It was probably 15 years ago when I bought cheap lanyards for our store team to wear. I wanted something to hold the keys to the dressing rooms as well as laminated cards with reminders of the current store promotions.
Several of them had the letters WWJD repeated in bright colors.
I had no idea what it meant.
After my team laughed at my continuous naiveté, I decided we would still use them. Heck, I was never very good at political correctness anyway.
Now, perhaps not as naïve as I used to be, but still full of hope for mankind, I understand that it is in fact the real question that we have to be asking if we want to change the natural course of human events.
It’s the only question that can change human nature.
What would Jesus do?
Not just the Sunday School answers, but what would He really do? What DID He ACTUALLY do?
Continue reading My New Year’s Prayer
Lately my mind has fallen into that misty mix of numbness and detachment. It’s an interesting place to be.
For many years I was most definitely a “deeply feeling person.”
It wasn’t uncommon for me to look at Ann and not understand how she could so calmly and quietly react to news received, whether it be good or bad.
We’ve laughed about it over the years. If I ask my family how I did on something I had just finished, and they replied, “Oh it was good”, then I just knew it had been bad.
Kind of nutty isn’t it, to only hear that something was bad when being told it was good?
Well, that’s me: the nutty professor.
But because of the medication for the bipolar, OCD, and psychoses (at least I hope it’s the mental illness medication; otherwise …), I don’t feel things as bright or as dark as before.
Continue reading Leaving the line open: isn’t prayer about feeling?
I’ve heard from some of the people who read these crazy thoughts and feelings on our blog that they can relate to a lot of what is said.
That’s a good thing; it’s kind of the whole reason for doing it.
Some of the thoughts running through my marathon mind lately may also be things that many others can understand from first-hand experience.
If so, I hope that these ramblings will help you get through.
Ann and I have talked about how things are slipping a bit in the wrong direction lately with this whole bipolar/OCD/psychosis thing. I won’t bore you with a rundown of the specific symptoms. I don’t think it really matters.
The other night while just kneeling by the bed in wordless prayer, I tried to listen carefully to the thoughts, feelings, and impressions that crept into my mind. I scribbled down the concepts as they came so that the next day I could try to digest them in the light.
Here is what I wrote down: Continue reading It’s raining on the inside
This is part 6 in a series on The Family
For part 1, click here
For series synopsis, click here
Why do we pray?
The other night Ann and I were talking about things that are really important to us – you know, the things for which we choose to give our lives.
The things we pray intently for, about, and over.
My days have become a kind of a running dialogue with Heaven: gratitude; people we care about; our leaders; increased faith and charity.
There are as many things to pray about as I have breaths.
However, I would be willing to bet that each of us has a very personal, very important list of things we pray for continuously; a list of things that are always in our minds and our hearts.
(Source: LDS Media Library)
My list has whittled itself down to three: Specific blessings for Ann, specific blessings for Alex, and specific blessings for Nick.
Continue reading We really do end where we begin
For some reason, my mind seems to commune with Heaven a little better if I am moving around. Of course, I still kneel at my bedside each day, but some of the stronger and more memorable connections have come through praying while puttering around the house.
The other day I was scrubbing the shower walls and bathtub. The soap scum was cowering and shaking knowing that I wouldn’t stop until every last hint was gone.
Chalk that one up to OCD.
Some of you may know, and some of you may not, but my mother died from breast cancer 23 years ago. The loss of a mother to a young 24 year-old, newly-wed son can only be understood by others who have experienced such a loss.
But that’s a story for another day.
While reaching up to get the corners of the marble in the shower I was in the middle of one of my daily conversations with my Father in Heaven.
As I do from time to time, I prayed that my mom knew that we love her and miss her. I prayed that she is happy. Continue reading I am grateful for my identity