Possibly Insightful Ramblings

There is something in the human soul that longs for permanence. The eternal nature of our being begs that the things which we love will not cease with our mortal breath. We ache to know that the relationships we cherish will not end at death. And because of our inherent nature as children of God, we each feel in our souls that these relationships will last forever. Anything less than that would be an injustice to the eternity we feel within ourselves. As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I'm grateful that I've always had the knowledge that I will be with my family forever. Because my parents were married in the temple of the Lord by sacred priesthood power, my brothers and I are eternally bound to them. We never have to say goodbye. That knowledge especially brought a lot of comfort to me on my mission, knowing that I could leave my family in the Lord's hands and when I returned home, they would still be my family and they would still love me. ...

I wasn't there 2000 years ago kneeling by a stable in Bethlehem, gazing into a baby's face in awe and wonder. I didn't follow the star with the wise men until they came and saw the young child. My mortal eyes did not behold the boy as he grew into a man and assumed his divine role. And yet, I know that all those things happened. And I am grateful. And, because of what that young child did when he came to this earth so long ago, I will yet see him! One of my favorite lines in all of Christmas music reads, "And our eyes at last shall see him, through his own redeeming love" ("Once in Royal David's City"). What hope there is in that statement! We didn't have to be there to partake of that miracle. He came to this earth for each of us, regardless of the century in which we lived. And our insatiable longing for his presence will one day be filled. Every trace of homesickness for him will be replaced with joy and peace. Because of what he did so ...

One fall day twenty-nine years ago, some American military chaplains were walking the streets of Kwang Ju, South Korea. As they walked along, they noticed a storefront much like the other buildings surrounding it. But it was a little different. It was a visitors' center for a church. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in fact. As the chaplains entered the visitors' center, they were greeted by two missionaries. All of them were excited to talk with fellow countrymen, and as the chaplains finally left, they took a couple business cards from the missionaries, promising to pass them along to anyone who was interested. Before handing this card with information about the church in Kwang Ju to the chaplains, however, one of the missionaries happened to decide to write his home address on the back of the card. Likely thinking little of the event, the two missionaries bade farewell to the chaplains and continued on in their missionary tasks. How many other such cards the...

I’m pretty sure those are the words that I hear most frequently from my coworker, a devout Catholic woman.  “It’s Friday!” I will occasionally exclaim when that glorious day has happened upon us. “It’s like a miracle,” comes the response. “We finished that set of data,” I remark as I replace a couple folders into the drawer. “It’s like a miracle!” “We made a correction! It’s like a miracle.” At first I smiled and laughed, agreeing with her that it was a wonderful situation. But as this continued to happen, I began to become a little cynical. I’ve always defined ‘miracle’ as something that occurs for the good of man that is beyond our comprehension. Under this definition, the parting of the Red Sea is a miracle. My cell phone is a miracle. People changing their lives is a miracle. Finding peace and forgiveness through the Atonement of Christ is a miracle. But Friday coming? That’s not a miracle. That’s just the common cycle of one day passing into another. ...

The first snowfall of the year is always a magical time. That profound silence as snowflakes fall on the darkened world, the glow of Christmas lights on tree branches shining through their shrouds of white, the anticipation of snowmen and snowball fights. And the trash cans! Yes. Inexplicably, one of my favorite things in the world are trash cans with their little bakers' hats of snow. They bring joy to my heart every time I see one. Look! You can't help but feel the joy, right? Yeah. Also, this one was pretty epic. George Washington impersonators.  Basically, snow is beautiful. The end.

*We pause this paper-writing session to bring you my newly found favorite from Owl City. Is not that wonderful? How true it is that life can lose its guilt and death its fear if only we rely on the Savior of the world. He is everything. I'd share more thoughts, but that paper's waiting . . . Just listen to the song. :)

Last night I went to a concert on Temple Square with my family. Choirs and artists from various denominations joined together in celebrating the gift of our Savior and what He means to us. There were some definite musical gems. Including a medley of "Sleigh Ride" and "Jesus Wants me for a Sunbeam" performed to a background of snowboarders projected onto the dome of the Tabernacle. Yeah. Think about that one for a minute. As well as Vocal Point's (relatively) famous rendition of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." If you've never heard that one, go look it up. Right now. It will bring you happiness. But I was most struck by the final number, a medley of "Be Still, My Soul" and "Silent Night." How true it is that our souls can only be still because of that silent night so long ago in Bethlehem. We can only have peace because that child in the manger was the Son of God, come to earth to fulfill His divine role of redeeming the human ...