Endure To The End

I haven't posted in awhile since thoughts on the afterlife is a tough springboard into other subjects. So today I thought I'd bring us back to life, so to speak, with the topic of enduring to the end.

After I got married this phrase hit me particularly hard. I had hit all the major landmarks on the road to salvation: get baptized, receive the Aaronic and Melchizedek priesthoods, go to the temple, serve a mission, get married and graduate from BYU. (Okay, maybe that last one was a misconception). It seemed the only remaining item on my 'list' was 'endure to the end'. This seemed rather daunting. Before there had always been some checklist item hanging imminently in front of me with clear blessings accompanying each item. Now the only items left seemed to be 'endure' and die.

I think the word endure hit me particularly hard after my mission since I could see it's Latin roots. The word 'dura' in Italian means hard. The prefix en usually denotes 'within'. So endure in a way means within hardship. When I looked up endure using the definition Google function (you type in define: 'word you want to look up') the first definition that came up was "put up with something or somebody unpleasant".

I don't want my life to be something I simply endured, I want it to be lived. I don't mean to suggest we walk away from the difficult or the challenging but rather we come to see the way such instances enhance the beauty of our life. Work, for example, can be seen as an obstacle to fun and enjoyment or it can be infused with appreciation for the variety it adds and the way it enhances the enjoyment of relaxation. Marriage can be seen as an unending stream of obligations or an ongoing exchange of love and mutual support. Children can be seen as a burden or endowment filling our lives with love and meaning.

In short I don't like the phrase endure to the end because it suggests we are in a constant state of difficulty and deprivation, that life is something to 'put up with' until you get your reward. Rather I hope to find the reward in living a well-lived life. I recognize the need to live our life in a way that is socially responsible, that minimizes conflict and that enhances our relationships with other people. I think such denotes a good or well-lived life. Such a life is not to be endured but cherished. Such a life doesn't have to be endured to receive one's reward but rather there are innumerable rewards to be discovered in living such a life.

Thoughts on the After Life

I was first going to say that going through a transition of faith often brings one to think about death but I suppose the reality is that being mortal often brings one to think about death. So I assume that all of you have probably given the subject considerable thought-except of course for my friends who are under 25 who still think they are immortal. (Though having past that age myself that is an ever dwindling percentage of my friends.) I also suppose that being a hypochondriac like me can bring one to think about death a lot more than most people since a hypochondriac is very good at being reminded at just how mortal he really is.

When I was a teenager and had doubts about the Church one of the main factors that kept me active in the Church was the fear of death. The Church promised the ability to gain a 'sure knowledge' of key truths and the one thing I wanted reassurance of more than anything else was the afterlife. I remained active and increasingly devout over the following years. While there was moments of peace and fulfillment during this time whenever I faced any sort of health crisis-and being a hypochondriac ensured I had them quite often even in circumstances most people would never call a crisis-that peace was quickly shattered. This particularly came to a head my senior year at BYU where various pressures and stresses in my life brought me to experience more severe physical symptoms.

The stress ultimately subsided as doctors assured me that the physical ailments I suffered from were not caused by any serious underlying condition. I also began to do more secular research on my own mental health and found many helpful tools in understanding the difficulties I faced in this regard. However the experience, which came at a time when I was living the Church as diligently as at any time in my life, made me accept that the Church didn't offer me absolute reassurance of life after death. It only offered me hope.

I realized that hope the Church offered me was still accessible to me regardless of what I believed. I could certainly hope for an afterlife. Yet at the same time for me I realized that hope didn't have to be wrapped up or attached to things that didn't make sense to me. If there was evidence the afterlife was a certain way or conformed to certain rules then certainly I would embrace it but thus far no evidence I had been presented (or that I've been presented since) seemed logically compelling. I feel confident that I am just as likely to die and find out God is a Buddhist, Muslim or Unitarian as a Mormon. I came to accept a hope in the afterlife while rejecting any specific religious concept of the afterlife and to try to live the life I know I have as well as I can.

Now, do I fear death? Of course. I am terrified of death but I always was. I meet few who aren't-particularly in face of a true health problem. I just accept that I can't eliminate it and that I have to focus on living life. However, there are some things I don't fear anymore. I don't fear that I have to believe or think a certain way to assure myself a good afterlife. I focus on how actions will effect my relationships with others instead of fearing how I will be punished after I die for what I do or don't do. I focus on life and when I think of death I remind myself that one, I can't stop it and two that I am hoping for an afterlife. While I see no reason to accept the beliefs of any religion about such an afterlife I honestly believe that if there is a an afterlife ruled by a just, omnipotent and loving God that the eternal significance of what holy books we attributed to Him, the places we worshipped or the creeds we adopted will be of utter insignificance.I also believe we'll all eventually participate in the best possible source of ongoing joy and happiness realized from the very thing that brings it to us in this life-in nurturing positive relationships with our fellow man and increasing in the understanding of our spectacular world and universe.

Missing the Mission

My brother Andrew returned from his mission in Peru on Wednesday. He appears to have had a wonderful time and occasionally sputters unwittingly into spanish. Unlike me he had the wonderful opportunity of serving with native companions-in fact almost exclusively with native companions.

It's been almost a decade since I returned from my own mission. My views on life and religion have changed drastically since that time but I still cherish my mission experience. I often wish I could go back to my mission and instead of being so intent on teaching people just listen. I talked to more people from different backgrounds on my mission than I had or probably ever will in my lifetime. On my mission I spoke to people from almost every part of the globe-since immigrants were often more willing to listen to us. But not only did I have the chance to speak to these people I had the opportunity to ask their thoughts and feelings about one of the most central parts of their life-religion. How often I asked a few superficial questions of people from these vastly different backgrounds just so I could lead into the message I thought was so much more important than anything they had to say. How sad that I neglected the chance to learn about such a wide array of cultures and religious backgrounds.

However, even with my neglect I took in an incredible amount of experiences. I had men who claimed to receive visitations from Padre Pio or the Virgin Mary to exuberant atheists who encouraged us to stop preaching and just start enjoying life to scientologists who tried to sell us their manuals. I attended Mass in the 500 year old Florence Cathedral and saw countless works of great art including 'The David'. I rode across the canals of Venice and saw the beautiful flowing hills of rural Tuscany.

But most of all I got to see the day to day living of a wonderful and ancient people-the Italians. How much I love them and miss them. I miss how on Saturday and Sunday evening instead of sitting home watching television the Italians would emerge from their homes, even in winter, to walk the streets of dowtown. Downtown areas were generally only for pedestrian traffic. They would walk with their families and greet friends as they perused the various stores. I miss the delicious food that they prepared with such dedication and such delight. I miss seeing the old men gather every morning on central square to talk and argue politics with their friends. I miss the kisses they exchanged as they greeted one another. I miss the angelic sound of their beautiful language as it flowed from their smiles.

How strange it is to look back and to think I thought I had the key to filling their lives with meaning when so many of them had figured it all out. They knew how to take in the simple pleasures of life with moderation and joy. They drank, but frowned on getting drunk. They ate delicious food, but walked and generally didn't eat to the point of becoming overweight. But most of all they drank in deeply the one joy that they knew mattered most and that would ultimately bring them the most sustainable happiness-fulfilling relationships with other people.

"I Ate Money"

Saturday our two year old daughter Aspen suddenly started coughing and then began throwing up. She had seemed fine all day and so I immediately suspected she had eaten something but she wouldn't say. Steph went to the store thinking she was just sick but Aspen kept vomiting. Finally I turned off the TV and made her look right at me, "Aspen, did you eat anything you shouldn't have?" She looked at me with a sad face, I guess feeling a little guilty, and said, "I ate money." I got out a few coins and asked her which kind she ate and she seemed to point to a penny that I held up and she nodded when I asked, "Did you eat this?" I asked her when she ate it but I think she thought I asked 'why' instead of when because she looked up still with her sad face, "I wanted a treat."

I hurriedly looked up online and sadly found out that about the only coin you have to worry about swallowing is a penny. Apparently a penny has zinc which can lead to ulcers-particularly if it gets stuck. I went back to Aspen, "Are you sure you ate this kind of money?" holding up the penny. At that point she looked up again with her sad puppy eyes and about made me cry with, "I'm sure that I love you." I hugged her and decided I would just trust that she had eaten a penny. I called Poison Control who told me to get her medical help.

On the way to the Instacare Aspen threw up again. She threw up again while waiting for the x-ray. The x-ray came back with a giant circle in her neck. It was stuck in her esophagus and while the doctor didn't appear panicked she made it quite clear, "You have to go to the ER at Primary Children's Hospital right now." I hurried to the car and Steph called, having arrived home and said she would meet me at the hospital. Aspen slept on the way to the hospital-which actually made me freak out as I was afraid she had passed out so I would occasionally wake her up to make sure she was okay.
At the ER I saw firsthand the problem of people using the ER as their primary care doctor. The waiting room was packed. I was very lucky that a nurse on her way home from her shift saw me holding the picture of Aspen's x-ray and approached me, "she swallowed a coin, poor thing. I'll get her in right away." and hurried back with her x-ray to radiology. Only five minutes after checking in we were taken back to a patient room.

Aspen through all this was very brave. At first when we headed to Instacare and I told her we were going to the doctor she was excited about seeing the fish. Once we actually got there and she had looked at the fish everything after that was sort of a downer. Throwing up, weird people poking her and rooms full of weird machines probably weren't quite as fun as fish. She was obviously sad but never cried. In the patient room I held her and sang and when I asked if she wanted me to kept singing she nodded her head silently.

While in the patient room Steph arrived with my Dad since Steph left the kids with my Mom. She perked up a little to see her Mom but quickly went back to her somber look. Steph asked her if she wanted to say a prayer and she shook her head and she didn't want anymore singing either.

A radiologist tech came in and took us to a room with a huge x-ray machine. He told us we were going to tie Aspen to a board and a radiologist would put a small tube down her throat while watching her on the 'live' x-ray machine to pull it out. Aspen never cried while being tied to the board and even once they started to put the tube down her throat that the radiologist told her to 'eat like spaghetti'. She cried some once she started to gag but the tube clasped onto the coin fairly quickly and came right out. Once it was in her mouth we turned her on the board to her side so she could spit it out. It was a nickel, not a penny. The technician said it was one of the smoothest removals he'd seen-and apparently this happens quite often-two to three times a week he said. If it hadn't come out they would have had to taken her to the operating room for an endoscopy.

After the coin was out the vomiting stopped and she was able to take liquids. She downed a juice box and almost all of another small juice container before stopping. Within about ten minutes she was starting to smile and laugh.

At home that night while laying in bed I realize that as much as I hate things like that it does put things in perspective. You realize that you can be caught up in the minutia of life and the insignificant details and suddenly the things which are most precious to you can be at stake. Aspen wasn't in serious trouble but I could see how tenuous our safety and well-being really is. It also makes you appreciate the blessing of being in a time with so many incredible advances. I've been reading a book about the wives of Joseph Smith. One of his wives later married Brigham Young and had five children, all that died in childhood of what would now be minor infections and then she died of breast cancer in her middle age. We take for granted the wonderful medical care that has come from the countless hours of researchers striving to provide new scientific discoveries and medical equipment as well as the doctors and nurses and hospital staff that work tirelessly to provide us care. But sadly we know even with having the best medical care in history there are no guarantees. I suppose that realization, brought home at times by major or even minor health scares, reminds us to appreciate our own lives and the lives of those we hold precious that much more.

The Inherent Hypocrisy In Parenting

Every morning when my daughters get out of bed they go down to the living room to start off the day with their daily dose of Curious George. Then I receive my first order of the day from both of them, one generally taking the cue from whoever remembers first, "Dad, I want chocolate milk!" This order is rarely responded to promptly -at times because I'm still in bed or at other times because I simply have higher priorities than supplying my daughter's routine fix of chocolate milk-but however much time I take I can be assured that the order will be repeated louder and louder and more frequently the more I allow time to lapse from the initial request.

About a year ago I noticed that when I asked our oldest daugther to do something she suddenly started responding with "Just a minute". Of course, what this really meant was, "Forget about it dad, I'm not going to do it." Mostly I assume because after a minute passes in a 4 year old's world any lingering memory of a parent's request disappeared 59 seconds ago. My natural reaction to this was, "No, not in a minute, right now!" It was only after a few times that this process was repeated before it even struck me where her seemingly novel idea of putting me off with 'just a minute' was coming from-me. I often told her 'just a minute' when I was putting off her requests such as those for the chocolate milke and sadly, just as she did, at times I allowed enough time to pass that I completely forget to get around to responding to what she requested.

It has since occurred to me how often our hypocrisy as parents is manifest. To some extent such hypocrisy is necessary. Certainly there are priorities as an adult that I understand pre-empt chocolate milk and requests I make of my children that demand immediate attention-if for no other reason than they won't remember to do it later. But there are many times where I've realized I've been hypocritical unecessarily. I have, for example, often disallowed my daugther from eating snacks or dessert before a meal but I realize how frequently I sneak a cookie or other dessert before dinner. We are trying to give them a good start in life with establishing good habits(and yes, we're working on kicking the chocolate milk habit as well) perhaps at the recognition we've failed to establish those habits ourselves.

It makes me realize that we are in many ways closer to being big kids rather than adults than we like to think. Certainly we have a much more complex array of emotions we are dealing with and are processing a larger amount of information but we still find ourselves in a battle with our instincts. If we as adults lose that battle so frequently how surprised should we be that our children, with far less comprehension and experience, lose those battles as well? If nothing else, it can certainly instill us with a degree of patience. So at times when I find myself overly frustrated at my kids for fighting or sneaking desserts I've told them to stay away from I remind myself that I'm still figuring out how to get myself to go a week without buying junk from the vending machine.

Pushing Why

About a year ago my oldest daughter discovered a useful word. Little could I imagine the Pandora's Box that would be opened with her learning it and little did I realize how persistent she would be in utilizing it to find knew knowledge. The word, of course, was 'why'.

No longer, for example, was it enough to simply watch Sleeping Beauty for the twentieth time, now we had to dig deep into the motivations of the characters.

"Why did the witch shoot lightning at Phillip?"
"Because she doesn't want him to wake up Sleeping Beauty."
"Why doesn't she want him to wake up Sleeping Beauty?"
"Because she is mad at Sleeping Beauty's family."
"Why is she mad at Sleeping Beauty's family?"
And on and on until we finally arrive to a point where I found an excuse to escape the interrogation or until I arrived at the answer my daughter hates most, "I don't know."

The first rather inconsequential but interesting lesson from my daughter's questioning was what a nonsensical character the witch in Sleeping Beauty, Malificent, really was. It appeared the whole motivation for her wicked rampage of evil all starts from feeling snubbed at not being invited to a baby shower. Even then it isn't clear if she wouldn't have done the same terrible thing even if she'd been invited. All the other evil villains in movies at least want SOMETHING, but Malificent seemed quite content pursuing evil for pure evil's sake-even if she wasn't getting anything in return.

But the real exciting thing I observed was my daughter was developing the same inquisitive spirit that had led me to question and ultimately learn. As aggravating as it at times to appease her unsatiable curiousity I want her to push why to it's unavoidable end of "I don't know" with all the important matters of life and with the topics that interest her. I want her to feel whoever she is receiving knowledge from she can always ask 'why' and see if they can push that question farther and farther. Even more excitingly I hope she can even come to learn that at times she can push "I don't know" one more question back herself. It is a thrilling journey that can at times be frightening, that comes with detractors offering less challenging detours with trite explanations. However I hope she will come to see the great beauty found in the discovery and even uncertainty in the path of pushing why.