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Knowledge vs. Faith

5/1/2022

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Which is stronger?  Faith or knowledge? 

We often think that faith comes before knowledge but, actually, knowledge is first.  We cannot have faith in Christ until we learn of Him; it is impossible to believe in something you know nothing of.  We learn of Christ, His attributes, His character, His promises and then we have faith in Him, in who He is, in what He does.   As we act faith, our knowledge grows.  We learn that He is who He says He is and He will do what He promises to do.   His word is sure.   Knowing that, our faith increases, as do our faithful actions.   This, in turn, leads to a greater knowledge of His goodness and grace, which leads to greater acts of faith.    Faith and knowledge form a positive feedback loop that spiral upwards, bringing us into God’s presence. 

“And this is life eternal that they might know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou has sent.” (John 17: 3)
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The Reason for the Hope that Is within Me

4/24/2022

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​I had a beautiful, spiritual “ah ha” moment recently   

In General Conference President Nelson told us to “seek and expect miracles.”  In earlier addresses, he told us, particularly the women, that we can pull down the powers of heaven to bless our loved ones and families.  With that in mind, I decided on four miracles I will seek and expect.   For the next week or so, I pondered the miracles I seek.   I ask in confidence, knowing that things will work out.   I may not get the miracles for which I petition but I am confident that all will work out.   Then I started thinking about that confidence.   Why am I so confident? Am I just wearing figurative “rose-colored” glasses? Am I imagining only good and blinding myself to reality?   Should I just accept things the way they are and figure out how to deal with them?   Then a New Testament verse came to mind.  “……be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you…” (I Peter 3:15)     That is why I am so hopeful/confident that all will work out.   It is because of Christ.   He is the reason for the hope that is in me.  
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Jesus Loves You

3/27/2022

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I learned a lesson at the DMV…several lessons, in fact.   The first, and least important, was that one should schedule an appointment before going there.   When I entered the building, at 9:15 a.m., I saw a notice advising patrons to make an appointment.  Using my phone, I went online and secured the next one available, for 9:45 a.m.      While I sat, waiting for my time, I heard a young Latino couple approach the desk.   They were told that if they did not have an appointment the wait would be 3 hours.     They sat down.    I knew there were appointments available sooner than 3 hours, so I offered to help them.    They used my phone and were able to get an appointment within 30 minutes.   
 
Still waiting, the same scenario played out again, this time with a middle-aged, Latino gentleman.   He struggled to figure out how to make an appointment with his phone so, again, I offered to help.  Like the previous couple, he used my phone to make an appointment within 30 minutes.     I felt pretty good about the experience until I realized that I had missed an opportunity to use Christ’s name.   I brought light to those peoples’ lives but did not share its Source. 
 
How to do that?  What sequence of words could I use to let people know that it is Christ’s love they feel, not mine; that I am a nice person because of Him?   Matthew 5:16 says "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven."  How do I let my light so shine in a way that glorifies God?  Every sentence I composed in my head seemed awkward and laborious; something that would taint the experience rather than sweeten it.  The good works I got.  The glorify God, not so much.   
 
Then I went on a field trip to the Mars Desert Research Station where I got some extra-terrestrial inspiration.    I rode with Brent Hughes, father of one of my students and an all-round great human being. In the course of our 4-hour, car-ride conversation, I mentioned my dilemma.   Brent said that his daughter, Maddie, says simply “Jesus loves you.”   Perfect.   
 
“Jesus loves you” is the sentence for which I was searching.   Simple.  Sweet.  Strong.   Said after an act of service, it will identify the Source, inviting conversation but not forcing it.   PERFECT.
 
Jesus loves you.    And so do I.

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Better to Receive

12/25/2021

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Think of a meaningful gift you received.   Maybe a doll or a toy gun when you were a younger.  Perhaps a bike or a puppy or box of cold cereal.   Maybe a made-at-school Mother’s Day painting when your child was in elementary or a made-in-Cub Scouts Father’s Day tie.   Or perhaps it was a special note, a sincere apology or a simple “I love you”.   Whatever the gift or whomever the giver, receiving the gift brought joy to you and glory to giver, 
We hear often that “it is better to give than receive". While this is usually the case, it is not always true.  Granted, focusing on giving shields us from a selfish, self-centered focus however it is important to recognize that receiving is also a critical component of the process.   Sometimes it is better to receive.   
Some gifts we receive without realization...a smile from the over-worked grocery store clerk, a prevented mail mix-up from the postal worker, lettuce harvested by field hands, messes tidied by behind-the-scenes mothers...   Some of the gifts we receive we take for granted...sunrises every morning, spring rains and singing sparrow, ankles that steady us as we walk over uneven ground, a digestion system that works even when we overload it with sugar...  And we have all been given gifts, personal gifts, we did nothing to earn. For some it is the ability to make music (not mine!).  For some it is the ability to make friends.  For others it is athleticism, academic prowess, or language acquisition.   Whatever the gift, receiving it brings us joy.     
It is in the receiving that we experience joy.    We can refuse to receive.    Not everyone enjoys the sunrise every morning.  (Hard to believe, I know.)  We can ignore the clerk’s smile, sit at home instead of using our ankles, or shelve the talents we’ve been given.  When we fail to receive the gift, we close the door to the joy the gift could bring.   Receiving gifts brings us joy. 
Joy to the world!  There is a gift that can bring joy to all.    Everyone.  “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16).    Heavenly Father gave us His Son.   His was the gift of all gifts, a gift that will bring joy and peace, comfort and strength, guidance and direction, and love, lots and lots of love, to all who receive it.   
The key is the receiving.   We must receive Christ to experience the blessings of the Father’s gift.  Receiving the gift of Christ will bring joy to us and glory to the Father.  This year we urge you to receive the gift of the Son. In 2022, may we receive CHRIST. ​

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Binge Jesus

11/25/2021

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I asked for a Binge Christ t-shirt for my birthday.  Explaining my request to Tanah, I said, “When I was younger, I would have never worn it because I would not have wanted people to think I was a Jesus freak.   Now I want them to know that I am a Jesus freak.”

Yep.  I am striving to become a Jesus freak.

I was profoundly impacted by Elder Anderson’s statement, “As the world speaks less of Christ, let us speak more of Him.” (General Conference, October 2020)  Centuries ago, Nephi said the same thing.  “…we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophecy of Christ, and we write of Christ…. that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”  (2 Nephi 25:26).     Now I join the chorus.   I am speaking more of Christ.

The Chosen speaks of Christ.  It is a privately produced, crowd funded television series about the life of Christ.  Watching it does for me what all great movies do; it brings the hero into my life.   In this case, the hero is Jesus.  After watching an episode, powerful scenes, featuring Christ, replay in my thoughts for days.   The show literally brings Christ into my heart and mind, where He should be.

Once, at then end of an episode, I saw Dallas Jenkins, the director/writer/producer, wearing a t-shirt that said, “Binge Christ”.    What an idea!    We binge eat chocolate, binge watch T.V. shows, and binge buy in shopping malls.   Michael Mantell, a clinical psychologist, said all types of bingeing are “ways of dealing with negative emotions...” (https://greatist.com/happiness/science-why-we-binge#action-plan)   It seems to me that bingeing Christ is the best way to deal with negative emotions.    It is also the best way to build positive emotions.   His path of one of truth and love and joy.   “I am the light and life of the world,” He proclaimed. (3 Nephi 11:11)

So I asked for, and received, a Binge Christ t-shirt for my birthday, planning to “talk more of Christ”.  I imagined wearing the shirt would proclaim my faith and hoped it would spark conversations that would bring Christ into the lives of others, changing their lives for good.

I have worn my Binge Jesus hoodie twice in public and the effect was not what I anticipated.  I thought wearing it would be a statement to others but it turns out wearing it is a statement to me.  No one said anything to me about my shirt however I realized I was publicly presenting myself as His disciple and that I had better behave in a manner that brings credit to His name.   Was whining to the bank teller about customer service frustrations appropriate for someone wearing a Binge Jesus shirt?   Maybe not.  (I changed my whine about past interactions to a statement of thanks for the current service.)   Was deciding not to stand in ovation at the end of a high school play when everyone else was on their feet, an act of love or mercy?   Probably not.  (After failing to be gracious, I turned the hoodie inside out so people would not credit my small-minded act to Him.)   Wearing my Binge Jesus clothes has made Him a greater presence in my life.

I guess that is what bingeing is all about, bringing large amounts of something into our lives. 
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Binge Jesus!



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The Road Not Taken Also Has Mountains

9/5/2021

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I have pondered parenting a lot.  A LOT.   I spend an unhealthy amount of time mourning my weaknesses as a parent.  Some my deepest sorrows come when I feel I let my kids down.  My sorrow is not because my children have disappointed me, rather it is because I have disappointed them.   I sense I have failed them, and it hurts. Lots.

If I were a parent like Sallie, the breeder from whom we bought Terry (Miles’ show pig), would not have charged Miles full price for a leftover runt.   If I were a parent like Carole, my kids would brush their teeth and clean up after themselves.  If I were a parent like my dad, my children would turn off lights.   If I were a parent Brian Douglas or Louis Alacano, Miles would have excelled in showmanship and won honors at the fair.  

Pondering led to praying. “Please, dear Father in Heaven, help me accept me for who I am,” I asked.  And He did.    I have gained some insights that I will share...and that I hope to remember.  

I am not Sallie or Carole or Brian.  And that is okay.  I am me, I am very blessed, and I would not trade places with them, even if I could.   So, it is stupid for me to berate myself because I am not them.  I don’t want to be them.  True, I would like to have their strengths, but life is not like that.  No one, them or me, is perfect.   My children would certainly be better off if I had some of those other parents’ traits but I have done the best with the skill set I have, and I am striving to improve.  And I need to be okay with that.  

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said almost the same thing.  (April 1997) “He [Heavenly Father] knows that your giving birth to a child does not immediately propel you into the circle of the omniscient......if you try your best to be the best parent you can be, you will have done all that a human being can do and all that God expects you to do.“ (Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, April 1997)
I am trying to be the best parent I can be.   Honestly and sincerely.  Am I the best parent?  No.  Not even close.   But I am giving it my best shot, honestly striving to be a good parent.  

I have parenting regrets.  “If only I had done/been/said/not said…….”   I have other regrets as well.   Big and small….
When I was a BYU student, studying in the library, a male co-ed asked the girl next to me if she would go on a spontaneous date with him, explaining that it was part of an activity he was doing with his roommates.   When she turned him down, he turned to me and asked if I would go with him.   I admired his courage in asking but did not have courage to accept.   I regret that.

I have more….  I wish I had run the 800 m in high school.  I regret turning down the offer to teach welfare missionaries at the MTC with Elder Strong and I regret not spending a semester at the BYU Jerusalem Center when I was younger and single.  I wish I had not yelled at Chick for the way he spread the pasture fertilizer and I wish I had played soccer with him and Mr. Maag on their junior high field trip to Antelope Island.   I have other, bigger regrets…. most too personal to share.  

And I wonder….  I wonder how my life would have turned out if I had made other choices.  What if I had studied organizational behavior instead of science education?  What if I were less arrogant, more teachable?  Less judgmental, more loving?  

Regrets and wistful wondering lead to sadness and sorrow.  Sometimes I find myself mourning the life I lived and the lives I’ve not lived.

God is good.  He led me to a book that helped me embrace the life I live.   Following in an excerpt from The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

“It is easy to mourn the lives we are not living.  Easy to wish we’d developed other talents, said yes to different offers.  Easy to wish we’d worked harder, loved better, handled our finances more astutely, been more popular, stayed in the band, gone to Australia, said yes to the coffee, or done more bloody yoga.  ….It is easy to regret, and keep regretting, ad infinitum, until our time runs out. 

“But it is not the lives we regret not living that are the real problem.  It is the regret itself.  It’s the regret that makes us shrivel and wither and feel like our own and other people’s worse enemy.

“We cannot tell if those other versions would have been better or worse.... Of course, we can’t visit every place or meet every person or do every job, yet most of what we’d feel in any life is still available.  We don’t have to play every game to know what winning feels like…Love and laughter and fear and pain are common currencies.   

“We just have to close our eyes and savor the taste of the drink in front of us and listen to the song as it plays.  We are completely and utterly alive as we are in any other life and have access to the same emotional spectrum. 

“We don’t have to do everything in order to be everything because we are already infinite.  While we are alive, we always contain a future of multifarious possibility.

“The impossible, I suppose, happens via living.

“Will my life be miraculously free from pain, despair, grief, heartbreak, hardship, loneliness, depression? 

“No.

“But do I want to live?

“Yes.  Yes.

“A thousand times yes.”
 
Though my life is not free from pain, grief, heartbreak, hardship, sorrow, loneliness, and depression, am I glad I am alive?  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!   Though I have not played every game, I know what winning feels like.  I know what it feels like to see beauty, even though I have not visited every beautiful place.  And I know what it is to feel love ….and joy…. and peace.    I don’t have to do everything to be everything; I am infinite and so are you.    There is no need for regret, indeed no place for it.   Other choices would not change life’s essentials.   Pain and sorrow are part of every path; “Love and laughter and fear and pain are universal currencies”.   

The book taught me a powerful lesson.   Let go of regrets.  They wither and shrivel.  Different choices may have led to different paths but the baseline experiences---love and laughter and fear and pain—would have been the same.    [If you are plagued by regrets, uncertainty, fear, and darkness, consider reading the book.  It is beautiful and insightful though—beware—the first third seems very dark.  Stick to it.  There is light at the end.]
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May we give ourselves grace.   Being alive does not make us perfect and it is unfair to expect perfection from ourselves (or others).   Let us do the best we can, get up when we fall, and help others do the same.   And may we remember to “close our eyes and savor the drink in front of us…”   

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Summer's Last Aventure

8/9/2021

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Three plays, one special girl, tons of fun….  

Lance and I drove to Cedar City where we watched three Shakespeare plays and went on three hikes.   We bought a new battery and new alternator for the van and three flavors of ice cream for Tanah´s roommates.   We ate shrimp on one lawn and watched Tanah slide tackle a dandelion on a different lawn.  We looked at corsets in the SUMA and carrots at the Farmer´s Market and watched Black Widow (the movie not the arachnid) in Tanah’s boss’ apartment.   Best of all, we got to hang out with our sweet-after-10:00-a.m.-daughter.   

The plays we watched were Comedy of Errors, Pericles, and Richard III, performed in the Shakespeare Festival´s outdoor theater.   What a treat!   Comedy of Errors was done 70´s style.   Hard to imagine that a man dressed in a bright yellow suit, doing Fonzie (Happy Days) gestures could successfully say lines from Shakespeare, but he did.  The show was delightful.  That same man played Richard III and was incredibly powerful in that role, so convincing in his physical defects, emotional energy, and moral deficiency.  I did not appreciated Pericles until Lance pointed out that it was like Les Misérables; a good man challenged by incredible hardships remains good and ends up well in the end. 
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We watched plays in the evening and played in the morning (after 10:00 a.m.) and the afternoon.   One of the days, we took a hiking stroll up a ravine in the canyon.  We topped the ridge and soon thereafter it began to rain, then pour.   We were soaked through and would have been chilled if we had not been walking.    While climbing/sliding down the ravine, we started singing.
 
“The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching one by one,
The little one stops to suck his thumb,
And they all go marching
Down to the ground,
To get out of the rain,
Boom, boom,  boom…”
 
The appropriateness of the end of the verse, “to get out of the rain”, struck us funny and we continued singing, with Lance making up verses and Tanah and I singing the chorus.  At the conclusion of the third verse a deep voice, coming from our rear, said “I don’t think you can get out of the rain.”


The unexpectedness of the voice caused me to scream.  My scream scared Tanah so she screamed.   Her scream scared me so I screamed again.    That poor mountain biker!   He came up behind us and was simply being friendly.     I think he was as startled by our response as we were by his presence, though he did not scream.
 
 
The rain soon stopped, the sun came out, and the water came down.   As mentioned, we were in a ravine, and the run-off from the storm collected in the previously dry streambed.    I was not worried about a dangerous flash flood because the collection basin feeding the ravine was small and the downpour was short, so we watched the water run rather than seeking high ground.   And it was fun to watch the water come.    It was as if a chocolate fountain was suddenly turned on; brown water began pouring over previously dry rocks, fingering its way along the stream bed as if it were sending out exploratory tendrils.    So cool!
 
Too soon it was over.    Saturday morning, after a trip  to a Farmer’s market, a garage sale, the library, and the supermarket, we had a shrimp picnie on her front lawn and then headed out.   
 
It was truly a fabulous four days with our daughter whom we love so, SO much.   So fun to hear her talk about plays, movies, and books with Lance.   So fun to see her light up around her friends.  So fun to grab her hand and tweek her hair and have her pull out my chin whiskers.   So fun!!!!

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Fire Season Is Real

8/1/2021

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Sina said deciding where to hike  “could prove to be somewhat challenging.  We've had several fires….”   I paid little heed to her words, attributing them to an excess of caution and dismissing them as largely irrelevant.   I got the largely part right….
Who is Sina and why was I planning a hike with her?

When we lived on the Elsoff place, I went to school with Sina during our first and second grade years at Young Elementary, a 4 room, 4 grade school in rural Bend, Oregon.   When we moved to the Walker place, also in Bend, Sina became my best friend.  We lived across the pasture from one another and rode the bus to Pilot Butte Elementary together.   When I was not at her house, she was at mine.  We rode horses, waded in ditches, walked, balancing precariously, on top of our swaying corral poles, created a make-believe (but very real to us) farm community with plastic animals and blocks, and played tag in the tops of the trees in our front yard—until Sina nearly fell out and did rip her arm open.   (If you see her, ask the see the scar.  It is still gnarly.)   We were best of friends and almost inseparable…until my family moved from Bend to Madras the August before I entered 7th grade.
  
Kindred spirits stay connected.   Except for a three brief visits--when my basketball team played hers in 9th grade, when we stopped in Reno on the way to a family reunion and when she stopped in SLC on the way to Moab—we have not seen each other since my family moved from Bend.   But we have stayed in touch via Christmas cards, frequent Facebook likes and rare emails.  More significantly, Sina continues to occupy a very special place in my heart.

A permanent resident in my heart, Sina was also a frequent occupier of my thoughts earlier this year.  Knowing that she is an avid hiker and that Lisa, her soulmate and hiking companion, passed away last April and hoping she would welcome an excuse to get out of the city, I invited myself on a hiking/backpacking trip with her in the Reno area this summer.   And she said yes!

Then the doubts began…..  We haven’t seen each other for years and lead very different lives.  I am in education; she is in the medical field.  She is single and lives in a spotless house; I am married with children and live in chaos.    She does not participate in formal worship; I am completely immersed in my faith.   After we caught each other up on our families, what would we talk about? 

I prayed about my concerns.  Later, in the Book of Mormon,  I read Alma 58:11 "Yea, and it came to pass that the Lord our God did visit us with assurances …. yea, insomuch that he did speak peace to our souls….."    And He spoke peace to my soul, giving me the assurance that it will be alright.

And it was alright.  Much more than alright actually.  It was totally awesome.  I am a reluctantly social person; honestly I am more comfortable being by myself than I am interacting with others.   Turns out Sina feels like I do.   Though we both do well alone, we also did great together.   Great!   What did we talk about?   Everything.   She knows my Grace is learning twi (and why), Chick works the graveyard shift (and why), Tanah lights up rooms (and why), and Miles has a razor-sharp tail bone and is spoiled (and why).    She knows I love Lance and why.   I know she loved Lisa and why.   She and Lisa did 60 miles hikes like they were a stroll around the block, could sit on a bridge and chat for hours, and shared a love for cleanliness, hard work, the medical field, and morning coffee.  I know she works with “kids” (20+ year old young adults who frequently cause her to shake her head), that her neighbor Tim is a diesel mechanic with a separated clavicle, and that her nephew is a train engineer and has 3 gun cases.  

While the most delightful part of my visit with Sina was the conversation, we also had some great adventures.  She took me to the Lakes Basin in northern CA where we backpacked into and hiked around stunningly crystal-clear lakes and, the first couple days, enjoyed crystal-clear, bright blue skies.

The second night, as we fell asleep, she said “We’ll probably have a bear tonight; we usually do when we camp here.”
Yep.   We had a bear in camp.  A little after 1:00 I awoke to a loud snap, caused by the breaking of a large branch.   Judging from the size of the sound, the branch had to be at least the size of my calf.   The branch snapping sound was followed by several other large-creature-walking sounds.  I was lying on my back and didn’t move, not wanting to draw attention to myself.    In my peripheral vision, I would see Sina, who was lying beside me, watching the situation.  We had not put the rain fly on our tent so, through the mesh, she could easily see what was happening and watched the bear amble past.  She did not seem to be alarmed so I was not either.   “When she starts to freak out, then I will be concerned,” thought I.  When she rolled over and went back to sleep, so did I.

A couple hours later, I awoke with a start when Sina said my name.  I thought the bear was back.  “We might have to pack up and leave now,” she said.  Smoke had moved in.  We could no longer see the lake, the moon was blood red, and the silhouette of the trees was shrouded by smoke.  “I am not sure I will be able to find the trail in the dark if we leave now, but it might be worse if we wait, and we won’t be able to find our way out in the morning either.  What do you think?”    Remembering how I got lost in the Grand Canyon when I hiked in the semi-dark, I told her we should stay in bed until dawn.  She agreed and went back to sleep.

We got up at 5:30 and easily had enough light hike out.  We could not see across the lake and the mountain tops were entirely obscured but seeing to hike out was not a problem.  When Sina’s mother learned that I was coming to visit she said to Sina, “Be careful.  You and Teresa get into trouble when you are together.”   Thankfully we were not in trouble--not with the bear, not with the smoke—but we did leave so as NOT to get into trouble.    Turns out two big fires in the area had converged so we exited the mountains, returned to Reno, ate some fabulous food, watched a 13 year old win an Olympic gold medal in street skating, and walked the “Four Sisters” in her Reno subdivision, all in the hazy, smoke-filled skies of fire season.

Sina said things might get tricky because of fire season.  I dismissed what she said but learned for myself that she was right.  Her warning was relevant; one could say “largely” relevant.  Fire season is real.   And so is friendship. 
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Thank you, Sina, for being a real friend.
  

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Sina at Grass Lake. Notice the crysal-clear blue sky in the background.
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Grass Lake the next morning, after the smoke moved in. Blue sky: GONE.
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The tent the bear did NOT visit.
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The camp the bear DID visit
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Except for on a movie screen, when was the last time you saw a phone booth?
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Fire season in Reno. The smoky skies turn the sun red.
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Trails end but friendships don't.
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Big Bang

7/11/2021

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 Some things start with a big BANG:  fireworks shows, band concerts, the universe….   Our trip ended with one.  BANG!   BANG went our tire as it exploded crossing a cattle guard on the way home.  BANG went the rim as it rattled over the washboard ruts.  BANG went my hand as I hit my forehead.   Dang!

As inconvenient as the exploding tire was, the BANG could have come from something much worse.  It could have come from the gun that I might have used to shoot the marmot who ate two of my dinners.  It could have come when Lance hit the bottom of the snow field that he slid down after making a snow angel.   It could have come from the rocks some people in the group wanted to throw at me when the hike got long (LONG) and hard (HARD).   Yep.  All things considered, the BANG we experienced was not all bad, especially when it cost us only $45 to buy and install the new-to-us tire that got us home. 

This week’s trip, the one that ended with a BANG on Friday, started Monday when Joe and Michelle Drago, Michael and Mikayla Drago, and Lance and I headed to Kemmerer, WY to “rock fish”, i.e. split rocks in a quarry, hoping to find fossil fish.  The men also hoped to find fresh fish in a local reservoir.
 
The rock fish hunt was much more successful than the hunt for fresh fish.   Lance was the only one to hook a fresh fish; all of us found multiple fish fossils, most of them 2-4 inches long.   Joe was particularly successful; he unearthed an 8 inch monster.  Lance estimates it could be worth up to $1000.  Nice!

After a couple days in Kemmerer, WY we headed back to UT where we backpacked into Henry’s Fork Basin.  I was giddy with excitement; I truly love backpacking.  Also, for over a year I’d been telling the men about the fish in Cliff Lake.     When Mark Housley and Miles fished Cliff Lake they had an amazing experience.   Amazing.   Big, big fish.  And lots, lots of them.  A bite on almost every cast.   I wanted Joe and Lance to experience Cliff Lake, which is the whole reason we chose to backpack to Henry’s Fork Basin this year.    I am the only one in the group who enjoys backpacking.   Mikayla hates it but loves Michael.   Michael does not hate it but does not love it either.     Michelle is a good sport and is up for anything, but she much prefers going places with showers.    Joe and Lance both hate backpacking but love fishing.   I lured them on the backpacking trip with promises of amazing fishing at Cliff Lake.

The fishing was not amazing.   First, we lost Cliff Lake.   Though I had printed 4 maps and Lance downloaded one, we ended up at a puddle lake at the bottom of Anderson Pass and had to go around Henry’s Fork Peak and scramble up to Cliff Lake.    It was incredibly beautiful.   It was also windy.  The water was choppy and the fishing nothing to write home about; Lance and Joe caught 3 each.   Michael was fishless.

There is not an established trail to or from Cliff Lake.    We were in a high-altitude basin, miles wide and miles long and had to find our way home.    We knew approximately where we were camped but not exactly.  We navigated around bogs, streams, and brush patches, followed ridges, and stumbled (literally because bushwhacking bushed us) onto a whisp of a trail that led us to a log cabin.    Whaaa-whooo!  We were happy to see the symbol of civilization and even happier to see a well-worn trail going from the cabin in the general direction that we were camped.    Turns out the trail went under the ridge we were camped on top of.   Blessedly, Lance recognized some landmarks, so he and I ascended the ridge and found ourselves next to our tents.   Nice.

Not so nice was the mess Michelle found when they returned to camp (before us).  I made a rookie mistake; one I frequently warn my students against.  I left the bottom of my backpack unzipped and an opportunistic marmot feasted on my Mountain Man meals; two dinners, two servings each.  We also saw antelope, white-tailed deer, a baby moose, and a bald eagle.   The marmot was the only critter I shot….with my camera.

Mikayla hiked out twice as fast as she hiked in; five hours vs ten hours.   It took Lance and I about six hours.   I love the mountains.   Love.  Love.  Love.  The sights, sounds, and smells of the wilds fill my cup in a way that nothing else does.   And I love pushing my physical limits.  There is a certain sense of satisfaction, accomplishment, even joy that comes when I take myself out of my physical comfort zone.   And this was not comfortable.   Very NOT comfortable.   I was very glad to see the parking lot at the end of the trail.  Very glad.  So was Lance.

We thought our adventures were over; we’d have a nice lunch in Mountain View, WY and then an uneventful ride home.  Nope.    On the dirt road leading from the national forest the back tire on our van exploded.   We put the spare on, a do-not-go-over-40 mph-or-100 miles doughnut-type tire and limped into town.  We did have a nice lunch in Mountain View, but the uneventful ride home did not start until after we had gone to Lyman, WY to get a new-to-us tire. 

All in all it was a great trip, though I sense that if I suggest a backpacking trip again in the near future the adventure will start and end with a big BANG….when someone hits me on the head with a rock! 



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Joe's big fish....and my big foot.
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National Failure or State Winner?

7/4/2021

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We arrived in Des Moines at 12:15 a.m.   and had to take Lyft to the hotel.    There we were---Lance and I—at the 2021 National Ag in the Classroom Conference, “Field of Dreams”, Des Moines, Iowa.  Coolio!

The food was great—agriculture-related conferences always are--as were the people and the conference sessions.    I learned about things ranging from chickens on Mars to vermiculture to desktop greenhouses.    I toured a soybean/seed corn farm, a cattle feed lot, and (virtually) a hog raising operation.   I learned that having plants in the classroom increases student attention by 70% (not sure I believe that one….), 35% of the food Americans buy is wasted, and Utah ranks 15th in the US in hog production.   I met a man who successfully farms 3,000 acres with just one employee and a woman who has a small hog operation, only 3200 pigs.   

One of the workshops was especially (and unexpectedly) gratifying.  We attended an elementary teacher workshop on chickens, hoping to get ideas for a raising chickens on Mars project.   One of our tasks was to make an art project showing a new breed of chicken.   To incentivize us, the session presenter promised a prize to the art creation she deemed to be the best.    Art supplies included sequins, beads, faux feathers in outrageous colors, and glitter.   Lot of glitter.   The elementary teachers went all out with the bling; their chickens were decked out, glitter galore, shiny sequins everywhere, beads and buttons abounding. 
 
Lance and I chose a different approach.   Lance drew a roasted chicken carcass and a KFC bucket.  It was awesome.  The presenter laughed out loud when she saw it.   I used torn, cut, and crumpled construction paper to create a 3D chicken sitting in a nest.  No bling.  No glitter.  No beads.  Nothing but construction paper.    The presenter, when she saw my entry, gasped and immediately held it up.  “This is the winner,” she said.   And she presented me with set of 21 plastic eggs, each of which opens to show a different stage of the 21-day development of a chick embryo.   I won an art contest.   Crazy!

Though we were in conference session or on a bus for most of the time, I managed to get over 10,000 steps daily by choosing stairs over escalators and walking in circles during coffee breaks.   Wednesday evening, before the banquet, a younger man (probably in his 20’s) stopped me and said, “I just wanted to tell you how impressed I am that you always take the stairs.”    I guess gray-haired ladies usually use the escalator.

Wednesday evening, after the banquet, I was chatting with Lance and absent-mindedly stepped onto the escalator with him.    About three steps down I discovered my error, squealed, turned around and started running up the down-going escalator.   Fortuitously, I made it back to the top unscathed.   Very fortuitously, I did not run over the gray-haired lady that stepped onto the escalator behind me.

Lance and I were able to attend the 2021 National Ag on the Classroom Conference because I was named the Utah Ag in the Classroom Teacher of the Year (
https://utah.agclassroom.org/teacher/award/​ and, as such, was given an all-expense paid trip to the national conference.   As the UT award winner, I was also nominated for the National Ag in the Classroom Excellence in Teaching Award.    I spent hours filling out the application for the national award, finding photos, writing essays, etc….    When I submitted my application to Denise, the UT Ag in the Classroom coordinator, she said, “Editing your application was easy; you are a good writer.”   Her response was very positive, and it seemed that she thought I had a good chance at winning a national award.  My hopes soared.  It would be so cool, SO COOL, to be named as a National Award winner.  I imagined many awesome scenarios and conversations, centered around me.   I thought that receiving a national award would give me clout, respect, and authority; my opinion would matter, if I were a national award recipient.

Nope.   It was not to be.   I did not receive the national award though I did receive feedback about my application.  Negative feedback.  The reviewer said that my writing was disjointed and my thoughts jumbled.  “You should have someone proofread your work before you submit it,” I was told.   Ouch.   Ouch.

So, at the Conference, when the state Ag in the Classroom award recipients lined up to practice walking across the stage for our recognition ceremony, I felt like a total failure.  I failed as a writer.  I failed my state as a nominee.   And, to some degree, I failed as a teacher of agriculture concepts.   And I did it on the national level.   I was a national failure.  I felt awful.
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Thankfully, between the recognition ceremony rehearsal and the actual event, I found some perspective.   Honestly, Teresa!   Quit being ridiculous.   Several ugly traps had grabbed me—pride, basing my value on external factors, and ingratitude to name a few---but blessedly, I reframed my thinking.   I was a state winner, not a national failure.   And, most importantly, I acknowledged that my status as an award recipient is irrelevant.   Awards are fun, attending the conference was great, but the important things in life are inside.  Inside I am a daughter of Heavenly Parents. I have a divine nature and eternal destiny. 

​So do you!




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    Teresa Hislop
    thislop@msn.com

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