Trials or Consequences

Moral agency was the theme of the messages delivered yesterday on the Island of Misfit Toys.

Incidentally, our speakers did a great job. It's a topic I often ponder about, because the gospel teaches two immutable truths: Moral agency brings with it both blessings for choosing the right and consequences for choosing poorly. And I think sometimes people mistake trials when they are actually consequences.

An example from natural law recently reemphasized the notion of consequences for me: If you drop something heavy on your foot, it will hurt a great deal.

I learned this the hard way a few weeks ago, when I accidentally knocked my laptop over onto my right foot. Fortunately, nothing was broken, though X-rays revealed a "deep bone bruise," and I had to wear the boot (pictured) for a couple of weeks, as well as deal with a great deal of pain and swelling.

Do not mess with gravity. You will lose.

When it comes to spiritual laws and consequences, I see a lot of misery around me generated from one key misunderstanding: That we can choose whatever we want and to act however we wish without suffering the consequences that will result of those choices. It is one of Satan's favorite lies, and he is having a lot of success in blinding minds with it in our day and age. Certainly, I, too, have fallen victim to this false ideology when I've made poor choices and then suffered the consequences that followed. Sooner or later, they always come.

Trials, on the other hand, often come as a result of things out of our control, such as a number of health issues, some financial problems, natural disasters, etc., or they can come from the poor choices made by other people.

I had a talk about this same matter with a very wise member of my bishopric, and he pointed out that, sometimes, our consequences, in turn, become our trials.

Point taken.

"Control what you can control" is an idea that has been running through my mind over the past several months. As long as I do that, or try to do that as often as I can, I can avoid a number of unpleasant consequences.

With my penchant for clutzyness, though, I can make no guarantees.

Nevertheless, as Elder Dale G. Renlund taught in the April 2015 general conference, quoting Nelson Mandela:

"A saint is a sinner who keeps on trying."

Leftovers

Sunday on the Island of Misfit Toys, it was announced at the pulpit that the sisters had gone on a retreat together over the weekend and that they had come back with a great deal of leftover food, which would be served in an impromptu Linger Longer after the block to all ward members who wished to dig in.

Interesting word, that—leftovers—to be used on the Island of Misfit Toys, because there have been occasions when I have heard that term used to describe we mid-singles (those aged 31 to 45) in a rather derogatory manner. Those moments make me cringe.

For the record, you all have permission to slap me upside the head if I ever use the L-word in your presence. Lepers? That one I might use from time to time, in an obviously kidding manner. There are those who (erroneously) feel that remaining single into your 30s and 40s is a contagious disease, and those who suffer from it should be shunned in much the same manner.

But no, no that other L-word. Never.

Sometimes, the little devil on my shoulder, like in that Donald Duck cartoon "Donald's Better Self," whispers in my ear that there have been many people who have given the ward maybe one or two tries, who have shown up to some of our activities, looked around the room, and said to themselves, "Is this really all there is to choose from?" Then, they've never returned and gone back to their home wards and the witness protection program, or whatever its mid-singles equivalent may be.

The little angel on my shoulder, however—and this is the one I try to pay attention to—reminds me that the glass is not only half-full; it is filled to the brim and overflowing.

I look around me each week and see wonderful people, whom it has been a great blessing to get to know, to both serve and to be served by. I get to both fellowship and be fellowshipped by some of the greatest people I've ever met. My current calling is as an elders quorum instructor, and over the past two-plus years, I've enjoyed it immensely. Last night, I got to spend a wonderful evening with some of these fellow Misfit Toys serving in the temple. On Sundays, there's no place I'd rather be.

And as far as that other "curse" word, the D-word—dating—opportunities are abundant. Sisters, you're wonderful. And if that comes across as pandering, so be it. Elders quorum has nothing I want.

What is my point? I did have one when I started. And seriously, no malice was or is intended by any of this. I'm on your side, fellow Misfit Toys. I hear the voices of scorn and ridicule, from the Great and Spacious Building and in my own head, and I dismiss them as much as I possibly can. Like you, I'm trying to do the best I can.

My actual point may have been that nobody makes good food like the Relief Society. And that's a fact.

Mother's Day

In addition to the aforementioned baby blessing for Graham, Mothers Day this year for our family (part of us, anyway) included dinner over at Biz's and Jeff's (and Kate's) place, along with Mom and Dad. Jeff grilled delicious barbecue chicken, and we also enjoyed mashed potatoes and green beans.

Mom posed for this photo along with her youngest granddaughter, one-year-old Kate:

I'm grateful for my mother, because (1) she remains my greatest support and champion and (2) I know that not all of you out there still have your moms around. I don't want ever to take her for granted.

Graham's Blessing

Last week, one-month-old Graham received his name and blessing, an important priesthood ordinance in the LDS Church. This took place in Ben's and Adi's Centerville ward sacrament meeting and was led Ben. What better day than Mothers Day for a baby blessing?

Here, Grandma Plowman poses with Graham, her twelfth grandchild:

Special Delivery

In Sunday School, we've made it into the book of Mosiah in our collective study of the Book of Mormon. This past week's lesson focused on chapters 7 through 11, although my classroom (we have something like a dozen Sunday School lessons taking place concurrently on the Island of Misfit Toys) spent a great deal of time analyzing and discussing Mosiah 7:33:

"But if ye will turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart, and put your trust in him, and serve him with all diligence of mind, if ye do this, he will, according to his own will and pleasure, deliver you out of bondage."

I've had a couple of days to ponder on this verse, and I think it encapsulates very well the overall theme of the Book of Mormon: (1) Those who humble themselves, repent, and strive to keep the commandments will prosper and be blessed. Conversely, (2) those who do not do so will, as a result, suffer the consequences and will "reap . . . the whirlwind" (verse 30).

Is there a third option?

Has it ever, at any point in time, turned out well (in the long run, anyway) for those who openly rebel against the commandments? Is this not one of the major themes of all of the standard works as a whole?

One important lesson I picked up during my aforementioned months of struggle with an illness was that I needed to change the types of prayers I offered on a daily basis. I started out praying for healing from above and, instead, altered my prayers over time to ask for the guidance of the Holy Spirit to find a solution or to direct me to someone or something who could help me. It took weeks and then months, but it was a prayer that was answered in the Lord's own way.

This relates directly to Mosiah 7:33 because, I think, many times the delivery from bondage spoken of by Mormon comes indirectly rather than directly and, in the process, we learn to seek out and find answers for ourselves, and thus we grow through the experience in ways we could not otherwise do so.

In a recent general conference message, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland taught:

"Believe in miracles. I have seen so many of them come when every other indication would say that hope was lost. Hope is never lost. If those miracles do not come soon or fully or seemingly at all, remember the Savior's own anguished example: if the bitter cup does not pass, drink it and be strong, trusting in happier days ahead."

The cup we each must drink from, whatever our struggles may be, feels rather bitter, indeed, at times. There's no way to sugar-coat it. My own spiritual and mental palate finds mine downright awful sometimes.

Yet how reassuring it is to see answers come and to find happiness even through those storms. And those blessings and comfort far, far outweigh the challenges.

Family Dinner/April 2016

I'm a few days late in posting this (heh heh), but anyway at April's family dinner, we celebrated Graham's birth (April 1), Jenna's 13th birthday (April 2), and Jackson's eighth birthday (April 4).

With the family as big as it is these days, the "Pass the Parcel" tradition continues, but now it's only for the grandkids. Because buying all of that candy and chocolate is beginning to break the grandparents' bank. So to speak.

Improvables: Sidekicks Show 2016

In the improv arena, we recently completed our first beginners' workshop of the year, and that was followed by the usual/not-so-usual Saturday night showcase at the Clearfield Community Arts Center, during which the class of '16 got a chance to shine and to show the skills they picked up during our six-week intensive course.

It was a blast, and yours truly got to take the stage and perform alongside them for a few games. I got to sit back and enjoy a few others, including this game of "Director," led by Ricky and also featuring Whitaker, Jordan, and Quinnton:

Like all things improv related, you had to be there.

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.