The Dedicated Life Of A Mormon Missionary!!

D

Dad, I'm Thinking Of Something

One rainy afternoon I was driving along 

one of the main streets of town, 

taking those extra precautions necessary 

when the roads are wet and slick. 

Suddenly, my daughter, Aspen, spoke up from 

her relaxed position in her seat. 

"Dad, I'm thinking of something." 

This announcement usually meant she had been 

pondering some fact for a while, 

and was now ready to expound all that 

her six-year-old mind had discovered. 

I was eager to hear. 

"What are you thinking?" I asked. 

"The rain," she began, "is like sin, and the windshield 

wipers are like God wiping our sins away." 

After the chill bumps raced up my arms I was able to respond. 

"That's really good, Aspen." 

Then my curiosity broke in. 

How far would this little girl take this revelation? 

So I asked.. 

"Do you notice how the rain keeps on coming? 

What does that tell you?" 

Aspen didn't hesitate one moment with her answer: 

"We keep on sinning, and God just keeps on forgiving us."

I will always remember this whenever I turn my wipers on.

Funny how I can be more worried about what other 

people think of me than what God thinks of me. 

In order to see the rainbow,

you must first endure some rain!

For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord...

plans to prosper you, not to harm you, 

plans to give you hope and a future. 

Jeremiah 29:11  

WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WASN'T LOOKING

WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WASN'T LOOKING 

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you hang my
first painting on the refrigerator, and I immediately
wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you feed a
stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind
to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you make my
favorite cake for me, and I learned that the little
things can be the special things in life.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I heard you say a
prayer, and I knew that there is a God I could always
talk to, and I learned to trust in Him.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you make a
meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I
learned that we all have to help take care of each other.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you take care
of our house and everyone in it, and I learned we have
to take care of what we are given.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw how you
handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't
feel good, and I learned that I would have to be
responsible when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw tears come
from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things
hurt, but it's all right to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw that you
cared, and I wanted to be everything that I could be..

When you thought I wasn't looking, I learned most of
life's lessons that I need to know to be a good and
productive person when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I looked at you and
wanted to say,' Thanks for all the things I saw when
you thought I wasn't looking.'

LITTLE EYES SEE A LOT 

Each of us - 

parent - grandparent - aunt - 

uncle - teacher - friend 

influences the life of a child. 

How will you touch the life of someone today? 

Live simply. 

Love generously. 

Care deeply. 

Speak kindly. 

Leave the rest to God.


December 2011

Life Lessons From Dad - Muhammad Ali's Advice to His Daughters

Muhammad Ali's advice to his daughters . . . Powerful!

An incident transpired when Muhammad Ali’s daughters arrived at his home wearing clothes that were quite revealing.

Here is the story as told by one of his daughters:

“When we finally arrived, the chauffeur escorted my younger sister, Laila, and me up to my father’s suite. As usual, he was hiding behind the door waiting to scare us. We exchanged many hugs and kisses as we could possibly give in one day.

My father took a good look at us. Then he sat me down on his lap and said something that I will never forget. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Hana, everything that God made valuable in the world is covered and hard to get to.

Where do you find diamonds? Deep down in the ground, covered and protected.
Where do you find pearls? Deep down at the bottom of the ocean, covered up and protected in a beautiful shell.
Where do you find gold? Way down in the mine, covered over with layers and layers of rock. You've got to work hard to get to them.”
He looked at me with serious eyes. “Your body is sacred. You’re far more precious than diamonds and pearls, and you should be covered too.”

From the book: More Than A Hero: Muhammad Ali's Life Lessons Through His Daughter's Eyes.

A Dad's Story

As I frequently do, I turned to the internet to check this story out and what I found was most interesting. The story below is a very good (true) story that will touch your heart. But there is more.

What circulates as a shortened form of “A Dad’s Story” was originally named “Free The Birdies”, a title that aptly described the thrust of the unabridged account. It was penned in 1994 by Lloyd Glenn, a Mormon then living in Mission Viejo, CA, about the accident that befell his son Brian, on July 22, 1993.

Read the story below then go to this page: Click Here for more info
to read the rest of the story. At the beginning of the page, is starts with the same story below. Scroll down the page and start with “origins” and I think you will find it very interesting.

A DAD' S STORY 

On July 22nd I was en route to Washington , DC , for a business trip.  

It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead locker, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn (that’s me) to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. 

I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if he were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk.  

When I got off the plane, a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr.Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital."  

My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over. 

Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital . My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital. 

By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness. 

The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. 

Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage.  

Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious.. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before. 

Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken.  He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his little arms. 

By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine, when we took Brian home, we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely. 

In the days that followed, there was a special spirit about our home.
Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. 

Perspective seemed to be more focused and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.
The story is not over (smile)! 

Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down Mommy.. I have something to tell you". At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story. 

"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the ' birdies ' came." 

"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.

Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me". 

"They did?" 

"Yes," he said. "One of the birdies came and got you.  She came to tell you 'I got stuck under the door'.

A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air.  My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as "birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.

"What did the birdies look like?" she asked. 

Brian answered, "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white." 

"Did they say anything?" 

"Yes," he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right".

"The baby"? my wife asked confused. 

Brian answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor".

He went on, "You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave".

My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this,  for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian's body and seeing his crushed chest whispered, "Don't leave us Brian, please stay if you can".

As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.

"Then what happened"?  she asked. 

"We went on a trip," he said, "far, far away".

He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay.  He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult. 

"We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added. 

"And there are lots and lots of birdies"?

My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the "birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the "birdies".  He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay.

The story went on for an hour. 

He taught us that "birdies" were always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart).  They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much.

Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan.  Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so much".

In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it, again and again.  Always the story remained the same.  The details were never changed or out of order.  A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered.  It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies. 

Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies".

Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. 

Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be. 

You have an Angel to watch over you.  Some people come into our lives and quickly go.  Some people become friends and stay a while . . . leaving beautiful footprints on our hearts ... and we are never quite the same because we have made a good friend.

Dear Father in heaven . . .

This is so old, it’s before there was even email.  But I found it in my papers and am forwarding it to you.  The first time I heard this awesome prayer was in 1984.  A young adult was kneeled in front of the table and Heavenly Father’s voice came over the PA.  It was so awesome, I remember it as if it was yesterday!  Enjoy

Dear Father in heaven . . .

     Yes?

Don't interrupt me. I'm saying my prayers.

     But you called My name.

Called you? I didn't call you! I'm just saying my prayers. Where was I? Oh, yes.... My Dear Father in heaven......

     There, you did it again.

Did what?

     Called my name. You said "My dear Father in Heaven".  Here I am. What's on your mind?

I didn't mean anything by that; I was just....you know, saying my prayers for the night. I always say my prayers--- it makes me feel good. Kind of like getting my duty done.

     Your duty? All right. Go ahead.

I'm thankful for my many blessings.....

      Hold on a minute there. How thankful are you?

What???

      How thankful are you for your many blessings?

I'm ... well .... I don't know. How should I know? It's just part of the prayer. Everyone always said I should express my thanks.

      Oh. Well, you're welcome. Go ahead.

Go ahead?

      Yes. Go ahead with the prayer.

Okay.... let's see....  Bless the poor and the sick and the needy and the afflicted . . .

     Do you really mean that?

Well, sure I really mean it.

     What are you doing about it?

Who, me? What do you mean what am I doing? Nothing, I guess. I just think it would be nice if you got control of things down here, like you have up there, so people don't to have suffer so much.

      Have I got control of you?

Well, I go to church. I pay my tithes.

      That isn't what I asked you. I asked if I have control of you?

Well, sure. I guess so.

      What about your temper? You have a real problem there, and your friends and family suffer from it. And then there's the way you spend your money so selfishly. And how about the kinds of books you read?

Stop picking on me! I'm just as good as some of those others I see in church every Sunday.

      Excuse me. I thought you were praying for me to bless the needy. If that is going to happen, I'll have to have help from those who are praying for it, like you.

Look, Father. I need to finish up here. This is taking a lot longer than usual. Bless the missionaries to be led to the doors of the honest in heart.

      You mean someone like Ralph?

Ralph? Ralph who?

      Ralph---The guy around the corner.

Oh, that Ralph. But he smokes and drinks and never goes to church.

     Have you looked into his heart lately?

Of course not! How can I look into his heart?

      I can. His is one of those honest hearts you were just praying about.

Okay, well, then - get the missionaries over there.

      Aren't YOU supposed to be a missionary? I thought I had made that pretty clear.

Hey, wait a minute! What is this, anyway? Criticize me day? Here I am, just trying to do my duty. And then all of the sudden you break in and start reminding me of all my faults.

      Well, you called me. And here I am. But go on, keep praying. I really like this next part. You haven't changed the order around, have you? Go ahead.

No, I don't want to.

      Why not?

Because I know what you'll say.

      Try me and see.

Okay, okay already! Please forgive me of all my sins, and help me to forgive others.

     What about Bill?

See, I knew you'd bring him up. Listen, Lord: he told all kinds of lies about me, and got me fired! All my co-workers think I'm a creep, and I didn't do anything! I'm going to get even with him!

      But what about your prayer? Didn't you just ask me to help you forgive others?

I didn't mean it!

      Well, at least you're being honest. I guess you just enjoy carrying that load of bitterness around, don't you?

No, I don't. But I'll feel better as soon as I get even with him.

     No, you won't. You'll feel worse. Listen to me: You forgive Bill, and I will forgive you.

But Lord, I can't forgive Bill!

      Then I can't forgive you.

No matter what?

      No matter what. But go on, you aren't finished with your prayer yet.

Oh, all right! Please help me control my feelings, and not give in to temptation.

      Good, good. I'll do all that. But you have to stop putting yourself in all those places where you can be tempted.

What do you mean by that?

      Quit hanging around the magazine racks and spending so much time in front of the tube! Some of that stuff is going to get you sooner or later. You'll find yourself in a mess before too long.  And don't use me for an escape hatch, either.

What do you mean, an escape hatch? I don't understand...

     Sure you do. You've done it lots of times - You find yourself in a crisis, then you come running to me. You promise me, "Lord, help me out of this mess, and I promise I'll never do it again." It's really amazing how the quality and quantity of your prayers improves when you are in trouble. Do you remember some of those bargains you tried to make with me?

Well, no. I don't think.  Oh, yeah, Like the time Mom's friend saw me coming out of that dirty movie?

      That's one. Do you remember your prayer? I do. You promised that if she didn't tell your Mom where you'd been, you'd go to nothing but "G" rated movies from then on. She didn't tell your Mom, but you didn't keep your promise, did you?

No, Lord. I didn't. I'm sorry.

      So am I. Now go ahead and finish your prayer.

Wait a minute. I have a question: Do you always listen to my prayers?

      Every word, every time.

Then how come you never talked to me before?

      How many chances have you ever given me to talk to you? There's not enough time between your "Amen" and your snores for me to get a word in edgewise. How am I supposed to give you an answer?

You could, if you really wanted to.

      No, I could, if YOU really wanted me to! My child, I always want to talk to you!

I'm sorry, Father. Will you forgive me?

      I already have. And thanks for letting me interrupt you tonight. I get lonely to talk to you sometimes. Goodnight, my child. I love you.

Good night, God. I love you, too.

I'd Pick More Daisies

I'd Pick More Daisies
By  Nadine Stair, age 85

If I had my life to live over,
           I'd try to make more mistakes next time.
                I would relax. I would limber up.
      I would be sillier than I have on this trip.
      I would be crazier. I would be less hygienic.
   I would take more chances, I would take more trips.
  I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers,
        and watch more sunsets.
I would burn more gasoline. I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
  I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones.
         You see, I am one of those people who lives
    prophylactically and sensibly and sanely,
    hour after hour, day after day.

               Oh, I have had my moments
  And if I had it to do over again, I'd have more of them.
        In fact, I'd try to have nothing else.
       Just moments, one after another.
      Instead of living so many years ahead each day.
     I have been one of those people who never go anywhere
    without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a gargle, a
        raincoat, and a parachute.

    If I had to do it over again, I would go places and do things.
                       I'd travel lighter than I have.
      If I had my life to live over, I would start barefooted
         earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.
           I would play hooky more. I wouldn't make such good grades
              except by accident.
                   I would ride on merry-go-rounds.

                        I'd pick more daisies!

Beautiful Collage of Christ's Life

More Great Quotes

Confessions of a Mormon Bishop

by RUSS HILL on MARCH 19, 2013

I pulled into my driveway at 12:30 this morning.
I sat in the car in front of our dark house for a few minutes.  Everyone inside was asleep.  The whole neighborhood was still.  And yet my mind was racing.  So many questions.  So many emotions.  Sadness.  Hope.  Inadequacy.

Welcome to the life of a Mormon bishop.

They come to us for various reasons.  Because of guilt.  Because they have lost hope.  Because they have been betrayed.  Because they don’t know where else to go.  Because they feel worthless.  Because the person they are isn’t the person they want to be.  Because they have questions.  Because they have doubts.  Because they believe in a forgiving God yet feel disconnected from Him.

They come and sit in front of me.  Some hesitate.  Take a deep breath.  And grasp for courage to say out loud what they have been hiding inside for days, weeks, or years.

Others almost run in.  They spill before I sit.  They’re anxious to clear their conscience or announce their doubts.

Each one is different.

For hours every week I sit.  And listen.

I did not ask for this opportunity.  I never considered I might someday have an office in a church.  I have no professional training for this position.  I am not a scriptural scholar.  I have not walked through vineyards with robe-wearing monks.  And, if you’re wondering about vows of celibacy let me introduce you to my four kids.

All I did was answer a phone call.  Show up for a meeting.  And nod when asked if I would serve.

I don’t sometimes wonder why me.  I always wonder why me.

And yet they come.  Share their stories.  And look to me for wisdom.

I’m not sure any of them have learned from me.  But, I have learned so much in the hours I’ve sat in that office listening to them.

I have learned that we believe it is a strength to conceal weakness.

I have learned that it is easy to want others to overlook our flaws as we expect perfection in them.

I have learned that it is hardest to show compassion and grant forgiveness to those closest to us.

I have learned that while curiosity is a strength it can also be a curse.

I have learned that we are creatures of habit.

I have learned that faith is a muscle.

I have learned that it is far easier to deny deity than to deny desire.

I have learned the mystery surrounding death forces a consideration of spiritual matters.

I have learned that observance of the Sabbath recalibrates perspective and improves judgment.

I have learned that most of us bear scars from the failure, disappointment, and fear in our lives.  And, we prefer to wear long sleeves.

I have learned that to deal with life’s pain most of us choose one of the following: alcohol, drugs, pornography, or spirituality.

I have learned alcohol and drugs are the easiest path.  As long as you’re willing to never stop drinking, smoking, or swallowing.

I have learned pornography is highly addictive and has nothing to do with sexual appetites and everything to do with escape.  And that the habit is never overcome in isolation.

I have learned that we feel like a failure when we make mistakes even when we profess a belief that the purpose of this existence is to make and learn from them.

I have learned that forgiveness is the greatest gift we can offer someone.  And ourselves.

I have learned that many know about Jesus Christ but more of us could make an effort to know Him.

I have learned that the strongest among us are those with the cleanest mirrors.

I have learned that the sins of parents profoundly affect children.  And are often repeated by them.

I have learned that affection from parents profoundly affects children.

I have learned that most communication between parents and children is what psychologists call “superficial.”  Strong relationships are built on the “validating” variety.

I have learned that children desperately desire parents who listen.

I have learned that churches are not museums or catwalks for perfected saints but rather labs for sinners.

I have learned that “tolerate” and “love” are two very different verbs despite what popular culture professes.

I have learned that there’s more sadness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned there is more goodness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned that to be happy is a choice.

I have learned those preoccupied with serving others have less time to count their problems.

I have learned that a habit of one brief moment of spirituality a day can alter one’s entire direction.

I have learned that we want God to grant us space to make decisions but step in to stop others, nature, mortality, or illness from hurting us or those we love.

I have learned those who have made more mistakes have a great gift.  Empathy.  Now to the matter of searching out someone who hungers for it.

Indeed, I have learned I have much to learn.

The names of those I meet with will never be known.  Confidentiality demands I never disclose their stories.

But, late last night as I sat in my car on the driveway I decided I should compile a list of what the people I meet with are teaching me.

And, I wanted to share it.