Thursday, February 25, 2016

Cure


This hymn was composed by Kevin Pace the day before his first wife passed away (cancer) back in 1993. He writes: "I wonder what I was thinking to write these hymns when she was so gravely ill.  I don't really remember...except we were all crying out to God for help in an extremely difficult time." He asked if I could write something to reflect that history.

Knowing that no words can erase the pain and suffering that accompanies cancer (both for the afflicted and their families), this, nevertheless, is my attempt to reach out in the only way I know how:


Just as the twilight e'er will fall,
Darkness and grief will come to all,
Piercing the heart with sorrow sore
Begging the question, "How much more?"

Those who will turn unto The Lord,
Will find there a Friend who keeps His Word,
Promising all the Spirit's aid,
Succor and peace through all He paid.


He will not leave you comfort-less.
Reach for Him now and He will bless.
Even in darkness, seek the day,
Feeling by faith to find your way.

Hearing your cries, He shows His hand.
When blessed by His strength you understand
All grief and pain you can endure,
Here in His light, a peaceful cure.

Earthbound Souls

Another Hymn I wrote and Kevin Pace composed last month. Feedback welcome.


Earthbound souls ever dream of flight.
Set in darkness, we long for light.
Winter winds spark a love of fire.
Loneliness ever fuels desire.

Trials endured strengthen all good men.
Weakness mastered staves off sin.
Wisdom blooms from experience.
Foolishness sires common sense.
 
Good and evil are side by side;
Agency lets your heart decide.


Sacrifice is the path to God.
Narrow ways lead to freedoms broad.
Reaching upward, we seek Thy face.
Falling short, we rely on grace.

Lifting others, we'll lifted be.
Finding truth will set us free.
Blessing others will leave us blessed,
'Til we find eternal rest.

Good and evil are side by side;
Agency lets your heart decide.

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

A Day to Rejoice

Here is a new hymn I wrote for the following composition by Kevin Pace:


This is a day to rejoice in gladness.
This is a day to forget all sadness.
This is a day to confess your blessing,
This day the truth will replace guessing.

This is the day you accept the gospel.
This day a new song you'll sing.
For the life of The Son, you will raise your voice.
..This is a day to rejoice.


Wait for the day when, all sins forgiven,
Evil desires from your soul are driven.
Wait for the day when His love enfolds you,
Captures your heart as His hands hold you.

Wait for the day to be washed in glory,
Singing aloud all your praise.
For to know such a day you have ever dreamed.
..Wait for the day you're redeemed.


Dream of the day when the earth rejoices,
Hearing the choirs of angel voices.
Dream of the day He descends in glory
Come to fulfill prophecy's story.

Dream of the day He accepts His Kingdom,
Dream of the song you will sing.
All the wheat gathered in while the tares He burns.
..Dream of the day He returns.


Blessed the day when the lamb and lion
Gambol and play all the day in Zion.
Blessed the day peace and plenty foster
Lives where the meekest of all prosper.

Blessed the day when you rest from labor,
Blessing the world with your song,
Where the children are all taught to love His Word.
..Blessed the day of the Lord.

Friday, December 18, 2015

Fog on the Fringes

by Mark Fotheringham


Rising from darkness, up toward the light,
Why am I ever engaged in this fight?
Why don't I stay where the sun always shines,
Instead of retreating to shadowy climes?

Climbing the mountain, too often I stall.
Flirting with danger, I slip and I fall.
Can't seem to endure celestial heights,
Preferring the valleys and much dimmer lights.

Am I just a fake, am I just a fraud,
Calling on God, then releasing the rod?
Stumbling forward, forgetting to pray,
When left to myself, I will soon lose my way.

Fog on the fringes, obscuring my sight,
Gathers around me to swallow the light.
Turning again and again seeking grace,
I find it here, smiling, from one perfect face.

Leading me back to a more perfect road,
Hope reignites as you lighten my load.  
You hover above me, gently, sublime.
I reach out to touch you, and then start to climb.
.

My neighbor Kevin Pace decided this poem could be set to music.  Here is the result:
(last 4 lines are repeated at the end)


Thursday, November 12, 2015

The Good Ship Zion

A talk from General Conference by M. Russell Ballard ("God is at the Helm") was on my mind when my composer neighbor sent me a beautiful tune he had penned this morning. I knew immediately after hearing it, that I would write a seafaring lyric.

If you want to hear the tune click the play buttton below.




The Good Ship Zion
by Mark Fotheringham

VERSE 1
Sailing home upon the Good Ship Zion,
Weather fair, the breeze is at our back.
Sun and stars of glory here to guide us.
In the hold, there's nothing that we lack.

Sailing home upon the Good Ship Zion.
Our Dear Lord, as Captain, takes the helm,
Ever leading us to ports of wond'rous light,
And at last, to His celestial realm.

VERSE 2
Storms may blow upon the Good Ship Zion,
Tossed and turned, she navigates the waves.
Though the clouds may gather low and threat'ning,
Still she sails, yes, every storm she braves.

Sailing on, upon the Good Ship Zion,
Ever stronger, 'til the storm is past.
Guide us true, to land on long forgotten shores,
Sailing on to bring us home at last.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Thumped by the Alpha

Still thumpin'
Remarks from the funeral service for my brother Steve, who passed away on Feb 8, 2015, after a courageous 8-year battle with colon cancer. I have written about him before: Here and here.
______________________

You might expect that the sibling closest in age to Steve would have the most memories of him, but I'm afraid that's not the case. My memories are muddled at best and as Laura can attest, I can hardly remember what she told me two minutes ago, let alone what happened half a century ago. However, I do recall as a child dedicating a great deal of time and energy avoiding confrontations with Steve, because there was no doubt I would lose any battle ever engaged. Steve was the basement's Alpha Male and we all knew it. Being the Alpha, it was only natural that he would determine the boundaries of his domain. So, back when the three oldest shared an awful pink-carpeted bedroom, we all knew where the invisible line of demarcation was, separating his half of the room from the other half shared by Rob and me, and which we were forbidden to cross except, by his leave, to visit the common bathroom that was on his side.

I think I can thank Steve for my career in Public Relations because of all the early high-pressure training in talking my way either out of a fight or into the bathroom. I never had any knock down, drag out fights with Steve; the threat alone of physical harm was generally credible enough to cow you into fearful submission, unless you were Rob, who probably never backed down from a perceived injustice in his life; so he can thank Steve too for turning him into a lawyer. 

One memory that stands out from that time is the image of Steve sitting on the stomach of either me or one of our brothers, arms pinned under his legs as he administered what he lovingly called "The Chinese Water Torture."  I remember the sight of that middle knuckle raised ever so slightly above the clenched fist as it came thumping down on your unprotected sternum, then slowly raised to a height of about 12 inches only to reverse course and come thumping down again, and again, over and over in a nightmarish Asian prison camp parody. And no matter how hard you struggled to buck him off, he was just too big. You took your lumps until he either tired of the game, or Mom would hear the half-laugh, half-cry of the victim and come downstairs to investigate. Even though we all claimed to hate it, it was actually kind of an honor to be picked for poking. Because it meant that the Alpha was paying attention to you, that you were worthy of his touch, even if it was a thump in the chest.

About the only other things I can remember about Steve as we became teens is that he always had the coolest clothes, listened to the coolest music, and sported a Linc Hayes Afro to die for. He was one cool dude who taught me an appreciation for quality rock and roll to accompany the appreciation for quality classical music that Mom and Dad instilled with cello lessons (OK, maybe just Mom).

By the time I was ready to go away to Korea as a missionary, I was no longer afraid of my older brother's physical advantage, but we still were not close. I think Steve felt a little bad about that, however, because the day before I was to leave, he tried to break through the wall of what was then a kind of mutual toleration society by trying to give me some brotherly advice. Never mind that it was terrible advice that I had no intention of heeding; the point is that he was trying to show that he cared for me. And I missed it. He was giving me another little chest thump, but I just rolled my eyes and went off to Korea.

By the time I returned, Steve was off a-wandering and I got busy with college and Laura and career and family and before you knew it 25 years had passed away with only a handful of meaningless contacts between us.

Well most of you all know what happened next so I wont retell the story that I later wrote, about the day Steve came to my office so we could go to lunch and he could tell me he was sick. You already know about how I totally misjudged Steve and his intentions. It was my own fault. I'd been doing the same thing for decades. For too long I had wrongly assumed Steve was little more than a misguided, selfish addict, bouncing between addictions, homelessness and the occasional lawlessness. It was an unattractive cop-show stereotype and it was wrong. But I had held to it for so long that I didn't realize that I was the one becoming the stereotype: the rigid, unforgiving and seemingly uncaring brother who refuses to rejoice at the return of the prodigal.

But all it took was one question from Steve at lunch that day to crumble the carefully crafted cardio-protective shield I had constructed around my heart. When he asked me if I was OK or if he had ruined my life, it all came crashing down like bricks before an old Chinese Kung Fu master with one curiously raised knuckle.

And over the past 8 years, Steve has been thumping away again like crazy. With each cool or crazy little Christmas or birthday gift for the kids, with each gummy smile at one of your jokes, or with each hug after you go over to help fix his TV or computer, once again, you are honored to be thumped by the Alpha.

--------------

Endnote: I'd like to express my confidence that Steve is OK. Not only because I suspect that two great sets of grandparents were there to greet Steve and will shepherd him along his path, but mostly because I have known the unmatched goodness and love of Christ and I know He loves Steve more than any of us can imagine. I know my Savior lives and because I know this, I know that Steve lives too. And one day when we meet again, we will find Steve happier than we have ever known him to be.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Here Am I, Send Me

Those who know me, know also that I am a huge fan of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, especially "Lord of the Rings." One of the pivotal moments of that book (and movie) is when the Hobbit Frodo is listening quietly to the great and mighty representatives of Middle Earth discuss who should carry the weight of a dangerous quest into the heart of the enemy's territory to destroy the ring of power.

At the end of this long and contentious council, Frodo quietly volunteers: "I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way." It is the kind of quiet heroism that changes everything, not only for the hero, but for all around him. 

It reminds me of the choice of Homer's Odysseus, whether to stay comfortably in the realm of Calypso to live in comfort as a god, or to face untold hardship to return to home and hearth. It is in those moments of decision between comfortable existence for self versus sacrifice for the good of others where great heros are defined. 

Perhaps these literary decision points awaken in us the heroic impulse because we personally witnessed just such a moment, long ago, before birth, in a pre-mortal council that is now just beyond memory, but described in scripture. In honor of this world-defining moment, I offer the following as text and chorus for heroic lay:


Here Am I, Send Me
by Mark Fotheringham

Before creation had begun, the Father had a plan
To bless His children with the joy reserved for righteous man.
To bless with bodies and with laws to test their agency,
To prove in trial and faded light, through all adversity,
To show the strength they could achieve if they would choose the right,
The plan would center on the One, Beloved in His sight.

"Here am I. Send me," He said, "And I will do Thy will.
"Though dark and lonesome is the path, I'll go for good or ill."
He trusted that His Father's love, would always with Him be.
To guide Him through the darkest hour. "Here am I. Send me."

When all the children of our God who'd one day come to earth
Were told they could become like God by miracle of birth
And following the Spirit's lead, a shout of joy was raised.
The love of God was manifest. Upon their God they gazed.
He said that One would need to go to suffer for them all,
Atoning for their sins, He'd have to drink the cup of gall.

"Here am I. Send me," He said, "And I will do Thy will.
"Though dark and lonesome is the path, I'll go for good or ill."
He trusted that His Father's love, would always with Him be.
To guide Him through the darkest hour. "Here am I. Send me."

Another plan was given there by one with pleasing voice,
Who sought God's glory and His pow'r, denying gifts of choice.
"I'll save them all," he lied in spite of all from Father heard
About the need to sacrifice and learn to love His Word.
"Whom shall I send?" the Father asked. "How shall these souls be won?"
The eldest of our brothers stood and said, "Thy will be done."

"Here am I. Send me," He said, "And I will do Thy will.
"Though dark and lonesome is the path, I'll go for good or ill."
He trusted that His Father's love, would always with Him be.
To guide Him through the darkest hour. "Here am I. Send me."

I wonder if He understood the task before His face,
To reconcile perfection to a weak and troubled race,
To help all men return to God by suff'ring for their sin
And taking on all pain and grief, their wand'ring souls to win.
Oh yes, I think He knew full well the depth of what would come.
His love and faith were deeper still for each and every one.

"Here am I. Send me," He said, "And I will do Thy will.
"Though dark and lonesome is the path, I'll go for good or ill."
He trusted in His Father's love, e'en in Gethsemene.
Alone He'd face His darkest hour. "Here am I. Send me."
Alone He'd face His darkest hour. "Here am I, Send me."

Sunday, December 01, 2013

Charity: More than a Donation

Thoughts about charity come into sharper focus as the holidays progress. Some think of charity merely as a year-end tax-avoidance exercise; others think of it as an opportunity give back a portion for abundant blessings received; and still others for whom holiday charity is simply a continuation of an attribute practiced and developed all year long. But whatever the reason, as the end of the year approaches, our hearts seem naturally turned toward gratitude for blessings as well as sorrow and concern for the troubles of those less fortunate.

It may be tempting to assume that since I pay tithing and regularly donate additional offerings to assist the needy, that I am a charitable person. But as good and important as those acts are, they alone do not constitute what charity is or what a charitable person does. Christ himself castigated the scribes and Pharisees for thinking that charity was only about contributions. He said:

Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!  for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.  (Matthew 23:23)

If rephrased in our day this counsel might go something like this: you may pay your tithes and go to church or temple. These are all good things, but when it comes to charity, there is more to be done, and more to become. For I am convinced that charity is one of the critical attributes which we have been sent to earth to develop, or rather, relearn and reinforce, as we struggle to master and overcome the selfish interests of the mortal body.

Before we came to this earth, living with Heavenly parents and seeing their constant loving example of charitable service and giving, I suspect we probably developed a pretty good idea of the nature of charity, even if we had little capacity to experience it directly. But then we were sent to earth. And the veil of forgetfulness wiped away all but the light of Christ that helps us judge between good and evil, while leaving us free to exercise our agency. And we were given a mortal body, a wonderful gift that allows us to learn and experience an amazing range of physical sensations and emotional states and mental gymnastics that just are not available to personages of spirit alone.

All the capacities of our spirits are still intact. We simply must relearn that which we have forgotten and use our agency to master the physical self, overcoming the tendency to indulge in selfish distractions and rather use this new physical power in concert with our eternal spiritual nature to find our way back to God.  And one of the surest ways to finding our way back to celestial realms is to emulate His Beloved Son’s example of charitable living.

But charity is tricky. Even though it is a spiritual attribute, a way of seeing the world, if you will, it seems the only way to develop it is through physical action. Simply put, in order to become charitable, we must act charitably. The divine mandate to care for the poor and needy is repeated in every book of scripture we have and seems present in every dispensation. Only very rarely in the history of our planet have there been times when this commandment was so fully obeyed that there were no longer any poor or needy among the people. And as the scripture states: “How blessed were they!”

The cynical among us might think, “Yes, it would be a blessing if the poor and needy would just disappear, and leave us to enjoy the fruits of our labors.” But that attitude misses the whole point. It was not the absence of the poor and needy that was the blessing. It was the development of the attribute of charity that came from caring for the poor and the needy so consistently and thoroughly, as the love of God swelled every spirit and sacrifice overcame selfishness, service overcame sloth, and concern for the common interest overcame contentions.

For “charity is the pure love of Christ and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.” (Moroni 7:47)

The Apostle Paul was even more emphatic about the importance of developing this attribute. He said:

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1 - 3)

Well if this thing called charity is so important, we should probably be concerned with understanding what it truly is and how to obtain it. It’s pretty clear that it can’t be purchased, though Satan has been pretty successful in misleading the world to think that charity is just about how much money one might give. It’s a very subtle deception because it involves an action that is good and encouraged by the Gospel of Christ, the giving of our substance to help the poor. But giving alone is not enough. The heart of the giver is what is important to God. Satan would distract us by directing our focus only on the amount that might be given, using it as an anchor to engender either guilt that the amount was not enough to make a difference, or pride and the seeking of recognition for the "generosity" of an otherwise unwilling donor.

Again the Apostle Paul can help us understand the difference. As he wrote to the Corinthians:

Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver. (2 Corinthians 9:7)

So even though charity involves action, the purpose of our hearts, the intent behind the action, is what determines whether or not the gift is acceptable to God and whether or not it will have a positive effect on our eternal condition. To the Colossians, the Apostle further defined charity as the “bond of perfectness.” We might say it is the glue which binds all our good deeds to the soul and makes them part of who we are becoming.

And when it comes to charitable giving, it’s not just about money. In addition to assisting the poor and needy with our substance, the charitable soul donates time, talents, energy. Whatever the Lord has blessed you with in abundance, He expects you to share with those in want.

And a certain man lame from his mother's womb was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple; Who seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple asked an alms. And Peter, fastening his eyes upon him with John, said, Look on us. And he gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something of them. Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk. And he took him by the right hand, and lifted him up: and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength. And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God. (Acts 3:2 - 8)

Peter and John had no money, but they had faith in abundance and when asked for alms, they gave of their abundance a gift more precious than any amount of money would have been worth. “Such as I have, give I thee.” I love that phrase. It demonstrates an outlook and purpose that was modeled by the Master.  It greets the world and every person in it with an amazing question: How can I bless your life right now?

What a wonderful difference there would be in the world and in each individual heart if that question were our consistent focus.  Even the poor or needy person asking that question would find strength and purpose when the answer was manifest: I can bless your life by allowing you to minister to my need.

I have always been struck by how in the scriptures the Savior always left those He blessed feeling better about themselves and their potential, while humbling those who thought they were somehow better than their brethren. Truly charitable projects do the same:  lifting the poor and needy, while humbling the rich, and building the faith of all. Service opportunities that meet this criteria are of value both now and in the eternities, because they not only meet an immediate temporal need, but mold the souls of participants.

Although we are allowed a so-called “charitable” deduction on our tax returns for tithing contributions, the commandment to pay tithing is more about obedience and building the kingdom and our faith than it is directly about charity. Fast offerings, on the other hand, do not come with a set amount or percentage required to fulfill the law. It is more a free will offering, guided by the heart, to help the poor and needy without expectation of earthly credit or benefit. By giving fast offerings, we follow the pattern set by the Savior, who freely gave His life for the benefit of all mankind. A generous fast offering, when we are in a position to give it, puts us in the position of the Good Samaritan, rescuing the unknown and unfortunate among us, without expectation of earthly recompense or recognition. Nevertheless, those who reach out with such love, will be loved in return by the Father of all, whose love is considered the greatest gift of all.

Similarly, the charitable soul will also recognize the opportunity to bless the needy by doing temple work, emulating the Savior’s work of salvation by doing for others what they cannot do for themselves. The truly charitable will jump at the chance to serve in callings, wherever the Lord calls them, as here will be an opportunity to share their talents and testimonies and say along with Peter “such as I have, give I thee.”

Now I know I am painting a pretty rosy picture of the perfect Saint here, able to sacrifice all without a thought for self, but let me assure you that the Lord in no way expects us to run faster than we have strength, but merely to give of our abundance, and gratefully accept the charitable ministrations of others when we find ourselves in need.

Although these principles seem fairly basic and simple to understand, putting them into practice can be a challenge. After all, we are bombarded with messages and temptations daily to devote our time and money to the purchasing of material goods and personal pampering. The underlying lie of these distracting messages is that joy and happiness can be found in the acquisition of "stuff" rather than spending our time and resources on the acquisition and development of charity.

But oh we do so love our toys. And though there is nothing intrinsically wrong with participating in the market and purchasing that new iPod or that new car or the big screen TV, or that cruise or new carpeting or a million other things, the problem lies in our attitude towards them and our expectations that they will somehow bring us joy. Deep down, I think we all recognize that joy is more a product of giving than of getting, but it may be difficult to remember that principle in the daily flash and bluster of competing commercial interests telling us to buy, buy, buy, and buy some more.

It is also difficult to put charity into practice when we become confused about who it is we should help. Are any of you as conflicted as me when approached by a beggar on the street asking for money? There is always that moment of indecision when you see the beggar up ahead. You watch as someone in front of you passes by without acknowledging the beggar’s existence, and you wonder if you should respond or not.  For the natural man, concerned only for himself and his own comforts, there would be no dilemma. But imperfect as I am, I strive to be a disciple of Christ and His words give me pause:

In Luke chapter 11, He says: Give alms of such things as ye have, and all things are clean unto you.  (Luke 11:41)

In Alma chapter 5, the prophet asks his wayward people:  Will you persist in turning your backs upon the poor, and the needy, and in withholding your substance from them?  (Alma 5:55)

The Doctrine & Covenants is even more plain:  And remember in all things the poor and the needy, the sick and the afflicted, for he that doeth not these things, the same is not my disciple.  (D&C 52:40)  Therefore, if any man shall take of the abundance which I have made, and impart not his portion, according to the law of my gospel, unto the poor and the needy, he shall, with the wicked, lift up his eyes in hell, being in torment. (D&C 104:18)

Most poignant of all may be the Lord’s own words in Matt. 25: Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me (Matt. 25:40)

These are just a few of the powerful words from the scriptures that leave little doubt in my mind about the duty of a disciple to charitably care for the poor and the needy. But there is a problem that these scriptures don’t seem to address: How can you tell if a beggar is really poor and needy? We have all heard the stories of the professional beggars who are neither homeless, nor helpless, but simply choose to beg for a living because they can make so much money from it. These sluggards who reject self-reliance, not only deceive the kind and generous, they take from the truly needy by their deception. The thought of supporting such indolence with even one thin dime is irksome to anyone who works for a living.

I was pondering this topic a couple of years ago, and ended up writing a poem to help clarify my thoughts. It’s called the Beggar’s Call and the last stanzas read as follows:

If I'm tricked by a scoundrel for some small amount
In the end, I will stand when I give life's account.
But if I'm a scrooge to the real beggar's call,
I wonder, at judgment, will I beg? Will I crawl?

If I should choose wrong, when begged for a ration,
I hope that I err on the side of compassion.

I leave it to you to decide how you would handle the beggar question, for I’m still not certain I always get it right. So rarely am I allowed out of the house with any cash nowadays that the question is mostly moot. But still I think about it.

And we should think about it. I think the Lord wants us to look at our hearts and ask some difficult questions about attitudes towards those we are commanded to serve and help and lift – to find those places in us where the bond of perfectness might not be sticking so well. To help us with that evaluation, the Lord has given us a little cheat sheet, in both the New Testament and again in the Book of Mormon, describing the standards by which our own level of charity might be judged.

And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. (Moroni 7:45)

Now an entire sermon could be preached on this one verse alone, but I invite you to study and ponder its meaning in your own life. Ponder on each word, each phrase and finally on the whole of it and how it fits into the great message of the Prophet Mormon as recorded by his son in Moroni Chapter 7. You will also find a similar cheat sheet to charity recorded in 1 Corinthians Chapter 13.

I still have much to learn about charity, but I think there was at least one time when my family got it right. About 20 years ago, my wife Laura was the Relief Society President of our ward and had the dubious honor of assisting 4 different families arrange funerals for ward members who had passed away. One particularly tragic death involved a young father who left behind a young wife and three little girls to mourn his passing. That year as Christmas approached, Laura could not get this little family off her mind, imagining the prospect of this newly fatherless family trying to celebrate the holiday without their beloved daddy.

There really was nothing we could do to remove the pain and sorrow of their loss, but anyone who really knows my wife, knows also that doing nothing was not an option. So together as a family one Family Home Evening, we planned out what we might do to try to ease their burden and let them know they were loved. We decided on the 12 days of Christmas, secretly delivering a little gift each day for nearly two weeks before Christmas Day.  One day it was a children's board game, on another a Christmas craft, on another mugs with hot chocolate mix, peppermint sticks and marshmallows. Each day it got harder and harder to make our deliveries without being caught, but they never did catch us. After each delivery, we would return home and my job was to give them an anonymous phone call and give them my best Santa Claus laugh and hang up. At any other time this would have just been creepy, but they came to know when they heard the Santa laugh, it was time to check the front porch.

I’m certain that Christmas was still hard for this little family, but we heard through the grapevine that there was also some laughter amid the tears of that season, and that some secret Santa was helping them endure by giving the girls a little something to look forward to each day, a little distraction from the constant pain of loss.

But this neighbor family was not the only one helped by this effort.  I recall that Christmas as being more special than any other in memory, as my family’s thoughts turned from concerns about “getting” to the more satisfying “giving” aspect of the season, a part of which I think we have carried with us ever since. Though we were never there to actually see it, in our minds eye each of us pictured the excitement and imagined the laughter of little girls opening the front door to discover what new treasure awaited them there.  And in the imagining, were found the greatest gifts of Christmas: family unity, charitable service, gratitude for blessings, and love for one another.

When it comes to joy, I can say with prophets both ancient and modern in declaring that “charity never faileth. Wherefore cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail – But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever, and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.”

When we reach out to share of our abundance, and to assist where needed, our lives are enriched beyond measure. By getting our families involved in this work, we teach them not only the meaning of charity, but also the joy of service and an appreciation for blessings. When it comes to acquisition, this is the good stuff. This is the stuff of eternity.

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Questions

In every life, there come times of questioning.

Consider the soul pummeled by trials seeking to understand the answer to the vexing question “Why Me?” or the soul couched in ease and comfort pondering the question, “What’s the point?” or the harried soul overburdened by duty and responsibility wondering “What would Thou have me do Lord?” or perhaps the soul left alone in the world through the absence or death of loved ones crying “Where art thou Lord, and where are they?”

Our lives are framed by questions and who we think we are is often a reflection of the questions we think we have answered. And when we are uncertain, when there are gaps in our understanding, when we feel somehow incomplete, it is generally a reflection of questions left unanswered or perhaps questions we have answered wrong.

Questions pepper our lives daily, but few are very profound. In fact, most are simply procedural: “What’s next on the agenda?” “When should we have dinner?” “Where did I leave my wallet?” “Who let the dogs out?” – questions that may need to be answered to move us along our days, but which have little lasting effect on the quality or direction of our lives. In fact, with the pace and complexity of life accelerating as it is, these pedestrian concerns and questions multiply and often overtax us into thinking that we have no time or energy to stop and ponder the deeper, life-defining or life-altering questions.

But these deeper questions can’t be postponed or silenced forever. They nag at the soul like a mosquito on a hot summer night. Even the shallowest among us will one day ask, as do we all: “Who am I really? And what am I doing here?” These can be frustrating, even frightening questions to ask if you’ve never been taught how or where to find the answers. It is easy to see how so many get discouraged, wandering without direction from one philosophy to the next, some deciding that there are no answers, or that truth is relative, and march with the masses into the great and spacious building of Lehi’s dream, hoping the party there will be loud enough to drown out the buzzing of their mosquitoes, or with the prideful, trivialize the quest for truth altogether.

But that is the coward’s way. And those who succumb to the temptation to abandon the search are left with an emptiness, an isolating void that longs to connect with something real, something true, something eternal. That longing was implanted long ago, a premortal remnant perhaps of what we felt in the presence of God, in whose image and likeness we have been created, and whose divine spark impels us to Ask, to Seek, to Knock, to know again that which we knew before and to be added upon with even greater light and knowledge.

And so, we question.

Is there a God? If so, what is He like? Does He care for us? Can we know Him? Are there rules for this life? Is there right? Is there wrong? And when I choose wrong, can I be forgiven? How?

How grateful I am that our loving Father in Heaven has not left us to flounder in a sea of doubt and uncertainty, but from the very beginning has spoken to man and sent messengers bearing the everlasting gospel, countering fear and doubt with faith and revelation. How grateful I am that these messages of hope were accompanied by a command to write the vision, record the commandment, engrave the plates, preserve the scrolls, remember the stories and pass them on to future generations.

In a world of so many questions, how grateful I am for scripture, both ancient and modern. Nowhere else are the answers to so many of life’s greatest questions found, combined and concentrated in a form now so accessible that man is left without excuse. As commanded by our Lord:
Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me.  (John 5:39)
A couple of weeks ago, I was just sitting down in Priesthood Opening Exercises when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The Primary President had come looking for someone to chaperon a substitute for a combined sunbeam and 4-yr-old class, whose regular teachers were both on vacation.

I don`t think I had been in Primary for at least a decade, and other than helping manage a couple wiggle worms, my role that day was mostly just as an observer. The thing that stood out most prominently about that day was how much love there is in the Primary: love of the children for their teachers – even if the teacher is a sub, love of the teachers for each child in their classes, love of the Presidency and the Music people for all the kids, and the palpable love of the Savior for everyone there. It was wonderful.

I learned a new Primary song, how to sign the chorus to Families Can Be Together Forever, and how to sing the 9th Article of Faith:
We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.
After singing this last song, Sister Carter, our Primary President, asked if anyone knew what the words of the 9th Article of Faith meant. Now, usually in Primary there will be at least one kid who will jump at the chance to answer any question whether he or she knows the answer or not (pick me!) and when you do pick one of these kids, they get this wild look in their eyes as they realize they didn’t really listen to the question and are not at all sure what was asked and so resort to some all purpose answer that, given the odds, might just fit the question ("umm, Jesus loves us?").

Well, this time all those kids must have been on vacation because not a single hand went up. So after an awkward pause, I raised my hand halfway up, while inside my head I was going “Ooh, pick me, pick me!” Yeah, I was one of those kids. So when Sister Carter looked over and saw my hand up, in desperation she picked me. And I suddenly realized that although I knew the answer, I wasn’t at all sure how to express it in a way that sunbeams and 4-year-olds could understand. After a moment of panic, I was about to say “Um, Jesus loves us,” when the Spirit whispered something else. Whew!

I told the children that the 9th Article of Faith means that Heavenly Father is still talking. He spoke to prophets long ago; he still speaks to our prophet Thomas B. Monson today and He will keep on talking as long as we are ready to listen and obey.

I got a big smile from Sister Carter and even the wiggle worm sitting next to me looked up at me and said, “You`re funny.”

Now I think we would all agree that it is a great blessing to have the scriptures, but I am reminded of a quote by Mark Twain who said that “the man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read.” Even so, the man who does not study his scriptures has no advantage over the man who has none to study.

I have a friend in the 4th ward with whom I often ride the train to work in the mornings. I am inspired by his commitment to the words of the prophets as day in and day out I see him with the latest conference edition of the Ensign or a set of scriptures, reading, studying and highlighting various passages. This is a man who has faced some fairly severe challenges and trials in recent years, but you wouldn’t know it from talking to him. He has a genuinely cheerful, strong and optimistic outlook and serves faithfully and well in a demanding calling. And I wonder if the strength with which he meets life might not somehow be connected to his diligent study on the train each day.  Here is a man who probably has cause to question as much as any man, but he has the advantage of knowing how to find the answers, and has put that knowledge to use.

We have all heard stories or maybe have even experienced ourselves times when some question had been plaguing us, and having prayed earnestly for guidance, have opened the scriptures at random and our eyes have locked on to some verse or chapter that revealed the answer we were looking for.

Yes, I`ve had this happen before, but only once. And I`ve never heard of it happening more than once to anyone else either.  Perhaps this is just the Lord’s way of pointing out to us, in loving exasperation, where we need to spend our time looking for answers.

It’s like an experience I had as a fairly new Bishop when some question of administration came up that I was unfamiliar with, so I went to the Stake President for counsel. Melvin Gardiner was president at the time, a man known to be a Master of the General Handbook of Instructions which, by the way, is scripture for anyone in a priesthood leadership position.

President Gardiner smiled his great smile and said he wasn’t going to answer my question, but referred me to chapter, section, column and position about a third of the way down on the page of the Handbook where I could look up my answer, and suggested that future administrative questions might similarly be found by referring to the Handbook rather than bothering him.

It was a valuable lesson. President Gardiner could have just answered my question, but he knew that I would be a better Bishop if I would become more familiar with the Handbook myself rather than relying on Him to answer all my questions. And if a little embarrassment was the price I should pay for that lesson, so be it. I never did ask another administrative question of President Gardiner, not for fear of further embarrassment, but because I found the answers to every one of my questions where they were meant to be found - in the Handbook.

I think the Lord does the same for us. We plead with Him in prayer to help us see our way forward or overcome some obstacle, and sometimes all we are met with is silence. But God’s silence does not mean that He cares not for our predicament. Sometimes His silence is the answer: an answer which often means, “I’ve already told you the answer. It’s in the scriptures. Go look it up.”  Yes, he could answer directly, but He knows that we will be stronger, more capable children if we will make the effort to become more familiar with all His words as recorded in Holy Writ.

I add my testimony to those of countless prophets, apostles, stake presidents, bishops, quorum presidents, and most influential of all, faithful mothers and fathers and other great teachers, who have told us time and again that daily scripture study builds a foundation upon which testimony is not only framed, but is girded up and fortified against the onslaught of the adversary’s fiery darts. It’s a simple formula; Daily study coupled with daily prayer equals daily strength.

Now, you may have noticed that so far I have avoided using the phrase “reading the scriptures.” I acknowledge the fact that any exposure to the scriptures is better than nothing. But may I suggest that scriptures are different from today’s popular novels or other reading material, and so, to get the most out of them, they need to be read differently, at least for personal study.

When we first learned to read stories or articles or textbooks in school, we learned that we just start at the beginning and move through to the end. But that perhaps is not the best way to read scripture, especially if we are reading to find the answers to questions we might have.

I can’t say with any authority that I know the best way to study scriptures. There are probably more ways than you can shake a stick of Joseph at. But I think it is valuable, however you choose to study, to begin by asking questions. Take some time to ponder on principles of the gospel that perhaps you are less knowledgeable about or even less committed to.

Is there anything about the gospel you feel uncertain about? Ask the question. God does not generally reveal anything unless He is asked first. I think it may have something to do with His gift of free agency. As one of our Hymns says, God will never force the human mind. Rather, He awaits the questions.

Consider the boy Joseph Smith investigating the various religions of the day and pondering on how he could possibly find out which church was true. That question was on his mind as he opened the scriptures and came upon James 1:5
If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.
We may talk a lot about Joseph’s First Vision, and rightly so. But Joseph’s first revelation was the one found in the scriptures which entered with great force into every feeling of his heart and led him to the grove. In that first revelation is an answer for all who have spiritual questions: Let them ask of God.

But first you may have to do a little ground work. Like Joseph, who visited the various churches in the area beforehand, you may have to search for information on the topic you are interested in. At the very least, search the topical guide to find out which chapters might be meaningful or related to your question. You might search LDS.ORG for conference talks or other references on the subject. I know it means taking a little more time, but truly effective scripture study takes a little planning.

Clayton Christensen, a prominent Mormon author, Harvard Professor and innovation expert, in his book called “The Power of Everyday Missionaries,” suggested a method which he teaches to his friends who have agreed to investigate the church. He asks them to write down their top two or three questions about religion. Then he and the missionaries will help them find chapters in the Book of Mormon related to those questions.

This is the groundwork or preparation for the real work of scripture study.
Next Brother Christensen suggests a specific 7-step homework assignment to find the answers:

  1. Pray, on your knees, aloud, telling God about your questions and that you are going to study about them. Ask Him to help you understand the things you are going to read.
  2. Read the assigned chapters.
  3. Write your answers, in draft form, to your questions.
  4. Kneel again in verbal prayer and explain to God the answers you have written, just as if you were talking to Him face-to-face. Then tell Him you are going to read the chapters one more time. Ask Him again to please help you understand even more deeply the answers that He would want you to give to these questions as you read.
  5. Read the chapters again.
  6. Revise your answers, based upon your deeper understanding. These written answers are the homework assignment that the investigator needs to bring to their next meeting with the missionaries.
  7. Then kneel again and pray a third time. But the purpose of this prayer will be different. This time you need to ask God if the things which you have written, and the things which you have read, are true.

To summarize this method, after preparing to study, it’s Pray, Read, Write, Pray, Read, Write, then Pray again. I know this may sound daunting when you are having a hard time squeezing even ten minutes of study into your day, but boy doesn’t it sound like it would be effective?

The point is that for scripture study to really bless your life, it needs to find a prominent place in your daily priorities, and if you can squeeze in some preparation and prayer and some way of recording what you have learned, all the better. It doesn’t have to be this exact process, but again, if we want to get more out of the scriptures than we get out of today’s best-selling novel, we need to use them as they were meant to be used, as a way to examine and, if necessary, to change our lives.

And what kind of changes can we expect? What are the blessings of this kind of purposeful, focused scripture study? Depends on what you need. Need to strengthen your resistance to temptation? Study the scriptures. Nephi, in explaining to his brothers the meaning of the iron rod in Lehi’s dream said, “it was the word of God; and whoso would hearken unto the word of God, and would hold fast unto it, they would never perish; neither could the temptations and the fiery darts of the adversary overpower them unto blindness, to lead them away to destruction.”

Want your kids to do better in school? Read scriptures with them. One of the things my wife and I did right when our children were young was to gather them around the breakfast table each day and read a chapter of the Book of Mormon together. I can testify that even though the young ones might not have understood everything we read, they at least became familiar with the language of the scriptures and were blessed with an understanding that these books, these words, were important – more important than any other books in the house, because we didn’t read those books every day – although for a time, the Harry Potter series had a pretty good nightly run. But that daily out-loud scripture study had other benefits. All my kids became excellent readers and excellent students. If you can read scripture with confidence, anything from J.K. Rowling to William Shakespeare is a breeze.

My kids are older now, but we still try to get up in time to read a chapter or two together before the first person leaves the house, and I testify that this practice has strengthened me and my family for our daily struggles, with greater joy and confidence and power to withstand the temptations that swirl about us.

Whatever your righteous desire, to be a better missionary or home teacher, to get more excited about family history work, to know how better to deal with problems at work or school or home, study the scriptures. Prayerfully ask for Heavenly Father’s guidance, then open up his handbook and drink in the living waters. Consistent, faithful study will build a foundation of wisdom and faith that can weather any storm, and when paired with a commitment to serve your fellows, will make you an invaluable instrument in the hand of God to build his Kingdom.

One final story: When I first moved to West Jordan about 30 years ago, I was called to be a counselor in the Bishopric and served under my next door neighbor who had been called as Bishop just a few weeks after moving into the ward.  We served for about three years together and I really came to love my calling and working with this good man. But one day we found ourselves in need of a new Teacher’s Quorum Advisor as the current advisor moved out of the ward. We struggled with the Spirit to find a replacement. No matter who we considered, it just didn’t feel right. We prayed as a Bishopric for guidance but just couldn’t seem to find the right person for the job. After about three weeks of this struggle, I was reading in Alma 38 and came upon verse 10 which says:
And now, as ye have begun to teach the word even so I would that ye should continue to teach.
As soon as I read those words, I knew that I was supposed to be teaching, that I was supposed to be the new Teacher’s Quorum Advisor. But how was I supposed to tell the Bishop this without sounding like I was abandoning the Bishopric? I worried about it the rest of that week, until the Bishop called me in for a PPI, and before I could say anything, he tearfully told me that though he hated to lose me, he thought the Lord wanted me to be the new Teacher’s Quorum Advisor.

I testify that the blessings of scripture study are worth the time and effort to make it a regular part of your daily routine and a part of your family routine. Those who have tried to do so and failed, try again. The words of President Hinckley might be of some encouragement:
“I am grateful for emphasis on reading the scriptures. I hope that for you this will become something far more enjoyable than a duty; that, rather, it will become a love affair with the word of God. I promise you that as you read, your minds will be enlightened and your spirits will be lifted. At first it may seem tedious, but that will change into a wondrous experience with thoughts and words of things divine.”
Yes, God is still talking. And those who consistently spend time in the scriptures, both personally and as families, will hear His voice in those sacred pages. Questions will be answered, spirits will be lifted and testimonies will be fortified.


Sunday, October 07, 2012

Halloween Haiku

As a lad, I was a huge fan of TV's "Nightmare Theater," willing myself to stay awake 'til midnight each Friday night to commune with classic monsters and feel the goosebumps rise. As the October holiday approaches, I offer these haiku in homage to Halloween and the great spine tinglers of yesteryear.
 
 
 
Fall's blanket obscures
But gives no warmth to sleepers
In silence below.


A flutter of wings
Outside the open window.
Red eyes pierce the dark.



Asylum howlings
Rend the night gloom with madness.
Who's that lurking there?




 
Electric night roars,
Blue fire and static charges
Declare, "It's Alive!"




Oozing slime he comes,
Creature from the Black Lagoon,
Looking for a date





Slow but relentless,
The undead surge in hunger
Yearning for your brain




Four limbs and a head,
All attached to a torso.
Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop...Chop.




Fur and fang combine
To howl at full moon's creeping,
Seeking flesh and blood.
 
 
 
 
Alien spacemen,
Looking for fodder or fuel.
Mankind will do fine.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Newtons Go Nuclear

I recently waged an amusing war of words with my nephew TOM (budding wordsmith and veteran N.Y. Yankee fan) on the relative merits of Fig Newtons. A simple difference of opinion soon escalated to a Facebook feud of epic proportions. Passionate prose soon gave way to vitriolic verse as other family members piped in with their preferences. Here is the whole 2-day battle from the first harmless volley:


TOM
I hate Fig Newtons. They are just gross.



ME
I love me some Newtons. The only reason I give blood at the annual blood drive is because they always have Fig Newtons as a snack. I never get them at home. Newtons rule!



TOM
They're just dry bread filled with bland jelly. What's to like?



ME
You have obviously only been exposed to month old Newtons. Dry bread--phft. Fresh Newtons are graced with a soft, sweet pastry bread, surrounding the delicate inner core of crushed figs and gentle spices. Perhaps you are simply too young yet to appreciate the subtle sweetness, your tastebuds having been assaulted for too long with abominations such as starbursts, skittles, and jolly ranchers. Hail to the fig!



TOM
The freshness of the Figgy Fiascos was never in dispute. These culinary curses are nothing but bland, crushed figs encumbered by soft, tasetless bread, the "flavor" of which is so overwhelmingly underwhelming that what little virtue which may be contained in the middle is nigh impossible to detect. Your tastebuds are obviously so deteriorated by age and overexposure to these awful anathemas that they have been rendered incapable of perceiving the true horror of these nauseating nightmares called cookies.



PAUL (Tom’s Dad – My Brother)
Ouch! I'm now almost afraid to admit that I like them too.



ME
With age comes wisdom my brother. Fear not the abominable alliteration of impertinent punks and revel freely in the flavor of the fig. Strong words will not sway us from our delight, nor yet the weak diatribe preceding your confession. I call upon all true Newtonians to stand boldly against those who would disparage our comely confection and consume mass quantities in their presence, with accompanying joyous expressions of Epicurian satisfaction. Mmmmmm.



PAUL
I shall both take courage from the passion of your plea, and stand at a safe distance while the flak yet flies (and perhaps nibble on a Newton while the war of words yet wages).



TOM
With age comes wisdom lest he who ageth shuns wisdom for Fig Newtons. My stance shall not be shaken by fanciful written repartee. I shall forever remain firm in my unwavering belief that Fig Newtons are and ever shall be naught but a blatant blemish on the blissful world of culinary creation. The deplorable defense of the monstruous manufacture of these ill-conceived evils is nothing but a vain effort to validate the true terror of the tongue. I stand by my campaign to disparage the Newtonian Nightmare, and I shall prevail.



PAUL
Distant recollections of high school history regarding the Archduke Figinand and the seedlings of the Great War.



ME
Flail away, Laddie.
Your blather carries no weight.
Feathers on stone, boy.



TOM
Japanese poetry is hardly enough; your Newton defense ain't up to snuff. You may try to sway me, but you will fail; you protect these cookies, but to no avail.



PAUL
The haiku attack proffered by the elder, countered by the youth with a mixed meter defense. Might there be a sonnet flanking in the works?



TOM
I have no fourteen lines of love for Fig Newtons. I may have an ode brewing.



PAUL
Ah, lovely. But at some point you should consider going to bed.



ME
Oh ranting, ranting, ranting through the night,
The loser vows to e'er extend the fight
While victors sleep the sleep of figsome dreams
Content to know the world is as it seems.

The Newton has been 'round a long, long while,
Since long before the Yankees made men smile,
And will be seen on shelves of grocery stores
Long after you or I seek heaven's shores.

A billion bars and more were sold last year.
The future of the fig has naught to fear.
So rant away my sad and lonely friend.
The fig cares not a fig for what you send.

Despite all vows of cursed consternation,
The fig will still be there for mastication.



PAUL
Well played.



LIZ (My Sister)
This made my day. You two should post this in some sort of food column or blog. My opinion, fresh Fig Newtons are fabulous but I prefer Oreos and a glass of milk.



KATIE (Another Sister)
This Fotheringham favors the fabulous (fresh) FIG NEWTON!



ME
The Oreo indeed reigns supreme in Nabisco land. Chips Ahoy and Nutter Butter have also made their marks, but the Fig Newton has withstood the test of time and shows no sign of stopping.



TOM
The Newtons shame the cookie world,
Around bland jelly their foul bread curled.
They spread their terrors on the tongue,
While songs of better food are sung.

The Chocolate Chips come to our land
From magic cast by Laura's hand.
They've ever been the choicest treat
For all who yearn for something sweet.

Our most-loved cookie's name you know
But I'll remind you even so.
The Oreo's cream-filled center seems
To be the Newton's shattered dreams.

These mere few mentions make my case.
Your love for Newtons is misplaced.



WILL (Some relation to Tom)
Figs are so bad they hid the snake who killed Cleopatra in a basket of figs. And figs aren't even half as bad as fig newtons.



TOM
Rally 'round the fig, boys! Then burn it and never speak of it again.



ME
Your logic is absurd, my verbose friend
Your mind has gone completely 'round the bend.
Loving one does not preclude the other.
I love both Fig and Oreo my brother.

Though Laura's choco-chip is heaven-sent,
It does not mean that Newtons are hell-bent.
Is it degree of goodness here that throws ya?
It's like comparing manna with ambrosia.

Expand your mind, expand your tastes, my lad.
This chewy, gooey pastry isn't bad.
With Nutter Butter and the Chips Ahoy,
We love them all because they bring us joy.

All these cookies take their rightful seating
'Midst the pantheon of goodly eating.



TOM
You misunderstood, my friend,
The message that I tried to send.
My true intent was to express
That Newtons taste worse than the rest.

I hate the Newtons, as you see,
But you are free to disagree.
You can love many treats, of course,
But I'd feed Newtons to a horse.

You may eat them to your delight,
But I prefer them out of sight.
One last point before I go;
Listen careful so you'll know.

All these essays and all these rhymes
were written just to have good times.

(Tune in tomorrow for a thrilling installment leading up to the thrilling series finale of the hit HAMFAM dramatic comedy show, Newton Wars. Coming up next episode, limericks!)



ME
I tip my pen to you, T. I haven't had so much fun with food since the Jello Haiku competition of '09. I await your limerick with great anticipation, and have one of my own waiting in the wings.


In other words:

I tip my old pen to the writer of verse
Even though he deems every Fig Newton is worse
Than an old leather shoe, only tasteless and drier,
While in my estimation they deserve praise much higher.

Agreeing to disagree seems anticlimactic
But our views remain galactically parallactic
Regardless of relative argument strength
Or use of large words or great verse of great length.

Even the use of Shakespearean screed
Failed pentametrically to do the deed.
Who knew that the fig could invoke such a fray?
But we're still entrenched in our own junk food way.

Although your Newton-hate lacks any merit
Your words enchant me and help me to bear it.
And keeping my fig-love intact, "I declare it!"
I know I'd be better off eating a carrot.



TOM
I once tried a snack called Fig Newton
Whose merits I will be disputin'.
They fill 'em with paste
That gives 'em no taste
And they made me throw up on my futon.

They call the Fig Newton a cookie,
But I wouldn't feed it to a wookie.
I love Oreos
Which are made by the pros
But Newtons must be made by a rookie.

The treats of the fig are so vile.
They make me regurgitate bile.
They're disgusting, I say,
In such a strong way
That I want to burn them in a pile.

Fig Newtons are bad for the heart.
I was aware of this from the start.
They just taste so gross
That they make me morose
And eating them just isn't smart.

I hope these few verses will show
That Newtons are truly your foe.
Be careful, my friend,
For they are a dead end,
And they will create nothing but woe.



ME
There once was a lad of the Utahns
Who tried to disparage Fig Newtons.
This despicable trick
Made his uncle quite sick,
Who therefore began the disputins.

"They're tasteless and bland," said the laddie.
"They're soft and they're sweet," said the daddy.
Neither one would agree
With his foe's repartee,
So the war escalated quite badly.

In poetry soon they were battling,
The rhymes spewing forth like guns gattling.
Before they were through
There was even haiku
And sonnet-like sabers a-rattling.

Despite all invective and wailing,
The truth never found her unveiling.
In matters of taste
There is much time to waste
With neither side ever prevailing.

Eventually both parties languished,
The words turning flat, dull and anguished.
Thus a "treat"y was drawn
So that both could move on
And retire unconvinced, yet unvanquished.

(cue heavenly choir)



PAUL
Bravo! Bravo!



TOM
Well fought. How do you feel about celery?



ME
Delicious, but only with peanut bu...Now don't get me started, whippersnapper!



A few days later, Tom posted the following final jab:


Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Out Early Running


About a month ago I started jogging again after a winter hiatus, and one morning was met with what may be the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen. When I started from home, the deep blue of night was just beginning to retreat as a dim glow began to outline the Rockies far to the east. Strewn just above the jagged peaks were a bundle of low clouds, kindling for the fiery display about to unfold.
.
I started running south and then west, tackling the steady climb towards the Oquirrh's while my legs were still fresh. Turned away from the advancing morning, I missed the first incendiary brush strokes of dawn. After about 20 minutes, however, I reached my half-way point, circling the raised western edge of a small neighborhood park.

As I made the turn to the north, my eye was diverted from its usual focus on pavement by an unusual brightness to the right. Since the park sloped away to the east, nothing obscured a panoramic view across the valley. As I turned, my eyes were assaulted with color.

The clouds above the mountains were ablaze in red and orange light, like coals of an old campfire restoked by winds of morning. Normally obscured in sillouette, the mountains now proudly displayed both crag and crevice, each glacial patch awash in reflected fire. All was set against a crystal blue backdrop which summoned both bird and pilot to joyful flight.

Rarely have I interrupted a morning jog for anything but injury or neighborly greeting. But I had to stop. This was a scene of glory that demanded an appreciative pause. 

For several minutes I gazed awestruck at the beauty before me. I had been there before; this was my regular route. But never had the planet so unabashedly preened before me. This beauty had always been there, hidden in shadow or blanched by brilliant sunlight. But just for a small moment before dawn, as Earth bowed toward it's lifegiver, was it's full glory revealed.

In nature, God provides patterns, clues, and examples, often hidden, to be revealed to those prepared to benefit from the knowledge they contain. As I gazed upon this sunrise scene, I thought how the full beauty, grandeur, and glory of man is often hidden in shadow, and revealed only as he bows in humble devotion to his life-giving Creator.

A morning prayer is much more than a one-way recitation of need or expression of thanks. It is also a revelation of grace, beauty and possibility for the created.

I feel a few lines coming on:

Out early running, I turn to the east
And gasp at the morning's prostration.
Earth bows before the more glorious orb
In humble, devout adoration.


Reflected there in the Earth's morning prayer,
Revealed by this act of conviction,
Is His love for all that His hands have made,
The beauty of God's benediction.