Perspective

I've posted more about politics on FB in the past two months than I have in the past 4 years.  I am getting more comfortable debating.  Frankly, the reason is because I am getting better at loving others.  It may seem weird, but I don't feel like making the connection in this post.  That's not the focus I'm after.

So today, I am perusing FB and participating in one or two political discussions.  I am feeling good about participating in thoughtful debate and enriching some of my friendships.  I am also thinking that the things I am debating are very important, of course.  I mean, what can be more important than the recent speech of the POTUS and ensuing reactions?

Then I click on a video my sister posted.  I love my older sister and when she writes: "Stop what you are dong and watch this, I trust that it'll be worth my time."  I loved the song in the video, and I was moved by the message portrayed by the actors.  There are many ways to Come Unto Christ: Forgiveness, Repentance, Kindness, among others.

Then I made a mistake.  I went to the Pearson Syndrome Family FB group to read the latest news.  This is a group made up of about 35 families around the world (and their friends) who have children suffering with Pearson's Syndrome, the illness that took my daughter, Emily.  The latest post in the group was from a parent asking for advice on a feeding issue: her little son is suffering and she is struggling to know what to do.

I lost it.  Already softened up by the video, my heart overflowed:  Sadness.  Yearning.  Compassion.

And perspective.  

A living testimony of Christ

Today, my Mom and I attended a funeral service.  We were neighbors and friends with this man's family from our time living in Simi Valley.  While I didn't really know the man personally; I knew some of his siblings to different degrees; and this man's father served as my Scoutmaster for some time--something I remember with fondness and gratitude. 

I expected a nice service; and I felt happy and blessed to have a work situation such that I could take a day off for a funeral service.  Since the passing of my own daughter, funerals no longer hold for me the uncomfortable uneasiness that I used to feel.  I used to feel as though I were an intruder at funerals; and the concept of death made me nervous around the family of the deceased.  Having been on the receiving end of people's kindness during Emily's funeral (and my Dad's), I look at things differently now.  I value the opportunity a funeral service provides to express my gratitude and friendship not only for the deceased, but for his or her family as well.  

My Mother and I arrived quite early, because I wanted to make sure we had a couple of minutes to greet the family during the viewing time.  Consequently, after greeting the family with hugs, and expressing our condolences, we sat in the chapel with almost a 75 minute wait.  "Darn," I thought to myself.  "I should have brought my scriptures!"  You see, I am trying to read the Book of Mormon during the month of January.  I am behind pace (and behind all three of my oldest children) and this would have given me the perfect opportunity to catch up.  I glanced up at the pulpit, in case there was a stray triple combination laying around.  No such luck.  So, I read what I had in my hand: the writings of the man whose life we were celebrating.  What followed was one of the most uplifting and inspiring experiences of my life.  

Through his words, this man (who I never really talked to in life) taught me about gratitude, about loving others, about valuing that which truly matters.  Most importantly, this man taught me about Christ, His atonement, His teachings, and His love for each one of us.  His testimony stirred my soul:

All that is good in my life, all that I truly cherish and hold dear is upheld, empowered, preserved, protected, sustained, defended and given life by Jesus Christ and the infinite power of His Atonement and His light.  Indeed, "all things which are good cometh of Christ" [Moroni 7:24 in the Book of Mormon].  

The services that followed were no less inspiring than the words I had just read.  In sharing about their sibling's and friend's life, the speakers taught simple and powerful gospel principles, adding their testimony to that of their dear friend/sibling.  The music was simply beautiful.  I heard the song, Homeward Bound,  for the first time.  I want to find it on Youtube and add it to my Gospel Songs playlist, though I'm afraid that any version I search for will not be as beautiful as what I heard today.  I also heard the last two verses of the Hymn, More Holiness Give Me, for the first time.  Beautiful.  Powerful.  As the service ended, I felt a very real, physical sensation that my heart was full to overflowing with the love of God.  I've no doubt that all present felt the Holy Spirit, and recognized the sacredness of the occasion.  

I am grateful for the experience I had today.  I thank the family for their exemplary lives.  I thank this man for his life and testimony (which for him, was one in the same).

I know God lives.  I know He loves us.  I know He sent His son, Jesus Christ to redeem us.  I feel the happiest when I am striving to live His commandments.  These things I know through the power of the Holy Ghost.  I invite any who happen to be reading this to believe in God, believe in Christ, and follow His teachings.

The Mystery of Lovica White

She was born around 1790 in Saratoga, Albany, New York.  Some say 1788 and one source even has her at 1784.  We know she married George Albro and they had a full life together, parenting 4 children and eventually having a rather large posterity.   She died on March 18, 1860.  But, going back to her birth, Who are her parents?  

The federal census shows a Sanford White that lived near her in-laws at the time she would have been 10 years old.  Could it be that she and George were neighbors or childhood sweethearts?  Nothing else can be found about Sanford, leaving us to question if that is her father.

Then I discover a Lovica White on a web site devoted to the Burdick Family.  This Lovica had the parents of Harvey White and Eliza Brown  (Harvey’s mom was a Burdick, in case you are wondering).  Could this Lovica (“the Burdick one”) be our Lovica?  It does not show any dates for her birth.  The only date associated with this family is that of her grandmother Mary Burdick’s death in 1831.  If this Burdick Lovica were our Lovica, it would mean that her grandmother died when Lovica was about 40 years old.  That’s plausible.  Then I check the location to see if geography can be of any help.  Eliza was from Troy, that’s in the neighboring county to Saratoga, just to the east; and Harvey was from Brenton, and that’s in the neighboring county immediate North of Saratoga.   Boy and girl are about 60 miles apart and they get married; then a daughter (fourth child, actually) is born just about in the geographic middle of where they are each from.  Still seems plausible.

Then I discover a possible wrench.  Remember the Burdick Lovica has one Harvey White and Eliza Brown as parents.  Well, a Harvey White and Lovica Brown show up on a marriage certificate down in New York City as parents of the groom.  The groom is one Albert White.  Checking with the Burdick records, it does show that Lovica had a older brother named Albert.  Seems okay at first, but what’s wrong with this picture?  The marriage certificate lists Alberts birth year as 1851.  Oops. 

Are Albert, Harvey, and Eliza from this marriage certificate the same parents and brother of the Burdick Lovica?  Or does there happen to be another family with a Harvey White married to Eliza Brown with a son named Albert in the state of New York just a few years after another family with the same names.  Seems unlikely.  Maybe the Burdick Lovica is not ours after all.  

Hmmm.  Where to look next? I need to prove one or the other or neither.   I still need to exhaust my research of Whites and Browns in and around Saratoga County around 1800 to see if I can find Harvey or Eliza’s parents, siblings, or cousins.  Perhaps they went to Saratoga to live with a family member on either side and Lovica was born there. 

Good thing I’m working with some pretty rare surnames: White and Brown.  It’s not as if I had to pour through the ton of records associated with names like Kammerman or Kempton. Whew!

Excuse me, Ms. Dickinson. . .

“The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care”

― Emily Dickinson

It's nice timing (with the New Year upon us) that I have been engaged in some soul-searching and goal-setting during this holiday vacation.  Many factors have contributed to my desire to better myself as a person, husband, and father: chatting with my brother-in-law, the John Denver song "Sunshine on my Shoulders", and two great talks in church this past Sunday. The second greatest factor in my change of heart would be my sweet wife, Patricia; and she is second only the promptings and help that I've felt from the Holy Spirit of God. 

Emily Dickinson (bless her heart) had it all wrong.  Jesus taught us otherwise: He can give us a new heart.   In his Psalms, David pled with God for a clean heart, a new heart: "create in me a clean heart" (Psalms 51:10).  God promises a new heart to those that accept Him: "A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh."(Ezekiel 36:26).  

Here was my experience (in general terms):  I've always known that I must conquer the evil that I do not want.  There are sins I commit that fall under the category of giving into temptation at the moment, or (more frequently) not yielding to the Spirit in the moment.  Those sins are easy.  When I do something that I know in my heart is wrong for me, I naturally want to repent and change.  But what about the evil that I do want?  What about the corners of my heart wherein live the vices I enjoy, embrace, and relish?  How to change those?

In August of 2012, while hiking Bryce Canyon and chatting with a dear friend, I made a realization that marked the beginning of this learning process:  I can desire something with my heart, and at the same time not want to have that desire.  For me, it is something deeper than a passing temptation.  A passing temptation is usually at odds with my heart's desire.  I see a passing temptation as a surging of the natural man inside me; I can recognize it; suppress it; and move on.  And if I cannot do so, I can (and want to) repent.  In Bryce Canyon, I experienced my version of Alma's words, when he said ". . .even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you. . ." (Alma 32:27).  I falter at explaining the connection here; but I saw myself as one step removed from change.  I didn't have the belief yet, but I desired to to have it.  I didn't want to change, but I wanted to want to change.  

The next major obstacle to overcome was severing the huge steel cable that connected my  infected heart to my brain.  This cable has a name.  It's called justification.  As if steel isn't strong enough, this cable of justification had an inner core of carborundum (hardest material on earth) known as selfishness.  Usually selfishness is easy to see.  Not when it's wrapped up in a steel cable of justification. 

So how did I sever that cable?  I had to recognize it first.  And for my stubborn self, that took a long time.  Once I recognized the ugly cable for what it was, I had a choice to make.  I could ignore it: "What cable?", Protect it: "That cable belongs there.  I'd die without it.  Don't touch it!"; or take some Jaws of Life and cut it out: "But that's gonna hurt!"  

What helped me?  Pondering.  Talking with those I trust.  Reading the scriptures.  Listening to good music.  Recognizing the bad fruits of my infected heart.  More talking.  Hearing hard things.  Allowing the Spirit to work in me.  Making the choice to put my relationship with God, my wife, and my family above anything else.  Talking about that choice.  Writing it down.  Embracing it.

For me, recognizing the existence of the justification and selfishness was the key to change.  I had realized that I wanted to desire a change of heart some time ago; but not until I exposed the selfishness associated with my infection did I truly want to change.   That process of realization took me over a year.  From there, the process of making a decision to change--that took about 8 hours.  The miracle was in the recovery time.  Once I gave my old heart to God, I immediately  felt a new heart within me.  I felt purity in this new heart that didn't exist in my old one.  This purity is inextricable intertwined with another powerful feeling: freedom.  Wow.  Praise be to God.  He works miracles.  

I stand guard.  I like this new heart.  I know it's fragile and that it needs protection.  I also know that that cable of justification and selfishness dies hard--and it can re-position itself in a heartbeat (literally) if I am not careful.  I also know that there will come a time again (if I listen carefully) that this new heart will need to be replaced again.  Or at least that it will need regular monitoring and cleansing. 

God can give you a new heart.

He wants to.

Let him.