Christmas becomes less and less exciting as I grow older. I mean, it’s great to participate in the same holiday traditions I did when I was a kid, but the thrill and anticipation that comes from childlike curiosity dulls with age and is replaced by skepticism and impatience. I think the reason for this change is the repetition of disappointment. A child so anxiously waits for that one gift they’ve wanted for so long. Christmas morning they unwrap all their presents and, sure enough, their dream is a reality and they enjoy that new CD player or bike or car. Yet, for years afterward, they will remember that wonderful gift and be disappointed by the valuable, yet, less thrilling surprises of future Christmases.
What, you may be wondering dear reader, does this have to do with the Springville World Folkfest 2012? I assure you, you’ll understand shortly.
Folkfest 2011 was possible the most wonderful Folkfest I had experienced in the twelve plus years I have participated in this annual event. I country-chaired for a group of the most friendly, loving, and talented Indonesians. I have precious memories of personal experiences with every one of the 30 people in the group. I consider them part of my family and I miss them dearly now that they are so far away. Also, being my first year as a country-chair, some of my greatest tests and accomplishments as a leader came from my experiences with the Indonesians. Their love for me gave me the confidence to progress in other areas of my life, especially at my job working at a school for special education.
After being given such a wonderful gift at the Folkfest 2011, I naturally had much anxiety as Folkfest 2012 approached. It was not because I didn’t feel confident in my ability to fulfill the duties of a country-chair. I feared that my experience with my 2012 group would be less satisfying, less warm, and less eternal than the experiences I shared with the Indonesians during the 2011 Folkfest.
The housing arrangements and scheduling did not go smoothly for the 2012 festival. We had many groups drop out last minute and one group decide to come with only a few days’ notice. I had tried to prepare my host families far in advance so that I would not have to stress about not having enough during the month of the festival. However, the country I was supposed to have, Kenya, dropped out and I was given a new country, Colombia, which had more than ten more participants that Kenya making it essential for me to find many last minute hosts. As it does every year, the host family arrangements fell into place just in time for the beginning of the festival thanks to the many hours donated by my fellow country-chairs and the housing directors.
We encountered more stress and confusion when our dancers arrived, not in Salt Lake as we expected, but in Las Vegas. They were not aware of the distance between Vegas and Springville, so they were unprepared. They had to use all their extra money to rent a bus to drive them to Springville where they arrived at two in the morning. My very tired host families collected the dancers and took them home where they would sleep only a few hours before the musicians had to be taken to sound check rehearsal early the next morning. Even though I was tired I was glad I got up for that rehearsal. I met the director of the Colombian group, Emerson. He was quite a character. He wanted to ask Patrice something so he sat down on the edge of the stage, patted the spot next to him. She sat down and he wrapped his arm around her and patted her head and said, “We need to make negotiate.” They then proceeded to discuss business. He was so energetic and fun.
The rest of the week, for me, consisted of no sleep and much stress. However, I can say with all sincerity that it was worth every minute. I had the pleasure of hosting six Colombian men in my parents’ vacant rental house in Springville. Nathan, Cynthia, and Toey were also there with me to help with driving. Our six boys were delightful and loving. They expressed appreciation frequently and helped wherever they could. Though, I admit, their lack of punctuality was frustrating sometimes.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Folkfest 2012 Part 2
The first of my six boys I was able to talk to on my own was Deibys Medina. He was a musician so I drove him alone to rehearsal Monday morning. He was very grateful for everything we had prepared for them. I also remember that he was very interested in learning. He said he would learn more of our language every day so he can speak well to us. During the rest of the week, and the weeks to follow, I learned to love him very much. He was sweet and thoughtful. He was one of the few of the guests that were consistently punctual. I loved to talk to him about his life and his country. It was hard sometimes because he did not speak a whole lot of English, but he did his best and I actually did notice his language skills improving during the time we were together. One day, we took the Colombians to Cabellas. Deibys picked out a gift for me there; a door mat. It was funny because he was always talking about how dirty the floor got at home because so many people were coming in and out all week long and we didn’t have time to sweep because we were so busy.
Ivan did not speak English a lot. He was quieter than the others. He was very gentle and he smiled a lot. Juan Pablo, or JP, was the opposite of Ivan. He was very loud and very physical. He gave hugs and kisses a lot. Ralph got a little jealous and had to talk to JP about hugging and kissing Cynthia too much. JP also sang, too. The last night the Colombians stayed with us we went up Hobble Creek Canyon to roast marshmallows, all the way home JP sang songs in Spanish. I tried to record some of his singing, but my cell phone battery died.
Manuel had the most awesome afro-style hair and everyone commented on it. Whenever someone asked, “Manuel, which on is he?” I would say, “The one with the hair,” and they would always know who I was talking about. He was usually the one who made us late for everything because he took forever to fix his hair. When we took the Colombians boating at Utah Lake he was so worried that his hair would get ruined if it got wet. He made me laugh. We ended up getting stranded at Utah Lake because the boat died and then after we got it going again Kristi Ruesch, one of my host families and also a teacher at ATEC where I work, got her truck stuck in the sand at Sandy Beach.
I often got Osias and JP mixed up. It kind of reminded me of the issue I had mixing up Sasha and Niken during the 2011 Folkfest. At first, they looked so much alike to me that I mixed them up pretty much every time I talked to them, but as I got to know them better, I realized that they are not alike at all. Osias did not speak English very well, but he talked to me a lot. Most of the time, I think, he would forget that I didn’t understand Spanish because he would talk and talk and talk and I would just stare at him blankly. However, he did not ever have a hard time telling me that he was happy and that he loved me and my family. When the dancers performed for my students at ATEC, Osias let me wear his hat for a while. After they left Springville, I went to visit them at the Bountiful Folkfestival. They were in the middle of their dance when I arrived. Osias and JP pulled me in the circle of dancers, gave me his hat, and tried to teach me to dance with them. I was really bad at it, but I didn’t care that I looked retarded in front of all those people because my brothers wanted me to dance with them. When they left Springville, Osias gave me two beautiful figurines. One of them was a city bus and the other was a canoe with produce on it and a man rowing. The man looks so much like Osias. When he gave it to me he said, “This is me.” I have it out on my bookshelf so that I can see him when I’m missing my wonderful Colombian brothers.
I know I’m not supposed to have favorite people, but David is one of my favorite people in the world right now. He is so handsome and friendly. The first time I had time to talk to him and get to know him was when we were at home getting ready for dinner. He brought out his laptop and showed Cynthia and me pictures of his home country. I fell in love with his country and his culture because of his photography and his stories. The rest of the week we talked often. He spoke more English than any of the others making communication so much easier. He did, however, struggle with the English “ch” sound. It always came out “sh” which became quite amusing when he tried to say “cheat”. It kept coming out as a particular inappropriate word. I remember driving around with that swearword being repeated over and over and over in the back seat. It was quite amusing. During our cook-out on their last night in Springville an ambulance drove past with its siren on. All of the Colombians started screaming something. David explained to me that they had a story in their country about a woman whose children were kidnapped and killed. The sound of screaming in the forest was supposed to mean that she was wailing as she searched for her lost children.
When I visited David at the South Jordan festival I was able to meet his sister who had come to see him perform. She was a very beautiful and sweet girl. After the Colombians left Springville, David made sure to keep in contact with me through facebook chat. Even now that he is home in Colombia he makes sure to talk with me when he can. Last night I spoke with him online and, even though we have language restrictions, he was able to sense that I was upset about something and give me advice in the way only a good friend can. Perhaps my most precious memory of David was the last night during our marshmallow roast, David silenced everyone and gave a wonderful speech to thank me and my siblings and to invite us to experience his home. I obviously cried a lot.
The night before the Colombians left Springville, as I mentioned, we took them up Hobble Creek Canyon to roast marshmallows and peeps. We had not told our boys where we were going ahead of time, so about half way up the canyon they asked if we were going to Payson. I said, “No, we’re going up the canyon to have a cook-out.” They didn’t understand, so I repeated myself. They still didn’t get it, so I tried saying it a couple different ways. Finally I just gave up and said, “We’re kidnapping you.” Of course, they didn’t know what that meant either. After some explaining, they all understood at the same time and said, “Ahhh! Oh no! We are scared! We are crying!” They continued the joke later on after we had started the fire. I was cleaning the roasting sticks in the fire. The ends of the sticks were red hot. Deibys said, “Are you going to burn us like cows now?” It made me laugh.
The last two days of the festival, Kristi Ruesch and her husband, Mark, had to go to Las Vegas for a wedding. I stayed at their house to be with the four Colombian girls they were hosting. The girls were so fun. I took them to DI to go shopping. They bought a whole bunch of purses for their friends at home. One of the girls, Louisa, tried on hats with me. I got a really cute picture of her wearing an old fashioned black hat with netting draping in front of her face. She was such a beautiful girl! While the girls were shopping at DI, I took one of them, Marcella, to a nearby Hispanic market to buy a calling card. When I was backing out of my parking spot another car backed out at the same time on the opposite side of the lot, making us hit bumpers. I felt so bad that Marcella had to experience that. Now she’s probably going to think Americans are crazy drivers. Fortunately there was no damage done to either car, so it was okay.
Claudia spoke very good English. She was the one in charge of selling souvenirs and taking pictures, kind of like a mix between Indonesia’s Kevin and Dandy. I remember that I had to bring Jaxton to the South Jordan festival with me. Claudia thought he was so cute and wanted to hold him a lot.
I had the privilege to be one of the drivers that took the Colombians to Las Vegas to catch their flight home after the South Jordan festival was over. The last of my four girls, Ana, sat shotgun the whole way there and talked to me to help me stay awake. It was such a wonderful conversation, one of those conversations that, even though you can’t remember exactly what was said, you think about it and feel a wonderful loving connection to the person. Even though I got really sick on the way home from Las Vegas and had to stop and spend the night at Aunt Stephanie and Uncle John’s house, I am so grateful that I was able to go. I feel spoiled that I got to spend so much more time with the Colombians than most of the other hosts.
As I sit here trying my hardest to remember every detail of the time I spent with the Colombians I am saddened to think that there is no possible way I can capture every memory in words. I know I’ve already forgotten things about their time here that I would have loved to keep for the rest of my life. The one thing I will not forget, though, is the feeling that there really is enough room in my heart to love two countries, and more. The gift of the Folkfest will always be precious and fulfilling every year because it gives me the opportunity to revisit the memories of past years and create new friendships and add new members to my international family.
Ivan did not speak English a lot. He was quieter than the others. He was very gentle and he smiled a lot. Juan Pablo, or JP, was the opposite of Ivan. He was very loud and very physical. He gave hugs and kisses a lot. Ralph got a little jealous and had to talk to JP about hugging and kissing Cynthia too much. JP also sang, too. The last night the Colombians stayed with us we went up Hobble Creek Canyon to roast marshmallows, all the way home JP sang songs in Spanish. I tried to record some of his singing, but my cell phone battery died.
Manuel had the most awesome afro-style hair and everyone commented on it. Whenever someone asked, “Manuel, which on is he?” I would say, “The one with the hair,” and they would always know who I was talking about. He was usually the one who made us late for everything because he took forever to fix his hair. When we took the Colombians boating at Utah Lake he was so worried that his hair would get ruined if it got wet. He made me laugh. We ended up getting stranded at Utah Lake because the boat died and then after we got it going again Kristi Ruesch, one of my host families and also a teacher at ATEC where I work, got her truck stuck in the sand at Sandy Beach.
I often got Osias and JP mixed up. It kind of reminded me of the issue I had mixing up Sasha and Niken during the 2011 Folkfest. At first, they looked so much alike to me that I mixed them up pretty much every time I talked to them, but as I got to know them better, I realized that they are not alike at all. Osias did not speak English very well, but he talked to me a lot. Most of the time, I think, he would forget that I didn’t understand Spanish because he would talk and talk and talk and I would just stare at him blankly. However, he did not ever have a hard time telling me that he was happy and that he loved me and my family. When the dancers performed for my students at ATEC, Osias let me wear his hat for a while. After they left Springville, I went to visit them at the Bountiful Folkfestival. They were in the middle of their dance when I arrived. Osias and JP pulled me in the circle of dancers, gave me his hat, and tried to teach me to dance with them. I was really bad at it, but I didn’t care that I looked retarded in front of all those people because my brothers wanted me to dance with them. When they left Springville, Osias gave me two beautiful figurines. One of them was a city bus and the other was a canoe with produce on it and a man rowing. The man looks so much like Osias. When he gave it to me he said, “This is me.” I have it out on my bookshelf so that I can see him when I’m missing my wonderful Colombian brothers.
I know I’m not supposed to have favorite people, but David is one of my favorite people in the world right now. He is so handsome and friendly. The first time I had time to talk to him and get to know him was when we were at home getting ready for dinner. He brought out his laptop and showed Cynthia and me pictures of his home country. I fell in love with his country and his culture because of his photography and his stories. The rest of the week we talked often. He spoke more English than any of the others making communication so much easier. He did, however, struggle with the English “ch” sound. It always came out “sh” which became quite amusing when he tried to say “cheat”. It kept coming out as a particular inappropriate word. I remember driving around with that swearword being repeated over and over and over in the back seat. It was quite amusing. During our cook-out on their last night in Springville an ambulance drove past with its siren on. All of the Colombians started screaming something. David explained to me that they had a story in their country about a woman whose children were kidnapped and killed. The sound of screaming in the forest was supposed to mean that she was wailing as she searched for her lost children.
When I visited David at the South Jordan festival I was able to meet his sister who had come to see him perform. She was a very beautiful and sweet girl. After the Colombians left Springville, David made sure to keep in contact with me through facebook chat. Even now that he is home in Colombia he makes sure to talk with me when he can. Last night I spoke with him online and, even though we have language restrictions, he was able to sense that I was upset about something and give me advice in the way only a good friend can. Perhaps my most precious memory of David was the last night during our marshmallow roast, David silenced everyone and gave a wonderful speech to thank me and my siblings and to invite us to experience his home. I obviously cried a lot.
The night before the Colombians left Springville, as I mentioned, we took them up Hobble Creek Canyon to roast marshmallows and peeps. We had not told our boys where we were going ahead of time, so about half way up the canyon they asked if we were going to Payson. I said, “No, we’re going up the canyon to have a cook-out.” They didn’t understand, so I repeated myself. They still didn’t get it, so I tried saying it a couple different ways. Finally I just gave up and said, “We’re kidnapping you.” Of course, they didn’t know what that meant either. After some explaining, they all understood at the same time and said, “Ahhh! Oh no! We are scared! We are crying!” They continued the joke later on after we had started the fire. I was cleaning the roasting sticks in the fire. The ends of the sticks were red hot. Deibys said, “Are you going to burn us like cows now?” It made me laugh.
The last two days of the festival, Kristi Ruesch and her husband, Mark, had to go to Las Vegas for a wedding. I stayed at their house to be with the four Colombian girls they were hosting. The girls were so fun. I took them to DI to go shopping. They bought a whole bunch of purses for their friends at home. One of the girls, Louisa, tried on hats with me. I got a really cute picture of her wearing an old fashioned black hat with netting draping in front of her face. She was such a beautiful girl! While the girls were shopping at DI, I took one of them, Marcella, to a nearby Hispanic market to buy a calling card. When I was backing out of my parking spot another car backed out at the same time on the opposite side of the lot, making us hit bumpers. I felt so bad that Marcella had to experience that. Now she’s probably going to think Americans are crazy drivers. Fortunately there was no damage done to either car, so it was okay.
Claudia spoke very good English. She was the one in charge of selling souvenirs and taking pictures, kind of like a mix between Indonesia’s Kevin and Dandy. I remember that I had to bring Jaxton to the South Jordan festival with me. Claudia thought he was so cute and wanted to hold him a lot.
I had the privilege to be one of the drivers that took the Colombians to Las Vegas to catch their flight home after the South Jordan festival was over. The last of my four girls, Ana, sat shotgun the whole way there and talked to me to help me stay awake. It was such a wonderful conversation, one of those conversations that, even though you can’t remember exactly what was said, you think about it and feel a wonderful loving connection to the person. Even though I got really sick on the way home from Las Vegas and had to stop and spend the night at Aunt Stephanie and Uncle John’s house, I am so grateful that I was able to go. I feel spoiled that I got to spend so much more time with the Colombians than most of the other hosts.
As I sit here trying my hardest to remember every detail of the time I spent with the Colombians I am saddened to think that there is no possible way I can capture every memory in words. I know I’ve already forgotten things about their time here that I would have loved to keep for the rest of my life. The one thing I will not forget, though, is the feeling that there really is enough room in my heart to love two countries, and more. The gift of the Folkfest will always be precious and fulfilling every year because it gives me the opportunity to revisit the memories of past years and create new friendships and add new members to my international family.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Regret
What do I regret? I don’t think I regret my past. I don’t regret my mistakes. I have learned valuable lessons from every heart ache. What I do regret is not appreciating moments enough. I regret not feeling enough. I regret not allowing myself to be overcome both by joy and sadness. I regret my own repression. I regret teaching myself not to feel because when I can no longer hold it back, the pain is so much worse, the happiness so unsustainable, I wish to always feel that way. I regret imprisoning myself.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Gone and Home
As far away
from home I run
I must run
back again.
As far from God
and love and joy
I wander
without thought.
The journey back
is just as long
and feels
even longer.
Tis better, perhaps
to just not leave
the known
and comfort here.
But I seek more
than what I know
and love,
I made and I own;
and always
the journey home
brings a joy
of its own.
from home I run
I must run
back again.
As far from God
and love and joy
I wander
without thought.
The journey back
is just as long
and feels
even longer.
Tis better, perhaps
to just not leave
the known
and comfort here.
But I seek more
than what I know
and love,
I made and I own;
and always
the journey home
brings a joy
of its own.
After Christmas Candy
The dying sun fades gently sending the room into semi-darkness. The glows from the crackling fire plays across the ornaments on the Christmas tree making them shimmer. From the table in the kitchen the smell of freshly popped corn mixes with the sweet, almost sour, smell of the syrup holding the popcorn into balls. At the other end of the table are chocolates filled with a strange assortment of treats including crushed candy cane, Cheerio cereal, homemade caramel, an butterscotch chips that are too sweet for my liking.
A peaceful silence adds to the warmth of the living room. Mom is laying, stomach down, by the Christmas tree. The oil lamp sitting on the floor beside her gives off just enough light for her to read by. Her voice doesn’t cut through the silence, but seems to add to it. It’s almost like I am feeling the story that floats from her lips rather than hearing it. The younger children feel it too. Their faces are alight with excitement and anticipation but hey sit still resting their heads on Dad’s upper arms. Dad is leaning back against the soft cushions of the couch. His eyes are closed, but I know he’s listening by the way the corners of his mouth turn up into a content smile.
As I listen to the story of a Christmas long past I quietly snack on a few precious chocolates chosen from the ones on the table. The rich creamy taste of the chocolate combines smoothly with the crunchy peppermint chunks. My older sister’s head rests on my lap. This is one of those beautiful moments when her eyes shine, reflecting the colors from the tiny Christmas lights. Her hair seems to dance with the flickering fire as it continues its never ceasing choreography.
I turn to my last two siblings. Both are seated on the ground with their backs against the couch. The younger, a boy with handsome blue eyes and blonde hair, has his head on the shoulder of his older sister. Her short brown hair tickles his cheek. Her face is merry and her smile could make the hardest of hearts laugh.
The cares of any meetings, grand parties, violent snowball fights and other such activities are lost in the soft hum of that beautiful story. The excitement of the day’s candy making have long since dimmed into a peace that is so close to heaven I can almost hear the songs of glorified angels vibrating in my heart.
A peaceful silence adds to the warmth of the living room. Mom is laying, stomach down, by the Christmas tree. The oil lamp sitting on the floor beside her gives off just enough light for her to read by. Her voice doesn’t cut through the silence, but seems to add to it. It’s almost like I am feeling the story that floats from her lips rather than hearing it. The younger children feel it too. Their faces are alight with excitement and anticipation but hey sit still resting their heads on Dad’s upper arms. Dad is leaning back against the soft cushions of the couch. His eyes are closed, but I know he’s listening by the way the corners of his mouth turn up into a content smile.
As I listen to the story of a Christmas long past I quietly snack on a few precious chocolates chosen from the ones on the table. The rich creamy taste of the chocolate combines smoothly with the crunchy peppermint chunks. My older sister’s head rests on my lap. This is one of those beautiful moments when her eyes shine, reflecting the colors from the tiny Christmas lights. Her hair seems to dance with the flickering fire as it continues its never ceasing choreography.
I turn to my last two siblings. Both are seated on the ground with their backs against the couch. The younger, a boy with handsome blue eyes and blonde hair, has his head on the shoulder of his older sister. Her short brown hair tickles his cheek. Her face is merry and her smile could make the hardest of hearts laugh.
The cares of any meetings, grand parties, violent snowball fights and other such activities are lost in the soft hum of that beautiful story. The excitement of the day’s candy making have long since dimmed into a peace that is so close to heaven I can almost hear the songs of glorified angels vibrating in my heart.
Graduation Speech May 2009
For several years I have been involved in theater, first as an actress then, more recently, as a theater technician. My favorite part of theater is the lighting. When the entire auditorium is dark and I am standing in a single spotlight, it is so easy to believe that I am alone. If that circle of light made up my whole conception of the world, then I would eventually begin to feel as if I were trapped or missing something. The only way to discover more, and broaden my perception is to take a risk and ste3p out of the familiar, lit area of the spotlight into the dark. By taking that step, I might discover that I was on the edge of the stage, and I may find myself falling. I also might find that there is nothing but more stage, and to find something more interesting, I have to take further steps. Either way, by taking a blind step, I have learned more about my surroundings.
Our Heavenly Father has prepared for us “great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures.” He offers us these treasures if we trust in him enough to follow his commandments.
In the Book of Mormon, Moroni defines one simple step that can help broaden our spotlights of knowledge. “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that you would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true.” Asking God, in theory, is a simple enough request. When confronted with the question, “Is it too much for you to take a minute or two out of your day to really get to know your God?” often the response is, “no, that’s not too much to ask,” yet, so often Heavenly Father is forgotten as we speed through daily tasks. The impact of such a simple oversight is devastating. God give us a promise, “and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” Don’t get so stuck in your narrow spotlight that you forget there are much greater treasures outside your limited knowledge.
Another step toward treasures of knowledge is given in John 5:39 “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life; and they are they which testify of me.” Simple stated, studying the scriptures strengthens testimony and helps us to know Christ.
Too many people are settling for what they have and who they are. They don’t realize their own power to achieve, ultimately, everything that is good in this world, let alone the eternal blessings they are capable of obtaining. They are too afraid of falling off the edge to step out of their confining spotlight into the undiscovered stage. This is where our careful study and prayer becomes so important. After we have found knowledge, what does it profit us by hoarding it, keeping it to ourselves? “For of him unto whom much is given much is required; and he who sins against the greater light shall receive the greater condemnation.” Seek out those who need your knowledge to broaden their own testimonies and find their own hidden treasures.
“Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us, we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God.” I have discovered that, the greater treasures of knowledge I seek, the more able I am to be an example or an ambassador for Christ. Having an understanding of how anything in life works makes it more possible for one to move forward and make what exists better. Learn everything about your stage. Keep discovering until your entire auditorium is illuminated and the world outside the doors of your auditorium, until you have obtained your heavenly treasures and are worthy to live and progress in the presence of God.
Our Heavenly Father has prepared for us “great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures.” He offers us these treasures if we trust in him enough to follow his commandments.
In the Book of Mormon, Moroni defines one simple step that can help broaden our spotlights of knowledge. “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that you would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true.” Asking God, in theory, is a simple enough request. When confronted with the question, “Is it too much for you to take a minute or two out of your day to really get to know your God?” often the response is, “no, that’s not too much to ask,” yet, so often Heavenly Father is forgotten as we speed through daily tasks. The impact of such a simple oversight is devastating. God give us a promise, “and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” Don’t get so stuck in your narrow spotlight that you forget there are much greater treasures outside your limited knowledge.
Another step toward treasures of knowledge is given in John 5:39 “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life; and they are they which testify of me.” Simple stated, studying the scriptures strengthens testimony and helps us to know Christ.
Too many people are settling for what they have and who they are. They don’t realize their own power to achieve, ultimately, everything that is good in this world, let alone the eternal blessings they are capable of obtaining. They are too afraid of falling off the edge to step out of their confining spotlight into the undiscovered stage. This is where our careful study and prayer becomes so important. After we have found knowledge, what does it profit us by hoarding it, keeping it to ourselves? “For of him unto whom much is given much is required; and he who sins against the greater light shall receive the greater condemnation.” Seek out those who need your knowledge to broaden their own testimonies and find their own hidden treasures.
“Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us, we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God.” I have discovered that, the greater treasures of knowledge I seek, the more able I am to be an example or an ambassador for Christ. Having an understanding of how anything in life works makes it more possible for one to move forward and make what exists better. Learn everything about your stage. Keep discovering until your entire auditorium is illuminated and the world outside the doors of your auditorium, until you have obtained your heavenly treasures and are worthy to live and progress in the presence of God.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
I’m thinking today about the classic fable of the Boy Who Cried Wolf. A boy works for his village as a sheep herder. The herd was peaceful for many weeks. The boy became bored and thought he might liven up his day a bit by playing a prank on the village. He ran out of the hills and into the valley where the villagers were working, screaming all the way “Wolf! Wolf!” The villagers dropped their various projects and ran to assist the boy. Upon their arrival to the pasture they found nothing but the sheep grazing peacefully. They were good naturedly frustrated but returned to their work. The next day the boy’s work became unbearably boring again, so he repeated the stunt from the day before. Again, the villagers rushed to his aid, but they found no wolf attack. By the third day, the boy had grown addicted to this new game, while the villagers had grown wary of it. They were slow to answer his call, but they grudgingly came, even though they rightfully expected no wolf. The next day, the boy came running into town yelling for help. The men kept at their work, not feeling it worth the delay to trek up into the hills again. The women shook their heads and turned away, pretending not to hear. Not a body in the village moved to answer the shepherd boy’s call. As a result, every sheep in the flock was killed that day by a pack of ravenous wolves.
This fable has obvious daily applications, but I’ve been thinking of a less common way that it can be paralleled to relationships and parenting. A brutal downfall in modern relationships is the presence of this underlying feeling of not being good enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not spiritual enough. All these, I feel, are the after effects, sometimes long after, of “the Boy Who Cried Wolf” principle. It is the nature of human beings to drown out repeated messages. Usually these messages are unnecessary because the hearer has memorized and habited the concept of the message, or because it has been recognized as unnecessary in the past and it is assumed to remain unnecessary presently. Just as the message announcing the wolf attack in the story, messages from parents, friends, and loved ones can become unheard because of unwise repetition. In the example of a parent-child relationship, children become accustomed to their mothers’ scolding and often ignore it or generate an automated response to satisfy their parent’s demands such as blurting a quick “please” after a “what should you say?”, or a “sorry” after a “go make them feel better.” These responses, despite appearing to create good habits, actually lead to insincerity. A forced “please” or “sorry” is obviously not heartfelt, and the repetition of such responses can lead to the repetition of feeling-less propriety.
On a deeper perspective, the things we say to one another affect us in ways that may not be obvious for many years. The accumulation of anything repeated is always greater than its original face-value. When a child is told they are being naughty once, they feel bad and try to change the behavior. After hearing it over and over, even if it is disguised by kind words, a child will, in a sense, build up an immune system to this particular criticism. The criticism is met with that learned automated response, which is usually the “ignore” or “delete message” button. When children, especially teenagers and young adult children, are met with excessive criticism, the results can be hugely detrimental to their futures. A child who has learned at a young age to ignore criticism because it is to frequent and to harsh will not recognize more earnest warnings. No matter what the content of the criticism is, if the child has developed an automated response, the response will be the same regardless of the severity of the action for which they are being criticized. When a child is scolded for something as simple as being five minutes late for their curfew, the automated response develops and when they are scolded for serious sins such as immorality, or illegal activity, the response will be a harshly learned ignore, or insincere apology.
This principle can apply to any type of relationship. Between a husband and wife, or boyfriend and girlfriend, it can appear in the repetitiveness of expressions of love. When the words “I love you” are used so commonly the echoing “I love you too” can become a lifeless, automated response rather than the sincere passionate reply it should be. In a friendship, the request for help and support, if taken advantage of too often and without since need, can lead to unbalance and destruction.
My suggestion, or rather, request is that we as a society strive to be less judgmental of others, even those we feel we have an obligation to teach, and especially those we feel we have an obligation to guide back to the right path. We must consider the effect our words will have, not only in the present moment, but years down the road. We must consider if the reasons we are criticizing are worth the consequence. Let not our children remember that we made fun of them for being overweight in their youth, or that they were told they were too sensitive, or that they were too boisterous, too flawed. Let not our loves remember us criticizing their intelligence, their methods of expressing love, and especially not their parenting abilities. And let not our friends remember us as the ones who made them feel inferior or used. This is not the legacy God would have us leave for the generations to come.
Let us learn to not speak without sincerity. Let us learn to forgive the little things, so that when the big trials come we have not burned bridges that separate us from those we love. Satan is strongest when we are isolated. Finally, let us not unknowingly scar those we love by not recognizing the impact our words have on them.
This fable has obvious daily applications, but I’ve been thinking of a less common way that it can be paralleled to relationships and parenting. A brutal downfall in modern relationships is the presence of this underlying feeling of not being good enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not spiritual enough. All these, I feel, are the after effects, sometimes long after, of “the Boy Who Cried Wolf” principle. It is the nature of human beings to drown out repeated messages. Usually these messages are unnecessary because the hearer has memorized and habited the concept of the message, or because it has been recognized as unnecessary in the past and it is assumed to remain unnecessary presently. Just as the message announcing the wolf attack in the story, messages from parents, friends, and loved ones can become unheard because of unwise repetition. In the example of a parent-child relationship, children become accustomed to their mothers’ scolding and often ignore it or generate an automated response to satisfy their parent’s demands such as blurting a quick “please” after a “what should you say?”, or a “sorry” after a “go make them feel better.” These responses, despite appearing to create good habits, actually lead to insincerity. A forced “please” or “sorry” is obviously not heartfelt, and the repetition of such responses can lead to the repetition of feeling-less propriety.
On a deeper perspective, the things we say to one another affect us in ways that may not be obvious for many years. The accumulation of anything repeated is always greater than its original face-value. When a child is told they are being naughty once, they feel bad and try to change the behavior. After hearing it over and over, even if it is disguised by kind words, a child will, in a sense, build up an immune system to this particular criticism. The criticism is met with that learned automated response, which is usually the “ignore” or “delete message” button. When children, especially teenagers and young adult children, are met with excessive criticism, the results can be hugely detrimental to their futures. A child who has learned at a young age to ignore criticism because it is to frequent and to harsh will not recognize more earnest warnings. No matter what the content of the criticism is, if the child has developed an automated response, the response will be the same regardless of the severity of the action for which they are being criticized. When a child is scolded for something as simple as being five minutes late for their curfew, the automated response develops and when they are scolded for serious sins such as immorality, or illegal activity, the response will be a harshly learned ignore, or insincere apology.
This principle can apply to any type of relationship. Between a husband and wife, or boyfriend and girlfriend, it can appear in the repetitiveness of expressions of love. When the words “I love you” are used so commonly the echoing “I love you too” can become a lifeless, automated response rather than the sincere passionate reply it should be. In a friendship, the request for help and support, if taken advantage of too often and without since need, can lead to unbalance and destruction.
My suggestion, or rather, request is that we as a society strive to be less judgmental of others, even those we feel we have an obligation to teach, and especially those we feel we have an obligation to guide back to the right path. We must consider the effect our words will have, not only in the present moment, but years down the road. We must consider if the reasons we are criticizing are worth the consequence. Let not our children remember that we made fun of them for being overweight in their youth, or that they were told they were too sensitive, or that they were too boisterous, too flawed. Let not our loves remember us criticizing their intelligence, their methods of expressing love, and especially not their parenting abilities. And let not our friends remember us as the ones who made them feel inferior or used. This is not the legacy God would have us leave for the generations to come.
Let us learn to not speak without sincerity. Let us learn to forgive the little things, so that when the big trials come we have not burned bridges that separate us from those we love. Satan is strongest when we are isolated. Finally, let us not unknowingly scar those we love by not recognizing the impact our words have on them.
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