A final word

Fall has to be one of the most exquisite times of the year. And for those of us in the northerly climes, October showcases the beauty of the season unlike any of the other autumn months.

The poet Robert Frost captured the gentle longing that wishes this magical season not pass by too quickly.

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,

Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—

For the grapes’ sake along the wall.[i]

Don’t we—especially those of us who are in or who are approaching the autumn of our lives—wish those days would rush by a little more slowly? that this magical season not pass by too quickly?

I resonate with this sentiment from Anne of Green Gables when Anne observes: “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”[ii]

---

[i] Robert Frost, “October,” in A Boy’s Will (New York: Henry Holt, 1915).

[ii] L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables (Canada: L. C. Page, 1908)

A final word

This picture and thought posted on Instagram and Facebook by Brock Cleverly on August 27

With a lot of noise and disappointments, it’s al­ways nice to go hear the whispers and remind­ers that God is still always there.

7 A final word

When I was a child growing up in southwestern Idaho, I remember watching cartoons of a fat little pig, a Looney Tunes character named Porky Pig. At the end of each cartoon short, Porky Pig's signature ending was a stuttering "Th-th-th-that's all folks!"

Just a wee bit of mid-twentieth-century Americana.

Well, after 39-plus years of publishing the Cleverly Newsletter, representing 418 separate issues spread across four decades, we are discontinuing the newsletter to go serve a mission. This is our final issue.

And with this issue, in addition to wishing you a merry Christmas and happy new year, we also say so long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye, ciao, sayonara, adieu, see you later, happy trails to you, adios, take care, toodle-oo, God be with you, catch you later. Or, as an Irish proverb goes:

May the road rise up to meet you,
May the wind be ever at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rain fall softly on your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Th-th-th-that's all folks!

7 A final word

We apologize for our delay in publishing this month's issue of the newsletter. Chalk it up to our being on back-to-back vacations, first to Idaho and then to Georgia. But now we're home for a little while.

The same day we returned home Claudia and I went in the evening to cast an early vote for the candidates and issues of our liking. A benefit of early voting is that you can with good conscience totally ignore the obnoxious TV and radio ads, the campaign literature that shows up in the mailbox, and the annoying political phone calls.

Someone once said that democracy is a messy business. It is indeed. And though there are calls from both sides of the aisle for more civility in our public discourse, the discord is certainly not new. At least real or perceived affronts these days are handled with attack ads and not public duels, as in the early days of the Republic. Historically, we have been arguing, attacking, slandering, and disliking our opponents at least ever since John Adams became the second president of the United States. John Adams (the second president) and Thomas Jefferson (the third president), once close friends, became completely estranged and did not communicate with each other for years. Fortunately, they reconciled sometime before they both died on the same day, July 4, 1826, the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

History, it seems, is more cyclical than linear.

But however much we pay attention to or ignore the political wrangling that precedes an election, it is our duty to go vote this coming Tuesday if we have not already done so. Voting is the price of our citizenship.

In a revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith in August 1833, the Lord outlined an approach to the kind of candidate we should support and our approach to constitutional government in general:

And now, verily I say unto you concerning the laws of the land, it is my will that my people should observe to do all things whatsoever I command them.

And that law of the land which is constitutional, supporting that principle of freedom in maintaining rights and privileges, belongs to all mankind, and is justifiable before me.

Therefore, I, the Lord, justify you, and your brethren of my church, in befriending that law which is the constitutional law of the land;

And as pertaining to law of man, whatsoever is more or less than this, cometh of evil.

I, the Lord God, make you free, therefore ye are free indeed; and the law also maketh you free.

Nevertheless, when the wicked rule the people mourn.

Wherefore, honest men and wise men should be sought for diligently, and good men and wise men ye should observe to uphold; otherwise whatsoever is less than these cometh of evil (D&C 98:4-10).

We are to seek for and uphold candidates who are honest, good, and wise.

Some 40-plus years later, as our nation was celebrating its 100th birthday, James A. Garfield (who went on to become the 20th president of the United States) said much the same thing: "Now, more than ever before, the people are responsible for the character of their Congress. If that body be ignorant, reckless and corrupt, it is because the people tolerate ignorance, recklessness and corruption. If it be intelligent, brave and pure, it is because the people demand these high qualities to represent them in the national legislature. If [one hundred years from now] our next centennial does not find us a great nation . . . it will be because those who represent the enterprise, the culture and the morality of the nation do not aid in controlling the political forces" ("A Century of Congress," in The Works of James Abram Garfield, ed. Burke Hinsdale, Boston, 1883, 2:486, 489).

And to all of that we add, may the best man (or woman) win.

7 A final word

Next week is another general conference. I look forward to that with as much anticipation and delight as ever I awaited Christmastime as a child.

In preparation for the spiritual feast that will be placed before us, I have been rereading the talks delivered at last April's conference. I was particularly impressed with something President Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught in the general priesthood session:

"The fact that something is good is not always reason enough to require our time and resources. Our activities, initiatives, and plans should be inspired by and grounded upon the why of our priesthood service and not by any flashy trend or interest of the moment. Otherwise, they can distract our efforts, dilute our energy, and get us caught up in our own hobbies, spiritual or temporal, that are not at the center of discipleship.

"Brethren, we all know that it takes self-discipline to remain focused on the matters that have the greatest power to increase our love for God and fellowman, invigorate marriages, strengthen families, and build the kingdom of God on earth. Like a fruit tree with an abundance of branches and leaves, our lives need regular pruning to ensure that we use our energy and time to accomplish our real purpose—to 'bring forth good fruit' (Matthew 7:18)" (Ensign, May 2012, 60).

President Uchtdorf at the time was speaking specifically to us who hold the priesthood of God, but his counsel surely applies to all of us in the patterns of our discipleship. Just because something is good is not always reason enough to require our time and resources. It takes self-discipline to remain focused on things that matter most, on things that will actually make a difference, on things that will bring forth the desired results in our lives and the lives of our family members.

"So how do we know what to select?" he goes on to ask. "We each have the responsibility to determine this for ourselves. However, we are commanded to diligently study the scriptures, heed the words of the prophets, and make it a matter of faith-filled, serious, dedicated prayer" (Ensign, May 2012, 60).

And then I like his prophetic promise: "God is faithful. Through the Holy Spirit, He will speak to our minds and hearts concerning the path we should follow during each segment of our lives" (Ensign, May 2012, 60). With our recent retirement and a mission call soon upon us, Claudia and I are in a new phase of our lives. I am clearly interested in heaven-sent direction in knowing what path we should follow.

And finally: "If our hearts are pure--if we seek not our own glory but the glory of Almighty God, if we seek to do His will, if we desire to bless the lives of our family and fellowman--we will not be left to walk alone" (Ensign, May 2012, 60). A sweet promise!

7 A final word

With this issue, the Cleverly Newsletter begins its 40th year of publication. Four decades of telling the family story! That represents a pretty remarkable run.

The first issue of the Cleverly Newsletter, a single sheet of paper printed on both sides, rolled off the presses (literally my manual typewriter and a copy machine) on the first day of September 1973. The very next day, September 2, Claudia and I became parents with the birth of our first child.

Ten years ago, as we reached the newsletter's 30th anniversary, I noted, "Over the . . . years, we have varied the frequency, the format, and the style of the newsletter. But we hope we have stayed true to our original mission of keeping the family informed, building family unity, reminding us of our heritage, promoting family-centered gospel living."

Now at 40 years, we want to stay true to that original mission. But we need your help. With our upcoming mission call beginning in January, we are either going to have to curtail what we have been doing with the newsletter, turn it over to someone else in the family, or discontinue it all together.

That's where your present help is needed. Please weigh in on these (or even other) options. Please let us know what elements of the newsletter you particularly like. Or don't like. What you want us to keep? Or not keep? When you want to inherit this job? (I thought I'd just throw that in for any who want to execute a friendly takeover.)

Thanks for your input. And God bless you all.

7 A final word

Earlier in this issue, we quoted Joe L. Wheeler's observation that "there is something deep within us that sobs at endings."

I have been feeling that way this week as I retire after 39 1/2 years of employment. Today is my first day of retirement. There is a poignant reminder that, except for many marvelous memories, I am losing my daily association with all that I have loved about four decades of service among faithful, dedicated, talented souls who love the Lord.


But endings are also beginnings. Sunsets here are sunrises on some distant shore. And I am excited beyond measure to be entering the next season of my life.

Ever since the early days of our marriage I have looked forward to the day when Claudia and I could serve a full-time mission together. That day is rapidly approaching. We are eager for the new experiences,  the new associations, and the new opportunities for service that will be ours as we travel off to Omaha next January to serve in the Mormon Trail Center at Historic Winter Quarters.

7 A final word

During my senior year in high school I was editor of the school newspaper. I think everyone who knew me pretty much knew I was a member of the Church. One of my favorite teachers from that year, who was not a member, wrote somewhat prophetically in my yearbook something to the effect that “you have a gift; use it to bless your church and glorify your God.”

For the past four decades I have been trying to do exactly that.

Who could have guessed that for nearly 40 years I would have been blessed to associate intimately, almost on a daily basis, with the General Authorities of our Church, including those we sustain as prophets, seers, and revelators? And to work with scores of other faithful and dedicated men and women? And to use the gifts and talents the Lord had given me to further the work of His church and kingdom? I could not have scripted the course of my life any better had I tried. It has been a blessed run.

George F. Gibbs (1846–1924), a Church employee of an earlier century, wrote: “From my youth it has fallen to my lot to associate more or less with the [leadership] of our Church—a privilege I have ever highly appreciated. And the more intimate my relations have been with our leading men, one and one only thought has come uppermost to mind, namely, that of heartfelt thanks and gratitude to God the Eternal Father for gathering me from an obscure corner of the earth, . . . and for guiding my footsteps in the way of virtue and rectitude, thus fitting me to be His and their servant. And I will have realized my most sanguine hope if, hereafter, I shall be found worthy to continue my relations with them, as their fellow servant, in the great work of human redemption and salvation” (in Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow, 358).

I feel the same way. My association through the years with the General Authorities of our Church is a privilege I have ever highly appreciated. And they even paid me for it! Similarly, I express heartfelt thanks and gratitude to my Heavenly Father for lifting me from obscure beginnings, endowing me with gifts and talents, and fitting me to be His and their servant. And it would be my greatest hope if, hereafter, I were found worthy to continue my relations with them, as their fellow servant, in the great work of human redemption and salvation.

As I mentioned last month, I am retiring at the end of July. That will give Claudia and me five months to prepare for our next assignment, our two-year call as full-time missionaries in the Nebraska Omaha Mission and my appointment as the director of the Mormon Trail Center at Historic Winter Quarters.

And so the journey continues.

7 A final word

I have always loved a good road trip. With the approach of summer, I want to hop in the car and head out to destinations known or unknown.

When our children were small, we used to play a game called Five Turns. Each child had a turn at directing where we went. After he or she picked five left or right turns, it then became the next person’s turn to do likewise. And so we wandered about the area, their collective intent to get us so lost or so far from home that Dad, who always had the final turn, could not get us back home with his five turns. Incredibly, I almost always did.

Through the years we have also taken some marvelous road trips across the country. I think back on a road trip I took a dozen years ago with three of my daughters into the heartland of America. We were moving one of those daughters to live in Kansas City.

For my birthday that year, just two days before we started our 2,869-mile foray into the middle of America, I received the book Roads: Driving America’s Great Highways by Larry McMurty. A timely gift. And one of two books we took as we began our meandering journey through six states, on this particular trip staying mostly off the Interstate freeways. The other book was Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine, which one of my daughters read aloud as we made our way across the back roads of Wyoming and Nebraska. I thoroughly enjoyed both books.

The evening after we finally reached Kansas City, I finished reading Roads. I share the author’s passion for books and roads. In his final chapter, McMurty wrote:

“Some years ago I had a sobering realization about . . . roads. There are too many nice ones. I could go on for a long time, driving America’s roads. I could see the sand hills of Nebraska, follow the old Oregon Trail along the North Platte, see the Tetons, dodge moose in Maine, slip down to Salt Lake City and remind myself what an inspired city planner Brigham Young had been.

“But I can’t drive all the roads. On even the narrowest highways that I’ve driven on these trips, and in even the smallest towns, there are signs pointing down even narrower highways to even smaller towns, many of which I will never see.”

Something like that thought occurred to me the afternoon before we reached Kansas City. We were pushing south along U.S. 75 in eastern Nebraska. We knew from our road atlas that a little town named Talmage, population 246, was in these parts. Our second son is named Talmage, and we thought it would be interesting to see the place that shared his name.

As we were searching for Talmage, we overshot our intended turn off by a few miles, so we turned instead onto a little paved road that after a half mile turned into a “rock road,” so called by the friendly farmer from Talmage who stopped to see if we needed help as we sat at roadside studying the atlas. He wondered whom we were visiting in Talmage and, after we explained our purpose in visiting there, said that we could indeed arrive there along the rock road (what I would call a dirt or gravel road) that his tractor was planning to follow but suggested we go back and take the regular road instead.

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” was his parting comment. He seemed so helpful. I was almost surprised we weren’t invited for supper.

We backtracked to state highway 128, one of those narrower roads that lead to even smaller towns that McMurty referred to in his book, and I thought of all the myriads of little roads like this that crisscross the places people call home. After a few miles heading west, we turned south on state highway 67 and after another couple miles had to take an even narrower road, a half-mile spur that led to the little town. Talmage. Like so many other towns we’d seen here in the Midwest, the name was proudly emblazoned on the town’s water tower, as if water towers wandered off or were misplaced and had to be returned from time to time to their rightful owners.

My journeys through the years have taken me to 46 of the 50 states. Only four more to go: Alaska, Hawaii, Maine, and Wisconsin. I have also been to all 29 of the counties here in Utah. I hope someday to drive the entire width of the country on U.S. 50, a highway that runs from California to Maryland. A mileage sign at the western end of U.S. 50 lists how far it is to three cities. The final one, Ocean City, Maryland, is 3,073 miles away.

That’s a challenge I find hard to ignore.

But still, there are so many roads to travel, so many places to visit, so many things to see along the way. In this or a dozen life times I will never get to them all. The same with books: there are so many good ones, worthwhile ones, I’ll never get to read. And some books deserve to be read more than once, just as certain places deserve to be visited more than once.

I’m not even sure where this meandering thought is taking us. It is like another road trip we took once with a different subset of the family, resulting in a wide swing through several southern states. We had no particular destination in mind beyond simply exploring a part of the country we were not familiar with, states like Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas, and Oklahoma. Each morning we’d awake, eat the motel’s breakfast, repack the car, and hit the road again, studying our atlas along the way, stopping as we wanted, sidetracking to points of interest.

It was on that trip we discovered the town of Eutaw (pronounced like “Utah,” but with something of a southern drawl) in the western part of Alabama. The town of some 2,500 people boasts 27 antebellum structures on the National Register of Historic Places. We also discovered the Natchez Trace, a 444-mile parkway administered by the National Park Service than runs through Tennessee, Arkansas, and Mississippi, which I thoroughly enjoyed. And we stopped at some plantation mansions, including the historic Springfield Mansion near Fayette, Mississippi, that was built in the late 1700s. Arthur LaSalle, the old southern gentleman who lived there, regaled us with stories of earlier glory days as we sat on the upper balcony, after touring the mansion, as afternoon melded into evening twilight and fireflies began to appear.

But I digress. I was wondering where this meandering thought was taking us. I think it is headed toward the announcement that at the end of July, after working for the Church for thirty-nine and a half years, I am retiring. I will be traveling into the next phase of my life’s journey. And I am heading toward it with some amount of anticipation and excitement, a feeling akin to discovering what exactly will greet us over that next rise, what opportunities we will encounter, what destination will be at the end of the roads we travel on.

I am reminded of Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken,” that I have loved since school days:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet know how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

7 A final word

My wife, when she was growing up in southern California, used to travel by car with her parents and brother to visit relatives in northern Utah. This was in an era before cars had air conditioning, and in summertime you had to travel across those vast deserts at night. It was also before freeways spanned the distance, and you were limited to a lane of traffic going in each direction, and had to wait behind trucks crawling up hills and mountains, and had to drive through every dinky little town along the way, and hoped there was no road construction.

She quickly learned that the 13-or-more-hour trip seemed to go quicker if she slept along the way. The habit stuck. To this day, she can fall asleep on a road trip as short as the 17-mile ride from our house to where some of our children and grandchildren live.

She also has little sense of direction when she is in unfamiliar territory. That could be a function of being asleep along the journey. On our first trip to California after we became engaged, I awoke her as we dropped down into the Los Angeles Basin and asked her which way to San Gabriel, where her parents lived. I had never been there before, but I quickly sensed that she had sent me in an entirely wrong direction.

Had she been Sacagawea, the Shoshone Indian guide who led Lewis and Clark to the Pacific Ocean, they might well have ended up in Nova Scotia or perhaps Mexico.

Today I find these traits endearing. Sure, she has missed a lot of country in the cross-country road trips our family has taken. She would surely agree with the sentiment expressed by one of our sons-in-law after a road trip to Nauvoo, "There sure is a lot of road in this road trip." I merely mention these twin traits—her talent for sleeping and her ability to get thoroughly lost—as context for the following tribute I wrote this past Valentine's Day. I repeat it here as a Mother's Day wish to all you mothers who don't get enough sleep anyway and who realize that a GPS unit, especially if your husband is operating it, can get you from here to there.

I've journeyed a bit down the road of life, and I want all of you children and grandchildren to know that one could not have a better traveling companion than your mom and grandmother.

She may fall asleep along the way. She may send you down the wrong road—no, wait, that's just when she's with you in a literal car. In the metaphorical journey down life's highway, she never steers you wrong, and she's fiercely vigilant when it comes to those she loves. And her heart is a very big and generous and inclusive one. She just wants every chair filled, no one to miss the train—whatever metaphor you wish to use—so that everyone arrives safely at home at the end of life's journey, secure in the arms and love of our Heavenly Parents.

And that's my Mother's Day tribute to her and wish to all of you.

7 A final word

Our daughter Eliza and her family are putting their roots down in Atlanta. Next month Paul graduates from pharmacy school and has accepted a generous offer from the pharmacy he worked at part-time as he made his way through Mercer University.

Curiously, I ran across the following blog that Paul had posted exactly four years ago this month as he was preparing to move his little family clear across the country:

"With the winding down of this semester my attention is starting finally to turn to the sunset of our time in Utah. We will begin our move to Atlanta in 100 days as we plan on leaving town on July 25 to drive out there to find a place to live.

"I am a person of high anxiety, especially when I am traveling into unknown territory. . . . I worry about a lot of things that I probably shouldn't, thus I am really worried about finding a place to live and all the other stuff included in moving across the country. . . .

"I have always felt strangely attached to the city of Atlanta. I wondered why because a few years ago I would have told you that there are a dozen or so other places I would rather visit on vacation, and until recently I just always figured I would live in Utah the rest of my life.

"All growing up, I always had an interest in the city of Brussels, Belgium. Whenever we studied geography or history and talked about Brussels, I just felt strangely attached to that city. So, I guess it was no surprise when I received my mission call to the Belgium Brussels Mission when I turned 19.

"Likewise, I don't think it is just coincidence that we are going to Atlanta. There are adventures to have, friends to make, and a family to continue to build there. I can't even explain how excited I am to go to pharmacy school. I know it is going to be tough, but I eagerly await the challenge and await the good times of the future."

Interestingly, I had the same type of experience with my mission. As I was growing up, I had a fascination with the country of Brazil and the city of Rio de Janeiro particularly. During high school I even did a journalism paper about freedom of the press in Brazil. A few years later, when I turned 19, I was called to the Brazil North Mission, which was headquartered in Rio. Anyone who knows very much about me knows how profoundly those two years in Brazil influenced and shaped and blessed the rest of my life.

I don't know why Paul and Eliza are meant to be in Atlanta. They are, after all, holding three of our grandchildren hostage there. But I'm at peace with it all because I feel, as they do, that that is precisely where they are supposed to be.

7 A final word

There has been a lot of noise in the media in recent months questioning whether Mormons are Christians or not and whether The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a Christian church or a cult. Such conversations will likely increase if Mitt Romney happens to secure his party's presidential nomination.

According to any standard definition of the word Christian (and you can check any reputable dictionary here), Latter-day Saints or Mormons are clearly Christians. They believe in Him. They seek to follow His teachings. They try to live as decent, Christian people. They pray in His name. They invoke His authority in all that they do. The Church is named after Him.

What exactly are we missing here? I am a Mormon, and I consider myself a thorough, devout Christian.

I think the problem with us Mormons is not that we don't believe in Jesus Christ but that we believe in Him too literally, too completely, too intimately. We believe He is still alive today, a glorious, resurrected, holy Being who interacts with His servants and who continues to reveal His will to them. His ministry is not complete. He still speaks to man. We believe in a very real and literal sense that He is at the head of the church that bears His name, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

He is our Savior, our Redeemer, our Advocate with the Father. He is the Captain of our souls. He was, as Isaiah declared, "wounded for our transgressions . . . bruised for our iniquities . . . and with his stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5).

7 A final word

I currently have the privilege of being a Sunday School gospel doctrine teacher in our ward here in Bountiful. A dream calling if ever there was one! This year we have the opportunity to study the Book of Mormon once again.

A couple Saturdays ago, just before going to bed, I finished preparing my lesson on Lehi’s vision of the tree of life. During the night, in the hours just before dawn, I had a dream of my own.

We were canning milk in fruit jars, using the same methods I followed as a child when I helped Mom can fruits of various kinds. I remember thinking as a part of the dream, or in those first moments of wakefulness just after the dream, that people don’t actually can milk at home using the same hot-water-bath method used to can peaches or applesauce or apricot jam. But in the dream we were.

The canning jars had to be sterilized by washing and rinsing in hot water (a dishwasher likely would accomplish the same purpose today, but in those long-ago days we did not have dishwashers). The jars had to be kept hot until they could be filled with fruit—or, in our case, milk—and then placed carefully into the canner full of hot water. The lids used to seal the jars likewise had to be sterilized in boiling water. Impurities that might contaminate the food could not be tolerated. And then the food was cooked, with the filled jars boiled in water for a determined amount of time.

As I lay pondering on the dream, I was given to understand that my dream was not really about canning. Instead, it was about coming unto Christ, and being perfected in him, and denying ourselves of all ungodliness (see Moroni 10:32).

The meticulous attention to the details of preparation and sterilization and processing, requiring both water and heat, was about repentance and being cleansed in water and by fire. It was about strict obedience to the requirements and ordinances God has revealed for entering in at the strait gate.

The whiteness of the milk, as opposed to the color of whatever fruit might have been involved, was about being sanctified and purified. It was about having garments “washed white through the blood of the Lamb” (Alma 13:11; see also Revelation 7:14 and Ether 13:11).

The dream was about fruits being gathered in and preserved by the Lord of the vineyard (see Jacob 5:77). Or, in terms of the symbols of Lehi’s dream, the dream that inspired all of this in the first place, it was about those who “came and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press their way forward, continually holding fast to the rod of iron, until they came forth and fell down and partook of the fruit of the tree” (1 Nephi 8:30) and thus qualified, because of the love of God, for eternal life.

7 A final word

In an address he gave at a BYU devotional in 2009, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said, "The start of a new year is the traditional time to take stock of our lives and see where we are going, measured against the backdrop of where we have been" (Ensign, Jan. 2010, "The Best Is Yet to Be," 22).

"As a new year begins," he continued, "I plead with you not to dwell on days now gone nor to yearn vainly for yesterdays, however good those yesterdays may have been. The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future. Faith always has to do with blessings and truths and events that will yet be efficacious in our lives."

" . . . God doesn't care nearly as much about where you have been as He does about where you are and, with His help, where you are willing to go. . . . This is an important matter to consider at the start of a new year—and every day ought to be the start of a new year and a new life. Such is the wonder of faith, repentance, and the miracle of the gospel of Jesus Christ."

And then this Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ marvelously concludes: "Faith is for the future. Faith builds on the past but never longs to stay there. Faith trusts that God has great things in store for each of us and that Christ truly is the 'high priest of good things to come' (Hebrews 9:11).

"Keep your eyes on your dreams, however distant and far away. Live to see the miracles of repentance and forgiveness, of trust and divine love that will transform your life today, tomorrow, and forever."

Some good food for thought here. We serve it up as our New Year's wish to each of you.

7 A final word

Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving. And now our attention turns to Christmas. We think about and hopefully are grateful for the many gifts in our lives, the tender mercies that come in unexpected moments from our Heavenly Father.

Of course the greatest gift of all is His sending His Son into mortality. What a remarkable gift! That is, after all, the reason we even celebrate Christmas. And it is by far the greatest evidence of His love for us.

But there are daily reminders, the spiritual gifts He sends along the way to lift and bless our own lives and to help us be more profitable servants in lifting and blessing the lives of those about us. Such gifts, the Lord has said, "are given for the benefit of those who love me and keep all my commandments, and him that seeketh so to do” (D&C 46:9).

There are many kinds of gifts. The scriptures mention some common ones found among true disciples of the Savior: faith, testimony, hope, charity, administration, teaching, wisdom, knowledge, the faith to heal, the faith to be healed, the working of miracles, prophecy, the administration of angels, discerning of spirits, tongues, the interpretation of tongues (see, for example, 1 Corinthians 12­–14; Moroni 10:8–23; and D&C 46:8–26).

Five marvelous chapters in the scriptures (1 Corinthians 12-14, Moroni 10, and section 46 of the Doctrine and Covenants) contain the most comprehensive listing of spiritual gifts.

Elder Marvin J. Ashton, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1915–1994), on one occasion pointed out some less con­spicu­ous spiritual gifts that we may enjoy: “The gift of asking; the gift of lis­tening; the gift of hearing and using a still, small voice; the gift of being able to weep; the gift of avoiding con­tention; the gift of being agreeable; the gift of avoiding vain repeti­tion; the gift of seek­ing that which is righteous; the gift of not pass­ing judgment; the gift of looking to God for guidance; the gift of be­ing a disciple; the gift of caring for others; the gift of being able to ponder; the gift of offering prayer; the gift of bearing mighty testi­mony; and the gift of re­ceiv­ing the Holy Ghost” (“There Are Many Gifts,” Ensign, Nov. 1987, 20).

And a final gift that is worthy of particular mention this time of year: the loved ones in our lives. Family members. Friends. Associates. Let us during this holiday season and always treasure those relationships that enrich and bless and lift our lives. Let us be grateful for the people who make our journey through life worthwhile.

7 A final word

November is the month of thanksgiving. And although one day is specifically set apart for the giving of thanks, should we not be thankful at all times and in all places?

In our day the Lord has said: "And in nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things, and obey not his commandments" (D&C 59:21).

Abraham Lincoln said essentially the same thing in these words: "We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in number, wealth, and power as no other Nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multi­plied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the de­ceitfulness of our hearts, that these bless­ings were produced by some superior wis­dom and virtue of our own. Intoxi­cated with unbroken success we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God who made us.

"It behooves us, then, to humble our­selves before the offended power, to con­fess our . . . sins, and to pray for clemency and forgiveness" (Abraham Lincoln, Man of God, John Wesley Hill, 391).

Though spoken nearly a century and a half ago, these words fit our situ­ation to­day as much or more so than they did in 1863. Let us be grateful. Let us keep His command­ments. Let us, as the ancient pro­phet urged, "live in thanks­giving daily" (Alma 24:38), not just at Thanksgiving time but every day of our lives.

As the Psalmist wrote:

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.
Serve the Lord with gladness:
come before his presence with singing.
Know ye that the Lord he is God:
it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,
and into his courts with praise:
be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting;
and his truth endureth to all generations
(Psalms 100:1-5).

A happy Thanksgiving to you all.

7 A final word

These have been an interesting past couple of weeks. First, I was diagnosed with thrush, a painful yeast infection in my mouth and throat. The apparent cause is the multiple courses of antibiotics I've been on throughout the year for a chronic sinus infection. One that just won't go away. Antibiotics apparently wipe out the good kind of bacteria the body needs to prevent such things as yeast infections.

Second, our son Michael's basement flooded. Again. Other times the cause has been their four-year-old Ethan. This time it was a combination of a drenching rainstorm and a tennis ball stuck in the downspout of the rain gutter just above the window well where the water cascaded into the house. (There's probably a life lesson in that small ball creating such havoc, but that's a topic for another time). Could Ethan have gotten a tennis ball on the roof? A question worth pondering.

But I digress. Michael and his two oldest boys were not back from an overnight Scout camp out when we discovered the flooded basement. I helped Shauna move a large entertainment cabinet so we could pull the wet carpet up, thinking at the time I should not be lifting this heavy thing. I partially dropped my end and fell backward against the wall behind me. Two days later I woke up with excruciating back pain that has continued unabated pretty much since then.

Meanwhile, and third, a CT scan of my sinuses revealed that my chronic sinus infection was likely being caused by teeth or the roots of teeth or some such scenario. So off I go to a dental specialist, who confirms what appears to be a problem and schedules a root canal on a tooth right next to the one that he did a root canal on last January. What fun times!

And then Uncle Bill dies in Spokane. And I cannot make it to the funeral because plane tickets on such short notice to such a place are prohibitively expensive. And a car ride is out of the question because of the back pain. You simply can't get there from here.

And then our neighbor across the street from us, a man we've know for the past thirty-plus years, also dies. And all of this in just a little over a week. So, I figured there must be some lessons in all of this. And this is what I concluded:
 
Trials and tribulations are a standard part of life. I think it was meant to be that way. Like exams and assignments in school, we may not like to face them, we may dread the deadlines they impose, but they're what help us learn the subject at hand.

As a wise man once taught, "No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. … It is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire" (Orson F. Whitney, quoted in Faith Precedes the Miracle [1972], 98).

My trials this week are largely incident to my growing older. And to my own stupidity. I realize some people carry far greater burdens. Dealing with debilitating illnesses and the loss of loved ones come readily to mind. Life is simply not for wimps.

Responded to properly, trials and tribulations help us grow. They stretch and expand us. They teach us patience. They teach us compassion and empathy. They help us, as the mere mortals we are, the ones who whine and complain and evade and backslide, stiffen our backs (ouch!) and strengthen our resolve and eventually grow toward our real potential. We are godlings, and our destiny, if we can pass the tests of life successfully, is to become like our heavenly Parents. That's what this whole thing is all about, after all.

7 A final word

School has started again. Some years ago, when we still had children at home, I started a tradition of reading the following piece by Robert Fulgham, entitled "All I Ever Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten" (first published in the Kansas City Times, Sept. 17, 1976), before each new school year began. It contains as simple and as fine a summary as I've ever come across about how to get along in this old world as decent, Christian people.

Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do, and how to be, I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sandbox at nursery school.

These are the things I learned: Share everything. Play fair. Don't hit people. Clean up your own mess. Don't take things that aren't yours. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands be­fore you eat. Flush. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Live a balanced life. Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.

Take a nap every afternoon. When you go out into the world, watch for traffic, hold hands, and stick together. Be aware of wonder. Re­mem­ber the little seed in the plastic cup. The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the plastic cup—they all die. So do we.

And then remember the book about Dick and Jane and the first word you learned, the biggest word of all: look. Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sani­ta­tion. Ecology and politics and sane living.

Think of what a better world it would be if we all—the whole world—had cookies and milk about 3 o'clock every afternoon and then lay down with our blankets for a nap. Or if we had a basic policy in our nation and other nations to always put things back where we found them and cleaned up our own messes. And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.

7 A final word

We are finishing the season of school graduations. I liked what New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote this week.

America's colleges have sent another class of graduates off into the world. This year's graduating class has been ill served. They enter a bad job market, the hangover from decades of excessive borrowing. They inherit a ruinous federal debt.

And this year's graduates are members of the most supervised generation in American history. Through their childhoods and teenage years, they have been monitored, tutored, coached and honed to an unprecedented degree.

Yet upon graduation they enter a world that is wide open and unstructured. Most of them will not quickly get married, buy a home and have kids, as previous generations did. Instead, they will confront diverse job markets, social landscapes and lifestyle niches. Most will wander from job to job and clique to clique, searching for a role.

No one would design a system of extreme supervision to prepare people for a decade of extreme openness. But this is what has emerged. College students are raised in an environment that demands one set of navigational skills, and then are cast out into an environment requiring a different set of skills.

Worst of all, they are sent off with baby-boomer theology ringing in their ears. If you sample some of the commencement addresses these days, you see that many graduates are told to: Follow your passion, chart your own course, march to the beat of your own drummer, follow your dreams and find yourself.

But this mantra misleads on nearly every front.

It is of no help to finding serious things to tie yourself down to. The successful young adult is beginning to make sacred commitments—to a spouse, a community and a calling—yet mostly hears about freedom and autonomy.

Today's graduates are told to find their passion and pursue their dreams. They should find themselves first and then live their quest. But, of course, very few people at age 22 or 24 can take an inward journey and come out having discovered a developed self.

Most successful people don't look inside and then plan a life. They look outside and find a problem, which summons their life. A relative suffers from Alzheimer's and a young woman feels called to help cure that disease. A young man works under a miserable boss, and develops management skills so his department can function. A young woman finds herself confronted by an opportunity she never thought of in a job category she never imagined. This wasn't in her plans, but this is where she can contribute.

Most people don't form a self and then lead a life. They are called by a problem, and the self is constructed by their calling.

The graduates are also told to pursue happiness and joy. But when you read a biography of someone you admire, it's rarely the things that made them happy that compel admiration. It's the things they did to court unhappiness—the things they did that were arduous and miserable, which sometimes cost them friends and aroused hatred. It's excellence, not happiness, that we admire most.

Finally, graduates are told to be independent-minded and to express their inner spirit. But, of course, doing your job well often means suppressing yourself. As Atul Gawande mentioned during his countercultural address last week at Harvard Medical School, being a good doctor often means being part of a team, following the rules of an institution, going down a regimented checklist.

Today's grads enter a culture that preaches the self as the center of a life. But as they age they'll discover that the tasks of a life are at the center. Fulfillment is a byproduct of their tasks, and can't be pursued directly. Most of us are egotistical and most are self-concerned most of the time, but it's nonetheless true that life comes to a point only in those moments when the self dissolves into some task. The purpose in life is not to find yourself. It's to lose yourself.

7 A final word

We posted an entry above in "What in the world" about flooding and other crazy weather patterns currently or recently hitting parts of our country. A couple months ago it was a mega-earthquake and resultant tsunami in Japan. Earlier it was incredible winter storms hitting various parts of the country, including ice and snow in places that typically do not see ice and snow.

When I was a boy growing up in Nampa, I remember Mom saying, "Well, it is the last days," whenever an unusual natural disaster was reported anywhere in the world. It became almost comical she said it so often. But, it is the last days. Nature's upheavals are among the signs of the times.

Mom was right, after all.