2 Nephi 22:25 “men art that they might have joy,” I have always loved this scripture. Originally for the sole reason that it has my name in it. Over the years though my understanding of this scripture has grown.
Starting with the first word, Men. Simple enough, God is not just talking about the male population. He is referring to everyone. There is an approximate seven billion people on earth right now. The world, yes, the spinning orb that we are all sitting on is approximately 1,578,044,160 inches around. If everyone in the world were one inch wide, about the length of you thumb, and we were all to stand shoulder to shoulder we would make an air tight chain around the entire earth not just once or twice but four times and a half times. Those are just the people living now. When God says men he is talking about a population the size of the sands on the sea. Yet he knows all of us personally. The signs that God knows us personally are overwhelming: fingerprints, DNA, and just look at the person sitting next to you. You are unique to God. Although he addressed every single person who ever existed remember he knows you well enough to make it a personal message just for you.
The word Might is the past tense of the word May. The inferred origin of the word may is from the ancient Roman Goddess of spring who is called Maia. Not to be confused with the Greek Gods Maia who was the eldest and most beautiful of Atlas’s seven daughter. The Roman Goddess Mia’s name relates to the Oscan word mais and the Latin word majus both of which mean “more”. Because Mia was so powerful she is often referred to as “Maia the Majestic”. Essentially this title is a doubling of her name. Both maia, and majestic are rooted to the Latin word magnus “great or powerful” Some historians even wonder if Maia was the original name of the ancient goddess Bona Dea (the Good Goddess), whose name is so sacred it was forbidden to speak out loud. All of this relates to the fact that the word might does not simply refer to something that could happen if you wish hard enough. No, the word might’s origins signify that when God says “men are that they might have joy” he is referring to something as constant and enriching as spring. Joy is a promise from God.
According to Webster the word “have” means: to hold or maintain as a possession; to hold in one‘s service; to hold a part of a whole. All of Webster’s definitions for “have” coin the phrase “to hold”. In traditional wedding vows the bride and groom promise their spouse “to have and to hold” one another. When God says that we are to have joy he is not simply talking about giving us a big gift with a bow on top. No, the word “have” is a verb, meaning there has to be a concrete action connected to it. Imagine how different someone’s life would be if they were as committed to having and holding joy as they were to their spouse. That person would have joy “from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; and till death do us part.” I now declare you Husband/Wife to joy. The phrase “till death do us part” is the most vital. Taking our knowledge of the scriptures we know that there are two types of death: physical, and spiritual. With out joy in our lives we become spiritually dead, and we are truly separated from God’s light and truth.
My personal favorite is the word joy, oh let’s capitalize it, because it really is my name. starting over… My personal favorite is the word Joy. Yes, I am vain, but that is not why I asked you to change joy to Joy. I want you to insert your own name in the verse.
“men are that thy might have (your name)”
In order for you to understand this verse as I see it you have to apply everything that I have been talking about, and change the wording around a little. Now it reads “everyone who ever lived-- who God knows personally, has the promise from God to become committed to (your name).”
I thought you said you changed joy to Joy because you were not vain. Now this scripture seems selfish. Could be what you are thinking, but have you forgotten who you are? You are a literal child of the God. You have divine potential in the Lord’s great plan of happiness, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. You will one day become a creator of worlds with out number.
When I read this scripture I hear God telling me that I need to discover my true identity. I am a continually progressing; consequently the discovery of who I am is an eternal endeavor. That is why I have trails, hardships, and opposition. It’s all to help me discover me. Anne Morrow Lindbergh once said, “I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise,” The Lord of Lords, King of Kings, Savior of Man Kind, could be teaching the most valuable lesson-- life, and I will not understand a pinch of it if I do not humble my heart and listen. God giving me the opportunity to progress is what joy means to me. The creation, fall of Adam and Eve, Atonement all revolve around this idea. “Men art that they might have joy,” in it’s everlasting and continually progressing form.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Nephi's ship
Let’s talk about ships. That is right ships. Nephi’s ship to be exact. There is not much on it in 1 Nephi 18: 2 he says “Now I, Nephi, did not work the timbers after the manner which was learned by men, neither did I build the ship after the manner of men; but I did build it after the manner which the Lord had shown unto me; wherefore, it was not after the manner of men.” He then goes on a little to talk about how he prayed often to be inspired to know how to build the ship. The next few verses mention how even Laman and Lamuel thought that when it was finished it looked good. That is about all we get about the ship.
Yah want to know what intrigues me the most is how much an educated scholar can get out of just those few lines of the scriptures. I am not even going to try and impose by saying I am that scholar. The information that I am going to relay to you is mostly me mimicking the scholars from the movie in my Book of Mormon class. They noted that in Nephi’s’ time ships were built with the timbers laying parallel, and it was not until Columbus’s time that the ships started to be built looking like a ribcage. It was this difference in construction that made it possible for New World exploration because the ships could cross wider stretches of ocean. There was an in-depth analysis in the movie about the subject, and I watched in aw. What is that… one, two, three lines from The Book of Mormon and hours of research latter we have a better understanding of Nephi and the will of God.
It was undeniable that the facts of the ship were interesting to listen to, but more importantly it made me realize almost every line of The Book of Mormon has that potential. Because I understood what the ship was like I knew that Nephi was obedient. Nephi would have had to know a little bit about ship building in order to understand that God did not want him to build a normal ship. Imagine if God told you that you had to go and build an airplane… don’t worry I don’t know were to start either. Nephi did know were to start though, and God used his previous knowledge to progresses the eternal plan of salvation.
My professor wanted me to talk about how I felt about the movie. Specifically the aspects that “prove” The Book of Mormon historically. It led back to the idea that a boy with a minimal education logistically had no clue that in Nephi’s time the modern ships could not cross the Pacific ocean. I am eighteen and currently receiving one of the best secondary educations in the world, and I just found out that 600 BC ships were built differently than Columbus’s ships. The Professor wanted me to answer if information like this built my testimony? I say yes.
For all we know God taught Nephi how to build a flying saucer that looked enough like a ship that to Nephi it was the only proper word to describe “God‘s ship.” The important aspect that I took away though was that I should study the scriptures; a single line could hold a key building principle to my testimony. All knowledge is truth and applying secular knowledge to the scriptures is not like pouring oil into water. It is more like adding light on light, because they are both truth. The point that the scholars were trying to make was not to shove The Book of Mormon in someone’s face and scream “eat it.” No I think that they were really trying to understand the verses better. That is what I should do more in my personal scripture study, research.
Facts like how Nephi built his ship can not be the core center of a strong testimony. A testimony is going to have to with stand the temptations of the Devil, and he can knock something as weak as that over really quickly. I am merely saying that it adds to a testimony. We pray for truth. We fast for truth. We ponder truth. We listen to Book of Mormon videos in Seminary for truth. We ponder it out in our own minds so we can have a better understanding of truth. The base is the same we are seeking truth. All of the facts the graphs, the charts they had in the movie pointed to one idea for me-- seeking truth, and that is what builds my testimony.
Yah want to know what intrigues me the most is how much an educated scholar can get out of just those few lines of the scriptures. I am not even going to try and impose by saying I am that scholar. The information that I am going to relay to you is mostly me mimicking the scholars from the movie in my Book of Mormon class. They noted that in Nephi’s’ time ships were built with the timbers laying parallel, and it was not until Columbus’s time that the ships started to be built looking like a ribcage. It was this difference in construction that made it possible for New World exploration because the ships could cross wider stretches of ocean. There was an in-depth analysis in the movie about the subject, and I watched in aw. What is that… one, two, three lines from The Book of Mormon and hours of research latter we have a better understanding of Nephi and the will of God.
It was undeniable that the facts of the ship were interesting to listen to, but more importantly it made me realize almost every line of The Book of Mormon has that potential. Because I understood what the ship was like I knew that Nephi was obedient. Nephi would have had to know a little bit about ship building in order to understand that God did not want him to build a normal ship. Imagine if God told you that you had to go and build an airplane… don’t worry I don’t know were to start either. Nephi did know were to start though, and God used his previous knowledge to progresses the eternal plan of salvation.
My professor wanted me to talk about how I felt about the movie. Specifically the aspects that “prove” The Book of Mormon historically. It led back to the idea that a boy with a minimal education logistically had no clue that in Nephi’s time the modern ships could not cross the Pacific ocean. I am eighteen and currently receiving one of the best secondary educations in the world, and I just found out that 600 BC ships were built differently than Columbus’s ships. The Professor wanted me to answer if information like this built my testimony? I say yes.
For all we know God taught Nephi how to build a flying saucer that looked enough like a ship that to Nephi it was the only proper word to describe “God‘s ship.” The important aspect that I took away though was that I should study the scriptures; a single line could hold a key building principle to my testimony. All knowledge is truth and applying secular knowledge to the scriptures is not like pouring oil into water. It is more like adding light on light, because they are both truth. The point that the scholars were trying to make was not to shove The Book of Mormon in someone’s face and scream “eat it.” No I think that they were really trying to understand the verses better. That is what I should do more in my personal scripture study, research.
Facts like how Nephi built his ship can not be the core center of a strong testimony. A testimony is going to have to with stand the temptations of the Devil, and he can knock something as weak as that over really quickly. I am merely saying that it adds to a testimony. We pray for truth. We fast for truth. We ponder truth. We listen to Book of Mormon videos in Seminary for truth. We ponder it out in our own minds so we can have a better understanding of truth. The base is the same we are seeking truth. All of the facts the graphs, the charts they had in the movie pointed to one idea for me-- seeking truth, and that is what builds my testimony.
Thank you John Adams
In my mind the Founding Fathers all were a laminating wall painted one shade, with the same texture, and even strokes. They were the blob in history that helped to start our country, and even though I recognized that they were different people I did not bother to establish those differences. This week as we studied John Adams in American Heritage I realized that if all of the Founding Fathers were one mold the Declaration of Independence would never have been completed, and the “what ifs” would resolve in an endless argument altering the course of our history as we know it.
When Professor H put in a movie during class I sat in the dark wondering if I was really in collage or not. Most movies I have watched in class depict raspy voiced old men wearing white wigs centered on top of their powdered faces, and some mellow dramatic voice in the background narrating the obvious events on the screen. None of them have impacted me as much as the movie John Adams that we watched last week. Suddenly the Founding Fathers became plural.
John Adams particularly stood out. It was strange to see him working as a farmer in the opening scene, and I tried to imagine senators today turning manure over with their bare hands. I had a hard time imagining myself turning manure over bare handed. There is more to it than just saying that John Adams was working with what he had. Modern equipment makes it so that farmers can bail hay, feed, milk, and scrap corals for daily thousands of animals. It is difficult for me to comprehend doing everything by had, but John Adams owned and managed a respected farm. Obviously John Adams knew how to work, but it is important to note that he worked well. He also expanded his education, and was involved in politics. From the life that he lived I have a feeling he worked just as hard in these studies as he did in his milk barn.
Abigail Adams was probably my favorite character in the movie, and it was all the more reason to respect John Adams. It seemed that the majority of the information I read about John Adams came from letters that he had written to his wife. History recognizes their relationships as an example of a healthy husband and wife relationship. John Adams and Abigail Adams were able to discuss family, politics, and social issues in their letters. In the movie when Abigail asks Washington to deliver her letters to her husband he comments on how not only would John Adams benefit from her advise, but the rest of them would also. John Adams must have talked about his wife enough for Washington to recognize that her opinion was valuable to her husband. To me this portrayed that not only her Husband respected her, but other established members of society did also. When learning about historical figures I like to learn about their wives, because I find it revealing. John Adams established remarkable things in public, but what makes me really awed is that he was able to establish a relationship with his wife.
When John Adams went to congress in 1775 after the Lexington and Concord shootings he wanted the members there to realize that they were not simply dealing with a political issue, but they were dealing with people’s lives. Another time he showed this concern was when George Washington’s troops needed food, clothing, cannons, and ammunition. John Adams pleaded to send the requested equipment there, because he knew that people were suffering. While drafting the Declaration of Independence John Adams mentioned the inhumane act of slavers, and during his speech to persuade the delegates to vote for independence he recognized that lives would be taken on both sides. He valued life, and what caused me to ponder is that he believed that freedom was worth the price. John Adams was not simply willing to let others give up their lives for freedom, but he was willing to give up his. It took years before our country felt prepared to go to war, and it would take several more before this great country would be established. Throughout all of that John Adams remained dedicated to his dream of freedom, and spent hours laboring to ensure that I, a Brigham Young University collage student, had that freedom. Thank you John Adams.
When Professor H put in a movie during class I sat in the dark wondering if I was really in collage or not. Most movies I have watched in class depict raspy voiced old men wearing white wigs centered on top of their powdered faces, and some mellow dramatic voice in the background narrating the obvious events on the screen. None of them have impacted me as much as the movie John Adams that we watched last week. Suddenly the Founding Fathers became plural.
John Adams particularly stood out. It was strange to see him working as a farmer in the opening scene, and I tried to imagine senators today turning manure over with their bare hands. I had a hard time imagining myself turning manure over bare handed. There is more to it than just saying that John Adams was working with what he had. Modern equipment makes it so that farmers can bail hay, feed, milk, and scrap corals for daily thousands of animals. It is difficult for me to comprehend doing everything by had, but John Adams owned and managed a respected farm. Obviously John Adams knew how to work, but it is important to note that he worked well. He also expanded his education, and was involved in politics. From the life that he lived I have a feeling he worked just as hard in these studies as he did in his milk barn.
Abigail Adams was probably my favorite character in the movie, and it was all the more reason to respect John Adams. It seemed that the majority of the information I read about John Adams came from letters that he had written to his wife. History recognizes their relationships as an example of a healthy husband and wife relationship. John Adams and Abigail Adams were able to discuss family, politics, and social issues in their letters. In the movie when Abigail asks Washington to deliver her letters to her husband he comments on how not only would John Adams benefit from her advise, but the rest of them would also. John Adams must have talked about his wife enough for Washington to recognize that her opinion was valuable to her husband. To me this portrayed that not only her Husband respected her, but other established members of society did also. When learning about historical figures I like to learn about their wives, because I find it revealing. John Adams established remarkable things in public, but what makes me really awed is that he was able to establish a relationship with his wife.
When John Adams went to congress in 1775 after the Lexington and Concord shootings he wanted the members there to realize that they were not simply dealing with a political issue, but they were dealing with people’s lives. Another time he showed this concern was when George Washington’s troops needed food, clothing, cannons, and ammunition. John Adams pleaded to send the requested equipment there, because he knew that people were suffering. While drafting the Declaration of Independence John Adams mentioned the inhumane act of slavers, and during his speech to persuade the delegates to vote for independence he recognized that lives would be taken on both sides. He valued life, and what caused me to ponder is that he believed that freedom was worth the price. John Adams was not simply willing to let others give up their lives for freedom, but he was willing to give up his. It took years before our country felt prepared to go to war, and it would take several more before this great country would be established. Throughout all of that John Adams remained dedicated to his dream of freedom, and spent hours laboring to ensure that I, a Brigham Young University collage student, had that freedom. Thank you John Adams.
Learning by faith lecture
I wanted to see if I really learn something new every day. My goal this weekend was to write in my journal one thing that I learned from that day. Friday came and went; Saturday went just as quickly, and then before I knew it I was sitting at my laptop Sunday night wondering what I had learned. The weekend felt like it had rushed by so quickly there was no possible way I could have learned something. So I started writing down what I had done step by step.
According to Bloom’s Taxonomy I was stuck in the “knowledge” level of thinking. As my list grew I recalled details. Most of them were about myself. How I felt? Why I reacted the way that I did? It did not take long for these questions to evolve into: What I could have done differently? What I handled well? Before I knew it I was learning hundreds of things. My weekend that had seemed so meaningless began to unfold ideas and that is when I started learning.
It was then that I realized I had learned at least one thing a day. I finally made the connection that seeking learning by study and with faith requires reflection. That is why the prophets encourage me to keep a journal. If I want to learn from my experiences I need to take the time to ponder and have a personal reflection. Inviting the spirit to be actively involved in my reflection will also benefit.
When Joseph Smith recorded the first vision he mentions that he read in King James and then pondered the things in his heart. He held a personal reflection. Just as the lecture on Thursday focused on learning, or the ability to obtain light and truth, with faith Joseph Smith learned by pond ringing and studying the verse in his heart.
The idea of studying things out in my heart rang true as I realized that life gives me a new lesson everyday. If I really want to learn from the events of that day though I need to reflect upon them. I learned a lot this weekend not because I did a lot, but because I studied them out in my heart.
According to Bloom’s Taxonomy I was stuck in the “knowledge” level of thinking. As my list grew I recalled details. Most of them were about myself. How I felt? Why I reacted the way that I did? It did not take long for these questions to evolve into: What I could have done differently? What I handled well? Before I knew it I was learning hundreds of things. My weekend that had seemed so meaningless began to unfold ideas and that is when I started learning.
It was then that I realized I had learned at least one thing a day. I finally made the connection that seeking learning by study and with faith requires reflection. That is why the prophets encourage me to keep a journal. If I want to learn from my experiences I need to take the time to ponder and have a personal reflection. Inviting the spirit to be actively involved in my reflection will also benefit.
When Joseph Smith recorded the first vision he mentions that he read in King James and then pondered the things in his heart. He held a personal reflection. Just as the lecture on Thursday focused on learning, or the ability to obtain light and truth, with faith Joseph Smith learned by pond ringing and studying the verse in his heart.
The idea of studying things out in my heart rang true as I realized that life gives me a new lesson everyday. If I really want to learn from the events of that day though I need to reflect upon them. I learned a lot this weekend not because I did a lot, but because I studied them out in my heart.
Monday, September 21, 2009
A class on marriage (I am at BYU)
"A Vindication of the Rights of Woman" lecture. What impressed me the most in the lecture “A Vindication of the Rights of Woman” is that Mary Wollstonecraft wanted women to get married. The lecture was opened up perfect for me. When I think of the word feminist I typically imagine outraged women marching down hitting anyone who stands in their way with their equal rights posters. Opening the class with the proper definition of feminist opened my mind to another aspect of feminist; the reasonable aspect.
After reviewing the quotes about women becoming educated, and their husbands supporting their wives I could not help but to relate it all back to tennis. After years of playing tennis you learn to accept the fact that you play as well as your opponent. If your opponent can not return your serve then you get sloppy in your serve, because why waste the energy. On the other hand when your opponent returns your serve every single time you change what you are doing. Instead of serving outside you try to hit the top corner as hard as you can. It is simply impossible to play your absolute hardest if the person on the other side of the net can not hit the ball back to you. Now take the side of the weaker player; frustrated, overwhelmed, and unpracticed.
I am not trying to turn marriage to an aggressive game. Rather it is a comparison in my mind that both parties have to be able to play at the same level. In a marriage you both have to work your hardest so that you can help each other to improve. My point is not to say that stupid people should marry stupid people, and smart people should only marry smart people. It is the principle that by practicing tennis before you go to a tennis match you will be better prepare you for the game. The parallel is that by learning to work with other people and practicing healthy relationship skills before marriage will help both husband and wife to preformed to the best of their abilities.
After reviewing the quotes about women becoming educated, and their husbands supporting their wives I could not help but to relate it all back to tennis. After years of playing tennis you learn to accept the fact that you play as well as your opponent. If your opponent can not return your serve then you get sloppy in your serve, because why waste the energy. On the other hand when your opponent returns your serve every single time you change what you are doing. Instead of serving outside you try to hit the top corner as hard as you can. It is simply impossible to play your absolute hardest if the person on the other side of the net can not hit the ball back to you. Now take the side of the weaker player; frustrated, overwhelmed, and unpracticed.
I am not trying to turn marriage to an aggressive game. Rather it is a comparison in my mind that both parties have to be able to play at the same level. In a marriage you both have to work your hardest so that you can help each other to improve. My point is not to say that stupid people should marry stupid people, and smart people should only marry smart people. It is the principle that by practicing tennis before you go to a tennis match you will be better prepare you for the game. The parallel is that by learning to work with other people and practicing healthy relationship skills before marriage will help both husband and wife to preformed to the best of their abilities.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The Brick Layer
Its the type of story that looks like a patchwork quilt in my mind; Each square is another’s perspective, and all of them are stitched together by strands of conversations I have picked up. No one ever sat me down and told me what happened. It is the story of my Dad’s marriage. I guess the proper term would be marriages, but I am not sure if I want to call it that either. Simply because that is not the focus of the story; it is about how my family came to be. Being the youngest in my family I often feel like the story was written without me. The characters were set, and the plot outlined long before I became a member of it. As if the story were a building, and all of the bricks were laid prior to me being there. The story I am about to tell you is one of my favorites because it testifies to me that I am not merely an on looker but a bricklayer in my family history.
My Dad was married to three different women before he married my mom. Glenna was his first wife. She died of breast cancer. Together Dad and Glenna had six children: Sarah, Carl, Swen, Jenny, Andrew, and Bryce. Right after Glenna’s death my Dad married another women. Whom I have never meet and know absolutely nothing about. Shortly after their divorce my dad married Emily. They had Lee together, and then they got a divorce. After the divorce settled down a little my dad met my mom, and together they had Caleb, and me. My parents are still together, and living in Spanish Fork Utah.
When my Dad was single there were not many rules in the house. One rule that was actually followed was the rule that when you got home from school you had to check in with Dad. It was in the days before cell phones so you actually had to say hollow to Dad’s face before you ran off to play. My Dad is a farmer. There are three places you can find Dad: in his tractor shoveling manure, in his tractor picking up hay, or in his tractor just to be in his tractor. Farm tractors tires are a least five feet tall, and the buckets are designed to carry literally tons. To be on the safe side whenever you were approaching Dad and his tractor you could do one of two things. Toss a rock and hope he sees it, or my personal favorite swing on top of a gate screaming “DAD” looking at the clouds passing by until you hear the tractor engine shot off.
One day while Dad was shoveling manure, before he meet mom, and after he divorced Emily. He was thinking about if he wanted to get married again. His children needed a mother, but was this worth it. The fights, tears, and emotions were getting to be to much.
It was about the time of day that the kids get home from school, and Dad was kind of waiting for them to check in before they went to go and play. Above the blurs, and rumbling of the engine he heard some one call out “Dad!” He looked around, but no one was there. So he kept on scrapping manure, thinking to himself that perhaps it was a buzz in the radio. Then he heard it again. It was so clear he could tell it was a little girl’s voice. This time he turned off the tractor and looked through the window wondering who could have said that.
As he looked around something caught his eye in the clouds. It was an angle’s face with golden blond hair. Before he got a good look at her she had ducked behind the puffs of white and streams of sunlight calling “Dad” out one last time. Something told my Dad as he settled back down in his dusty tractor seat one day that little angle would be his little girl. He was going to find someone wonderful to marry. Together they were going to bring that little angle into this world, and love her with all they had.
This story has changed my out look on life because my Dad is convinced that I am the angle he saw. Even when Mom would point out that he had two beautiful children with blond hair, a little boy, and a little girl, Dad would smile and say something to the effect that he heard a little girl’s voice. It gives me strength to know I am not simply a good bookend to a well written novel entitled “The Prior Family” Like I was apart of this family before I was born. In a more divine settings it makes me aware of the fact that all of us are bricklayers in building an eternal family. None of us are merely on lookers; even when we are not born yet, or have passed on to the other side. We are all held responsible in creating an eternal family. More importantly I guess I want to say that I am accountable for in developing an eternal family, and my contributions are just as vital as anyone else’s.
My Dad was married to three different women before he married my mom. Glenna was his first wife. She died of breast cancer. Together Dad and Glenna had six children: Sarah, Carl, Swen, Jenny, Andrew, and Bryce. Right after Glenna’s death my Dad married another women. Whom I have never meet and know absolutely nothing about. Shortly after their divorce my dad married Emily. They had Lee together, and then they got a divorce. After the divorce settled down a little my dad met my mom, and together they had Caleb, and me. My parents are still together, and living in Spanish Fork Utah.
When my Dad was single there were not many rules in the house. One rule that was actually followed was the rule that when you got home from school you had to check in with Dad. It was in the days before cell phones so you actually had to say hollow to Dad’s face before you ran off to play. My Dad is a farmer. There are three places you can find Dad: in his tractor shoveling manure, in his tractor picking up hay, or in his tractor just to be in his tractor. Farm tractors tires are a least five feet tall, and the buckets are designed to carry literally tons. To be on the safe side whenever you were approaching Dad and his tractor you could do one of two things. Toss a rock and hope he sees it, or my personal favorite swing on top of a gate screaming “DAD” looking at the clouds passing by until you hear the tractor engine shot off.
One day while Dad was shoveling manure, before he meet mom, and after he divorced Emily. He was thinking about if he wanted to get married again. His children needed a mother, but was this worth it. The fights, tears, and emotions were getting to be to much.
It was about the time of day that the kids get home from school, and Dad was kind of waiting for them to check in before they went to go and play. Above the blurs, and rumbling of the engine he heard some one call out “Dad!” He looked around, but no one was there. So he kept on scrapping manure, thinking to himself that perhaps it was a buzz in the radio. Then he heard it again. It was so clear he could tell it was a little girl’s voice. This time he turned off the tractor and looked through the window wondering who could have said that.
As he looked around something caught his eye in the clouds. It was an angle’s face with golden blond hair. Before he got a good look at her she had ducked behind the puffs of white and streams of sunlight calling “Dad” out one last time. Something told my Dad as he settled back down in his dusty tractor seat one day that little angle would be his little girl. He was going to find someone wonderful to marry. Together they were going to bring that little angle into this world, and love her with all they had.
This story has changed my out look on life because my Dad is convinced that I am the angle he saw. Even when Mom would point out that he had two beautiful children with blond hair, a little boy, and a little girl, Dad would smile and say something to the effect that he heard a little girl’s voice. It gives me strength to know I am not simply a good bookend to a well written novel entitled “The Prior Family” Like I was apart of this family before I was born. In a more divine settings it makes me aware of the fact that all of us are bricklayers in building an eternal family. None of us are merely on lookers; even when we are not born yet, or have passed on to the other side. We are all held responsible in creating an eternal family. More importantly I guess I want to say that I am accountable for in developing an eternal family, and my contributions are just as vital as anyone else’s.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Tree of life
Tree of Life
Fruit, why fruit? Why not vegetables? Or grain? No, God chose to use a fruit tree for his example. Lehi could have reached down and pulled a pure white tasty carrot out of the ground. Yet, I don’t think that would be the right representation.
Inspiration stuck me when I realized that the tree was one plant that produced a lot of fruit. There was enough fruit for everyone, relating to how the atonement is for everyone. Even if there was an endless field of white wheat each of the strands would stand alone. Although Lehi would have still enjoyed eating the good tasting wheat it would not be the proper representation of our dependence on the one and true living Jesus Christ. Then again a lot of potatoes and pumpkins grown from one vine.
Could you imagine the difference in Lehi’s vision if he had to dig through the ground for white potatoes? No, that would not due. The atonement is a gift, not something that we should feel that we have to earn or obtain. This idea is not to over estimate the hardships that come from repentance, but it helped to expand my own thoughts into the reality of how simple true repentance is. That still did not solve the problem as to why Lehi did not see cucumber vines in his vision. There are lots of cucumbers on one vine, and they are above the ground.
For me it boiled down to the idea that trees have deep roots, much deeper roots than any vegetable. Unless of course we are talking about Jake and the Bean Stalk, which we’re not. We are talking about the Savoir of man kind. This realization wrapped my soul in heavenly beauty, because my Lord and Redeemer is immovable. I may sin, and I may change but he will never lose his integrity.
Fruit, why fruit? Why not vegetables? Or grain? No, God chose to use a fruit tree for his example. Lehi could have reached down and pulled a pure white tasty carrot out of the ground. Yet, I don’t think that would be the right representation.
Inspiration stuck me when I realized that the tree was one plant that produced a lot of fruit. There was enough fruit for everyone, relating to how the atonement is for everyone. Even if there was an endless field of white wheat each of the strands would stand alone. Although Lehi would have still enjoyed eating the good tasting wheat it would not be the proper representation of our dependence on the one and true living Jesus Christ. Then again a lot of potatoes and pumpkins grown from one vine.
Could you imagine the difference in Lehi’s vision if he had to dig through the ground for white potatoes? No, that would not due. The atonement is a gift, not something that we should feel that we have to earn or obtain. This idea is not to over estimate the hardships that come from repentance, but it helped to expand my own thoughts into the reality of how simple true repentance is. That still did not solve the problem as to why Lehi did not see cucumber vines in his vision. There are lots of cucumbers on one vine, and they are above the ground.
For me it boiled down to the idea that trees have deep roots, much deeper roots than any vegetable. Unless of course we are talking about Jake and the Bean Stalk, which we’re not. We are talking about the Savoir of man kind. This realization wrapped my soul in heavenly beauty, because my Lord and Redeemer is immovable. I may sin, and I may change but he will never lose his integrity.
Monday, September 14, 2009
my english assignment was to "go over the top";)
Joy Marie Prior
Professor Harris
Honors 150 Sec 15
September 16, 2009
Like Moroni
He was tall dark and handsome with rippling muscles and when he turned his head his hair swished against his perfect brow. When I saw him enter the room my heart skipped a beat. The others who followed in behind him looked like boys compared to his manly frame. I turned my head away quickly before he caught me starring. My golden blond hair cascaded down my turned shoulder, and I wondered if he was hearing the same chorus of angles that I was.
I remembered in Young Women’s when I was a Beehive sitting in the front row. The lesson was on eternal companions, and how we all deserved the best husband, because we are all the best. It was then that I feel in love with him he was strong, mighty man, with a perfect understanding, with a firm faith in Christ, a man that loved liberty, and freedom, he was not violent, but he would defend his rights, people, country, religion, even if it put his life in danger, and above all if all men were like him the very gates of Hell would tremble.
Moroni’s perfection gave him an untouchable feeling, like Edward in Twilight. Subsequently it was the next ideal example or should I say examples that struck me. Not only were they everything that Moroni was, but they also listened to their mothers. Most important there were 2,000 of them, 2,000 options for me to chose from. At the age of thirteen I knew that something stronger than fate would pull me towards my eternal companion, and he would be no less of a man than one of the Stripling Warrior. From the age of thirteen I also knew I could never bring my standards down; I was destined to love someone who was of the same caliber as Mormon’s stripling warriors. There were 2,000 of them in the Book of Mormon. There had to be at least one in my generation, and he was for me.
I sat there listening to him as he sung Hymns and strummed his guitar, wondering why Alma did not mention Moroni’s musical talents. After pondering this for a moment I came to the conclusion that if Moroni lived in the twenty first century he would not only be an accomplished musician, but seeing as girls only want to date guys with sweet skills Moronie’s talents would not only include his strength with a sword, but numchukas skills, and computer hacking skills. Unfortunately Moroni could not have been exposed to such enriching activities at his time. It was not his fault though, and he did return with honor and endured to the end.
A life time passed between the moments he put his guitar in his hands and sat next to me on the coach. His voice was like honey dripping with sweet goodness into my ears. As he sang the butterflies in my stomach fluttered more and more. Despite all of these facts I could not bring myself to picture us staring into each others eyes across the alter. The minutes seemed like hours as I waited our true love, and his worthiness.
I watched him put his guitar away with one hand; his biceps tightening slightly as he set it down. We listened like vultures preparing to descend on it’s prey as the silence filled in between us. At long last he turned to me sharply. I was glad that I was sitting because my knees buckled when his piercing blue eyes locked with mine. It was impossible not to hesitate before I could gather enough courage to ask him his name.
He answered in that cool smooth voice that slide like butter across a hot pan. His crocked smile melted my heart like puddie in his hands. Gaining my composure I smiled weakly. Our conversation was an orchestra playing on a clear summer night. Our words danced like notes through the air. It sent chills down my spin as I realized how similar we are. Both of us like the color light tan, puppies, serving the Lord, hiking, and playing volleyball every day. The night passed on into sweet bliss, and before I knew it the clock struck eleven. Just like Cinderella, I too had a curfew, it’s called Brigham Young University Honor Code. My night in shinning armor took the initiative of the potentially destructive situation and encouraged everyone to go home by saying a closing prayer.
It was love at first sight. I knew it. Reluctantly we pried ourselves off the coach, and made our way to the door. He was leaving now, but before he walked out into the lobby he turned and said, “I had a nice time”. We shock hands. With my pale fingers wrapped in his firm hands I felt safe, and loved. I no longer questioned if we knew each other in the preexistence; I knew we had.
Professor Harris
Honors 150 Sec 15
September 16, 2009
Like Moroni
He was tall dark and handsome with rippling muscles and when he turned his head his hair swished against his perfect brow. When I saw him enter the room my heart skipped a beat. The others who followed in behind him looked like boys compared to his manly frame. I turned my head away quickly before he caught me starring. My golden blond hair cascaded down my turned shoulder, and I wondered if he was hearing the same chorus of angles that I was.
I remembered in Young Women’s when I was a Beehive sitting in the front row. The lesson was on eternal companions, and how we all deserved the best husband, because we are all the best. It was then that I feel in love with him he was strong, mighty man, with a perfect understanding, with a firm faith in Christ, a man that loved liberty, and freedom, he was not violent, but he would defend his rights, people, country, religion, even if it put his life in danger, and above all if all men were like him the very gates of Hell would tremble.
Moroni’s perfection gave him an untouchable feeling, like Edward in Twilight. Subsequently it was the next ideal example or should I say examples that struck me. Not only were they everything that Moroni was, but they also listened to their mothers. Most important there were 2,000 of them, 2,000 options for me to chose from. At the age of thirteen I knew that something stronger than fate would pull me towards my eternal companion, and he would be no less of a man than one of the Stripling Warrior. From the age of thirteen I also knew I could never bring my standards down; I was destined to love someone who was of the same caliber as Mormon’s stripling warriors. There were 2,000 of them in the Book of Mormon. There had to be at least one in my generation, and he was for me.
I sat there listening to him as he sung Hymns and strummed his guitar, wondering why Alma did not mention Moroni’s musical talents. After pondering this for a moment I came to the conclusion that if Moroni lived in the twenty first century he would not only be an accomplished musician, but seeing as girls only want to date guys with sweet skills Moronie’s talents would not only include his strength with a sword, but numchukas skills, and computer hacking skills. Unfortunately Moroni could not have been exposed to such enriching activities at his time. It was not his fault though, and he did return with honor and endured to the end.
A life time passed between the moments he put his guitar in his hands and sat next to me on the coach. His voice was like honey dripping with sweet goodness into my ears. As he sang the butterflies in my stomach fluttered more and more. Despite all of these facts I could not bring myself to picture us staring into each others eyes across the alter. The minutes seemed like hours as I waited our true love, and his worthiness.
I watched him put his guitar away with one hand; his biceps tightening slightly as he set it down. We listened like vultures preparing to descend on it’s prey as the silence filled in between us. At long last he turned to me sharply. I was glad that I was sitting because my knees buckled when his piercing blue eyes locked with mine. It was impossible not to hesitate before I could gather enough courage to ask him his name.
He answered in that cool smooth voice that slide like butter across a hot pan. His crocked smile melted my heart like puddie in his hands. Gaining my composure I smiled weakly. Our conversation was an orchestra playing on a clear summer night. Our words danced like notes through the air. It sent chills down my spin as I realized how similar we are. Both of us like the color light tan, puppies, serving the Lord, hiking, and playing volleyball every day. The night passed on into sweet bliss, and before I knew it the clock struck eleven. Just like Cinderella, I too had a curfew, it’s called Brigham Young University Honor Code. My night in shinning armor took the initiative of the potentially destructive situation and encouraged everyone to go home by saying a closing prayer.
It was love at first sight. I knew it. Reluctantly we pried ourselves off the coach, and made our way to the door. He was leaving now, but before he walked out into the lobby he turned and said, “I had a nice time”. We shock hands. With my pale fingers wrapped in his firm hands I felt safe, and loved. I no longer questioned if we knew each other in the preexistence; I knew we had.
Friday, September 11, 2009
The Royal Holloway Collection
The art piece that intrigued me the most in "The Royal Holloway Collection" was “The Babylonian Marriage Market” by Edwin Longsden Long. In the discussion we had in class the question was asked, “Why put this painting up in a women’s college?”. There were several responses. Thomas Holloway never stated why he chose this painting. Although I believe the painting was in the college collection for various reasons I want to focus on is how it portrays comparisons.
According to Herodotus the most beautiful women were sold first and then the more “humble” or “crippled” were autioned last. In the painting all of the men are looking at the first women standing on the block, but her back is facing us. From the men’s pointing fingers, and excitement we conclude she is the most beautiful. Just as important though is in women sitting in the far right corner. She is the last women in line and presumably the ugliest women. Her head is buried in her hands, and we can not see her face either. By doing this Edwin allows the audience to imagine both women. I think that he wanted to portray that beauty is an ambiguous term. He understood that if he tried to put a face to the ugliest and most beautiful women everyone who saw the painting would focus on comparing them, even to actual women they know.
Instead of having his focus based on the opinions of beauty vs. ugly he wanted the audience to observe the entire scene of the painting, not simply comparing the women. I think that Thomas Holloway wanted the women attend the Royal Holloway college to also realize this. Many of them were considered outcast because they were ambitious enough to obtain an education. Thomas could have wanted the pupils to understand that they were not alone when they felt shunned by society. More importantly he could have wanted them to realize that comparing beauty, intelligence, or talents is not the focus of his college.
According to Herodotus the most beautiful women were sold first and then the more “humble” or “crippled” were autioned last. In the painting all of the men are looking at the first women standing on the block, but her back is facing us. From the men’s pointing fingers, and excitement we conclude she is the most beautiful. Just as important though is in women sitting in the far right corner. She is the last women in line and presumably the ugliest women. Her head is buried in her hands, and we can not see her face either. By doing this Edwin allows the audience to imagine both women. I think that he wanted to portray that beauty is an ambiguous term. He understood that if he tried to put a face to the ugliest and most beautiful women everyone who saw the painting would focus on comparing them, even to actual women they know.
Instead of having his focus based on the opinions of beauty vs. ugly he wanted the audience to observe the entire scene of the painting, not simply comparing the women. I think that Thomas Holloway wanted the women attend the Royal Holloway college to also realize this. Many of them were considered outcast because they were ambitious enough to obtain an education. Thomas could have wanted the pupils to understand that they were not alone when they felt shunned by society. More importantly he could have wanted them to realize that comparing beauty, intelligence, or talents is not the focus of his college.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
slavery
Where the tree inside my throat had gotten enough water and sunlight to grow I did not know, because I had not had sunlight or water in a life time. In the darnkness of the cargo pit I could not tell if my eyes wer opened or closed making it impossible to determin if I was in a nightmare, or apart of some life after life. My children's laughter, husband's embrace, and mother's voice were all apart of some separate life, and every clatter of the chains clamped around my neck and ankles confirmed that I was getting farther from the living and closer to a life more punishable than death.
The women behind me was breathing hot breath into my bear back, but the women infront of me was simply a corps rolling to the rhythm of the sea. She smelled like maggot infested meat, and the constant rubbing of vomit, blood, sweat, and sewage between us burned my nostrils.
I felt tears sting my eyes. Why had the gods graced her with the pleasure of dying? As I pondered the injustice of life a waterfall of sunlight danced through the open cargo door, and pooled at the center of the hold. For a brief moment the constant groaning simmered to mumbling. As two burly shadows sharing one candle descended into the deck; the cargo-door slamming behind them.
The two men's iron clad boots sounded like puttering pebbles compared to the screeching and moaning of the slaves around them. They started at the women closest to the stairs. Holding the candle over the women's figure, both men would poke and point at the writhing form before one would shove teh other over and grab teh women's chained body forcing her to surrender to his lusts. Each man took his turn holding the candle until drunken with jealously they settled on putting the light on the ground between them. As the candle light drew closer I realized despite age or beauty ever women was taken by at least one of the men if not both.
I did not know most of the words the women screamed, but when I heard their cries in my own language I rattled my chains against the floor baords inorder to push their cries out of my mind. Those women were from my village, and their husbands had hunted with my husband. Their children had played with my children, and as I heard their desperate voices quake when they pleaded for mercy their faces burned in my mind.
My body flet as if it had been filled with rolling boulders as I watched the candle light hover over the dead women next to me. I was shocked the men could tell the differance between a live corps and a dead one. One of the men motioned towards the once tall candle, pointing out how little light was left in the wick. Both men nodded, and the one not holding the candle bent down to one knee and started unchaining the dead women next to me. I attempted to stop breathing, wishing I could die too, or at least become invisible.
His calloused hands glazed my bear thigh when he pulled her out of the row. A flam ignited in his hallow eyes as he stared at my naked: shoulders, arms, chest, loins, legs. He turned his head slightly to get a better look at my entire frame, and then he let the women's corps hit the boards with a thud. Before the man holding the candle could shove the dimming light between me and his victim all strenght abandoned me to the sweaty and sticky frame pressing my bones into the hardwood. His furry morphed into lust as he seized my corps and clawed my bear flesh forcing me beneath him. Hell. This is what Hell means. I had heard the crew use that strange word, and now I understood. I was living in a life called Hell.
The women behind me was breathing hot breath into my bear back, but the women infront of me was simply a corps rolling to the rhythm of the sea. She smelled like maggot infested meat, and the constant rubbing of vomit, blood, sweat, and sewage between us burned my nostrils.
I felt tears sting my eyes. Why had the gods graced her with the pleasure of dying? As I pondered the injustice of life a waterfall of sunlight danced through the open cargo door, and pooled at the center of the hold. For a brief moment the constant groaning simmered to mumbling. As two burly shadows sharing one candle descended into the deck; the cargo-door slamming behind them.
The two men's iron clad boots sounded like puttering pebbles compared to the screeching and moaning of the slaves around them. They started at the women closest to the stairs. Holding the candle over the women's figure, both men would poke and point at the writhing form before one would shove teh other over and grab teh women's chained body forcing her to surrender to his lusts. Each man took his turn holding the candle until drunken with jealously they settled on putting the light on the ground between them. As the candle light drew closer I realized despite age or beauty ever women was taken by at least one of the men if not both.
I did not know most of the words the women screamed, but when I heard their cries in my own language I rattled my chains against the floor baords inorder to push their cries out of my mind. Those women were from my village, and their husbands had hunted with my husband. Their children had played with my children, and as I heard their desperate voices quake when they pleaded for mercy their faces burned in my mind.
My body flet as if it had been filled with rolling boulders as I watched the candle light hover over the dead women next to me. I was shocked the men could tell the differance between a live corps and a dead one. One of the men motioned towards the once tall candle, pointing out how little light was left in the wick. Both men nodded, and the one not holding the candle bent down to one knee and started unchaining the dead women next to me. I attempted to stop breathing, wishing I could die too, or at least become invisible.
His calloused hands glazed my bear thigh when he pulled her out of the row. A flam ignited in his hallow eyes as he stared at my naked: shoulders, arms, chest, loins, legs. He turned his head slightly to get a better look at my entire frame, and then he let the women's corps hit the boards with a thud. Before the man holding the candle could shove the dimming light between me and his victim all strenght abandoned me to the sweaty and sticky frame pressing my bones into the hardwood. His furry morphed into lust as he seized my corps and clawed my bear flesh forcing me beneath him. Hell. This is what Hell means. I had heard the crew use that strange word, and now I understood. I was living in a life called Hell.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
History promt
Imagine that you live in Africa and have been captured by a slave trader and are being shipped across the Atlantic. Write a 500 to 750 word personal narrative on recording what your thoughts and experiences might be along your journey.
I am an Average College Student.
Average relates to the Arabic word awariya which means damaged merchandise. It is also simular to the word avarie, that word is French. More importantly it means damage to ship or carg. According to Webster Average origionally meant the "proportionally distributed charge for damage at sea." Taking all of that into account I am a college student worth the same as merchandies damaged at sea.
I think that fits... I mean naturally after 12 years of public education I am bound to be a little damaged. We can relate that time of my life to the sea. I prefer to think of college as the harbor.
This blog is started 1)to fullfill my history assignment 2) practice writting for english 3) be the cargo box for all of the new information I am learning.
Keep you posted
Average relates to the Arabic word awariya which means damaged merchandise. It is also simular to the word avarie, that word is French. More importantly it means damage to ship or carg. According to Webster Average origionally meant the "proportionally distributed charge for damage at sea." Taking all of that into account I am a college student worth the same as merchandies damaged at sea.
I think that fits... I mean naturally after 12 years of public education I am bound to be a little damaged. We can relate that time of my life to the sea. I prefer to think of college as the harbor.
This blog is started 1)to fullfill my history assignment 2) practice writting for english 3) be the cargo box for all of the new information I am learning.
Keep you posted
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