Of Angst and Reconciliation

Last week, amidst the growing cacophony of opinion following the Sandy Hook school shooting, I had an interesting conversation with an attorney friend of mine.  The topic du jour was gun control, a debate given new life following not only the events in Newtown, but also a raft of gun violence across the country in recent weeks and months.

The cries for reform have grown louder in the media and on my social networks.  Facebook (my personal universe barometer) reveals a very stark contrast between the two sides.  Some voices echo strongly Charlton Heston’s famous “From my cold dead hands” statements while others argue for the confiscation of most or all the firearms currently in private hands.  These two sides seem to be at an impasse – and each time one side voices its position, the other side is whipped into a frenzy of passionate rebuttal.

It’s the same kind of rhetoric that pushed me to start this blog last month, and it’s as predictable as it is exhausting.  But that’s not what I want to talk about today.

My friend, over the course of our conversation, expressed some fairly passionate opinions on the issue and seemed to be pressing, by the end of the conversation, for some kind of action that she could take to help make change happen.  There even seemed to be a hint of challenge in her words and her tone – a suggestion that people who talk but don’t act share some measure of culpability when bad (and perhaps preventable) things happen.

This got me to thinking.  My response at the time was that I feel too far removed from the intricacies of the problem, the history of the debate, and the wheels of power to get involved in any kind of meaningful way.  As honest and real as those reasons are, they felt kind of weak in the moment.

But I’ve had time to reflect since then.  In a society as large and complex and interconnected as ours it’s easy to feel like one’s voice – let alone one’s actions – is too small to have a real impact on our society.  We live in an age where it’s easy – and almost unavoidable – to get a lot of (often highly charged) information about today’s current events and hot topics and to get all riled up about the latest crisis.  For an avid news and information consumer like me this can lead to a lot of angst.

As I’ve reflected on my role my mind keeps coming back to the many young lives I’ve been privileged to impact through coaching.  I didn’t set out to be a ballroom coach because I felt passionate about gun control, women’s rights, access to education, gay rights, government entitlement/tax/fiscal policy or any number of other pressing social or political issues.  Nevertheless, I am hard pressed to think of a more effective way that I could have made a difference in all of these areas over the last 10 years than by serving in that capacity.  As a coach I have spent countless hours in groups and in one-on-one conversations speaking with young people about the problems and opportunities in their lives.  I can point to many doors opened and many perspectives broadened due in part to the influence that I have wielded.  While it is very rare that I preach any one side of an issue in those settings, I always do my best to leave my students feeling empowered and capable of tackling hard problems.

Evaluating and accepting my role in this big society is an ongoing exercise.  It’s something that’s certain to evolve and change over time.  For now I am content to leave the larger societal issues to those who are (hopefully!) more informed and who have the power or influence to make the right thing happen.  I will continue to support their efforts and try to stay informed and involved in the democratic process.  But I’m going to spend less time worrying about all the ways that I can’t possibly matter in this big puzzle and focus more on the areas where I just might make a difference.

Of Socks and Gratitude

I’ve been watching you for a couple of months now, little white sock.  You weren’t very remarkable at first, simply the latest in a long line of your brethren who’d come before – left outside near the trampoline by your owner after she enjoyed an afternoon romp with her friends.  Little did I know how different your fate would be.  Unlike so many other forgotten socks, your abandonment would last much longer.

The seasons sometimes change abruptly up here in Washington, and this was the case when our summer ended in early October this year.  Months of constant, glorious sunshine were quelled overnight as the gray rains settled in to stay.  This put an end to the bustle in our backyard and we’ve hardly ventured back out there since.

And so you have stayed there through cold, wet days and nights waiting in vain to be retrieved.  I noticed this morning that you’ve cuddled up with a dark brown leaf, long fallen from some lofty perch and wedged between you and the patio paver upon which you lie.  Both of you standing as soggy reminders of sunnier, warmer times gone by.

I wonder what you think each morning as the dark slowly gives way to our grim December days.  Does the morning light give you hope each day?  Do you wonder with each sunrise if perhaps this is the day that your outdoor adventure will come to an end?  Do you long for a happy reunion with a little girl’s foot?

I have to admit your presence has frustrated me at times.  I have often wondered why it remains so difficult - despite so many reminders - for your owners to take better care of you.  This summer there seemed to be a constant yard sale of goods and garbage on display back there on a daily basis.

Of course, on this particular morning as I was thinking about you it didn’t take long for the frustration to give way to gratitude.  Along with every parent in America, I’ve spent the last few days holding my children a little tighter.  I feel incredibly grateful for three beautiful children with big hearts who tonight are all healthy, safe, and warm in their beds.  I am grateful today for stray socks, messy rooms, loose teeth, fights over wearing tights with their dresses, fights over eating dinner, crying fits over tic-tac-toe games, and all the other frustrations that necessarily accompany parenthood.

My hope today is that I can do a better job of keeping this perspective in the challenging days, months, and years of parenting that lie ahead.  I am grateful for you, little sock, and all the innocence and life that you represent.

Weekend Plans

For some reason, Heather and I have been doing a lot of reminiscing about our dating years lately.  I'm sure everyone feels like their courtship with their spouse was uniquely special in wonderful ways that are difficult to explain to those who did not experience them first hand.  But ours really was.  Our story from that time in life includes all the elements of a classic love story: an early love triangle, long odds, a brief breakup, a long separation, and a joyous reunion.

Our first year (before we served our missions) set a foundation for our relationship that has proven to be exceptionally strong.  For my part, the love triangle and long odds I mentioned above motivated me to work really, really hard every single day to win the affection of this special lady.  While I can't hoestly say that I still maintain that level of constant effort in our current quotidian life, to this day I still frequently find myself thinking I need to reaffirm to her how much she means to me in words and deeds.

The culmination of all of that effort was our long-awaited wedding in August of 2000.  It's not often that I feel like I receive (and can recognize) specific promises from a higher power.  But early in our relationship I felt a steady sense of peace that this thing could really work.  So for me our wedding was not only my chance to marry the girl of my dreams, but also the realization of intense faith, effort, and promises that was years in the making.

Heather and I were fortunate enough to get married in the Boise, Idaho LDS temple.  Readers who have not attended an LDS temple wedding should know that this ceremony involves the making of sacred covenants (a similar idea to traditional marriage vows) and it takes place in a beautiful room surrounded by close friends and family members.  It's a lovely ceremony that touches on not only issues of Earthly importance, but focuses especially on the promises of eternity.  Although I haven't stepped foot in that building since that day more than 12 years ago, the memory of that place holds a hallowed place in my heart.

Which is why I am so excited to be able to take my girls on a tour of that building tomorrow!  It's a very rare thing for an LDS temple to be made open to the public or to even to younger members of the church who are not normally permitted to enter.  Public tours typically only happen for a brief period after the initial building construction is complete and before the building is dedicated.  In this case, the Boise temple just underwent a significant reconstruction/renovation and will be re-dedicated in a couple of weeks – tomorrow is the final day of the public open house.

Now we're approaching the end of a year where I've spent a lot of time connecting with my daughters in many new ways (taking the summer off from work makes that possible in heavy doses).  I can't wait to introduce them to the place of one of my most special memories.  As we tour that sealing room and walk around its altar where Heather and I knelt so many years ago I hope they will begin to understand how meaningful it has been to me to have built our relationship in the way that we did.  I hope they can understand how essential it has been to our family's life to have established our marriage in that place in that way at that time.  Perhaps most importantly, I hope that in that room - in my inevitable self-assessment of my performance as a husband and father - I can look at myself in those mirrors and confidently know that I'm keeping the promises made the last time I was there.

So we're off to Boise for the weekend.  I plan to return having introduced my daughters to something new and meaningful that will help them to know a bit more about where they came from.

A Blog is Born

I am so excited to finally join the blogging world.  For several reasons.

It is a little known fact that I really enjoy writing.  As an undergraduate at BYU I was a public relations major, which means that I wrote quite a lot.  I even spent one crazy semester as a beat reporter for the Daily Universe (back when that was a thing).  I covered music and the arts and I LOVED that position - chasing down stories about really interesting people all over the Utah and Salt Lake valleys.  It’s been years since I have given myself this kind of a creative outlet.

Also, I’ve been slapped in the face repeatedly recently with the importance of keeping a personal record.  There was the very special couple of hours that Heather and I spent last week reading over her journal from our pre-mission courtship and the powerful memories and emotions that revived.  There was the review of my journal from the same period.  And there was also a lesson I taught at church about record-keeping and how important it was that ancient records be preserved for our use today.  So you might call it a prompting.

Finally, and most importantly, I just think I need to do a better job sending my thoughts out into the world and engaging my community.  You know, beyond my typical one-line snarks on Facebook.  The last few years have turned me into a far more introspective person than I ever have been before.  As a younger person I think I possessed a much louder confidence than I do these days.  I seem to spend more time thinking and less time reacting, and as I do so, I withdraw more and more.  But I do have a voice.  So I might as well share it.

But why now?

For the last few years I’ve worked really hard on the idea of Safe Space.  One of the greatest successes in my relationship with Heather is our ability to discuss (sometimes) very difficult things under the protection of a safe zone.  She knows that she can come to me with any concerns and give them voice without fear of a harsh response.  She knows that the first thing I’m going to do is make a genuine effort to understand how she feels and that I'm not going to forget how important she is to me and how much I respect her as I formulate a reaction.

Last night as the election results came in I came to a very painful realization.  The dialogue among my friends who were Romney supporters turned surprisingly bitter and grim.  To listen to them (and there were an astonishing number of people on my news feed voicing these thoughts) one would have thought that by choosing Obama, our country had turned its back on God, the constitution, and everything that makes our country great.  The harshness in my friends’ words was shocking and it left me reeling.  With their words still fresh in my ears, my evening was capped off by a brief exchange with a very dear family member who was visibly disturbed at the suggestion that I had voted a certain way.  Clearly her opinion of the candidate was strongly negative and I seemed to sense her re-evaluating me and my values as a consequence of what she thought was my vote.  The encounter stung.

It has dawned on me that we are rapidly losing any semblance of a Safe Space in our public discourse.  There is so much demonizing, extremism, and hyperbole when there should be so much more listening, empathy, and patience.  We need more peacemakers and leaders who aren’t afraid to engage.  For example, I am so proud of my church last night for setting the example of constructive Safe Space dialogue (even at the same time so many of its members were lamenting the end of civilization as they knew it).

With this blog I hope to add a soft voice of reason to the fray.  My posts will include stories from my life and observations about all things interesting to me. J  Even though this first post is maybe a little heavy on ideas, I hope to keep things relatively light around here.  Mostly, I want to have a dialogue with you, dear readers, on topics of mutual interest in a Safe Space that we can all enjoy.

Happy Birthday, blog.

The time has come.  First post to come tonight.