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Friday, December 30, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Lazarus and the Christmas Tree Lights: No Squinting Required
Spoiler alert:
While this piece was written with the intent of providing a bit of inspiration to all of my Facebook friends, it touches on the Christmas season from the perspective of those who are suffering, sad, or alone. I have always believed that God has a particular affinity for the downtrodden, but I also believe that those with “cups that runneth over” are looked after with the same grace and mercy as those who are facing the holidays behind forced smiles and feigned laughter.
Whichever side of the fence our lot falls on this year, we can be sure that we have not escaped the eyes of our maker.
A couple of nights ago, Katherine and I were having a conversation after dinner. Unfortunately, we had gotten some bad news concerning a family member. Katherine was visibly distraught as she told me the details of what had happened. With a trembling lip ( and what seemed to be a hint of guilt), she remarked that, try as she might, she just couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit this year.
Her remarks got me to thinking about the holiday season in general, and, in particular, what exactly it means to have the Christmas spirit.
As I scanned through the archives of my own Christmases past, I had to admit that I have become accustomed to cultivating a special spirit during the month of December that is, for whatever reason, not as discernible during other times of celebration. There is a magic of sorts that seems to lay hold of us as we carouse the shopping districts and breathe in the aroma of freshly cut Fraser firs decorated with decades of memorable keepsakes. We feel a profound sense of well-being as we watch and re-watch old holiday movies that have become family traditions dating back to our own childhood. Perhaps the magic of Christmas can best be summed up for many of us in the spirit of these old TV segments. They have a way (if only for a moment) of making us feel like a kid again.
Isn't that what Christmas is about?
But what do we do if some of that childlike magic is missing from our Christmas season?
What if, despite our best efforts at keeping a positive attitude, those trusty old Christmas classics fall a little short in turning the portkey that opens the door to childlike wonder?
What if the lights don’t seem to sparkle quite as brightly as they did when we were squinting with our ten-year-old eyes in front of the Christmas tree?
And what if our trip to the department store in search of Lindor chocolates and other Christmas goodies feels a little bit stale and hollowed out?
If my memory serves me correctly, there have been a few holiday seasons in my life where that special spark of Christmas magic wouldn’t come.
For instance, there was the year my step-dad passed away.
Then there was the year my Grandma passed after a prolonged illness.
The terrorist attacks on New York and Washington D.C. took some of the luster out of the 2001 holiday celebration.
And there have, as the scriptures predicted, been “wars and rumors of wars”, with many of our nation’s servicemen and women leaving family members back in the States to gaze longingly at pictures of dads, moms, sons, and daughters who would not be joining the rest of the family in front of the Christmas tree.
Even in the midst of these and other challenges, many of us are able to overcome the forces of darkness and settle snugly into our blanket of holiday cheer. There are a few instances, however, when (try as we might), we are swallowed up in the enormity of circumstances beyond our control.
As I have thought about a few of the stumbling blocks we might face while trying to get in tune with the Christmas spirit, I have come to the conclusion that it is very easy to confuse our temporal "creature comforts" with the actual spirituality that attends the holiday season. Since, in many instances, the two events (temporal comforts and spirituality) converge in perfect rhythm with our scheduled activities, we can sometimes find ourselves feeling forgotten or lacking in faith if that magical chemistry won’t come together as we think it should.
We might even feel a bit guilty if our holiday smile isn't completely genuine.
For our family, the days leading up to this year's celebration of Jesus' birth have been replete with opposition and turmoil. We have witnessed suffering among friends and family on a scale we have never experienced. As a result, we have learned that if we truly love one another, it is impossible to avoid being deeply affected by what we see going on in the world around us. I make this statement acknowledging that my awareness of suffering has been quickened this year because of its close proximity to those with whom I am well-acquainted, and that many of the more "magical" Christmas seasons I have enjoyed have been spent in blissful ignorance of the suffering going on in the lives of those I didn't know as well. Regardless of the semantics of experiencing joy during the Christmas season, it has been one of those years when our family has had to fight to keep the magic in the holiday. From this, I have learned that the bleak moments in which we witness or experience untimely struggles can serve to bring us closer to God, and can actually accentuate the real meaning of why we observe a world-wide celebration each year.
I build much of my case from the account of Jesus’ inspired words in the New Testament:
The sermon on the mount serves as a blanket of comfort for those who are dealing with challenges at any season in life, but it has particular significance for those who are struggling at Christmastime. I am reminded of the Savior’s words to an ancient American prophet who was facing the extinction of his people because of their collective faith in God:
In the face of likely annihilation and subsequent extinction, the Savior’s advice to Nephi was simple but profound:
“Lift up your head, and be of good cheer.” he said, “for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given,"
But what was the sign?
It was light.....a light shining in the darkness of a troubled world.
The shepherds in their fields saw it.
The wise men saw it.
Nephi saw it.
We, too can see it, if we are looking up.
Perhaps, at one time or another, we have all wasted away a portion of our holiday season chasing the creature comforts we are accustomed to enjoying. In vain, we might even shut ourselves up in the confines of the living room with our eyes focused on the Christmas tree lights, thinking that if we can somehow squint hard enough and hold our mouth just the right way, the magic will come.
But, as Boyd K. Packer once said, “You cannot force spiritual things.”
To everything there is a season.
There will be years when our cup runneth over. There will be times when we are filled with a sense of peace and happiness beyond anything we are capable of experiencing in the confines of our natural emotions.
We will know intimately what Lehi meant when he said:
“Man is that he might have joy.”
But there are other times when all we will be able to do is groan inside, lament our losses, and hang on for dear life.
Mary, the sister of Lazarus did exactly that:
“Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.”
Jesus did not rebuke her for a lack of faith.
Instead, the scriptures tell us that He wept with her.
Then He performed a miracle.
And Lazarus lived again.
It was a taste of good things to come for all of us.
As we approach the eve of our Savior’s birth, I am grateful to feel His spirit attending our family....perhaps more so than usual.
Charles Dickens summed up the year in review for many of us:
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
While the worst of those times have somewhat subdued our desire for boisterous celebration this year, we nonetheless have reason to smile.
Just in the nick of time, our family abandoned the squinting-at-the-tree tradition and stepped out into the night for a breath of fresh air. As it always has at Christmastime, the special star shone bright and clear against the figurative backdrop of the black sky.
Somehow, that star seems to shine brightest when the night is at its darkest.
If you ask me, that's the real magic of the Christmas season.
For my friends who’s cup runneth over, I toast your good health and pray for another year of peace and prosperity.
For those who have suffered (and are continuing to suffer) this year, I repeat the words of the Master:
“Lift up your head and be of good cheer”
Step outside and try to look up.
If you listen carefully, the still, small voice will whisper words of peace to your heart this Christmas season:
You know the rest of the story.
Lazarous came forth.
In one way or another, so shall we.
Merry Christmas, Facebook friends.
As you look into the night sky, may you hear the echo of a baby's cry and bask in the afterglow of a star that will shine forever as a beacon to the wounded, the weary, and the pure in heart....no squinting required.
While this piece was written with the intent of providing a bit of inspiration to all of my Facebook friends, it touches on the Christmas season from the perspective of those who are suffering, sad, or alone. I have always believed that God has a particular affinity for the downtrodden, but I also believe that those with “cups that runneth over” are looked after with the same grace and mercy as those who are facing the holidays behind forced smiles and feigned laughter.
Whichever side of the fence our lot falls on this year, we can be sure that we have not escaped the eyes of our maker.
A couple of nights ago, Katherine and I were having a conversation after dinner. Unfortunately, we had gotten some bad news concerning a family member. Katherine was visibly distraught as she told me the details of what had happened. With a trembling lip ( and what seemed to be a hint of guilt), she remarked that, try as she might, she just couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit this year.
Her remarks got me to thinking about the holiday season in general, and, in particular, what exactly it means to have the Christmas spirit.
As I scanned through the archives of my own Christmases past, I had to admit that I have become accustomed to cultivating a special spirit during the month of December that is, for whatever reason, not as discernible during other times of celebration. There is a magic of sorts that seems to lay hold of us as we carouse the shopping districts and breathe in the aroma of freshly cut Fraser firs decorated with decades of memorable keepsakes. We feel a profound sense of well-being as we watch and re-watch old holiday movies that have become family traditions dating back to our own childhood. Perhaps the magic of Christmas can best be summed up for many of us in the spirit of these old TV segments. They have a way (if only for a moment) of making us feel like a kid again.
Isn't that what Christmas is about?
But what do we do if some of that childlike magic is missing from our Christmas season?
What if, despite our best efforts at keeping a positive attitude, those trusty old Christmas classics fall a little short in turning the portkey that opens the door to childlike wonder?
What if the lights don’t seem to sparkle quite as brightly as they did when we were squinting with our ten-year-old eyes in front of the Christmas tree?
And what if our trip to the department store in search of Lindor chocolates and other Christmas goodies feels a little bit stale and hollowed out?
If my memory serves me correctly, there have been a few holiday seasons in my life where that special spark of Christmas magic wouldn’t come.
For instance, there was the year my step-dad passed away.
Then there was the year my Grandma passed after a prolonged illness.
The terrorist attacks on New York and Washington D.C. took some of the luster out of the 2001 holiday celebration.
And there have, as the scriptures predicted, been “wars and rumors of wars”, with many of our nation’s servicemen and women leaving family members back in the States to gaze longingly at pictures of dads, moms, sons, and daughters who would not be joining the rest of the family in front of the Christmas tree.
Even in the midst of these and other challenges, many of us are able to overcome the forces of darkness and settle snugly into our blanket of holiday cheer. There are a few instances, however, when (try as we might), we are swallowed up in the enormity of circumstances beyond our control.
As I have thought about a few of the stumbling blocks we might face while trying to get in tune with the Christmas spirit, I have come to the conclusion that it is very easy to confuse our temporal "creature comforts" with the actual spirituality that attends the holiday season. Since, in many instances, the two events (temporal comforts and spirituality) converge in perfect rhythm with our scheduled activities, we can sometimes find ourselves feeling forgotten or lacking in faith if that magical chemistry won’t come together as we think it should.
We might even feel a bit guilty if our holiday smile isn't completely genuine.
For our family, the days leading up to this year's celebration of Jesus' birth have been replete with opposition and turmoil. We have witnessed suffering among friends and family on a scale we have never experienced. As a result, we have learned that if we truly love one another, it is impossible to avoid being deeply affected by what we see going on in the world around us. I make this statement acknowledging that my awareness of suffering has been quickened this year because of its close proximity to those with whom I am well-acquainted, and that many of the more "magical" Christmas seasons I have enjoyed have been spent in blissful ignorance of the suffering going on in the lives of those I didn't know as well. Regardless of the semantics of experiencing joy during the Christmas season, it has been one of those years when our family has had to fight to keep the magic in the holiday. From this, I have learned that the bleak moments in which we witness or experience untimely struggles can serve to bring us closer to God, and can actually accentuate the real meaning of why we observe a world-wide celebration each year.
I build much of my case from the account of Jesus’ inspired words in the New Testament:
“And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him:
And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,
Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.
Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.”
The sermon on the mount serves as a blanket of comfort for those who are dealing with challenges at any season in life, but it has particular significance for those who are struggling at Christmastime. I am reminded of the Savior’s words to an ancient American prophet who was facing the extinction of his people because of their collective faith in God:
“And it came to pass that he (Nephi) went out and bowed himself down upon the earth, and cried mightily to his God in behalf of his people, yea, those who were about to be destroyed because of their faith in the tradition of their fathers.
And it came to pass that he cried mightily unto the Lord all that day; and behold, the voice of the Lord came unto him, saying:
Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfill all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets.
In the face of likely annihilation and subsequent extinction, the Savior’s advice to Nephi was simple but profound:
“Lift up your head, and be of good cheer.” he said, “for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given,"
But what was the sign?
It was light.....a light shining in the darkness of a troubled world.
The shepherds in their fields saw it.
The wise men saw it.
Nephi saw it.
We, too can see it, if we are looking up.
Perhaps, at one time or another, we have all wasted away a portion of our holiday season chasing the creature comforts we are accustomed to enjoying. In vain, we might even shut ourselves up in the confines of the living room with our eyes focused on the Christmas tree lights, thinking that if we can somehow squint hard enough and hold our mouth just the right way, the magic will come.
But, as Boyd K. Packer once said, “You cannot force spiritual things.”
To everything there is a season.
There will be years when our cup runneth over. There will be times when we are filled with a sense of peace and happiness beyond anything we are capable of experiencing in the confines of our natural emotions.
We will know intimately what Lehi meant when he said:
“Man is that he might have joy.”
But there are other times when all we will be able to do is groan inside, lament our losses, and hang on for dear life.
Mary, the sister of Lazarus did exactly that:
“Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.”
Jesus did not rebuke her for a lack of faith.
Instead, the scriptures tell us that He wept with her.
Then He performed a miracle.
And Lazarus lived again.
It was a taste of good things to come for all of us.
As we approach the eve of our Savior’s birth, I am grateful to feel His spirit attending our family....perhaps more so than usual.
Charles Dickens summed up the year in review for many of us:
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
While the worst of those times have somewhat subdued our desire for boisterous celebration this year, we nonetheless have reason to smile.
Just in the nick of time, our family abandoned the squinting-at-the-tree tradition and stepped out into the night for a breath of fresh air. As it always has at Christmastime, the special star shone bright and clear against the figurative backdrop of the black sky.
Somehow, that star seems to shine brightest when the night is at its darkest.
If you ask me, that's the real magic of the Christmas season.
For my friends who’s cup runneth over, I toast your good health and pray for another year of peace and prosperity.
For those who have suffered (and are continuing to suffer) this year, I repeat the words of the Master:
“Lift up your head and be of good cheer”
Step outside and try to look up.
If you listen carefully, the still, small voice will whisper words of peace to your heart this Christmas season:
“Said I not unto thee, that, if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?”
You know the rest of the story.
Lazarous came forth.
In one way or another, so shall we.
Merry Christmas, Facebook friends.
As you look into the night sky, may you hear the echo of a baby's cry and bask in the afterglow of a star that will shine forever as a beacon to the wounded, the weary, and the pure in heart....no squinting required.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
The Shell Collector
The last Saturday in November is officially the day of recovery after Black Friday.
It is a day when sanity is restored and reason is reinstated after a twenty-four hour period of madness.
There are no sales. No deadlines. No hoopla.
Each year, our family drives six hours south to spend Thanksgiving at the beach with Katherine’s parents, and there is usually no question about what we will do with our extra time on lazy-days. We kick off our shoes, pack up the car, and head down to the ocean. Today, under the banner of a warm Indian summer sun, we made the short trek east across the inter-coastal waterway to greet the fall surf.
It was a good day for a walk.
Matthew, with his blue corduroys rolled up to his knees, ran uninhibited toward the receding tide with secret plans of hosting a one-man diving excursion while mom and dad weren’t looking. Kendall opted for quieter diversions, and split off to collect sea shells. After walking along the cool salt water with Katherine and Matthew for awhile, I decided to join Kendall on her search for the perfect conch.
“I don’t like collecting shells,” she mumbled as we walked along.
I was a little surprised by her statement, and asked her what had soured her on the prospect.
“I have to carry the cup,” she complained, glancing down at the plastic cup she was carrying as a temporary holding bin for her shells.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Earlier, Kendall had done her best to push the responsibility of tending to the cup off on me. After absorbing the "no" she surely knew was coming, she went to work on Katherine, and finally, having no success, tried to connive her unsuspecting younger brother into taking over her cup duty so that she could walk along the beach unhindered. Charity was sparser than usual, and despite her best efforts, she was stuck with the cup.
We continued to walk and look for shells.
After awhile, I looked into the plastic cup and noticed that Kendall had collected some halfway-decent looking specimens.
Mingling with the unblemished shells were a few broken-off, faded out fragments that I couldn’t quite figure out.
“What’s with the broken shells?” I asked. “You’re only supposed to collect the ones that are whole.”
Kendall looked at the shells in question, temporarily forgot her ire about having to carry the cup, and made a case for keeping the fragments.
“Well...they're still pretty,” she said.
I shrugged and continued to walk. Meanwhile, Matthew had found water pooling in a large, shallow crater in the sand. The sun warmed the 6 -inch deep water to a pleasant balminess, enticing Matthew to take the plunge and go for full-body immersion.
“You missed a spot,” I yelled, noticing a small area on his shirt that was untouched by the water and wet sand.
Matthew looked up and continued his splashing, blissfully unaware and completely unconcerned with his sopping wet clothes and diaper.
I shook my head at his antics.
“Ignorance is bliss,” I thought to myself as I reflected on his generally care-free attitude toward life.
Later, as we walked back toward the car, I was struck with the simple wisdom that both of my children had unknowingly contributed to our afternoon walk.
Kendall, who had spent the afternoon mingling broken shells with those that were whole, was convinced that all of them were beautiful regardless of their condition.
Her choice of keepsakes brought to mind a verse from the New Testament:
“They that are whole have no need of the physician,” Jesus said, “but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.
Jesus later reminded us that our heavenly Father is well-invested in the business of restoring things that are broken.
“I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.”
As Jeffery R. Holland once said, God seems to take special note of “broken things to mend"; especially those that have been left lying helpless and stranded on the beaches of His creation. To be sure, if the Savior had been walking with Kendall today, He would have smiled when He looked inside of her plastic cup.
“They’re still pretty,” she said simply.
Well said.
Matthew on the other hand, fell headlong into the ocean and then plowed like a bull through ankle-deep water before we could get our hands on him to stop him. Blissfully unaware of the rules of civility and how things “should be,” he didn’t quite understand why his antics led to our walk on the ocean being terminated.
Soaked and covered with sand, he was quite ready to continue the festivities for as long as he was able.
Kind of reminds me of our own relationship with a perfect, all-knowing God.
Despite our best efforts, our feeble claims to personal righteousness (at least while being impaired by pride and self-will) are compared to “filthy rags” when illuminated by the perfect holiness of a just God. More often than we probably think, we go blundering through life, soaked and sandy, with no inkling that we have fallen into deep water and need to be dried off.
Yet God is merciful to us in our fallen condition.
He does not demand perfection of us....at least not all at once.
C.S. Lewis said:
“ No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. We shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. But the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes in the airing cupboard. The only fatal thing is to lose one’s temper and give it up.”
After watching Matthew’s quick recovery from his mischief and his willingness to walk toward the car with a cheerful attitude, I expect good things will yet come to him. He is young and will learn quickly enough about “how things are.”
For the time being, Katherine and I contented ourselves with changing Matthew’s bloated diaper, stripping off his soaked clothes, and thanking God for the extra dose of Indian summer.
As I pulled out of the parking lot and watched the Atlantic ocean fade in my rear-view mirror, I remembered an old story about a man who had an incredible encounter one night while walking on the ocean.
“One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord, (and)
many scenes from my life flashed across the sky," begins the account.
If you’ve ever taken a walk on the beach and looked for a certain set of “Footprints”, the rest of that story will be as familiar as the salty ocean breeze.
If you've never heard of the legend, just go to any Christian bookstore and tell the clerk that you would like to know more about walking on the beach alone with the Lord.
They'll know exactly what you mean.
As for me, a good stroll along the ocean always seems to clear the air, no matter what's going on in the world. There is a familiarity in the hiss of the pounding surf that is timeless. I guess no matter how many people we invite to walk with us on the sands of our lives, there is always one more set of footprints left in the shifting dunes than we thought would be there. Coming off of a Black Friday that was tainted with reports of robbery, greed, and violence, I was grateful for a well-timed reminder that life is still pretty simple if we leave our footprints in the right place....with the right people.
Whether we are being carried along the shoreline in the depths of our weakness or are walking along at a steady pace of our own design, we will all eventually come to the knowledge that there is no beach so far or ocean so remote that our footprints will go unnoticed by Him who created them. And if we are listening to the still small voice that travels along the current of the ocean breeze, we will also come to realize that regardless of whether we are broken, whole, or in-between, we are all "still pretty" in the eyes of the Master shell collector.
It is a day when sanity is restored and reason is reinstated after a twenty-four hour period of madness.
There are no sales. No deadlines. No hoopla.
Each year, our family drives six hours south to spend Thanksgiving at the beach with Katherine’s parents, and there is usually no question about what we will do with our extra time on lazy-days. We kick off our shoes, pack up the car, and head down to the ocean. Today, under the banner of a warm Indian summer sun, we made the short trek east across the inter-coastal waterway to greet the fall surf.
It was a good day for a walk.
Matthew, with his blue corduroys rolled up to his knees, ran uninhibited toward the receding tide with secret plans of hosting a one-man diving excursion while mom and dad weren’t looking. Kendall opted for quieter diversions, and split off to collect sea shells. After walking along the cool salt water with Katherine and Matthew for awhile, I decided to join Kendall on her search for the perfect conch.
“I don’t like collecting shells,” she mumbled as we walked along.
I was a little surprised by her statement, and asked her what had soured her on the prospect.
“I have to carry the cup,” she complained, glancing down at the plastic cup she was carrying as a temporary holding bin for her shells.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Earlier, Kendall had done her best to push the responsibility of tending to the cup off on me. After absorbing the "no" she surely knew was coming, she went to work on Katherine, and finally, having no success, tried to connive her unsuspecting younger brother into taking over her cup duty so that she could walk along the beach unhindered. Charity was sparser than usual, and despite her best efforts, she was stuck with the cup.
We continued to walk and look for shells.
After awhile, I looked into the plastic cup and noticed that Kendall had collected some halfway-decent looking specimens.
Mingling with the unblemished shells were a few broken-off, faded out fragments that I couldn’t quite figure out.
“What’s with the broken shells?” I asked. “You’re only supposed to collect the ones that are whole.”
Kendall looked at the shells in question, temporarily forgot her ire about having to carry the cup, and made a case for keeping the fragments.
“Well...they're still pretty,” she said.
I shrugged and continued to walk. Meanwhile, Matthew had found water pooling in a large, shallow crater in the sand. The sun warmed the 6 -inch deep water to a pleasant balminess, enticing Matthew to take the plunge and go for full-body immersion.
“You missed a spot,” I yelled, noticing a small area on his shirt that was untouched by the water and wet sand.
Matthew looked up and continued his splashing, blissfully unaware and completely unconcerned with his sopping wet clothes and diaper.
I shook my head at his antics.
“Ignorance is bliss,” I thought to myself as I reflected on his generally care-free attitude toward life.
Later, as we walked back toward the car, I was struck with the simple wisdom that both of my children had unknowingly contributed to our afternoon walk.
Kendall, who had spent the afternoon mingling broken shells with those that were whole, was convinced that all of them were beautiful regardless of their condition.
Her choice of keepsakes brought to mind a verse from the New Testament:
“They that are whole have no need of the physician,” Jesus said, “but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.
Jesus later reminded us that our heavenly Father is well-invested in the business of restoring things that are broken.
“I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.”
As Jeffery R. Holland once said, God seems to take special note of “broken things to mend"; especially those that have been left lying helpless and stranded on the beaches of His creation. To be sure, if the Savior had been walking with Kendall today, He would have smiled when He looked inside of her plastic cup.
“They’re still pretty,” she said simply.
Well said.
Matthew on the other hand, fell headlong into the ocean and then plowed like a bull through ankle-deep water before we could get our hands on him to stop him. Blissfully unaware of the rules of civility and how things “should be,” he didn’t quite understand why his antics led to our walk on the ocean being terminated.
Soaked and covered with sand, he was quite ready to continue the festivities for as long as he was able.
Kind of reminds me of our own relationship with a perfect, all-knowing God.
Despite our best efforts, our feeble claims to personal righteousness (at least while being impaired by pride and self-will) are compared to “filthy rags” when illuminated by the perfect holiness of a just God. More often than we probably think, we go blundering through life, soaked and sandy, with no inkling that we have fallen into deep water and need to be dried off.
Yet God is merciful to us in our fallen condition.
He does not demand perfection of us....at least not all at once.
C.S. Lewis said:
“ No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. We shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. But the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes in the airing cupboard. The only fatal thing is to lose one’s temper and give it up.”
After watching Matthew’s quick recovery from his mischief and his willingness to walk toward the car with a cheerful attitude, I expect good things will yet come to him. He is young and will learn quickly enough about “how things are.”
For the time being, Katherine and I contented ourselves with changing Matthew’s bloated diaper, stripping off his soaked clothes, and thanking God for the extra dose of Indian summer.
As I pulled out of the parking lot and watched the Atlantic ocean fade in my rear-view mirror, I remembered an old story about a man who had an incredible encounter one night while walking on the ocean.
“One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord, (and)
many scenes from my life flashed across the sky," begins the account.
If you’ve ever taken a walk on the beach and looked for a certain set of “Footprints”, the rest of that story will be as familiar as the salty ocean breeze.
If you've never heard of the legend, just go to any Christian bookstore and tell the clerk that you would like to know more about walking on the beach alone with the Lord.
They'll know exactly what you mean.
As for me, a good stroll along the ocean always seems to clear the air, no matter what's going on in the world. There is a familiarity in the hiss of the pounding surf that is timeless. I guess no matter how many people we invite to walk with us on the sands of our lives, there is always one more set of footprints left in the shifting dunes than we thought would be there. Coming off of a Black Friday that was tainted with reports of robbery, greed, and violence, I was grateful for a well-timed reminder that life is still pretty simple if we leave our footprints in the right place....with the right people.
Whether we are being carried along the shoreline in the depths of our weakness or are walking along at a steady pace of our own design, we will all eventually come to the knowledge that there is no beach so far or ocean so remote that our footprints will go unnoticed by Him who created them. And if we are listening to the still small voice that travels along the current of the ocean breeze, we will also come to realize that regardless of whether we are broken, whole, or in-between, we are all "still pretty" in the eyes of the Master shell collector.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Never Too Late for a Trade-In
Have you ever had car trouble?
Chances are, you have.
I have certainly done my share of walking down the sides of narrow roads and interstate emergency lanes, glancing back occasionally to see how far I have traveled from the hazard flashers blinking in the distance.
Not the best way to end a long day.
A few days ago, I was sitting at a stoplight and, for some reason, the thought occurred to me that we humans have an awful lot in common with the vehicles we drive. We spend so much of our time trying to keep ourselves in good repair. Yet, despite our best efforts to maintain a well-oiled machine, we too often find ourselves stranded inside a dingy auto-shop undergoing expensive repairs.
Sometimes, these occasional restorations to our inner make-up are in order.
Other times, we have to face the fact that we might be riding around in a kind of mental and spiritual lemon that will sap all of our strength and resources to fix. Lucky for us there is a dealer in town who will take free trade-ins on the spiritual lemons and money- pits that plague our happiness.
No kidding.
Just bring the vehicle in question (no matter what shape it is in) to the dealership parking lot and park it next to the other broken-down mental and spiritual wrecks sitting there in the junkyard.
Step out of the vehicle.
Give the keys to the friendly looking guy who comes out to greet you, and ride away smiling in a brand new car that runs like a top.
Sound too good to be true?
Well.....there is one catch.
This particular dealership has one stipulation that must be followed or the trade is void. When you drive away in your new vehicle, you must leave behind all of the baggage you have stowed away inside of the old car.
Baggage that should to be easy to walk away from... but isn’t.
The hidden suitcase in the trunk that is full of the anger you feel toward your boss.
That cleverly disguised box of self indulgence you have shoved under the front seat - the one you have been opening every once in awhile when you think no one is watching.
That bad habit you just can’t seem to give up.
The can of self pity.
The grudge you’ve been carrying around for the past twenty years.
Yes....all of that spiritual rubbish has to stay with the car or the deal is off.
Chances are, though, you’ll forget about your losses pretty quick when you notice that you don’t have to wonder whether you’ll get to your destinations without roadside assistance anymore. You’ll be thrilled when you can stop figuring costly auto repairs into your monthly budget. And no more praying that the car will start when you turn the ignition.
The upkeep on the new car is easy. Just keep up with the maintenance card, change the oil, and bring it in for a tune up every once in awhile.
And leave that treasure trove of old habits back with the wreck you traded in.
Sounds pretty simple, right?
When speaking of the kingdom of heaven, Jesus said:
And then, to make sure His followers understood, he related a similar parable:
Our all in exchange for Christ’s all.
Earth for heaven.
Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.
But are we willing to make the trade?
Sometimes, I fear we are more prone to go for the quick steal on a snazzy looking sports car that will speed us toward temporary fulfillment than for the plain-looking family car that will actually get us where we want to go. Contrary to what is paraded before us on our TV screens, it’s still true that slow and steady wins the race. Yet despite the seeming simplicity of it all, it’s easy to be deceived about where happiness lies in today’s world of mass- marketing and multi-media. It’s easy to find ourselves riding around in a spiritual lemon even after the closest scrutiny of the available options.
Fortunately for us, there’s that almost-too-good-to-be-true dealership that’s set up just at the edge of town.
And He’s still taking trade ins.
Always has...always will.
Sometimes it can be hard getting our ragged-out, broken-down lemons to the junk yard to make the trade.
We might even have to get out and walk the last leg of the journey, checking back in the distance to see how far we have come from the flashing hazard lights. Repentance can be a long road to follow.
In the distance, the sign that is and ever will be visible as a light to those stranded and in need of a ride reads:
So, if your car has been acting up and all of the self-help mechanics have failed you, do yourself a favor: throw in the towel and take your spiritual lemon out to the edge of town. It’s never as far away as it seems to be...even if your walking away from the mangles remains of what seems to be a total-loss.Those hazard lights can look awful lonely as you look back to the scene of the accident and keep trudging along (Believe me, I know all about that!).
Don’t despair.
In the distance, there is a set of headlights headed down the deserted road toward you. As they near your position on the road, they slow to a crawl. The loud but pleasant clanking of a diesel engine drowns out the crickets in the night air, and you notice that you are staring into the side-window of an old tow-truck.
"Need a lift?" calls a voice from the driver’s seat.
You hesitate for a moment, but there is something about the voice that seems compelling.
Something familiar.
"You betcha!" you hear yourself saying, swinging open the door.
As the driver hitches up your car and heads back out toward the edge of town, you smile at the golden emblem on the passenger-side door.
"Treasure in a Field Towing," it says. "Great Price."
The lights fade in the distance, and the heavens are silent as the crickets resume their chirping. In a celestial realm somewhere out there in the cosmos, a heavenly being clothed in brilliant light smiles at the scene. The tow truck makes it’s way slowly toward the edge of town, and turns into a small dealership that has a great deal on new cars.
Looks like it’s never too late for a trade-in.
Chances are, you have.
I have certainly done my share of walking down the sides of narrow roads and interstate emergency lanes, glancing back occasionally to see how far I have traveled from the hazard flashers blinking in the distance.
Not the best way to end a long day.
A few days ago, I was sitting at a stoplight and, for some reason, the thought occurred to me that we humans have an awful lot in common with the vehicles we drive. We spend so much of our time trying to keep ourselves in good repair. Yet, despite our best efforts to maintain a well-oiled machine, we too often find ourselves stranded inside a dingy auto-shop undergoing expensive repairs.
Sometimes, these occasional restorations to our inner make-up are in order.
Other times, we have to face the fact that we might be riding around in a kind of mental and spiritual lemon that will sap all of our strength and resources to fix. Lucky for us there is a dealer in town who will take free trade-ins on the spiritual lemons and money- pits that plague our happiness.
No kidding.
Just bring the vehicle in question (no matter what shape it is in) to the dealership parking lot and park it next to the other broken-down mental and spiritual wrecks sitting there in the junkyard.
Step out of the vehicle.
Give the keys to the friendly looking guy who comes out to greet you, and ride away smiling in a brand new car that runs like a top.
Sound too good to be true?
Well.....there is one catch.
This particular dealership has one stipulation that must be followed or the trade is void. When you drive away in your new vehicle, you must leave behind all of the baggage you have stowed away inside of the old car.
Baggage that should to be easy to walk away from... but isn’t.
The hidden suitcase in the trunk that is full of the anger you feel toward your boss.
That cleverly disguised box of self indulgence you have shoved under the front seat - the one you have been opening every once in awhile when you think no one is watching.
That bad habit you just can’t seem to give up.
The can of self pity.
The grudge you’ve been carrying around for the past twenty years.
Yes....all of that spiritual rubbish has to stay with the car or the deal is off.
Chances are, though, you’ll forget about your losses pretty quick when you notice that you don’t have to wonder whether you’ll get to your destinations without roadside assistance anymore. You’ll be thrilled when you can stop figuring costly auto repairs into your monthly budget. And no more praying that the car will start when you turn the ignition.
The upkeep on the new car is easy. Just keep up with the maintenance card, change the oil, and bring it in for a tune up every once in awhile.
And leave that treasure trove of old habits back with the wreck you traded in.
Sounds pretty simple, right?
When speaking of the kingdom of heaven, Jesus said:
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field."
And then, to make sure His followers understood, he related a similar parable:
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchantman, seeking goodly pearls:Not a bad trade-in if you think about it.
who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it."
Our all in exchange for Christ’s all.
Earth for heaven.
Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.
But are we willing to make the trade?
Sometimes, I fear we are more prone to go for the quick steal on a snazzy looking sports car that will speed us toward temporary fulfillment than for the plain-looking family car that will actually get us where we want to go. Contrary to what is paraded before us on our TV screens, it’s still true that slow and steady wins the race. Yet despite the seeming simplicity of it all, it’s easy to be deceived about where happiness lies in today’s world of mass- marketing and multi-media. It’s easy to find ourselves riding around in a spiritual lemon even after the closest scrutiny of the available options.
Fortunately for us, there’s that almost-too-good-to-be-true dealership that’s set up just at the edge of town.
And He’s still taking trade ins.
Always has...always will.
Sometimes it can be hard getting our ragged-out, broken-down lemons to the junk yard to make the trade.
We might even have to get out and walk the last leg of the journey, checking back in the distance to see how far we have come from the flashing hazard lights. Repentance can be a long road to follow.
In the distance, the sign that is and ever will be visible as a light to those stranded and in need of a ride reads:
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.To the tired traveler who is weary of detours and breakdowns, there can be no sweeter words to ponder.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light"
So, if your car has been acting up and all of the self-help mechanics have failed you, do yourself a favor: throw in the towel and take your spiritual lemon out to the edge of town. It’s never as far away as it seems to be...even if your walking away from the mangles remains of what seems to be a total-loss.Those hazard lights can look awful lonely as you look back to the scene of the accident and keep trudging along (Believe me, I know all about that!).
Don’t despair.
In the distance, there is a set of headlights headed down the deserted road toward you. As they near your position on the road, they slow to a crawl. The loud but pleasant clanking of a diesel engine drowns out the crickets in the night air, and you notice that you are staring into the side-window of an old tow-truck.
"Need a lift?" calls a voice from the driver’s seat.
You hesitate for a moment, but there is something about the voice that seems compelling.
Something familiar.
"You betcha!" you hear yourself saying, swinging open the door.
As the driver hitches up your car and heads back out toward the edge of town, you smile at the golden emblem on the passenger-side door.
"Treasure in a Field Towing," it says. "Great Price."
The lights fade in the distance, and the heavens are silent as the crickets resume their chirping. In a celestial realm somewhere out there in the cosmos, a heavenly being clothed in brilliant light smiles at the scene. The tow truck makes it’s way slowly toward the edge of town, and turns into a small dealership that has a great deal on new cars.
Looks like it’s never too late for a trade-in.
The Breath of Life
Recently, when I was on a flight to New York City, an unexpected experience helped me understand a little better about how we might be more effective in our efforts to bless the lives of those around us.
The insight came when the airline stewardess was explaining the nature of the emergency air bag that would drop down if the aircraft became unstable and started to depressurize. While listening to her instructions, I looked down at the written list of safety procedures, and started when my gaze fell on one particular diagram.
In this picture and the subsequent written explanation, adult airline passengers were instructed that in the event of an aircraft emergency, they were to first make sure that their own air masks were securely in place. Then, only after doing this, they could proceed to concern themselves with strapping on the air masks of their children.
Though the apparent wisdom in the instructions was evident, the whole process seemed to fly in the face of everything I understood about what it means to be a good parent.
In the event of such an urgent emergency, wouldn’t it be unforgivably selfish to spend valuable time putting on your own air mask before worrying about that of your children?
It would certainly seem so.
When you think about the how the laws of nature really work, though, the answer may be ....well....maybe it’s not so selfish.
You see, if the adult were to lose consciousness as a result of air loss, he or she would be totally useless to anyone else (including their children) while lying in a heap on the floor of the careening aircraft.
No one would be there to help the children, and it’s doubtful they would be able to figure out how to help themselves.
But if they were able to get your mask quickly on their face, thus taking care of their own need for oxygen, they would be much better equipped and empowered to help their own children to safety.
In the book of Enos, (found near the beginning of the Book of Mormon), this principle is illustrated wonderfully:
The Lamanites were at enmity with Enos and his Nephite brothers.
Enos first applied all of his energy to getting his life on course, and then, after having his own spiritual oxygen replenished, he was able to divert his full, undistracted attention towards heartfelt prayer for both his friends and his enemies.
Here in this book, I believe an eternal pattern is established:
Rather, it is a daily, even hourly process of keeping a prayer in our hearts so that we are strengthened and healed according to our needs.
So, if you are finding yourself more and more tired, frazzled, and worn out by the vicissitudes of life, don’t despair.
There are oxygen masks available at all hours of the day and night, no matter what aircraft you are traveling on.
You will probably find yours most easily if you take respite in a quiet room in the back of the house and calm your mind long enough to say a quick prayer.
Your husband can survive without dinner for a few minutes.
Your wife can hold onto that list of chores for another couple of moments.
The kids will be ok for a few seconds.
How much damage could they actually do in that time frame? (Don’t answer that.)
When you reemerge, you will be much more able to help those in your care than you were a few moments ago when you were struggling for spiritual air.
Jesus has admonished: "Ask, and you shall receive. Knock, and it shall be opened,"
Prayer will do wonders for the oxygen deprived soul.
A half-hour immersed in a favorite hymn or verse first thing in the morning can be all of the spiritual oxygen you will need to stand up to the challenges of the day.
"I will not leave you comfortless," said Jesus to His disciples. "I will come to you."
Over the course of my life, I have really come to believe that.
I can’t count how many times the Spirit has come to my rescue in overcoming temptations, finding the courage to stand for what is right, or helping me control my temper in a heated moment.
His influence to us in this day and age is just as it was to Adam and Eve thousands of years ago in the Garden of Eden:
The breath of life.
I’m not sure about you, but I don't need to be traveling at 30,000 feet to appreciate the how much better my day goes with a breath of fresh air.
The insight came when the airline stewardess was explaining the nature of the emergency air bag that would drop down if the aircraft became unstable and started to depressurize. While listening to her instructions, I looked down at the written list of safety procedures, and started when my gaze fell on one particular diagram.
In this picture and the subsequent written explanation, adult airline passengers were instructed that in the event of an aircraft emergency, they were to first make sure that their own air masks were securely in place. Then, only after doing this, they could proceed to concern themselves with strapping on the air masks of their children.
Though the apparent wisdom in the instructions was evident, the whole process seemed to fly in the face of everything I understood about what it means to be a good parent.
In the event of such an urgent emergency, wouldn’t it be unforgivably selfish to spend valuable time putting on your own air mask before worrying about that of your children?
It would certainly seem so.
When you think about the how the laws of nature really work, though, the answer may be ....well....maybe it’s not so selfish.
You see, if the adult were to lose consciousness as a result of air loss, he or she would be totally useless to anyone else (including their children) while lying in a heap on the floor of the careening aircraft.
No one would be there to help the children, and it’s doubtful they would be able to figure out how to help themselves.
But if they were able to get your mask quickly on their face, thus taking care of their own need for oxygen, they would be much better equipped and empowered to help their own children to safety.
In the book of Enos, (found near the beginning of the Book of Mormon), this principle is illustrated wonderfully:
"Behold, it came to pass that I, Enos, knowing my father that he was a just man -- for he taught me in his language, and also in the nurture and admonition of the Lord -- and blessed be the name of my God for it --Enos, through faith in Jesus Christ, received peace to his soul and a remission of sins because of his faith and diligence in seeking Jesus Christ. Many of us might think the story ends here, but there is more:
And I will tell you of the wrestle which I had before God, before I received a remission of my sins.
Behold, I went to hunt beasts in the forests; and the words which I had often heard my father speak concerning eternal life, and the joy of the saints, sunk deep into my heart.
And my soul hungered; and I kneeled down before my Maker, and I cried unto him in mighty prayer and supplication for mine own soul; and all the day long did I cry unto him; yea, and when the night came I did still raise my voice high that it reached the heavens.
And there came a voice unto me, saying: Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed.
And I, Enos, knew that God could not lie; wherefore, my guilt was swept away.
And I said: Lord, how is it done?
And he said unto me: Because of thy faith in Christ, whom thou hast never before heard nor seen. And many years pass away before he shall manifest himself in the flesh; wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole."
Now, it came to pass that when I had heard these words I began to feel a desire for the welfare of my brethren, the Nephites; wherefore, I did pour out my whole soul unto God for them.For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Book of Mormon, the Nephites were Enos’ kindred.
And while I was thus struggling in the spirit, behold, the voice of the Lord came into my mind again, saying: I will visit thy brethren according to their diligence in keeping my commandments. I have given unto them this land, and it is a holy land; and I curse it not save it be for the cause of iniquity; wherefore, I will visit thy brethren according as I have said; and their transgressions will I bring down with sorrow upon their own heads.And after I, Enos, had heard these words, my faith began to be unshaken in the Lord; and I prayed unto him with many long strugglings for my brethren, the Lamanites."
The Lamanites were at enmity with Enos and his Nephite brothers.
Enos first applied all of his energy to getting his life on course, and then, after having his own spiritual oxygen replenished, he was able to divert his full, undistracted attention towards heartfelt prayer for both his friends and his enemies.
Here in this book, I believe an eternal pattern is established:
- Life brings challenges to all of us
- We feel a need for spiritual help in our lives to help us meet these challenges
- We approach God in fervent and heartfelt prayer
- God sends us spiritual oxygen to meet our needs
- We are then in a position to do as the Savior would have us do - lose ourselves in the service of providing spiritual oxygen for others
Rather, it is a daily, even hourly process of keeping a prayer in our hearts so that we are strengthened and healed according to our needs.
So, if you are finding yourself more and more tired, frazzled, and worn out by the vicissitudes of life, don’t despair.
There are oxygen masks available at all hours of the day and night, no matter what aircraft you are traveling on.
You will probably find yours most easily if you take respite in a quiet room in the back of the house and calm your mind long enough to say a quick prayer.
Your husband can survive without dinner for a few minutes.
Your wife can hold onto that list of chores for another couple of moments.
The kids will be ok for a few seconds.
How much damage could they actually do in that time frame? (Don’t answer that.)
When you reemerge, you will be much more able to help those in your care than you were a few moments ago when you were struggling for spiritual air.
Jesus has admonished: "Ask, and you shall receive. Knock, and it shall be opened,"
Prayer will do wonders for the oxygen deprived soul.
A half-hour immersed in a favorite hymn or verse first thing in the morning can be all of the spiritual oxygen you will need to stand up to the challenges of the day.
"I will not leave you comfortless," said Jesus to His disciples. "I will come to you."
Over the course of my life, I have really come to believe that.
I can’t count how many times the Spirit has come to my rescue in overcoming temptations, finding the courage to stand for what is right, or helping me control my temper in a heated moment.
His influence to us in this day and age is just as it was to Adam and Eve thousands of years ago in the Garden of Eden:
The breath of life.
I’m not sure about you, but I don't need to be traveling at 30,000 feet to appreciate the how much better my day goes with a breath of fresh air.
Choose the Right
Last week, after getting off from my first job, I spent a couple of hours doing a pest service on a self-storage unit here in Williamsburg.While I was wandering through the rows of indoor units (sprayer in hand), I reflected on how difficult it can sometimes be to remember which areas have been serviced and which ones still need to be treated….especially if you are in a really big building.
Maybe it’s my old age catching up with me, but my memory just isn’t what it used to be. The bigger the building, the harder it seems to be to remember where you are …and where you have been.
I have definitely serviced a few large buildings in my time.
I can remember attempting to tackle a Goliath meat-packing plant on my first day as a pest control technician back in 1996.It didn’t work out so well – I wandered around lost inside for hours. After what seemed like forever, I found my way out of the maze of locker rooms, hallways and production rooms and breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the cool air outside. Looking at the lay of the building from the outside and reworking my bearings, I was shocked at how far I was from where I thought I would be.
I was way off course!
Back then, I didn’t know the secret to remembering which way to turn next when navigating a big building without a map to point the way out.Somewhere along the way, I realized that no matter what building you are in, regardless of the size or the complexity of the layout, you can find your way out (as well as remember what you have treated and what you haven’t) if you start making right-hand turns the minute you enter the building. Then, if you keep the wall to your right at all times, you will be able to successfully navigate the building.
Sounds pretty simple, huh?
Just walk in, make a right-hand turn, make sure the wall stays to your right, and keep doing the same until you get out. The problem with this system is exactly what it seems like it would be – it’s too simple. Most days, there is a significant temptation to deviate.
Most days, unfortunately, I do.
I have found no success, however, in deviating from this system of right-hand turns. Rather, such deviations almost always mean having to redo a section or two.Or, worse yet, wandering around lost for awhile.
As I finished up the other day with the last row of the middle units at the self-storage facility and prepared to treat the final round of perimeter doorways, I reflected on the wisdom of trying to stick with right-hand turns, and wondered if the philosophy behind it might have greater value than just navigating pest-guys through buildings.While pondering this thought, I happened to notice a couple of units in a corner to the left that hadn’t been treated yet. I thought about making a quick detour and veering off that way for a minute or two to spray them. It wouldn’t take but a second, and I’d be right back on course making right-hand turns. It would be a piece of cake to find my way back.
Then I smiled as I remembered the words to a familiar children’s hymn.
With one last glance over my shoulder, I turned my back on the left-facing units and continued on my way down the long corridor. Soon enough, I made my way back around and was treating the units in question. This time, there were no doubts about whether or not I had treated the area before.No wandering around trying to get back on track.
“Choose the right.”
It’s pretty simple.
Sounds like good advice for a pest guy.
My memory isn’t what it used to be, but I don’t think I”ve ever gone wrong choosing right.
I have definitely serviced a few large buildings in my time.
I can remember attempting to tackle a Goliath meat-packing plant on my first day as a pest control technician back in 1996.It didn’t work out so well – I wandered around lost inside for hours. After what seemed like forever, I found my way out of the maze of locker rooms, hallways and production rooms and breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the cool air outside. Looking at the lay of the building from the outside and reworking my bearings, I was shocked at how far I was from where I thought I would be.
I was way off course!
Back then, I didn’t know the secret to remembering which way to turn next when navigating a big building without a map to point the way out.Somewhere along the way, I realized that no matter what building you are in, regardless of the size or the complexity of the layout, you can find your way out (as well as remember what you have treated and what you haven’t) if you start making right-hand turns the minute you enter the building. Then, if you keep the wall to your right at all times, you will be able to successfully navigate the building.
Sounds pretty simple, huh?
Just walk in, make a right-hand turn, make sure the wall stays to your right, and keep doing the same until you get out. The problem with this system is exactly what it seems like it would be – it’s too simple. Most days, there is a significant temptation to deviate.
Most days, unfortunately, I do.
I have found no success, however, in deviating from this system of right-hand turns. Rather, such deviations almost always mean having to redo a section or two.Or, worse yet, wandering around lost for awhile.
As I finished up the other day with the last row of the middle units at the self-storage facility and prepared to treat the final round of perimeter doorways, I reflected on the wisdom of trying to stick with right-hand turns, and wondered if the philosophy behind it might have greater value than just navigating pest-guys through buildings.While pondering this thought, I happened to notice a couple of units in a corner to the left that hadn’t been treated yet. I thought about making a quick detour and veering off that way for a minute or two to spray them. It wouldn’t take but a second, and I’d be right back on course making right-hand turns. It would be a piece of cake to find my way back.
Then I smiled as I remembered the words to a familiar children’s hymn.
“Choose the right, when the choice is put before you,
In the right the Holy Spirit guides;
And its light is forever shining o’er you,
When in the right your heart confides.
Choose the right, Choose the right
Let wisdom mark the way before.
In its light, choose the right
And God will bless you evermore.”
With one last glance over my shoulder, I turned my back on the left-facing units and continued on my way down the long corridor. Soon enough, I made my way back around and was treating the units in question. This time, there were no doubts about whether or not I had treated the area before.No wandering around trying to get back on track.
“Choose the right.”
It’s pretty simple.
Sounds like good advice for a pest guy.
My memory isn’t what it used to be, but I don’t think I”ve ever gone wrong choosing right.
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