A couple of poems....

Here are a few poems that I thought I'd post. I figure poems are supposed to be interpreted differently by everyone, which is why poetry is so fun to read, and these ones make perfect sense to me when I think back on the topic I was writing about. Merry Christmas!

Sunflower's path: for Steph

A sunflower's path across the sky
Warmth of a smile and my heart feels high
Every day a new beginning
Every night the same bright feeling
You're my ray that leads my life
Thank you for being such a wonderful wife.

Father's Self-expression

Descriptions of beauty unimaginable pass my eyes
Their images melt into my mind
Conjure up pieces of puzzles never solved
How can I speak for a sunset?
When does a word depict a song?
Life seems to come in so many forms
Breath only represents a portion
Weaved into eternity are endless creations
Myriad hosts cry hallelujah to His throne.

Swirling Links

Swirling links climb toward the sky
Every one a separate length of steel
Nets strung empty across an open space of green, now white
My soul searches a way into another sight
Barricades will cease with the slow sunrise
Yet here I remain, fingers entwined and eyes toward the ice.

ODE TO PHILOSOPHY 201

Rivers of knowledge, oceans of pain
Lakes in a nation of men gone insane
Drops of a torrent flow quickly past
Ears still their ringing at last.
The tower is empty, the bell has been lost
A rope hangs limp, never used.

Concepts retained in a pool of cement
Nothing lurks living below
Perhaps I should trace my steps to the door
And on my way I should go.

Stepping Aside....

Millions below, tiny and slow
Myriad lights flicker and die into the night
Invisible glow of life fills the void below the sky
Texture of droning voices never reaches the summit
Thoughts slumber and rest from a weary climb.
Farther, yet closer somehow
Darker, but so much brighter
My soul stands in the cold air and warms from a distance.

Mission Recollections

I served my mission in Quito, Ecuador during the years of 2004, 2005, and 2006. I can vividly recall arriving to the city; it was midnight, and the dark view from my airplane window was suddenly transformed into a dazzling scene of lights as we came around a mountain. Roads wound up and down the steep Andes mountains, illuminated on both sides by street lamps. The airport consisted of a small building, a dirt parking lot, and numerous angry-looking women who checked our passports.
We rode to the Assistants' house in the back of a pickup truck, passing a crowd of overdressed policemen as they held a band of criminals hostage in a ruined parking lot. After climbing to the apartment, we slept until morning when we were awakened by loud wheezing, tires screeching, and unending noise from below the apartment. I looked out of the window to find out what had happened; I was greeted by an enormous billboard of a semi-nude woman. The sounds were coming from the street far below us, where I could see stick-shift buses lurching along (that was the wheezing noise). They were packed to the brim, with people hanging out of the doors, laying on dashboards, and clinging even to the roofs of the buses. I could hardly believe the traffic, and it appeared as though there were absolutely no road rules whatsoever.
My first day was spent with two other missionaries. In order to board the bus, we had to run alongside and pull ourselves up as the driver did not want to stop. I had a hard time walking to the back because the driver apparently had no idea how to change gears smoothly, but I finally dropped into an empty seat next to a small, brown Ecuadorian. He was fairly nice, and in my broken Spanish I explained to him who we were and offered to send the missionaries to his home. He accepted, and I had him write his address on a slip of paper before I handed him his first Book of Mormon.
One of the two missionaries who were with me explained how I should descend from the bus. Since the drivers don't stop completely, one must jump facing the direction of movement in order to keep his balance. We left the bus, and I was astonished at the area. Tall, irregular, dirty stone buildings lined the steep mountain streets, and most homes were accessible only by stairs winding in and out between the structures. The three of us climbed about 400 stairs before we even reached the road we needed, and at 12,000 feet elevation I was having some serious trouble getting my breath.
My very first discussion took place in the destroyed foundation of a home, where we taught a 13 year-old boy about baptism. The only spectators were three or four filthy hogs who were rummaging about in piles of trash. The boy wanted to be baptized, so we set a baptism date.
We taught a lot of people that afternoon, and a few things in particular stood out to me. One was the absolute abject poverty that infiltrated every living corner, evidenced by the bare apartments, huts dug into the hillsides, and filthy cobblestone streets. Another was how everyone either knew the missionaries or stared at us like they were seeing ghosts. Almost everyone we taught was female, and it appeared to me that all of the men were either at work or stone-drunk.
It was truly another world for me, four hours away from my home and a century apart. Cathedrals dotted each neighborhood, and tiny shrines dedicated to local “Virgins” were the only well-kept structures in sight. Ecuadorians are mostly Catholic, though their Catholicism has been heavily influenced by age-old native traditions. Often we would be interrupted by the blaring horns of numerous completely untrained musicians as they marched through the streets, carrying on their shoulders a statue of the local virgin while priests dressed as gorillas, monsters, or other creatures danced drunken in front of the crowd. Virgins are not viewed just as intercessors to God by the Ecuadorian people; instead, the statues are actually believed to be the source of all types of blessings. Though idol worship is taught as sinful in the churches, most of the teaching never translates to understanding or actions. Bible study is not encouraged, and in many ways is discouraged by the priests and Catholic leaders. There is a system of inequalities, and the Catholic church rules many neighborhoods. Though it is the center of every community, the church plays no active part in the rearing of children; commandments are taught as guidelines, and most Ecuadorians are very unfamiliar with their church's doctrine even though they attend Mass on a regular basis. However, in spite of the many obstacles which people face as they learn about a new religion that requires active participation, learning, and service the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, along with other Christian religions, is quickly gaining ground in Ecuador.
My first area is one which I hope to never forget. Rightly called La Loma de Puengasi (“The Hill of Puengasi”), it climbed the side of one of the largest mountains in the city of Quito. In order to walk the three miles to our house, we had to traverse the countryside by using trails and dirt roads that turned to four inches of mud every time it poured, which was every day. One evening, it was very dark as we trudged through the rain, mud, and cold air on our way to where we lived. We decided to take a slight detour to find a contact before going on, and we ended up finding a tiny two-room cement house that seemed to be built in the middle of a muddy pond. It was the Calderon family, and they invited us in. Everything was white, except for the tile floor due to the massive amounts of mud and water that my companion and I had tracked in. The father was handicapped by a twisted, gnarled arm that seemed to be glued to his side, and worked earning seventy-five dollars a month as a security guard. The mother sported a shawl to offset the bitter cold of their home. They had jet-black skin, except for the baby (youngest of three) whose color was slightly lighter than the rest. I can still vividly remember that first lesson; my companion was glancing around the room between making eye contact, and in his humble way earnestly shared his testimony of the prophet Joseph Smith. I was sitting in a child's chair, barely twelve inches off the ground, and the children sat on bags of rice. We taught them the gospel, and they began to make serious changes in their lives. They were, after many months, baptized as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and to see them united as a family was a touching experience for me.
Though there were occasional clashes between our doctrine and the doctrine of other religions, as missionaries we concerned ourselves with building upon the faith that people already had acquired through following their respective religions. For example, the “Testigos de Jeovah” (Jehovah's Witnesses) believed in keeping their bodies healthy; we taught the same thing, and expanded upon it. The evangelists believed in studying the Bible; we encouraged them to apply the teachings of the Bible and search for modern revelation. The Catholics believed that their church was established just after the time of Christ; we taught that the Church of Jesus Christ has been in existence for eternity. Muslims believed in temple worship; we taught them of ancient ordinances performed in consecrated temples that can seal a family together for all time. Atheists believed that God didn't exist because there was suffering in the world; we taught them the purpose of suffering is to be able to experience true joy. Baptists believed in the grace of God to save them, and we taught them how to qualify for that saving grace. We took their gifts of the Spirit and provided the celestial instruction manuals which were lacking, so to speak.
Our religion did not differ so much from others; it only added a new dimension, a new understanding to what they already believed, while clarifying certain points which had been contaminated by the opinions and false teachings of men. Religion is a key factor in the lives of Ecuadorians, which made it both easy to find investigators and sometimes difficult to convince them of the need for anything more.
The final moments of my service in Ecuador were some of the greatest eye-opening ones for me regarding the myriad lessons learned during my two-year sojourn. Perhaps one of the greatest of those moments occurred the day before I was to fly back to the United States. I was in a place called Santa Anita, Ambato, about a mile or so from the bus stop and into the countryside. My companion and the Chango family were seated around a table in a very, very poor neighborhood. The entire family, complete with their cousins, uncles, and aunts had been baptized at different times throughout the previous six months, and Ismael was probably the one who had changed the most. Having been an abusive, alcoholic father and husband, he slowly made changes until he was to be one of the strongest of all the new converts I had taught. At that moment, he stood up and sang to me a farewell, Mas Cerca, Dios, de Ti, (“Closer my god, to thee”). Though his voice was untrained and the melody unrecognizable, the words touched my heart. He was, truly, closer to his God, and in the dusty room I could almost palpate the feeling of love that had entered the home. This was true religion.

Denver

I can't wait to move to Denver; I love exploring new places, and Denver is like a veritable maze. Come to think of it, I never imagined that I'd live in Denver when I was growing up, but the prospect seems very inviting to me now. I'll be glad to move away from Utah, as much as I have enjoyed my time here. BYU has been a huge growing experience for me, and I've learned a lot, but some lessons just can't be applied until circumstances are drastically changed.
My wife is pretty nervous about it, but she'll do great. A man in her home ward once said, "There is no growth in your comfort zone, and no comfort in your growth zone." I think that is a fairly true statement; the only way to overcome our fears is by doing whatever it is that we fear.
Anyway, I just thought I'd put in a comment or two of how glad I am that our family can go through such a big change. I think that a lot of times our greatest blessings are from the experiences we dread the most (which means that Steph's in for a big blessing, and I'll be along for the ride), unless of course we don't let them turn into blessings.

Changing, dads, and other stuff

Ok, so I've really been thinking a lot this weekend about lots of crazy different things, and I decided that it would be fun to work in wellness programs for big corporations and insurance companies. I would develop programs that would involve a whole lot of people at the same time doing very simple things to live healthier lives, like exercise a little each day or eat more carbohydrates and vegetables instead of fats, or smoke less than 1 cigarette per day. It would be a lot of fun for me, and it is something I could do on the side while I am also a nurse!
I don't think I have enough fun anymore. I am excited to move just so that we can get a chance to change our lives a little bit; right now, our idea of a date is either going out to eat or watching a movie. Since the difficulty pregnancy began, I don't think we've used our imaginations much in deciding what to do for fun or for dates, though we have taken a few sight-seeing trips that were pretty cool (like to Temple Square to see the lights). Anyway, we're going to try to do more fun things in Denver as a family, like creative games and hikes and fishing and playing basketball and scrapbooking and building stuff.
My last day at work is this Saturday, and I am extremely glad to be leaving. I've been there for about 22 months now, and C.N.A. work can be pretty intense sometimes, though I do like working with patients. Being a nursing assistant has taught me, more than anything, that we are living in a mostly conflict society which doesn't pay according to what we accomplish or how much we contribute, but instead what our hierarchal position is that we maintain. I mean, as assistants we determine probably 90% of the quality of life for our patients, yet we get paid literally less than half of what an RN there gets paid, and our job is much more difficult, dirty, and important to the patient than the medications. I'm not complaining about it, I am just stating that it is something that, if I am ever in management, am going to try to fix. Sometimes we don't give the most important jobs the credit we should, just because it's not prestigious. For example, what would we do without dedicated mothers? Yet we don't give them a lot of prestige (nobody boasts nowadays that they are stay-at-home moms; half of them feel like they need to justify it to whoever they are talking to). Instead, we look at the men and say “He's a firefighter” or whatever it is and somehow he has a more prestigious title than a stay-at-home mom who takes good care of her kids.
My parents live pretty far away from everything, up in Pennsylvania. They just bought a house, though, on Lake Wawanoka in Missouri. It is the same house where my mom grew up. I've no idea what their current plans are with regard to retirement, selling their current home, etc. but I hope I get to see more of them in the next several years. I haven't had much of an opportunity to spend time with my dad, or even speak with him on the phone, since before my mission to Ecuador. I know what he is like as a dad, but I often wish we lived closer together so that we could be good friends as well. Of all my friends, I can't think of anyone I would rather hang out with than my dad. He's always been incredibly supportive of my development, and never seems to make a quick judgment about something. He's not perfect, of course; he could have been a little taller so that I would have gotten some tall genes in me, but for now I'll forgive him for that. Ha ha! Anyway, I hope we get to do the things that I wish I'd done more with him when we were younger, like go hiking, camping, canoeing, sightseeing, working on stuff, etc. We did that sort of thing pretty often, don't get me wrong; it's just been too long since just the two of us did it. I think that the last time I really had a lot of alone time with my dad is when we built our garage at Stamps Road. My siblings helped, but I always felt like Dad kind of relied more on me to help him that year than the other kids, and I really treasure those times we spent together building the walls and stuff.
I hope I don't get so caught up in work and life that I forget that my kids aren't going to remember much of the stuff I did for them; instead, they're going to remember the stuff I did with them. The same goes for my marriage. I am really excited that we're not going to have cable tv when we move to Denver, because I have such a hard time turning the tv off and using my imagination to find something to do with my family. Steph seems perfectly able to tune the tv out and do whatever she wants while its on, but it seems to be physically impossible for me not to get absorbed into whatever is blinking on the screen. Not having cable tv will help me immensely to spend more time playing with Braeden and Stephanie during next year. There are so many other things we can do!
I once heard a talk by the late, beloved President James E. Faust called “Do Something.” He spoke on how our society is changing, and we are not looking to entertain ourselves anymore. Instead, we are looking to be entertained. How often are we willing and able to listen to music and praise the accomplishments of others, while not trying to make our own music? We watch sports on television, but we won't go play them ourselves with either our family or our friends.....then he gave the punch line. “Fresh water runs on, but still water becomes stagnant.” We have to always be changing, always be interacting with our environment instead of being acted upon.
This is a long, long post, but I've just been thinking about this stuff over the course of this week. I am going to be writing more blogs from now on, hopefully, and they're just going to be about whatever random thing I'm thinking about or doing that day.

Fammmmilleeee

Hi everybody (meaning my wife), just checking in to say that Braeden is one heck of a good aim when it comes to peeing and pooping on his mommy. I think she feels special that Braeden would try so hard to squirt her in the face, and she's doing a pretty darn good job of taking care of this kid of ours. He's a good baby, and we have a lot of fun hanging out with him....I love having a normal family now, with a wife who loves me and a little boy who seems very curious about the most random things (our lamp definitely taking the top of the list).
Braeden likes to laugh in his sleep, and it is the greatest thing to hear. Sometimes I forget how incredibly blessed my family has been so far in this life, and I need to realize how fortunate we are. We were able to rent an apartment in Denver this morning, which is a great relief to us. Hopefully, we'll be able to afford to buy an apartment in a few months (it would save us thousands upon thousands of dollars over the next few years) in Denver.
Anyway, I just wanted to put up a post about how cool my wife is. She works pretty darn hard, and never neglects taking care of Braeden, keeping things clean, working on our relationship, and just helping me out in everything. It sounds like I keep her chained in the kitchen or something, but really Steph doesn't seem to mind too much filling those roles. I am excited for finals to end soon, so I can help her out a little more than I do!