More posts about some of the goings-on and the rollercoaster that was the past week will follow shortly here on Paco Nation.
We love you, Dad, and we miss you.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Dad's Obituary
My dad passed away Saturday, April 15, 2017, following a prolonged illness. You may read his obituary (which I wrote) here.
More posts about some of the goings-on and the rollercoaster that was the past week will follow shortly here on Paco Nation.
We love you, Dad, and we miss you.
More posts about some of the goings-on and the rollercoaster that was the past week will follow shortly here on Paco Nation.
We love you, Dad, and we miss you.
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
Guys' Night Out
During the women's session of the most recent general conference of the Church, Mom, Biz, and Kate gathered to watch the meeting together while Dad, some of my brothers, their boys, and I went to Johnny Rockets in Farmington for a guys' night out.
Christian, at first, was not a happy camper . . .
. . . until we paired him up with his cousin and buddy Jake, after which he was all smiles, and the two of them played "Hide and Seek" with me:
Sunday, March 12, 2017
Family Dinner/March 2017
Earlier tonight, we gathered for monthly family dinner and also celebrated the family birthdays for March. Included were five-year-old Jake (seen here blowing out the candles) and Kate, who turns two years old on the 31st.
They grow up fast, don't they?
They grow up fast, don't they?
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
Improvables: Davis High School
Two Saturdays ago, the Improvables had the wonderful opportunity of taking the stage at the Clearfield Community Arts Center to perform a show along with three very talented kids from Davis High School.
It turned out to be pretty great.
It turned out to be pretty great.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Improvables: Spelling Bee
From last weekend's Improvables performance at CenterPoint Legacy Theatre (and possibly yoink!-ed from our Instagram page, IDK!), Keenan, Jamie, and I played a game of "Spelling Bee":
Sunday, February 12, 2017
The Mish: All of the Time in the World
It's Abraham Lincoln's 208th birthday today. Did ya know?
Honest Abe's birthday has additional significance for me. I remember what I was doing on his 188th birthday, 20 years ago today. It was the end of an era as I returned home to the United States after two years of missionary service in Peru.
My older brother and my new sister-in-law took me out to eat at Boston Market, which is now a Wendy's, in Bountiful. (What did I care what it was? It was American food at long last.) That night, I met with my new stake president up at the stake center and was officially released to return to pursuing new goals in the lone and dreary world that lay ahead.
Five days later, the girl who waited for me, as I like to say, was born (my second cousin Meikayla). A few years later, my last companion, that pesky parasite, was finally cleansed from my system.
My, how the time flies. Yes, this is one of those "Back in My Day" moments.
I think back on the many people I was blessed to associate with, to both laugh and cry with, to serve, and by whom to be served in so very many ways. I also think of those who hit the baptismal waters and then "drowned," so to speak, or who wandered into other paths, or those who for whatever reason, be it time or distance or a number of other factors, fell off the radar. Nevertheless, I hold out hope for one and all.
The other day, this photo came up in my social media feeds, which I have borrowed (yoink!) for this post:
This is the Lazarte family, one of many families I had the opportunity to teach. My companions and I taught their father, José; he was baptized; he was ordained a priest; he baptized his sons Erick and Yamil; and he went on to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, all in the few months we were stationed in that ward only to be interrupted by the aforementioned day of twenty years ago today.
I glance again at this photo, and I see how far they've come. Erick and Yamil went on to serve missions of their own and are raising families of their own now, too. I look at them all and observe also how far they are going. And all of the blood, sweat, and tears spent in the service of such people vanish away. They are nothing. These people, these memories, are everything. It is the gift that keeps on giving, and its dividends know no bounds.
Where am I going with this? Other than feeling old, old?
The simple answer, as I sat in stake conference today, two stake presidencies later (somehow, through a series of fortunate events, I'm back in that very same stake) and pondered on the time gone by, is that time is abundant. Thanks to the gospel plan, we have all of the time in the world.
When it comes to missionary service, I've heard it said that there are those anyone could teach, there are those only a few select individuals could teach, and there are also those only you could teach. When all is said and done, I feel like I've been the one to be taught. I've learned that completely changing your life, turning it nearly upside down in many cases, is worth the sacrifice that brings forth the blessings of heaven.
My older brother and my new sister-in-law took me out to eat at Boston Market, which is now a Wendy's, in Bountiful. (What did I care what it was? It was American food at long last.) That night, I met with my new stake president up at the stake center and was officially released to return to pursuing new goals in the lone and dreary world that lay ahead.
Five days later, the girl who waited for me, as I like to say, was born (my second cousin Meikayla). A few years later, my last companion, that pesky parasite, was finally cleansed from my system.
My, how the time flies. Yes, this is one of those "Back in My Day" moments.
I think back on the many people I was blessed to associate with, to both laugh and cry with, to serve, and by whom to be served in so very many ways. I also think of those who hit the baptismal waters and then "drowned," so to speak, or who wandered into other paths, or those who for whatever reason, be it time or distance or a number of other factors, fell off the radar. Nevertheless, I hold out hope for one and all.
The other day, this photo came up in my social media feeds, which I have borrowed (yoink!) for this post:
This is the Lazarte family, one of many families I had the opportunity to teach. My companions and I taught their father, José; he was baptized; he was ordained a priest; he baptized his sons Erick and Yamil; and he went on to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, all in the few months we were stationed in that ward only to be interrupted by the aforementioned day of twenty years ago today.
I glance again at this photo, and I see how far they've come. Erick and Yamil went on to serve missions of their own and are raising families of their own now, too. I look at them all and observe also how far they are going. And all of the blood, sweat, and tears spent in the service of such people vanish away. They are nothing. These people, these memories, are everything. It is the gift that keeps on giving, and its dividends know no bounds.
Where am I going with this? Other than feeling old, old?
The simple answer, as I sat in stake conference today, two stake presidencies later (somehow, through a series of fortunate events, I'm back in that very same stake) and pondered on the time gone by, is that time is abundant. Thanks to the gospel plan, we have all of the time in the world.
When it comes to missionary service, I've heard it said that there are those anyone could teach, there are those only a few select individuals could teach, and there are also those only you could teach. When all is said and done, I feel like I've been the one to be taught. I've learned that completely changing your life, turning it nearly upside down in many cases, is worth the sacrifice that brings forth the blessings of heaven.
Saturday, February 11, 2017
Family Dinner/February 2017
Last weekend, we gathered for family dinner and to celebrate the family's February birthdays (Dave's and Jeff's). At the same time, there may have also been a football game on TV.
I failed to get a shot of the candles being blown out over the cake, but I did snap this picture of Kylee giving her sleepy 18-month-old cousin Daniel a bottle:
So, there's that.
Congratulations to the Patriots on the biggest comeback in Super Bowl history. Overall, it was a fun evening with the best people I know.
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