Grateful for Obedience

"To obey is better than sacrifice." -- Samuel

Saul did everything the Lord asked him to do, except destroy the best of his enemy's spoils. Those he allowed his people to keep, so they could "sacrifice [them] unto the LORD".

Mrs. L pinched my arm softly during Stake Conference a few weeks ago and whispered that she always had a hard time with that story. She works *hard* at everything she does, including obeying tasks assigned her. She often produces things better than asked for, makes them wonderful instead of just nice.

I think the story of Saul is not one of being in trouble for trying too hard to make things better, though.

Saul's act to let his people sacrifice some of the spoils was a fundamental change to the command he was given. It altered the nature of the action. He gave into his people's urge for convenience at the cost of following the Prophet's instructions.

Obedience is better than efficiency. It's better than convenience. Doing an extra good job at something isn't disobedient. But it is when we assert to be "doing more" when what we are really doing is something different.

I am grateful that I married a woman who is determined to obey the commandments. That it is so important to her to obey the prophet. I know to someone who doesn't believe what we do, that can look like blind obedience. But do not discount the process we undertook to be certain of the command in the first place; I trust the scriptures, trust the prophet. To me, the uncertain rumblings about blind obedience look like equivocation, intellectual justifications for partial obedience.

I know that I am happy when I obey God.

I am kind of sad that November is ending. I'm looking for a good pattern or theme to blog about next month. Can I find 31 things to love about Christmas?

How about 31 birthdays to love?

Thankful for the Second Law of Thermodynamics

In a closed system, over time entropy increases.

It was in 11th grade Chemistry that I was taught about how energy is conserved and about how chaos only increases. Our teacher asked us to consider a snowball, thrown at a wall. The energy of the moving snowball changes direction when it hits the wall (sending little pieces of snowball in every direction, until gravity and air resistance bring them to a halt), perhaps melts some of the snow, but the energy never goes away.

Then he held up a jar 1/3 full of little white fuzzy balls, and poured a layer of little black fuzzy balls on top of the white ones, so they formed two strata. He asked for a volunteer to shake the jar, and then said to keep shaking until the distinct layers reformed.


Obviously, no matter how long you shake, they never reform. Once things have become disordered, they do not spontaneously reorder. Left along, things become more chaotic, less organized.

These two concepts have informed my life ever since, but especially the explanation of entropy.

I look back now and can see how hard I try to make things *better* rather than worse. It is meaningful to me that what we do ripples out in effect to the world, having consequences far beyond what we can see in the immediate term. Why would you risk doing something that increases the disorder, the chaos, the bitterness of the world? It is *so* hard to undo some things, impossible to undo them sometimes.

Time to go sort some laundry. See, it's a closed system; those socks aren't going to match themselves.

Grateful for Poetry

I had an English Teacher in college who encouraged us to be very deliberate about the metaphors that we embrace. Our metaphors are how we see life, how we manifest our most basic and instinctive actions.

Love is a battlefield. Or is it a red, red rose?

I knew at a young age that I would always love poetry. It was never stupid or sissy to me. The lyrical nature of language resonates in my heart, I adore the well-turned phrasing, the impressionist verse, the complex rhymes or rhythms of poetry. I love the meaning it can convey in just a few simple words.

I reject the notion that some things cannot be explained. That idea, that experience is necessary for understanding, is at odds with everything I believe about the human experience, about knowledge, truth. It might take a mighty exertion of intuition and empathy, and the concerted effort of imagination, but I truly believe we can understand each other.

And poetry, for me, is the best and most perfect medium for that understanding to occur. Often the language of poetry slips back into our conversations, we use the imagery from a poem by alluding to its construction.

Do not go gentle into that good night.
I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

I have spoken often of my love for words and language. I think that poetry is the highest expression of language, in poetry. My favorite scriptures are poetic, lyrical and powerful in their instruction.

I have never thrown away a book of poetry, which is actually kind of silly, since nearly every poem in the world is out their on the internet somewhere. But I love just turning through the pages of a poetry anthology and finding new and old ones, over and over again.

the world is puddle-wonderful
All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe.

Do you take time to consider the metaphors of your life? How you see the world, your relationships, your future? I hope so. It's never too late to have a more positive vision.

"Look on my works and despair!"

To turn from the urge to selfishness and be more kind. To yearn for greater happiness and more complete peace.

To love.

Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.

Grateful for Cheer

One of my favorite people is an older gentleman who is in our congregation at church. He is matter-of-fact about his age and the remarkable feat it is to wake up each day.

"How are you doing today Harvey?"
"Oh, woke up on the right side of the grass."

"Good Morning Brother Powell, it's good to see you."
"Oh, I guess it's better to be seen than viewed."

"How are you feeling today?"
"Still feeling!"

It is a delight to be around cheerful people. I know, there is a difference between the obtusely happy people who are clearly in denial; life is hard, long, difficult, and often heartbreakingly tragic. But there is so much good in the world, so much to be happy about.

I am grateful for the sources of cheer around me. Grateful that my children tend to avoid mopeyness, join me in feeling sorry for the emos in the world.

Grateful for the holidays, and how happy they are! I love that Thanksgiving comes before Christmas, so we can spend time being thoughtful and thankful before we invest our energies in giving gifts.

Be happy today! Spread some cheer!

Thankful to Travel

On the road again!

I love to travel. I am grateful to have family and destinations within distance. I have lost track of the number of times I have driven from Utah to Maryland. or vice versa. Today, we are driving to Pittsburgh, a little jaunt of just 4 or 5 hours to see some of Jenni's family.

I am grateful that it's always been easy for me to drive. A bag of sunflower seeds and I can go for another 2 or 3 hours, maybe 4.

I am grateful for cars that work.

Roads that take us where we want to go.

I'm grateful that there are places and people we want to go to.

And for the people that are just too far away to drive and see in a day, I'm grateful that they have someplace to go, someone to see as well.

I miss you guys.

Thankful for Learning

When I got married, I wanted to be happy. Wanted my wife to be happy. Wanted happy kids. Over the ensuing decades (!) I've learned a few things about what works and what doesn't in pursuit of that happy state. Some things have been easier to remember and incorporate.

One was very clearly exercised this morning as we began the Thanksgiving cooking. One thing I have learned over the years is that I have gift for logistics. I can think about a planned activity on Thursday and know what things need to be done in the days, even the months, beforehand to ensure it comes about. I bought 3 dozen eggs 7 weeks ago so I would be able to boil them (the older an egg is, the more likely it is to peel cleanly-seriously, go look it up) yesterday in order to devil them today.

Anyway, we brine our turkey, and then give it a buttermilk rinse. It involves thawing the turkey for a week, then putting it in a huge pot with some salt and water Tuesday night, then emptying out the water and covering it with buttermilk. This morning, it was time to start cooking.

I emptied out the buttermilk, and could tell this turkey was going to be too big for the pan Jenni had asked me to use. We have a ridiculously small wall oven (I guess back in the 60s, no one cooked big things!? Someday, we will have the awesome huge oven that our hearts yearn for...), so she was worried that our larger baking dish wouldn't fit in the oven with the door closed. I tested the door, put the large dish in to make sure it would still close. It did.

I put the turkey in the baking dish and waited for Jenni to come in and review. She's better with the foil. When she saw how the turkey was sticking slightly over the edges of the pan, she wondered if the other pan (the one she had asked for, it was slightly oval) would be wide enough to avoid the overhanging meat (which of course raised the risk of dripping). I assured her it was not any wider.

I saw, with a clear, brilliant, precient surety, the look that crossed her face. She wanted to *see* that it wouldn't fit.

We've had that talk before, mostly with furniture. Sometimes, it's just easier to look at something in place, and then be certain that it wasn't going to really work there.

So I nodded, and said, "I don't mind washing a second dish," and moved the turkey into the oval pan. It hung out even more, and we agreed to move it back.

Sometimes, when you know you are right, you are certain of your correctness, it can be very hard to indulge the uncertainty of others. There is a reason that indignation is usually paired with the word "righteous".

But I have learned that there is rarely (if ever) any good that comes from insisting to loved ones. And I have learned over the years that I treasure peace and happiness far more than the conservation of effort (that comes from bullying loved ones into doing it my way so I don't have to wash another dish).

I am grateful for efficiency. But I am more grateful that I have learned how to be happy with loved ones.

Grateful for Fixing

When my youngest son Sam was four, we were at church one Sunday. He was playing with some paper, writing his name, drawing shapes. I took one piece and folded inticately into a large triangle. After I gave it to him, he declared it was a sailboat. After a while, Sam unfolded it, and got frustrated folding it back into the sailboat shape. He looked up at me very sadly, and handed me the paper. He whispered, "Ruined it."

It was heartbreaking, how much sorrow he invested into that whisper. I was struck at how the experience parallels our own lives. How we ruin things with our failures, our mistakes, our mortality, and are left mournful at the fallen state that results. Things break, moth/rust corrupt. They fall apart, and we mourn their loss, grumble at the cost of their replacement.

Growing up, my Dad fixed *everything*. I watched sometimes, and wish that I had paid stricter attention (so I could have soaked up more of his knowledge). But I learned enough; whenever I packed to go places, I took a screwdriver so I could fix stuff that broke.

On my mission, I repaired fans, bikes, doorknobs, something in every apartment.

As an adult, as a Dad, it's an ongoing process. A few weeks ago, the garbage disposal in our sink wouldn't work. When you flipped the switch, nothing. Having repaired them in the past, I knew there was a ground fault interrupt breaker on the motor, so I flipped it back. "HMMMMMMM" is the sound it made, it was clearly stuck. I called my Dad, and he told me about the hex nut on the bottom of most disposals you can use to force them to turn, or rotate them backwards to unstick them.

Problem solved.

We've had cabinets with too much space, and not enough shelf. Easy, we put in more shelves!

Some things can't be easily put back together (so we bid fond farewells to the $.35 plastic whistle that got crushed after it was left on the floor). I try to invite kids to watch what I am doing so they can learn the skill. Learn the *lesson*.

Most everything can be fixed. It is worth it to try. Worth it to educate yourself and see if you can repair it. Sometimes, we have to ask for help from pros. Sometimes, we have to get the pros to do the fixing, true, but there is usually something we can do to make it work. To control our environment.

So when Sam thought is paper was ruined, it struck me that there is a great lesson in how we see problems, how we see ourselves. No matter how "ruined" we might feel things become, they can always, always be put back together. As I folded the paper back together for Sam, I felt hope for us all.