of the ATVs held four people and one of them held two.  When Beth and I swapped in I drove with Beth in the front seat, my dad and brother in the back seat.  We drove to Mammoth caves and explored.  After 30 or so minutes looking at the caves, we went back to the ATVs to off road for our last 90 minutes before the ATVs had to be returned. 

    Moments before the accident

    Beth hadn’t driven so we made her drive.  My brother Garrick and his girlfriend Arielle rode in the back.  We reminded Beth that if you’re not flipping the ATV you’re not trying.  My uncle Jon led in the two-seater and my brother Dresdan drove the other four-seater behind them.  We took up the rear so Beth could go at her own pace and not feel the pressure of Dresdan bearing down on her.

    I had one glove off because I was eating airheads from my pocket. Beth was driving as cautiously as expected and the other two vehicles got ahead of us.  I had a thought cross my mind: ‘I bet it would be safer to have no seatbelt on.  It would probably be safer to be thrown out of this thing than stuck and crushed inside of it.’  I did have my seatbelt on.  That thought I had was undoubtedly wrong.

    I’ll describe what I remember next.  Then I’ll tell the whole story from the perspective of those who stayed conscious throughout. 

    We were coming up on a turn.  We were not going that fast.  I had driven with much more reckless abandon when I was behind the wheel.  We came up on this turn and Beth began to break and then we started to tip.

    The next thing I remember was feeling pinned down and stuck.  I couldn’t see anything.  But I was stuck.  My arm couldn’t move.  I believe I started yelling.

    The next thing I remember was the feeling of flipping over.

    I still couldn’t see anything. 

    The next thing I remember was hearing crying and screaming from Beth.  I told her I was going to be ok.  It was going to be ok.  I still couldn’t see anything.

    The next thing I remember was moving.  Jon was in the driver’s seat next to me.  Someone was behind me holding something down firmly on my head. 

    It is fascinating how the brain works in moments of trauma.  How was I thinking so clearly?

    I asked if an ambulance was called and was told yes.  It occurred to me, we drove way out into these trails.  We were at least 30 minutes from anything.  I asked who was behind me.  Dresdan.  It crossed my mind: the firmer whatever is on my head is being pressed down, the more likely I am to survive.  I asked Dresdan to push down harder.  He did, and it hurt.  I asked him to push down less hard.  I put my hand up and held it myself and asked Dresdan to support on top of my hand.  I felt him start checking my neck and spine with his other hand.  I put my right, gloved hand out the window and started flexing my fingers.  I was tapping my legs repeatedly.  I was acutely aware of the importance of staying awake.

    I was staring through the windshield and thought I saw a crack.  I stared harder and realized there was no crack, my vision was getting blurry.  I was so tired.  I told Jon and Dresdan that my vision was getting blurry and I was very tired.  I told Dresdan to talk to me.  He said something to me, and I can’t remember what it was.  It wasn’t a conversation starter.  I put my hand on Jon’s leg and squeezed.  He put his hand on mine and held it.  I asked Dresdan about the book I’d given him to read.  He told me it was good and that I’d really like the one he gave me for Christmas.  I talked about the book he had just read briefly, then got quiet.  I was awake enough.

    I asked Dresdan to give me a blessing.  It was too loud.  He would have to yell it.  The talking I’d already done had made my head throb.  I asked him to quietly give me a priesthood blessing. 

    I’ve always wondered how I would react at the prospect of death. It’s easy to say you don’t fear dying but what about when you actually might die?

    I’ve always hoped there would be no fear, just faith.

    On a destroyed ATV, soaked in my own blood, I learned the answer.  I wasn’t afraid to die.  While I wasn’t afraid to die something kept coming to my mind on repeat.  My daughter is 6 weeks old.  I want to see her again.  Beth was driving, she can’t live with this guilt.  I love my daughter more than anything in the world, I need to see her again.  I love Beth so much and can’t have her live with this pain.  I want to see my daughter again.  I love my wife. 

    Beth’s cries in that moment of blackness were in my mind.  I could hear her grief.  Could she live with this?  I might die.  Probably not.  I was conscious.  I was awake.  Dresdan was keeping pressure on the wound.  I would be fine.

    But what if I wasn’t?

    In that moment I confirmed what I’d always known.  The two most important things in this world are God and family.  In that moment I prayed relentlessly.  I believe the blessing and my prayers kept me awake.  What else mattered in that moment but God and my family?

    Nothing.

    I wanted to see my mom again, I wanted to see my dad again, I wanted to see my brothers and sisters.  More than anything I wanted to see Ivy again.  It hit me, maybe I wouldn’t.  I realized, just in case, I should say something that needed to be said.  I told Jon he had to tell Beth that I was ok, and it wasn’t her fault.  It was an accident. 

    We came to a crossroads in the trail.  I remembered where we had come from and told Jon.  Adie and Jared drove up in the two-seater and told Jon to follow them to the main road.

    We got out to a main street and started driving.  We came to an intersection and there was the ambulance.  We pulled into a dirt lot.  I was surrounded by people I didn’t know.  I was asked a lot of questions.  They cut my clothes off of me and told me not to move my neck if I could help it.  I was able to get my seatbelt off.  They asked if I could get to the stretcher.  I said I could with some help.  I took the couple steps to the stretcher and they buckled me in.  As I was taken to the ambulance, I saw Beth.  Her eye was extremely swollen.  She said she was ok.  I was put into the ambulance.

    This is where our story started.  The EMT told me I might die.

    Oh.

    Ok.

    It was real then.

    Still no fear.  Maybe that’s natural.  Maybe the panic and shock takes precedence.  I don’t know, I’ve only almost died this one time.  The main EMT was a young blond guy. I asked him,  “Are you a member of the church, you know, we’re in Utah right?”

    He told me he wasn’t, he was raised in the church but had distanced himself from it.  We had a conversation about the comfort I felt having that hope.  He told me that hope was a powerful thing.  He told me that hope told me that even if I died today, I would see my daughter again.  He told me the other EMT in the ambulance was a member of the church.

    I was told we had to wait for a helicopter.  The drive was too long.  I might die on the way.  We had to wait.  I was tapping my toes repeatedly.  I was doing it to stay awake.  I asked the EMT, Aidan, if it was ok.  He said it was a panic response, my anxiety was high.  He said it was natural, but if I could take some deep breaths and calm my body, that would help.

    I haven’t been meditating all this time for nothing.

    I took a few deep breaths and felt my body relax.  He said my vitals (I don’t know, blood pressure?) improved and I was looking good.

    They asked if I wanted my clothes that they’d cut off thrown out.  I told them my garment top was there and it needed to be disposed of properly.  Every person I saw from then on got the message that my garment top was present, and it was important it went with me.

    The helicopter arrived and I was airlifted to the hospital.  I asked the man sitting with me in the helicopter if he was a member of the church.  He said he was just Christian.  I told him we were part of the same family.  He said he loves to discuss the differences.  Oh, if I could have gotten his phone number.

    In the ambulance they gave me pain medicine.  What a difference that made.  I was also told it was ok to sleep.  I don’t know if I slept, I’m sure I at least dozed off.

    At one point the man nudged me and told me we were going over Zion.  I turned my head best I could and looked out.  My first helicopter ride could have been better.  Wasn’t the worst, though.

    I arrived at the hospital and was wheeled in.

    I can’t emphasize enough how kind every person was to me.

    From Aidan, the first person I saw at the ambulance, to the helicopter, to the hospital.  Every person treated me with love.

    The next bit is a blur, so much happened.

    I was given more pain medicine, my skull was numbed, they tried as best they could to clean out the wound in my head and arm, I did x-rays and a CT scan.

    At one point a nurse told me something I did not want to hear.  She tried to see if I wanted to hear it and I misunderstood and got much more information than I wanted.  She could see my skull.  Cool.

    Eventually they determined I didn’t need surgery.  Everything was good.  They could staple me up.

    The doctor counted 51 staples in my head, I counted 52.  He said it wasn’t often they had to use a whole stapler.  I was released the same day.

    Sounds like it wasn’t that bad, right?  You should see me now.  My head has been leaking for three straight days and my shoulder is pretty morbid.  I’ll put some pictures at the bottom for the sickos in the audience. 

    It all ended up being fine.  I lived.  I’m fine.

    I should have died. If a couple things didn’t happen I wouldn’t have survived. 

    The parts that you (and I) missed.  Apparently when the ATV flipped, my brother who was sitting back and to the left of me saw my body.  He thought I was literally drowning in a pool of my blood.

    The other two ATVs had stopped.  They said something about knowing that was a slippery turn and wanting to wait.  If the other two ATVs had gone on, I’m almost sure I would have died.  Them stopping was the difference between me bleeding out in a tipped over ATV and living.

    I firmly believe that I am protected by angels.  Not just that day, but every day.  I tell Beth often that God won’t take me a minute sooner than is my time.  I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that angels resided with me that day.  I know the others were prompted by the spirit to stay.  They were feet away when we flipped.

    It is difficult to get a group of 8 people to do anything in a quick and organized fashion.  Set aside the panic and fear that might have set in.  I’ve never been more proud of my family than when I heard the steps they took to save my life. 

    My brother-in-law Jared heard me yelling and thought I was crushed.  Every male in the group, my dad, Jon, Garrick, Dresdan, Jared and Easton immediately grabbed the ATV and flipped it over.  Jon got in to drive.  Dresdan got in behind me to keep pressure on my head.  I learned later that Easton was in my ATV also. 

    Adie and Jared jumped in the two person ATV and drove off to get cell reception to call an ambulance.

    The others got in the other ATV.  Initially they were going to drive ahead also.  Someone realized, since the other ATV had flipped, it might have an issue driving.  They drove behind us the whole way in case the ATV I was still seat-belted into broke down.

    Can you believe that?  In minutes, every person in my family did exactly what was necessary.  Without a moment’s hesitation they saved me.

    The doctors at the hospital told me they couldn’t believe I still had my right arm.  They told me they’d seen a ton of these accidents and almost every time the person’s arm is destroyed or gone.  They said if I’d reached out my arm would be gone.  I think the airhead I was eating might have played a part in saving my arm.

    God and family.

    It’s weird to look back on nearly dying.

    I’m amazed at the peace I could feel in what should have been a terrifying moment.  I knew if I was meant to die, I would.  The only thing that mattered to me was that my wife knew I loved her and it absolutely, positively, was not her fault.

    Leaving Ivy would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  But I know that she would have been so loved.

    I know what’s important in this life.  I’m grateful for trials and scary moments to reaffirm what I know.

    God and family.

    To all those that have prayed for me, thank you.

    To the Hollerbach’s, thank you for sending us food the night we drove back from Utah.

    Beth has been off the charts amazing since the accident.  She is currently caring for a newborn and someone with a traumatic head injury.  She drove us back from Utah, 7 hours, the very next day.  I just wanted to get home.

    Ivy slept the entire way.  We had to wake her for the two stops to feed her.  She would get back in her car seat and zonk out.  God has blessed me with so much.

    I feel it necessary, because Ivy will read this one day, to say something to her.

    To my sweet girl when you were born my world stopped revolving around the sun.  When I thought I might die, you were my first thought.  I hope you never doubt how much I love you.  You and your mom are the most important things in the world to me.  Never doubt it.  Because I did come close the other day.  I know what’s important.  I love you, Ivy.  I love my family and I can’t say enough how grateful I am for them.

    God and family.

    The pictures below are kind of gross. View them at your own risk. I’ll keep the pictures I wish I never saw private.

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  • Jonah and the Whale

    Jonah and the Whale

    Answer to prayer – but not what you expect!

    One of the most spiritual experiences I ever had, referenced in the post You Sent a Dog to Comfort a Boy, happened in the basement of my Aunt and Uncle’s home.  Go read the post to get some back story on why I was there, ie soul searching.

    During that trip, by some coincidence, my cousin had his farewell to go on his mission.  I went to the farewell and I felt stuff.  I felt an urge.  I felt guidance.  I came to Utah to search my soul and here it was. 

    That night I went back to the bedroom I’d been staying in.  With just Bengie (my aunt, uncle, and cousin’s dog) in the room I knelt, and I prayed.  I prayed like I hadn’t in so long.  I asked what I was supposed to do.

    Have you heard the story of Jonah and the whale?  For those who don’t know, the Bible tells us that Jonah, a prophet of God, was commanded to go to Nineveh to prophesy to its inhabitants.  He was to command them to repent and preach of their forthcoming destruction if they refused.  Nineveh was described as a scary place.  It was a near certainty Jonah would be murdered upon telling the inhabitants of their wickedness.

    I always heard that story and couldn’t imagine, couldn’t comprehend.  GOD told Jonah to do something.  If God tells you to do something – you do it!  It doesn’t matter how afraid you are or how scary it is.  You DO WHAT GOD COMMANDS.  Especially when it’s that clear.  If God told you to do something, you would listen, wouldn’t you?

    That’s what I always thought.

    That night in the basement I asked what I should do next with my life.  The answer couldn’t have been clearer if an angel appeared in the room and said it to my face.  I knew.  I needed to go on a mission.  I can’t stress this enough.  I knew what I was supposed to do.

    Then the doubts.  “I can’t go on a mission.  Where would I even begin?  I have so much to repent of.  I don’t even know who to go to” were my thoughts.  Also, I would have to give a GOING AWAY speech like I just watched my cousin give that very day.  Out of the question.  The thought of getting up in church and giving a talk was enough to make me feel sick.  I couldn’t do it.  I was too afraid.  On top of that I had big plans in the coming weeks.  It was my friend’s birthday and we had partying to do.  You know, the important stuff.  I couldn’t repent NOW.

    In the story of Jonah he gets on a ship to run away (From God- I know, crazy).  But here I was, running away from God.  I pretended like I didn’t know the answer to my prayer, but I knew.  I ran.  I ran away.

    I didn’t get swallowed by a whale.  Instead I moved on, distracted and forgetting.

    After Jonah’s whale incident, he finally agrees to do what God asked of him.  He was spit up on the shore of Nineveh and followed what God asked him to do.

    I think in a way, the few years after that moment in the basement, I was figuratively in a storm and swallowed by a whale.  Not for three days but for four years.  Eventually God had the whale spit me back up on shore. 

    You’d think I missed my chance, right?  I never went on a mission.  For a long time I thought I could never be forgiven for ignoring God.  Then I got my patriarchal blessing.  In it I am told to trouble myself not over lost days.  I can’t explain in words the comfort that simple phrase gave to me.

    Back to Jonah.  He ignored God.  Yet still, somehow, God used Jonah’s mistakes to bring about His work.  I don’t know how God makes up for our mistakes.  It recently occurred to me that in that basement I gave the first sincere prayer in a long time.  Then I ignored God.  I showed a modicum of faith followed by an excess of fear.  After that I found a job in Arizona, I settled down, and have been here in Arizona ever since.  Then I returned to church.  Now I’m here, writing to you, hopefully you’ve stuck with me this far.

    It’s so much better to do what God asks the first time.   I think we avoid a lot of heartache if we do.  But never forget – trouble yourself not over lost days.  God will have you spit up on shore when you’re ready.  When you’re really ready to trust in Him.  It took me some time.  Somehow, He accepted that.  Somehow, He waited.  I’m not saying I’ll ever fully make up for disobedience, not sure exactly how that works.  But I know that Christ will forgive me because He loves me.  There is no greater comfort than that.

  • 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.