Independence Day 2026

This year, Independence Day got off to a bad start. Like, a really awful, painful one. Specifically, the culprit was kidney stones, the likes of which I had been through previously a few years ago.

It began on Friday night, July 3. That old feeling of being kicked in the groin came back and stayed for an uncomfortably long while, making minutes feel like hours and hours feel like a day. Bless her heart, my sleep-deprived, longsuffering wife took me to the ER at 2 a.m. to get checked out. The doctor and the CT scan confirmed a kidney stone that was, thankfully, on the way out of my poor, tired body.

0 of 10 stars, would not recommend.

So, after declaring my independence from that kind of discomfort, I was released to go home. Under the circumstances, JB and I decided it best to stay home from the family Cul-de-Sac of Fire and BBQ down at our cousins' home in Lehi while I recuperated. We instead watched a few patriotic favorites on TV—Rocky IV and Independence Day among others—while I kicked back and rested. We were sad to miss out on the family gathering but were also glad to be home with our dogs while a few random fireworks went off.

Speaking of which, the state of Utah had banned the use of private fireworks this year due to extreme drought conditions and the prevalance of a number of wildfires being fought across the state. So when I mention that a few random fireworks still went off, they weren't really supposed to.

Anyhow, I was feeling slightly better the next day, Sunday the 5th, and so JB and I made it out to Biz's and Jeff's home in West Bountiful for June family dinner with the Plowmans. (June's family dinner had been delayed a week because of number of the families were out of town or had previous commitments the week before.)

The food was delicious, and the company was great. To fulfill our food assignment, JB made these American Flag Jell-O jigglers for dessert:

Our Day Out with Christian & Graham 2026

On Monday, June 22, Fun Aunt and Uncle were out on the town for another birthday outing, this time with 10-year-old Graham and 13-year-old Christian. They picked Fly High, the trampoline park (?) that we earlier took Danny and Tanner to for their birthday outing last year. Because their cousins Arthur and Lauren were visiting from Rhode Island for the week, they and Adi joined with us.

The kids had a great time. Certain parts of me, like my back and knees, ached to see them moving around so easily, but the important thing is that they had a great time.

After our session ended, we went to Handel's for ice cream.

Out and A-boot

One of the fun things about getting older is that muscles and bones start to ache randomly. Such as the peroneal tendon in my left foot. (Don't know what that is? Neither did I.)

As a result, I get to wear this lovely boot for the next few weeks, which makes me look as if I'm about to administer corporal punishment in some far-off country.

You Don't Have to; You Get To

"It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on."
 -C.S. Lewis

Looking back, I don't remember too many of the things I learned specifically in the sixth grade. I remember learning pre-algebra, and I also remember we often had dances with the other classes in our grade. I also became a pretty good Jacks player during recess, because that is the kind of thug life I lived at age 11.

Anyhow, I also remember that we loved our teacher, Mr. Handley. He made learning fun, and he also had a way with words.

Whenever one of my classmates or I didn't want to do something he had the class do, that student would invariably ask, "Do we have to?" His response was always the same: "You don't have to; you get to."

It's taken me decades since then to fully grasp the wisdom in that concept. Much of adulthood (and of life itself) has turned out to be about things I get to do---things that come with the territory of being human. And sometimes, it seems, we get to pass through some truly awful things.

At age 11, back when I naively thought I was invincible, I couldn't have imagined some of the difficult things I would have to go through later in life. Depression, OCD, and more than one form of chronic pain have been tough teachers and unwelcome companions. At times, they have shaken me to my very core.

When I say this, I don't pretend that my difficulties have been more difficult than anyone else's; but they have been challenging for me. A recent visit to bless and pass the sacrament at the care center branch in my stake also reminded me that there are plenty of people in my own neighborhood who live daily with much worse, some of whom may even long for death when it doesn't come. I also write this in the shadow of the death of one of my sibling's fathers-in-law, who endured to the end despite a number of physical challenges he apparently battled the majority of his life.

Though life is undeniably pain, it's fortunately not only pain, too. It is also comprised of a great deal of joy if we will look around for it, even during the bleakest times. In fact, we couldn't know joy were it not for the pain. So much of what I get to do on a daily basis depends on my attitude about things. And through it all, I'm blessed and fortunate to have someone by my side now who sees me for who I am, sees the warts-and-all side of me, and loves me and inspires me regardless.

The trick, at least for me, is found in Chapter 29 of Alma. In it, Alma says:

"I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me. I ought not to harrow up in my desires the firm decree of a just God, for I know that he granteth unto men according to their desire, whether it be unto death or unto life; yea, I know that he allotteth unto men, yea, decreeth unto them decrees which are unalterable, according to their wills, whether they be unto salvation or unto destruction. Yea, and I know that good and evil have come before all men; he that knoweth not good from evil is blameless; but he that knoweth good and evil, to him it is given according to his desires, whether he desireth good or evil, life or death, joy or remorse of conscience" (Alma 29:3-5).

Ultimately, Alma touches on the most important thing of all: All have seen "good and evil," and all ultimately get to choose what to do about it.

Adversity

JB and I spoke in our ward's sacrament meeting earlier today. This is what I spoke on:

Good morning, brothers and sisters. I am grateful for this opportunity Jana and I have been given to speak to you today. We are so grateful for the outpouring of love and fellowship we’ve felt here since we moved in to the Stone Creek Ward five months ago.

Up until we joined this ward, I’d spent the vast majority of my adult post-mission life in singles wards. So, serving as a Webelos leader is something very new for me. I’m 42 years old, and she has been . . . let’s say 29 for a few birthdays now. We’re a bit older than most newlyweds.

Jana and I met a few years ago in our mid-singles ward, the Bountiful 8^th Ward, after it was organized in 2014. For those for whom the term mid-singles ward might sound made up: It’s a real thing for singles ages 31 through 45. Ours covered a large area, from North Salt Lake and Woods Cross up through Kaysville. Some call it the “Island of Misfit Toys,” though I like to think of it as the “remedial” singles ward. After we first met, Jana and I went on a handful of dates. It took a few years after that for me to get my head screwed on straight and to ask her out again, and after 16 months of dating and engagement, we were sealed in the Bountiful temple in April.

My topic today is adversity. When we think of adversity, we don’t have to look very far to see it all around us. We just have to step outside right now and see the smoke in the air to be reminded that firefighters in our state are currently battling some very devastating fires. We merely have to turn on the news to see images of widespread destruction caused by hurricanes, monsoons, earthquakes, and other natural disasters, “wars and rumors of wars” (Matthew 24:6), famine, shootings, domestic violence, and a number of other troubles. In addition to these troubles are the challenges of chronic physical and mental pain and illness, injury, disability, job loss, poverty, and the death of our loved ones.

For many of the people in the ward where Jana and I met, adversity comes in the form of loneliness for those remaining single into their 30s and 40s—and beyond. Sister Wendy Watson Nelson, for example, did not marry until much later in her life. There are some of ours who, sadly, may never marry in this lifetime. Still others who have married have endured the pain of the death of a spouse, infertility, wayward children, and other difficulties.’’

We live very much in a day and time when Paul prophesied: “In the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.” Later in this chapter, Paul adds: “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Timothy 3:1-5, 12).

It has always been this way for us in this mortal sphere. President Spencer W. Kimball taught: “We knew before we were born that we were coming to the earth for bodies and experience and that we would have joys and sorrows, pain and comforts, ease and hardships, health and sickness, successes and disappointments; and we knew also that we would die. We accepted all these eventualities with a glad heart eager to accept both the favorable and unfavorable. … We were willing to come and take life as it came” (Improvement Era, Mar. 1996, 217).

Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles also taught: “The scriptures teach that ‘there is … opposition in all things’ (2 Ne. 2:11). Just as times of joy and happiness come to each of us, so also comes pain to every mortal. How can we understand those moments in our life when we experience physical or emotional pain? …

“I have come to understand how useless it is to dwell on the whys, what ifs, and if onlys for which there likely will be given no answers in mortality. To receive the Lord’s comfort, we must exercise faith. The questions Why me? Why our family? Why now? are usually unanswerable questions. These questions detract from our spirituality and can destroy our faith. We need to spend our time and energy building our faith by turning to the Lord and asking for strength to overcome the pains and trials of this world and to endure to the end for greater understanding” (“Healing Soul and Body,” October 1998 general conference).

In my preparation for this talk, and through studying the words and teaching of both ancient and modern prophets, I have come up with a list of four important concepts I have learned through adversity.

The first item on this list is the vital importance of keeping God’s commandments. I think it’s important to note that there is often a difference between trials and the consequences of our sins. Others’ misuse of agency may harm us. And when we sin, misusing our own agency, we must also face the consequences of those actions, becoming our own “worst enemy” or source of adversity.

In the most recent Face to Face broadcast, Elder Quentin L. Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles talked about adversity and said: “Some of that (comes) because there’s agency and some of that because there’s adversary.”

King Benjamin teaches: “The natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father” (Mosiah 3:19).

Because Christ has already suffered for our sins, we do not have to suffer for them if we will turn from the natural man to Him and repent through His Atonement. Speaking of Christ, Paul tells us in the Epistle to the Hebrews: “Though he were a Son, yet he learned obedience by the things which he suffered” (Hebrews 5:8). We must learn to do the same.

President Henry B. Eyring spoke to our duty when it comes to obedience. He said: “The great test of life is to see whether we will hearken to and obey God’s commands in the midst of the storms of life. It is not to endure storms, but to choose the right while they rage” (“Spiritual Preparedness: Start Early and Be Steady,” October 2005 general conference).

It’s not possible to fully avoid adversity in this life, but we can still avoid a number of troubles by obeying gospel laws.

Second: Through adversity, we are given opportunities to grow spiritually. Trials help us to learn just what we are made of; they stretch and mold us into the kind of person Heavenly Father would like us to become.

Mother Theresa said: “I know God won’t give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish he didn’t trust me so much.”

Toward the end of the “War Chapters” in the Book of Mormon, Mormon tells us: “Because of the exceedingly great length of the war between the Nephites and the Lamanites many had become hardened, because of the exceedingly great length of the war; and many were softened because of their afflictions, insomuch that they did humble themselves before God, even in the depth of humility” (Alma 62:41).

These Saints had endured the same trial together; and while some had grown bitter, others had grown better.

Another scriptural example that comes to my mind is that of Abraham. At a very old age, he and Sarah were finally blessed with Isaac, a son born in the covenant. And yet, in what was most imaginably gut-wrenching to Abraham, he was commanded to offer up this son as a sacrifice in a test of his faith. Well, we all know what happened. Abraham and Isaac both obeyed; and at the last moment, an angel intervened to save Isaac’s life.

BYU Professor Truman G. Madsen wrote about a time when he was with President Hugh B. Brown of the First Presidency in Hebron, near Abraham’s tomb:

“I (asked President Brown), ‘Why ... was Abraham commanded to go to Mount Moriah and offer his only hope of posterity?’

“It was clear that this man, nearly ninety, had thought and prayed and wept over that question before. He finally said, ‘Abraham needed to learn something about Abraham’” (Five Classics by Truman G. Madsen [2001], 232).

Viktor Frankl, author of Man’s Search for Meaning, was imprisoned in Auschwitz concentration camp during World War II. Even under such wretched conditions, he later wrote that people could nevertheless still decide what their attitudes would be: “We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

Thirdly, adversity gives us an opportunity to serve and minister to our fellow man.

In the Sermon on the Mount, the Savior taught: “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

Whenever and wherever a natural disaster occurs, members of the Church are always among the first ones there to help. A few years ago, following a hurricane in the Southern states, I remember reading about a cleanup effort the Church had headed. One very grateful woman was quoted as saying that she was especially grateful to two groups in particular for their help: the Latter-day Saints and the Mormons.

I very much feel for those who have been affected by Hurricane Florence recently, because I have been where they’ve been. When I was 13 years old, my family and I lived in Puerto Rico, where we weathered one of the worst storms ever to occur to that date. (Last year’s Hurricane Maria was much worse.)

Hurricane Hugo pummeled our island, and it went on to destroy other areas of the Caribbean and southeastern United States. Following the widespread destruction, we surveyed the damage, and it was extensive. It was at this time that I gained a testimony of the importance of heeding the prophets’ counsel to store a year-long supply of food, clean water, batteries, and other necessities, because we would desperately need them in the ensuing weeks.

What good can come of such a catastrophe? On the surface, it’s hard to say. The lives lost can’t be restored nor the extensive damage undone. But to give one example, I recall a cleanup service project I took part in with the youth in my ward. We went to a nearby park to clean up and carry away the fallen branches and leaves, to mow the grass, and other tasks. As we worked, residents of this neighborhood, most likely none of whom were of our faith, noticed what we were doing, and a few came out to help us. A few others brought us soda and snacks. They learned we were there representing our Church. It may have been the first contact with the Church they’d had in their lives, and we hoped it was a positive one. It certainly was a memorable one for me.

We have multiple opportunities to help bear each other’s burdens here, today, in Bountiful, Utah. There is much of pain and suffering that we can help alleviate when we look at those in need here in our neighborhoods and communities, at our workplaces, in our families, and in our very own homes. There are numerous chances to find those we can serve as we seek for and follow promptings through the Holy Ghost.

Fourth: Enduring adversity helps us to develop Christlike qualities of love, compassion, and empathy for others.

In his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Dr. Stephen Covey tells the story of being on a train one day, where he found himself annoyed by two very noisy kids causing a disturbance to everyone around them. He noticed that the father was doing nothing about them. After a moment of restraint, he approached the father. Here’s Dr. Covey’s account of what happened next:

“Sir, your children are really disturbing a lot of people. I wonder if you couldn’t control them a little more?

“The man lifted his gaze as if to come to a consciousness of the situation for the first time and said softly, ‘Oh, you’re right. I guess I should do something about it. We just came from the hospital where their mother died about an hour ago. I don’t know what to think, and I guess they don’t know how to handle it either.’

“Can you imagine what I felt at that moment? My paradigm shifted. Suddenly I saw things differently, I felt differently, I behaved differently. My irritation vanished. I didn’t have to worry about controlling my attitude or my behavior; my heart was filled with the man’s pain. Feelings of sympathy and compassion flowed freely. Everything changed in an instant.”

Along these same lines, President Eyring shared what he said was some of the best advice he’d ever been given: “When you meet someone, treat them as if they were in serious trouble, and you will be right more than half the time” (“In the Strength of the Lord,” April 2004 general conference).

Or, in the words of one of my favorite hymns of the Church: “In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eyes can’t see” (Hymns, no. 220, “Lord, I Would Follow Thee”).

A few years ago, while I was looking for a new place to live, I had a few leads to move in with some friends; and yet I had the distinct impression I needed to move back in with my parents for a short while. It was not long after this that I learned one big reason, perhaps, I may have felt this impression: My father was diagnosed with dementia. It was astonishing to observe how quickly this illness took its toll on both his mind and on his body. Over the ensuing 18 months, I learned a great deal about patience, charity, and humility as I watched him suffer.

In the process, I was given a great gift: this small window of precious time, time I now look back upon as sacred, to give back to my father some of what he had given me all of my life before then. It was in simple things like driving him to get his hair cut or taking him out to lunch. It was mostly through just spending time sitting by him and talking to him as we watched sports on TV.

It’s been said that the only two guarantees in life are death and taxes. Well, after enduring his illness as well as anyone could have, Dad died on April 15 last year. On that final day of his mortal life, I was granted one additional blessing—a tender mercy to me—in the form of a spiritual prompting. By this point, Dad’s motor skills had deteriorated to the point he could not even walk around on his own, and we were forced to put him in a home where he could be cared for. He would be there for just nine days.

The next day was Easter, so my thought initially was to buy him some Easter candy that Saturday and then to bring it to him on Easter Sunday, when I could spend more time with him. Instead, the prompting was to go and see him that afternoon and not to delay. For one last moment, I got to visit with Dad, to embrace him and to tell him one last time that I love him. Jana and I had just begun dating at this time, and she felt the same prompting.

Just a few, short hours later, the phone call came that Dad had been rushed to the hospital in cardiac arrest. By the time we arrived in the emergency room, he was gone. And yet, in the confusion and the chaos, I was at peace. I was comforted. Though I was deeply saddened to lose him, and I still miss him today, I became reacquainted with the Comforter that night and in the days and weeks that would follow.

When my siblings and my mother and I left the hospital, it was past midnight and it had become Easter Sunday. The timing of it all was, in my mind, no coincidence. It was a blessed reminder from a loving Heavenly Father that He is in control. Because of Easter and a loving Savior—“dearly, dearly has he loved!” (Hymns, no. 194, “There Is a Green Hill Far Away”), as we sang in the sacrament hymn—Dad lives on, and I will have the chance to embrace him again.

Perspective is an extraordinary blessing. Elder Orson F. Whitney of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God, ... and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire” (Improvement Era, Mar. 1966, 211).

How grateful I am for the Atonement of Jesus Christ, which encompasses so many griefs and woes and strengthens us to endure the crosses we are called to bear in this life, whichever crosses they may be.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Trying to comprehend the trials and meaning of this life without understanding Heavenly Father’s marvelously encompassing plan of salvation is like trying to understand a three-act play while seeing only the second act. Fortunately, our knowledge of the Savior, Jesus Christ, and His Atonement helps us to endure our trials and to see purpose in suffering and to trust God for what we cannot comprehend.

“Revealed truths reassure us that we are enclosed in divine empathy. As Enoch witnessed, we worship a God who wept over needless human misery and wickedness (see Moses 7:28-29, 33, 37). Jesus’ perfect empathy was ensured when, along with His Atonement for our sins, He took upon Himself our sicknesses, sorrows, griefs, and infirmities and came to know these ‘according to the flesh’ (Alma 7:11-12). He did this in order that He might be filled with perfect, personal mercy and empathy and thereby know how to succor us in our infirmities. He thus fully comprehends human suffering. Truly Christ ‘descended below all things, in that He comprehended all things’ (D&C 88:6). …

“Part of enduring well consists of being meek enough, amid our suffering, to learn from our relevant experiences. Rather than simply passing through these things, they must pass through us and do so in ways which sanctify these experiences for our good (see D&C 122:7). Thereby, our empathy, too, is enriched and everlasting” (“Enduring Well,” April 1997 general conference).

I add my testimony his. I testify that we have an all-wise, all-knowing, all-loving Savior who shows us how to love as He did. President Russell M. Nelson leads His Church on Earth today. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

I was minding my own business under an orange-colored sky this past Friday night when flash, bam, alakazam, I got rear-ended in traffic while driving to improv.

Doesn't look so bad, you say? Fortunately, I (meaning, my car, Muggsy) was pretty lucky to have only a dented bumper and a broken taillight. As for me, meaning myself (injuries to me), I suffered some whiplash, and I have endured, not to be too cliché, a real pain in the neck for the last few days. So, it's off to the chiropractor for me tomorrow to have some work done, and then over to the paint and body shop to have some work done on Muggsy.

Another thing that was very fortunate was a cop was driving right behind the driver who ran into me, so he witnessed the whole thing and cited the other driver.

It was kinda nice to have a little fuss made about me, albeit for a few minutes. I was amazed at how quickly both paramedics (the police officer assured me it was important to have them come and check me out to make sure I didn't have a concussion or something else) and a fire truck arrived within just a few short minutes. The EMTs took my blood pressure and pulse, and everything checked out fine, so all emergency personnel were on their within just another few short minutes.

When all is said and done, I'm rather lucky and am counting my blessings that things weren't any worse than that.

Nose Jobs, the Universe, and Everything

Three months ago today, I went under the knife for a nose job.

No, really. It's true. My particular procedure is called a septoplasty, aka the fixing of a deviated septum. This is when your nasal passages are crooked, not letting air pass through the right way. It was a problem I'd known about for years, and it had finally reached a point, with constant sinus pressure and pain, that multiple ENTs (ear, nose, and throat doctors) recommended the surgery. In addition, I had a turbinate reduction, in which my turbinates were reduced (as far as I know) to improve my ability to breathe.

Which, it turns out, is a really important part of staying alive.

The surgery was a successful one. I left the hospital woozy, nauseated, and generally bewildered, doing things that I never, ever do, like taking selfies:

I was sent home with a roll of gauze like you see in the photo and had to change my gauze "mustache" every 45 minutes to an hour, because my nose kept bleeding throughout the day and kept saturating the gauze, giving me red mustaches.

Good times, huh?

To make a long story even longer, recuperation went about like I was told it would be. In some ways. I had a few sleepless nights. I ate only a little bit and only soft foods for a week, losing 14 pounds total that week. I missed about about six days of work. But after a couple of weeks of a stuffy nose, I started to realize that I was actually, truly breathing better and that the surgery had done me a lot of good.

In other ways, recuperation was nothing like I could have possibly imagined. My throat was sore for weeks due to the tube that had been inserted for surgery, as I was told might happen, except it continued for additional weeks, which became months. As one prone to depression and anxiety, those issues were affected to a great deal. My brother graciously answered the phone and drove me to the E.R. at 3 a.m. and stayed there with me till 5 a.m. on one troublesome night. Another brother drove me to a different ENT for an emergency visit to have my nose splints removed a day earlier than planned when I learned my surgeon was out of town and couldn't do it right then. In fact, multiple family members stepped up and either let me vent what I was going through or sat with me to give me moral support or priesthood blessings. My sleeping habits were interrupted for a number of weeks, and other issues, such as work, improv, social life, etc., were thrown topsy-turvy for a time. Until tonight, I have also not posted an actual blog post (other than photos of family goings-on and whatnot) for nearly three months for these same reasons.

Without boring you with any of the other sordid details, I had a tough time. A much tougher time than I expected. It really put me through the ringer in ways I never imagined. This is not to dissuade anyone out there contemplating going through a septoplasty procedure for yourself, because it has done a lot of good for my sinuses and my breathing, as I was told it would, and most people who undergo this surgery do not go through the same complications I have faced. I also don't pretend that my difficult few months are or were any more difficult than anyone else's challenges or trials over the same period of time, only that they were quite difficult for me.

Upon my fifth or sixth follow-up visit to my surgeon, he commented: "I've never seen any of my patients go through this before" (reassuring, huh?). He also said, "You've really been through it these few months, haven't you?" After these six (or seven?) visits, consulting with and getting a second opinion from another ENT, as well, the good news is that we finally (knock on wood!) seem to have nailed the problem, and I've been feeling much better lately.

I don't know if the feeling will continue, but I am optimistic it will. All told, I am figuring out this mortal life thing one day at a time, just like the rest of you. I read something the other day in which an LDS general authority (I forget which one) compared life to an ocean wave; that it has highs and lows, and the hard times (the "lows") eventually pass.

A life lesson I've been reminded of multiple times these past several weeks has been that everyone is going through something tough. Often, these challenges are unseen or unspoken. The tough times test us to the very core. They test us physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and in every other way, shape, and form. And yet, how very reassuring it is that the Savior descended below all and knows how we feel and can comfort and guide us through His Holy Spirit. If these lessons are not lost on us, we gain empathy and sympathy for those around us carrying heavy burdens and pick up some glimpse into what He feels for us as the Savior of all.

I've "ponderized" and have written down several impressions that have occurred to me over the last little while, and I hope to give this blogging thing another try and may just share a few of these ideas with you. I also plan to be a bit more open in the future on my struggles with both depression/anxiety/OCD (they're all interrelated in one big ball of goo), as well as chronic pain, in the hopes that it will both give me an outlet for these issues and also give hope to others who may be going through similar challenges. Stay tuned.

As Tom Hanks's character says in Cast Away, "Tomorrow, the sun will rise, and who knows what the tide will bring?"

I pray I may never take another sunrise for granted. Each and every one is a wonderful blessing, come rain or shine.

Atrophy and the Heart

Years ago, I suffered one of the worst injuries of my life: tearing one of my pectoral muscles. Unless you're unusually or morbidly curious about what that feels like and want to try it out, please take my word for it: It is not something you want to experience for yourself. Ever.

In sports, tearing your pectoral muscle is considered to be a "season-ending injury." It was a long and a painful rehabilitation, just as it would be for any athlete, taking several months before I felt close to "normal" again or before I could resume some of the activities I had previously enjoyed taking part in, such as sports or dancing.

Never having experienced anything like this before, I wasn't entirely sure how to proceed with my day-to-day life in the meantime. Since my right muscle had been injured, I ended up doing a lot of simple tasks by using my left hand, arm, and shoulder only. Often, these were rather basic daily tasks like holding onto the steering wheel of my car and shifting gears or picking up dishes in the kitchen.

After going on like this for some time, both my orthopedic doctor and a friend who was studying medicine talked to me about a word I had heard but had not understood the meaning of before: atrophy.

Atrophy, they told me, means that a muscle will weaken and will become harder to rehabilitate the longer it goes unused. Sooner or later, I would have to use it again and exercise, no matter how scary this prospect was nor how much pain I was in. Otherwise, I would either make the healing process even more difficult, or I would lose the use of it altogether.

Physical therapy was hard work. Anyone who has had to go through it for any injury knows exactly what I am talking about. At first, it felt strange to perform exercises with a muscle I hadn't used for anything other than combing my hair or shaving for months. I can't do this, I thought more than once. It hurts way too much. It was, indeed, painful, albeit a new kind of painful, and a different kind of painful than my injury had been.

The more I went to physical therapy, however, and the more I completed all of my therapist's instructions, I got better. It was painful, as I mentioned, and it took a great deal of effort on my part. It also took time and required a great deal of patience. It was subtle, but it happened. Eventually, I could do the things I once had enjoyed doing before my injury.

Now, I move on to where I'm going with this with an analogy. I think that the heart, the body's strongest muscle, can atrophy, as well. And not being a cardiologist, I can speak only figuratively. But many of the same principles apply.

In matters of dating, the heart, too, can be injured. Sometimes, the injury hurts way more than we ever imagined it possibly could. We wonder what we could have possibly done to feel the amount of pain that we feel, and we even stop using it altogether. Not only that, but, whether by choice or inadvertently, we numb ourselves to anyone or anything that could make us even begin to feel those emotions again.

The longer we go on this way, the harder it is to heal. Some even close themselves off to that mere possibility completely. I once dated a girl whose particular heart injury was grieving over the death of someone in her immediate family. Now don't get me wrong; I'm not saying in any way that she wasn't right to feel this way nor is it important to grieve and to deal with loss, and I understand that everyone heals in their own way. But this wound, years in the past, had completely consumed her past as well as her present and future. When this family member was buried, her heart was buried in the ground along with it. To the best of my knowledge, it is still there.

I hope and pray that she will, someday, open her heart again to loving another human being as she had loved this family member. I really do. I could not be the person to reawaken that desire in her. But as I wrote about my aforementioned injury, opening up the heart again, a little at a time, is the only way for healing to take place.

Consider Miss Havisham, she of Charles Dickens's book Great Expectations. Jilted on her wedding day as a young bride, her entire life figuratively ended on that day, too, as she became a recluse and a shut-in and a despiser of all men and mankind. In the end, it destroyed her—both spiritually as well as physically. I was reminded of her sad story when I recently watched a recent BBC adaptation of the tale. Hopefully, it is a lesson to us all about the negative consequences of harboring ill will, anger, spite, and remorse.

I don't pretend to be an expert on this subject nor to possess any special insight. I know only my own experience, thoughts, and intentions. Likewise, I can't judge anyone else, and I don't know their experiences, thoughts, and intentions; I can only share what I have observed and, consequently, how those things have made me feel or how impacted me personally.

Very recently, my heart was again injured deeply. So was hers. When I met and began dating this person, the thought occurred to me: This is either going to be wonderful, or it's going to hurt like the Dickens. (No pun intended.)

Both possibilities occurred. For a time, it was wonderful. Right now, though, it hurts a lot. People aren't perfect, and I have made my mistakes. I have challenges I still need to overcome, although some, particularly physical challenges, I have no control over, and the only thing that remains in my power of agency is to deal with them the only way I know how—one difficult day at a time.

Rather than pointing fingers or casting blame, however, I choose to take a moment, albeit a brief one, to grieve—and then I will move on. My prayers will be only to let in forgiveness and healing, in all of their forms. I will take the positive things I have learned from this person, my mistakes and the lessons I have learned from them, and I will use them to make myself a better person, too. I will keep my eyes, my ears, and, above all, my heart open to the possibility of good things and of good people to come. Were I to keep them closed, I could miss out on something good. And that would be a tragedy easily preventable.

It's the only way to heal.

A Merry Little Christmas, Now

We all have our favorite Christmas tunes—that is, of course, unless you're an Ebenezer Scrooge about Christmas, in which case Jacob Marley is already on his way to visit you tonight, followed later on by three spirits who will get medieval on your hiney and show you the error of your ways.

I divide up Christmas songs into two categories: "happy holidays," which are the ditties about Santa Claus and Rudolph and Frosty and caroling and walking outside in (or staying inside from) the winter cold, and the "true meaning" songs, which are songs that are actually about Christmas—"Silent Night," "The First Noel," "O Little Town of Bethlehem," etc.

Of the "happy holiday" songs, the one that continues to grow on me each year is "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Its message is a simple but powerful, beautiful one.

Until recently, I didn't know that the song originated in the 1944 film Meet Me in St. Louis. (Musical nerds already knew that, I'm sure.)

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on
Our troubles will be out of sight . . .

"Through the years
We all will be together
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star
Upon the highest bough
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas now"

To me, the most important lyric in the song is the word now.

Students of history are well aware that the year 1944 wasn't exactly the brightest or most optimistic time to be alive. Here in the United States, as well as in other Allied lands, many people lived in fear of the very real possibility that they would have to live out the remainder of their lives under the Nazi or Japanese flag if World War II were lost. They also sent their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons off to fight in the war, not knowing when or if they'd see them ever again. It was a time of uncertainty, of walking by faith day by day, of sacrificing, and of doing what was necessary in order to confront and destroy evil, both on the homefront and abroad.

In other words, it was a time of "troubles." But even in the Christmas season, at least for a little while, those "troubles" could "be out of sight"—at least for a few days, or on Christmas Day itself. In the moment called now. People would all "be together, if the fates allow" in some future day, but even while families and friends were separated, they could still set those worries and cares aside, for a brief time, to celebrate the holiday and to have a measure of joy in it. In fact, I believe the original lyrics were, "Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow."

Muddle, they did. And they persevered.

So it goes for us. Whatever worries or cares are on your mind this holiday season; whatever problems, heartache, pain, uncertainty, or grief you're dealing with, set them aside at least a day to celebrate the season. To enjoy one another's company. To both reflect on the year that will soon end, and also to look forward with optimism to the possibilities of the future. Above all, to celebrate the reason for it all: the Redeemer of the world, Jesus the Christ.

I recently finished re-reading Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's book Shepherds, Why This Jubilee? If you don't have a copy, I would recommend that you get one. Or you can borrow mine. It has become required holiday reading for me each year.

In that wonderful (and short!) read, he teaches:

"You can't separate Bethlehem from Gethsemane or the hasty flight into Egypt from the slow journey to the summit of Calvary. It's of one piece. It is a single plan. . . . Christmas is joyful not because it is a season or decade of lifetime without pain or privation, but precisely because life does hold those moments for us. . . . In the end it is all right. It is okay. (Trials and sorrow) are sad experiences, terribly wrenching experiences, with difficult moments for years and years to come. But because of the birth in Bethlehem and what it led to they are not tragic experiences. They have a happy ending. There is a rising after the falling."