Santa Parade 2022

Someone let the cat out of the bag that I am an actor, or at least that I've pretended to be one on more than one occasion over the years. And so, I was recently drafted to play Santa Claus. I actually played Santa Claus once before a number of years ago, when I was a missionary in Peru. But that's another story for another time.

As it turns out, getting the chance to play Santa Claus is both really good for your soul and also a wonderful way to get you into the holiday spirit. I, in fact, had two chances to dress up as St. Nick this month for a couple of different ward activities.

The first came on Saturday, December 10, for the ward Christmas party---the first one we've been able to hold in person in three years due to pandemic restrictions. Our little shindig took place in the form of a brunch in the cultural hall. Santa made an appearance for the Primary kids, handing out both ho ho hos and plush toys for each one.

Successful first test. The second opportunity came with the annual ward Santa parade on Tuesday night. The concept of the parade began in 2020 due to the aforementioned pandemic restrictions. Because it wasn't a good idea nor was it safe to get people together in a closed space with COVID-19 out and about, someone had the brilliant idea to take Santa out to visit ward members rather than the other way around. It was such a big success that it was repeated again last year. Though the annual in-person ward Christmas party returned this year, we decide to keep the parade going due to popular demand.

I had a little help this time, because JB was asked to portray Mrs. Claus alongside Santa. And though it was a bitterly cold night (in the 20s and 30s), and the beard kept causing my glasses to fog up and obstruct my view, we had a wonderful time.

I don't know if I'll ever come closer to being treated like a celebrity. People of all ages love Santa and Mrs. Claus, and they frequently smiled back at us. We waved and shouted Merry Christmas! and ho ho ho, and they responded. They came out of their homes to wave back at us. Cars honked their horns as they drove past. At one point, we created a second parade on the sidewalk, as a number of kids had come outside to follow us along for several blocks.

A man pulled his car over and brought his young daughter out to meet us. He was as excited as she was and said that it was her first time meeting Santa in person; she'd never had the chance before because of the dadgummed pandemic. At another point, a group of native Spanish speakers huddled around us, and they were pleasantly surprised to hear Santa speak Spanish back to them. "Santa habla cada idioma" ("Santa speaks every language"), I told them.

In the process of all this, we did a little missionary work for the ward. The Bishop, Young Men and Women, and youth leaders walked alongside the parade and passed out candy, talking to active ward members, the less active, and nonmembers alike. Santa doesn't discriminate, either.

We were pretty pooped by the end of the evening. But it was an evening well spent nonetheless.

Merry Christmas, family and friends!

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.

Death, Taxes, and Other Sure Things

I recently gave a talk in church. The occasion, in case you hadn't guessed from my recent posts, was Dad's funeral. Here is what I spoke about:

There is an old saying that the only sureties in life are death and taxes. Well, Dad passed away April 15.

Dad had a great sense of humor. But in all seriousness, and in the few minutes I have today, I'd like to talk about some of the most important things he gave me (besides nearsightedness and the bald spot):

1) Time. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught: "In family relationships, love is really spelled T-I-M-E." Dad gave us his time, and he was thoroughly invested in our lives. Whether it was yelling from the sidelines as a coach or just an anxious parent, he was there at our basketball and soccer games and hardly ever missed one. He supported us in our hobbies and interests. We knew he cared, and his love language was the time he gave.

2) Work. Dad taught us to work. The plowboy who grew up on a farm in Smithfield and learned the value of an honest day's labor taught his children that you don't get something for nothing and you have to work for it. We were given an allowance, but we had to do our chores (weeding, mowing the lawn, etc.) to earn it. For years, we had a paper route, waking up at 5:00 or 5:30 a.m. even on school days and holidays, and he worked right alongside us, never taking a cent for himself. Those lessons carried me through part-time jobs in high school and college and into the present.

3) He taught me five simple words that stand out: excuse me, please, and thank you. I vividly remember him teaching me to use these words when I was growing up. Good manners were and are important. Knowing and using these words have helped me open countless doors in my daily interactions with people and my work experience.

Though Dad passed on a Saturday night, as a family we left the hospital when it was already Sunday morning. Easter Sunday! The timing of it all, we think, was not a coincidence. And the most important message in the world is still, as the Prophet Joseph Smith described, that Jesus Christ "died, was buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven; and all other things which pertain to our religion are only appendages to it."

In a world rife with "fake news," rumors of wars, fads that come and go, the philosophies of men, and other false Christs the prophets saw would be abundant in our day, my knowledge of the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ is, in addition to death and taxes, the third sure thing in my life; and not only do I believe it, but I also know it through the Holy Spirit.

In the New Testament, Paul said that "this thing (the gospel) was not done in a corner" (Acts 26:26), and Peter spoke of the world's "cunningly devised fables" (2 Peter 1:16). Elder Jeffrey R. Holland recently spoke on "cunningly devised fables" in his Face 2 Face event:

"This is not a cunningly devised fable. This is God's truth. I want all of you here and afar to know that I know that this is the work and kingdom of God on earth. I am more certain of that than anything I know, anything I have seen, anything I have ever heard, and anything I hope to embrace in the future."

Today, I echo what he taught. When we talk of the concepts of resurrection and eternal families, not only are these good or neat ideas; I testify that they are true! And that knowledge carries me at this time and will carry me in future days.

In an all-wise, all-loving Heavenly Father's magnificent plan, there is so much more in store for us than wearing halos and playing harps in heaven! He has so much more in store for us, and it is beautiful and wonderful to think of. Death is a necessary part of that plan. Though we mourn today, we also rejoice.

Paul said: "For now we see through a glass, darkly" (1 Corinthians 13:12). I know that Dad now sees clearly. I take great hope in the knowledge that he is reunited with his parents, my Uncle Dexter, and other loved ones who have gone on before.

Dad was sick for a long time. Some of his thorns in the flesh he carried for all of his life on Earth. He is now free of them. I don't know why Dad had to suffer through those nor the illness that ultimately claimed his mortal life. (How can any of us know for sure why these things happen while "we see through a glass, darkly"?)

Neverthless, like Nephi, though "I do not know the meaning of all things," "I know that he (God) loveth his children." I know that (1) our Heavenly Father loved Dad and (2) Dad loved his children and his grandchildren.

I testify of the importance of the gift of the Holy Ghost. His presence has been so important to me over the past week. When we got the call that Dad had been taken to the hospital, I felt urgency to get there, and yet I also felt peace. I feel at peace today. The Spirit, also known as the Comforter, has comforted when I have been sad, and He has given me also joy in the knowledge of these things, of which I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Another Birthday and Matters of the Heart

It's actually my niece's birthday today, though more will be coming about her soon, as a landmark event is taking place in her life in the next few days, and we have yet to make our annual birthday excursion together. Assuming she's not too busy . . . unlike some people.

Ahem! I share a birthday week with my niece, and due to circumstances I was unable to prevent, I turned another year older Monday.

I think age 11 or 12 was approximately the last time I fully expected people to make a big deal about my birthday, or at least it should have been. Still, it's wonderful to see people still try to make a fuss, each in their own way.

My caring, faithful Aunt Marilyn, for example, has never missed a single birthday . . . ever. Not even while I was overseas in Peru as a missionary. A letter, birthday card, and some money arrived over the weekend:

. . . and, as was requested, I purchased some ice cream with it:

It's really great to have people send you ice cream money during everything's-pumpkin-flavored season. I do not say sarcastically that this is perhaps one of the Lord's thousands, possibly tens of thousands, of little tender mercies that perhaps I do not always pay attention to, happening all around me daily.

I began the Big Day Itself Monday by conversing with Mom, who had suffered through a terrible weekend of sleeplessness, shortness of breath, and overall exhaustion. Though she had a doctor's appointment scheduled that afternoon, she looked even worse Monday. Her lips had turned blue, and she said, "I feel like I'm having a heart attack."

Off we went to the ER, where it was determined that she was suffering from congestive heart failure. No wonder she couldn't sleep for the past few weeks. The biggest, strongest heart I've ever known was in serious trouble.

With respect to her privacy, I won't go into any more details at this time, except to say that we've been worried, we've prayed, and we've tried to comfort those who stand in need of comfort. We're in the middle of that struggle as I type these words. We don't know exactly what's going to happen at this point, though we are grateful for the dedicated medical personnel seeing to her every need.

Yet during the week, I've also seen my family rally around the cause, sacrificing and giving of themselves freely to help out where help has been needed. I've seen neighbors come over with dinner, which may be one of the most cliché things about Mormon culture, yet it amounts to manna from heaven at times like these.

During general conference over the weekend, President Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught:

"Life is filled with detours and dead ends, trials and challenges of every kind. Each of us has likely had times when distress, anguish, and despair almost consumed us. Yet we are here to have joy? . . ."

"Just as the Savior offers peace that 'passeth all understanding,' He also offers an intensity, depth, and breadth of joy that defy human logic or mortal comprehension. . . . His joy is constant, assuring us that our 'afflictions shall be but a small moment' and be consecrated to our gain."

And so, my Big Day was not really about me (nor did it have to be), but yet in a way it was; for I was surrounded all day by the people I cherish most, and whom love me most. I heard from literally hundreds of friends through social media, texts, e-mails, and phone calls.

Though as a family we lamented the circumstances that brought us together, we had each other, and through the Lord's promises, we will have each other for a long, long time, come heck or high water. And that was and is enough. To me, it is the most important of all of His tender mercies.

Attack of the Killjoys

Me: Hello, my name is Paco.
Crowd: Hi, Paco!
Me: . . . and it's been three weeks since I was last an obnoxious killjoy.

Maybe it's not quite that extreme, but I imagine we've all been in the position in which we've either been the killjoy or been the one annoyed or saddened by someone else being a killjoy about something that brings us . . . well, for lack of a better word, joy.

Admittedly, one of the unfortunate tendencies I still struggle with is that of trying to come across as being snarky, witty, and cute rather than being nice or, even better, saying nothing at all when something that brings someone else happiness, but does nothing at all for me, is expressed or mentioned. It can be a very fine line, and sometimes I do not realize that I've crossed it until it is too late.

While social media has many positives, it also exacerbates the problem of the killjoy.

One of the ground rules of improv, and it applies here, is that you never sell out a teammate for a cheap joke. Though it may generate a chuckle or two, it ultimately damages team cohesion and makes you, well, a weenie. This is what the killjoy does.

It is a rule that applies to improv, and likewise it most certainly applies to friendship.

I remember a specific conversation not that long ago when I found myself caught in this trap, after which I pimp-slapped myself emotionally for my thoughtlessness. Comic-Con, or one of those other similar cosplay events was approaching, and a friend mentioned how excited she was that one of her favorite actors was scheduled to appear. I muttered something about how I (KILLJOY ALERT) "can't stand" this particular person.


If this friend happens to be reading this, and you can recall me being a jerkface on this occasion, I hope you'll accept my apologies. Or, let's talk about it in person sometime, and I'll buy you an ice cream.

The whole Pokémon Go thing, for example, did nothing and does nothing for me. Animé as a whole I find uninteresting and unappealing in basically every way. Nevertheless, this has been one of the things about which I can pat myself on the back and say, "Good for you. It's not your thing, but you weren't a killjoy about this." I've enjoyed seeing family members and friends post their Pokémon Go photos and tell their stories about going out hunting for Pokémons here and there and having a great time doing so. I've been geocaching before, which I'm told is somewhat similar to this craze, and I loved the experience of doing that.

Not being a killjoy does not connote agreement; it just means not being "that guy" that no one likes, who pooh-poohs something you love to do.

And so, my friends, please don't let any of the times I've been a killjoy stop you from pursuing your dreams, creating your creations, writing your plays, singing your songs, drawing your drawings, dancing your dances, and above all fanboy your fanboy-ing stuff. (Is that a verb? It is now.) Not that you need my permission.

We all have a compelling story to tell, and while some of us do it through blogging, others do it in other ways. Embrace and enjoy your Pokémon Go, travel, cosplay, concerts, photography, favorite sitcoms, articles you read and found interesting, sports, "Doctor Who," Mrs. Which, and Mrs. Whatsit hobbies. Or what-have-you. Meanwhile, I hope you'll continue to encourage me to do the same in my own way. Thank you for being patient and understanding with me during those times when I slip. It's what friends do.

However, if you're going to make an inordinate number of status updates or post several dozen photos of yourself doing these things to clog up my feeds on Facebook, Instagram, and the like, we might be having a different conversation.

That We May All Sit Down in Heaven Together

When I was growing up, I remember seeing a quote by Lucy Mack Smith (Joseph Smith's mother) around the house, which my mom had crocheted (sewn? needle-pointed?) and placed in a picture frame for all who lived there and all visitors to see:

"We must cherish one another, watch over one another, comfort one another, and gain instruction that we may all sit down in heaven together."

I have often referred to this quote for many reasons, but primarily I love the concept of us all sitting down in heaven together. This journey of life is not a competition but a path through which we are meant to help one another reach the same eternal reward. The gospel is inclusive and not exclusive, as we were reminded in this week's Sunday School lesson on the Book of Mormon:

"I speak by way of command unto you that belong to the church; and unto those who do not belong to the church I speak by way of invitation, saying: Come and be baptized unto repentance, that ye also may be partakers of the fruit of the tree of life" (Alma 5:62).

Just as Alma the Younger taught, I want us all to take part of the tree of life. All of us.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been saddened to read some of the comments posted on social media by some people who have turned the tragic, horrific Orlando shooting of June 12 into an attack on Christians, ridiculing the idea that the same Christians who oppose same-sex marriage might also dare to pray for the victims. It's a bizarre series of steps that seems to have led them to this conclusion, but that's not my point today.

One message I saw more than once said, among other things: "You say you'll pray for the victims, for their families, but tomorrow you'll call us sinners and tell us we're going to hell," and: "You care when fifty of us are killed . . . but you don't say a word when we swallow pills by the handful, slit our wrists, pull the trigger ourselves."

It goes on like this. But in case you haven't read it, I think you get the idea.

Let me just say that I can't speak for other Christians, but as for myself, (1) I take the idea of suicide by any human being for any reason very, very seriously, having attended more than one funeral for a friend due to suicide, and also as a person who battles depression, which can be quite terrible and frightening at times, on a daily basis. All life is precious unto God and is also precious to me.

(2) I am a sinner, too. I don't believe any of us going to hell. I don't associate with any bad people. As a sinner, though, I fall short of obeying all of the commandments God has given me, and he has commanded that I obey them all. There are issues and mistakes I still struggle trying to overcome. None of us is perfect, and none should cast the first stone. Thank heaven, literally, for the Atonement of Jesus Christ, which gives each and every one of us the opportunity to repent and be cleansed, no matter what our sins may be. Repentance is one of those many commandments I have been commanded to follow. And just as Lucy Mack said all, that means everybody.

Here's the thing about making that return trip home: We don't make the rules. Just as we can't do it on our own, we also don't set the terms. We must be humble, teachable, and willing to follow His plan. We can't rationalize, justify, or excuse ourselves (or others) out of any sin or transgression, "for the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance" (Alma 45:16). Nevertheless, those rules and the great plan of happiness come from an all-wise and all-loving Heavenly Father who loves us perfectly. He is also thoroughly merciful, because "there hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it" (1 Corinthians 10:13).

For any who might be inclined to call me "bigoted," "ignorant," or "hateful," I assure you (1) I have heard them all and (2) I am none of the above. I will not be silent, for I have made covenants to stand as a witness of His plan "at all times and in all things, and in all places" (Mosiah 18:9). Others may wish to remind me that "you can't pray the gay away." Even so, I witness that there are many who experience same-sex attraction who both want to follow God's plan and who choose to do so. I am privileged to associate with them in my hobbies, in my neighborhood, and even in my own ward and elders quorum. They are an inspiration to me to do better and to follow Christ with a fuller purpose of heart.

When Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve visited us in Peru years ago when I was a missionary, among the many important truths he taught us was not to be afraid to preach repentance unto the people, because it is not a punishment; rather, repentance is a great gift by which we can all be healed and return to the presence of God.

That is the very reason why I continue to preach the gospel here on Paco Nation, on social media, in my ward, and elsewhere, even though I no longer wear the missionary nametag each day. For thousands of years, humanity has struggled in vain to find some alternate form of attaining true joy outside of the plan of salvation and the Atonement; and it has yet to find one, because one does not exist.

As I share the gospel principles that have brought me joy with those around me, both in and out of the Church, my motivation is one of brotherly love, inspired by the "love of Christ, which passeth (all) knowledge" (Ephesians 3:19). My ultimate wish is for us all to be worthy to return to live with Heavenly Father, for my mind cannot conceive of any greater blessing to share with all of my brothers and sisters. It is a gift there for the taking for any and all who will wish to take it.

Like Lucy Mack Smith, I want us all to sit down in heaven together.

My Soul's Complaint

"He lives to comfort me when faint.

He lives to hear my soul's complaint."

 -"I Know That My Redeemer Lives," Hymn no. 136

We sang these very words not long ago, as Latter-day Saints are wont to do in our meetings. It's one of our most common and most beloved hymns, though I don't think I've ever really stopped to ponder much about this particular phrase. It was later pointed our by our elders quorum instructor, which then led to a rather interesting discussion.

Again, as Latter-day Saints are wont to do. Especially in elders quorum.

Complaining to the Lord? You mean, He lives to hear me moan and groan when things go poorly, or when I'm heartbroken or lonely, or when my faith is not a strong as it would or could be? He puts up with all of that?

Apparently so. It is a somewhat reassuring thought. In our deepest, darkest moments of despair and trial, He is there, and He understands, because He has walked where we have walked and Has felt what we have felt. I think He gets it if we have moments even when we doubt everything we once thought we knew to be true. We can only imagine the loneliness, isolation, pain, and anxiety He felt when He cried out, in the moment of His deepest despair:

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46).

What's the difference between complaining and murmuring? I think there is one, though it may be a fine line sometimes. I also Googled this very question and read a number of intriguing responses, mainly on other Christian Web sites and blogs.

Personally, I believe that murmurers have gone beyond merely complaining. They are not only complainers as a habit, but they are in open rebellion; not because they have doubts, but because they choose not to believe.

Then again, it may be just semantics. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to, and all that.

This is not also to say, at the same time, that it's a good thing to be primarily a complainer. Because complainers are not only miserable people; since misery loves company, they love to pass it around.

This topic has been on my mind lately because my family has lost from this earthly existence two souls very dear to us this week; one on each side of my family. If I get to the afterlife and find neither one of them there (one was a member who shared our faith, while the other, one of the most giving and loving souls I've ever known, was not), I'll know I've ended up in the wrong place. Both were unexpected, though one was far less expected than the other due to age and health circumstances. Whatever the reasons or expectations may have been a week ago, we feel the loss dearly, and we mourn and grieve.

To some extent, our souls even complain. We may wonder why things happened the way they did. Personally, I wonder what to say that doesn't sound forced or stupid or uncaring. I always do when death is involved, for it is never an easy topic.

What I do know is that He is there to hear our soul's complaint. He understands. He loves us. In the end, He will make everything all right, even though all may be noise and confusion and chaos right here and now in this mortal coil.

Indeed, the He lives portion of the "He lives to hear my soul's complaint" is the most important part of that phrase.

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.