A Lion! Oh My!

Another tale of youthful innocence….

I spent most of my days as a youth in Arizona…in our backyard pool. We lived on the corner of a very busy street so we often had random ‘visitors’ wander into our yard. One day while my lil' bro and I were splashing about the pool playing ‘let’s see how long you can hold your breath under water while I sit on you’, we were interrupted by a ferocious creature who came charging in from the side gate. I shot right out of the water screaming, “A lion, a lion!” and ran in the house to get my mom – yes, I left my baby brother to fend for himself against the man eating lion. In response to my shrieks of pure horror she came bolting outside and to both our surprise there was my brother petting the lion! “Mom!” I screeched, “a lion, a lion, why is he petting a lion!?!” She, as a typical response to most of my reactions, burst into uncontrollable laughter, “Oh sweetie, that’s not a lion, it’s just a fluffy dog.” Now, to give myself some credit it was in fact a Chow and to this day I still insist they look exactly like lions.

We ended up babysitting this 'lion' for sometime until his owners finally came to rescue me from him. And yes, he did bite me many times, turns out – Chows are actually meaner than lions. Every time I came face to face with that dog and even today when I see a chow I remember that rush of pure terror that flooded my veins when I thought for sure that I was going to be eaten alive.

So what do we learn from this little anecdote? Well, I’m not exactly sure but it is a good story to tell at parties – trust me, when you add the gestures and facial expressions it’s a killer.

Ok so yes, I will provide a brief lesson. What I learned from my encounter with the lion was a real life application of the old cliché 'you can’t judge a book by its cover'. More specifically, I see it as a representation of life’s lovely little challenges. At first they come at us as fierce lions but in reality, and after we calm down, they are really just fluffy dogs – not too bad. Now, I don’t really like dogs because they bite and smell and I don’t really like trials because they are hard so no matter how you put it I’m still not a huge fan. Nevertheless, the basic point is things are often not as bad as you think they are…even if they do bite a little.

Just remember: take a deep breath before shouting lion or your mom will probably laugh at you.

Chocolate Chips, Divided

When I was a cute little Beehive (the ripe age of 12) I really got into baking. It was always encouraged because, as it were, I was pretty darn good at it. Anyway, one of my favorite recipes was Peanut Butter Bars - they are delicious. After the peanut butter, the next most important ingredient is chocolate chips, and the directions read: two cups chocolate chips, divided in half. So, being the eager baker I was, I followed these instructions precisely until one day my mom came into the kitchen and I exasperatedly proclaimed, “You know I love these peanut butter bars but they are sure a lot of work!” Why? She asks. “Well,” I explain, “I have to cut all these chocolate chips in half and it takes forever – I don’t know why but that’s what the recipe says.” She immediately bursts into tear jerking laughter as I looked up at her from my chocolate covered cutting board with the confused “redhead caught in the headlights” expression on my face. What? What’s so funny? She lovingly comes over, puts her arm around my shoulder and says, “Sweetie that means you divide the entire portion, one cup here and one cup there, you don’t actually have to divide the individual chips”. Oh.

I’ve made peanut butter bars a hundred times since (minus the extra work) but every time I pull out a bag of chocolate chips I chuckle to myself in memory of those more innocent days when I followed the instructions word for word but missed the point entirely. Today I find myself with somewhat the opposite inclination but typically the same outcome. I’ve gotten lazy, just skimming over things or only half listening. I haphazardly read for context not content and I often hear only flash* words to maintain focus or the appearance of comprehension but too often I walk away realizing I did not retain any of it. Sometimes it’s not completely my fault but more often than not it is my own impatience that leads me down the path of complete blanks or inaccurate assumptions.

I think I’ve always been prone to taking the short cuts in life but ironically this has too frequently led down the much longer ‘scenic route’. I find myself standing in the middle of nowhere wondering exactly how I ended up there. Never good. So today, I will take a reminder from my little chocolate friends to slow down, be more patient and thorough at the beginning so I don’t bypass the whole point and end up hitchhiking the long road back.

Always keep in mind; you don’t have to cut all the chips in half individually, well, unless you just really need to chop something.

*flash words are words I find of interest...they change daily at whim.

Making the Man

Today my younger brother returned home from serving a two year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As he came striding down the terminal, my mom and I began gleefully jumping up and down (yes, also clapping and screaming) while grandma stood on the sidelines shaking her head - apparently she doesn't want to claim us. Anyway, I saw coming down the escalator, a man I had never seen before, a man who had just accomplished something spectacular and he was glowing to prove it.

Just hearing him speak, you can tell how much he has grown. I'm sure he could go on for hours listing all the things he learned on his mission and how many ways he's changed physically, emotionally, spiritually not to mention all the lives he has touched. Of all the many wonderful things a mission does, changing the missionary is one of the most impressive. I myself have never served a full time mission and have often wondered what this kind of selfless sacrifice might have done for me. It takes a certain type of person to accept the intense commitment a mission requires and I never really had faith enough in myself for it. But there he is, standing with pure confidence in front of me, my little brother demonstrating what willingness to give in pure service is, and with that sparkling smile everyone knows he served well.

I recently had a discussion with a good friend about what it means to be a man. Despite my continual protests and shameless jabs, I walked away with an understanding that only the individual can decide when he truly is a man. Other people can sternly tell you, "you are now a man," but it is only when the boy himself walks the bridge to claim his manhood that it becomes real. Without question, a mission is one of the most difficult bridges but my brother crossed it, and he is now a man.

This is not the first of my family to serve a mission and it will certainly not be the last, but with each experience comes even more respect and appreciation for both my family and my church. Two years ago we sent off a 19 year old boy with a brand new suit and an eager heart and today he came home with 30 more pounds and an overflowing spirit of new wisdom and love. I stand in awe of him today, for who he is, for what he has done and for standing strong in faith. Even more, I stand in awe for his ability to do it all with such grace and then to still walk with the humility to ask what more he can do.

I love my brother. I often tell people he is the male version of me (minus the red hair), which I have always felt to be true and certainly explains our great relationship. Today, he is more than that - he is also a man and for his extraordinary example of strength I could not be more grateful.