Lesson on Reverence - Past and Present

Today, January 23, 2011 was Grandpa Day. I’m not writing about this exactly, just to say it has been a long time since this Dad, (whether in Dad or Granddad form) got to put a little baby to sleep. Usually mom or Grandma slip in to take over. Let’s just say today was a pleasure.
Now, on to my story.

Lori and I were asked to watch Parker, Aiden and Laney while their mom and dad, (Cody and Kimberly) spoke in church. Kim lead off, speaking on REVERENCE. What a topic for a mother of two wonderfully curious and competitive boys 4 and 3. I’m sure 5-month old Laney doesn’t count.
Anyway, Kim shared with the congregation her desire to teach her boys the power of reverence, and the sacredness of the chapel. She shared a exerpt from a talk about another mothers’ experience of taking her children, dressed in Sunday attire, into the chapel on a different day than Sunday. Kim saw an opportunity to teach her boys a similar lesson in REVERENCE. She reported that she donned a skirt, and dressed Parker, Aiden, and Laney in their Sunday outfits, and with supportive Cody in tow, went to the church, and entered the empty chapel.
Here they had a short discussion about the proper spirit and attitude of the room, the service and the need for REVERENCE.
It brought back memories when Lori, fit to be tied with two young boys, probably no older than these two grandsons, tried a similar tactic to elicit REVERENCE. Lori got the idea of “Practicing Church” . I can’t remember how often they practiced, but I know it was more than once. The boys would sit and face the window wall and have to be quiet for 15 minutes at a stretch. I think the 15 minutes represented the time between the opening song and the Sacrament service. I can’t remember.
All I know is it made an impact on them. Not that they were suddenly “perfect examples of REVERENCE, but it has been a great “do you remember when mom made us practice church” story when the kids gather together or when they are comparing the atrocities that their parents made them suffer as children.
I admire the efforts that mothers go to in order to teach their boys the power of reverence.
I  don’t remember practicing church when I was a child, but I know my mom had her hands full.
Here’s to all the moms in the world as they work to teach the little children~!!!

Holiday Memories

So, at this count I have had 55 Christmases. Not that I can remember them all, but since it is a bit quite around her, it is kind of fun to see what Christmases I do remember. And, actually, I remember many more Christmas seasons than I thought I would. You see, I don’t really remember very many details from past history.
If you were to ask me my favorite gifts from the past I would tell you I have two fond memories. Two simple gifts that come to mind with warm memories.
The first happened while we lived in Twin Falls.  I can’t remember if it was 1986 or 1987, but it was the year that Lori surprised my with a song she had written. I don’t remember the words. It was a pleasant tune, and she had a difficult time singing it amongst the tears. I loved it that she really gave of herself, as difficult as it was. That memory jumps out first.
The second favorite gift I received just two or three years ago. Lori gave me a simple square glass candy jar full of mints. Butter mints, chocolate mints, peppermint and spearmint candy filled the jar. I love soft mints to eat at church as  opposed to chewing gum. Keeps the breath “minty fresh”! However, I admit I can eat them too quickly, which makes me cough, and I am sure embarrassed the heck out of Lori.
I digress.
The best part of the gift is that she promised to keep the jar full of mints for one full year. No easy feat, but she did it. I still have the jar, and I now struggle to keep it full of mints.
Perhaps the most misunderstood gift I ever received was the year I received a blood pressure monitor. I came to learn that it was a way that Lori was telling me that she loved me and was concerned about me. I still have that gift as well. I even use it a couple of days a week.
I have many memories from before my marriage. I was lucky enough to get a Fiat hatchback when I turned 16. My dad had cast a car and a key in some sort of resin and put it under the tree. When I opened the gift, my parents opened the curtains and there is it was, a Fiat with a big red bow. I remember the year I got a Springbar Tent, a five-speed banana seat bicycle, skis, and other things. I remember way back when I was entertained by boxes, when stacked together made a store and a post office, It included pretend dry goods to sell, a cash register and even pretend coins.
There was the year that I heard banging all night long. My dad had put together a train track with buildings and trees and  mountains. Must of taken him all night long.
I remember doing similar activities. Like the year I painted a bicycle for Bret, snuck in gerbils and all the fixing’s so the boys might still believe in Santa. After all,  mom would never allow such a gift, so there must be a Santa.
Then, there are the trips to Pine Valley for the holidays. That is another blog.
Merry Christmas. May fond memories spring to mind when you look back.

It is okay to speak to strangers

I’m sure this will be for me more than you, but I hope you learn and don’t repeat my mistakes. I have a mentor who says “Rules are made to keep other people out of the way.”
He shares this along with the concept that rules don’t apply to him because he doesn’t want to be limited to another’s beliefs. Before you try to peg him a an anarchist,  he isn’t that at all. He is a loving, caring individual. He just learned to not accept limiting-beliefs. He works his hardest with me to see the error of my ways.
I don’t know where some of my limiting beliefs come from. Many I have set up myself. I have made rules that I felt I had to live by.
For instance, my daughter always struggled with my inquisitive nature when she was in high school. I wanted to know how her day ways, her friends, thoughts. She would complain that I asked too many questions. So, I made a rule with her. “No more than three questions.” It seemed to work. We’d often joke that I had my three questions, she could go on with her day un-bothered. It seemed to worked.
Now that she is grown, and on her own, I find it hard to visit with her on the phone. I am limited to asking three questions. Or so my belief tells me. We can go weeks without talking. Thank goodness for face book. I am suffering from my rule --  my limiting belief.
I wonder how many times I grew up believing an adult’s  reprimand, “You only get one.” or “You’re the oldest, so you need to share with everyone else first.” I wonder how many times I have set rules from my children, limited their belief, in a similar way, an innocent statement.
Lori and I worked hard to allow our children to explore, within reason, their talents, interests, abilities. But, looking back, I wonder how many times I set a rule that didn’t really apply to anything. A rule that wasn’t really a rule. Limiting their belief without knowing it.
It’s like the rule “Don’t talk to strangers.” Parents drill this into their kids. Teachers tell the kids to be quiet and only speak when spoken to, or raise their hand for permission to speak.
No wonder the number one fear most adults face is “public speaking“. No one ever pulled their child aside at age  19 or 21, and say “It’s now ok to speak to strangers.”
I help facilitate a simulator, a game really, that has no rules. Not that there isn’t a pattern to playing the game, but one of the first concepts I teach with this game is that “you don’t have to wait for someone else to be successful before you can be.” Players who understand what I say, start rolling the dice and moving as fast as they can.
That’s the rule I am living in 2011. I am not going to allow my limiting beliefs limit me. The rules that I believe exist to keep me in my place aren’t really rules. I hope my children don’t wait until they are my age (55) to discover their limiting beliefs. AND, if I put those beliefs there, I  truly sorry. I give them permission to “talk to strangers.”

We share a common enemy!!

I double dog dare you to convince me I don’t have the greatest grandchildren in the world. Come on. Just Try!
I love having grandchildren. Do you know why grandparents and grandchildren get along so well? They have a common enemy. (Drum roll) Grandchildren are your reward for allowing your children to make it to 21 alive, (drum roll).
No really, I have two wonderful grandsons, who are all boy. I have one granddaughter who is all girl, and a second beautifully precious 3-monthish granddaughter that is all chubby cheeks and smiles. She, I am sure, will be as precious as her brothers and cousin.
My oldest grandson, Parker, is so much like his dad. He is deliberate in his actions and his choices. He is shy one minute, and all noise the next. He has the sweetest eyes that melt grandma-great’s heart when he visits. Parker is reluctant to ask her for a piece of candy, (probably coached by his parents not to ask) so he stand near her with his big blue eyes, just waiting for an invitation from grandma-great.
His little brother, Aiden, on the other hand, has no problem asking. He has no problem flashing his wide smile, and venturing off to see what the world has in store for him. He is a confident one. He is also all rough and tumble. Big brother beware. Dad, you need to keep your guard up. Mom, you have your hands full. Little sister, I may get a little rough, but no one had better tease you or give you a hard time, cause they will have me to deal with.
The third in this family is my youngest. Born in September, Laney is a doll. So unlike her brothers. I look forward to her spirit shining as she matures.
Faye, my other granddaughter, is all girl. Drama Queen. She has beautiful eyes, (I think it is a running theme in my second generation, they all have beautiful eyes with wonderful expressionistic faces!) She plays with the two boys in the neighborhood that are similar in ages. They will use the sticks they find as pretend guns and swords, clubs and bats. She used the sticks as a magic wand, transforming objects into items of her desire. 
Universally, there is nothing like my hearing my grandsons holler with pleasure that “It’s Grandpa” when I ring the door bell at their home. It causes instant commotion, (sorry Kim). There is nothing sweeter than when my granddaughter is concerned when I go to get something out of the car, “Where  you going grandpa Jim?” She hasn’t tired of me yet.

Yes, there is nothing like grandchildren. And I dare you to convince me that mine aren’t the greatest. Of course, yours are a close second.

Life is like a batting average!

The summer of 2010 I had a great experience watching as my son began his coaching career. He was coaching his oldest son, Parker, in the ways of baseball. Technically it was T-Ball, which is very different from baseball.
True, in T-Ball there are all the elements of baseball. There are bats, balls, bases, gloves, unruly fans, aka parents, and a chance to play in the outdoors on a team.
Different in that everybody gets to swing at the ball on the T. Everyone gets to run the bases, no one gets called out. And no one really knows what is going on, except for those unruly fans,  In the end, the most important lesson is what “after game treat” was brought to share among the team members.
I share this as the World Series of 2010 is in mid-stream. The San Francisco Giants and the Texas Rangers are playing the best-of-seven to see who gets to claim the title “World Champion.” Texas has never been to the Series, and San Francisco hasn’t won a Championship since 1964.
I share this information to lead up to a thought I came across in the writings of Og Mandino, a great philosophical author on the elements of success. He wrote a series of “Worlds Greatest Salesman” and introduce scrolls, which read often, would help anyone interested in rising above mediocrity to find the inner fortitude to do so. I was introduced to them while serving as a missionary for my church, back in the 70’s.
Today, I struggle with the elements that create success, and how it is defined. I also struggle to remember that one of the elements of creating success is that there is a ratio of contacts to sales that is true in every business. This quote comes from The University of Og Mandino.

Success has the intrinsic character of a batting average. It is not all of a piece, not every hour nor every day is uniformly successful. Rather, there are upturns in success separated by valleys of failure. I successful television producer, responsible for turning out an intensely complex and difficult program every day remarked.
“I’d go crazy if I tried to judge every day’s performance against an absolute standard of perfection. All I try for is a good batting average. I know very well that sometimes I’ going to foul out, but so long as I get my share of singles and doubles, perhaps an occasional home run, I don’t mind the inevitable errors or strikeouts.”
So, too, a successful life will have its days or even years of failure. These are not blights upon such a life, but merely the inevitable failings which bear testimony to the fact that success isn’t easy.

Success is not anything like T-Ball. You do not hit each inning. You do get thrown out, and sometimes you even strike out “looking.” If you are going to put the ratios to work, you must at least “go down swinging.”

A Second Chance

I received a call from a friend of a friend, who was interested in learning more about my business. I had never met Troy in my life. My life was about to add another story,
I met Troy for lunch and, as is my nature, asked him to share his story with me. This, in brief, is some of what I learned.
Tory had been in the advertiging business, selling penny per/household coupons. As we talked, I knew of his business, and we shared names of printers that we had both used in our past. He was quite successful and had a wonderful business model, with little competition. He was in print, radio and television. He owned several Corvettes, a large home, had six figures in the bank, and was on a roll. He loved fast cars. He had a "Kit Ferrari" custom built. He believed he was on top of the world and had no need for God nor his religion. He could do it all on his own.
In fact, he had approached his church leaders to remove his name from their records. Hasta la vista!
He says God had other plans. As he left the church building, and before he arrived home, he had crashed his fancy Corvette If you know anything about this car, it is pretty-much fiberglass on wheels. He was in a coma that lasted around 30 days.
When came to, he had lost parts of his vision, mobility, abilities, and more. It wasn't all of what he lost, but the road from there shows the extent of his losses. He quickly realized he may have "had it all" but in reality, the bank owned most of it. That, in a nutshell should describe where his life has gone.
Today he is a humble man, working his way out of debt, out of a horrible situation. As part of his "second chance"at life, he was asked out-of-the-blue to participate in a movie shoot for the LDS Church. He had no acting background, and they liked that. It was his look that they loved. He has now actually had several photo shoots, articles in newspapers, featuring his likeness and radio interviews announcing the that LDS Church is looking for people who have the appereance of "middle-east ancestry" for future movies about the New Testament.
He is very grateful that God gave him a second chance. I learned to quickly love this man, his journey, and his story. He plays a roll that in someways very much is true to life. In his darkest hours, those who could help, those he trusted turned. The good Samritan was there by his side. And remains there today, in his heart
Wonderful story.
Follow this llink to read more about the film and to watch the 5-minute clipl
http://new.lds.org/church/news/lds-motion-picture-studio-seeks-actors-for-new-testament-project?lang=eng

Meeting A President's Challenge

It was November, 1976, and I was about to leave Minnesota and fly home to Salt Lake City. I had just about completed my church mission. All that I had left was the interview with the mission president.
I had the privilege of serving with President Douglas Callister. He was a young, dynamic individual. Still in his early 30’s he had served his church as a Bishop and a Stake President. He was the grandson of the very well loved Apostle LeGrande Richards. He was something special. He had taught me more lessons that I could share in a brief blog
*He introduced me to the scrolls of “The Greatest Salesman In The World,” written by Og Mandino. Each scroll encouraged me to seek more than who I was.
*He taught me that people rise to your expectations. He told the story of a regional church leader that expected 100% attendance at all regional meetings. It wasn’t long until he got it. When his turn was over, another regional leader remarked, you are a good region, there is no reason why we shouldn’t have 80% attendance at these meetings. It was the next meeting when he got his results.
*He taught me to love the “Parables of James E. Talmage“. An early Apostle, Talmage had written “parables” for a church magazine. They had been later compiled into a book. I asked him about these parables, and he said they were from a book that was no longer in print. Hadn’t been published for a while. I was discouraged. As a student at Dixie College, I walked into the Dixie Drug, which had all the items a drug store sells, as well as a book section, and you can appreciate my joy as I found a single copy of this wonderful treasure.
*He taught me many other lessons. Some of them stuck and, sadly, many of them didn’t. I do remember that the final challenge in my exit interview was “The next time we meet, before you say anything, show me your temple recommend.”
Well, our paths have never crossed until this past week. I don’t attend reunions, afraid of being judged -- I don’t remember names -- I … you name it, I have the excuses lined up for miles. I never expected to see him again, in person.
He now serves as a member of the First Quorum of 70.  It was Saturday night and I had decided to attend a session in the LDS Temple in Salt Lake. He was standing at a door, watching as we filed in. I took the chance, shook his hand and said “You don’t remember me, but I was one of your missionaries.”
It was then I recalled his challenge, and was grateful that I didn’t need to show him my recommend, it had allowed me in, to see him.