Friends/Talent/Life

I haven't posted anything for a long time because that's just the way I work I guess. This is like a journal to me, and I don't really write in my journal so well either. But, I had to take a few minutes to write down some things that are important to me.

I realize, and have known for some time now, that I have been so greatly blessed with extraordinary friends in my life. However, I had the most marvelous weekend involving a number of them that I had to simply write it down for verification.

I went to one of my best friend's (Rob Gardner) performances this weekend. He has composed a number of things--foremost being "He Is Jesus Christ", "Joseph Smith the Prophet", and the recording I saw this weekend, "Saints and Pioneers". I was so moved by the music and the words. It's not often you get to associate with people with such abilities who aren't pompous or just unsociable. While at the show, I ran into one of my favorite mission companions--Lance Runyan. He's such a stud. I love that guy. Also, I ran into my high school chorus director whom I admire so much for his love and devotion of and to his craft. The Spirit of the Lord was so strong on me this weekend.

One of the lines from Rob's show this weekend was this, "God made our voices, but we make them sing". It is our responsibility to share what we are given of the Lord. It is we who must share the truth of the restoration of the gospel. It is we who are responsible to share the talents that God has given us. Rob is using his talents to share his testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. He is unashamed. I ought to be doing the same. It's sad but true; I let the ebbs and flows of life carry me along all too often.

Yesterday and today was general conference. What an AWESOME conference. It seemed that the overriding theme was trials--we all will have them in some way or another--but we all can be healed from them or know that there will be respite of some sort sooner than later in the grand scheme of things. One thing that stood out to me was the comment made about addictions and same sex attraction. The speaker said that the Lord has promised that the atonement can over come all in this life--whether that be simply having the strength to cope with the problem until the resurrection or whether that be complete healing--it is the same. We get to choose--we can be miserable, or we can swallow our pride and thank the Lord for the chance to improve every day. I loved hearing that gentle reminder that there are better things, and that Christ did NOT die in vain. I have already felt the healing powers of the atonement in my life, but I know I can rely on the Lord's promise to feel that power over and over. It is my testimony and witness that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is God's church on earth.

At the end of today, I got some pretty shocking news in the late evening today. One of my close friend's father died today of a heart attack. He was out for a motorcycle ride and after pulling over to the side of the road, died of a heart attack. I can't believe it. I hope she and the rest of her family are doing ok. Life is definitely fragile. I absolutely need to take more concern for my own health. I'm active and I love to run and play, but I eat like total crap a lot of the time and I know that will catch up to me and I don't want to die because my freaking arteries are clogged up because I didn't have the ability to control myself. Ah...the carnal desires of man. Oh yeah, and Ah....stretchy pants!

Good Intentions, poor follow through

Everyone has good intentions I think. Well, for the most part. Some intend on smiling more, others intend of waking earlier. There are some who intend on being healthier and even more who intend on being healthier on Monday. Now that I've flogged any interested with a paragraph of malarkey, let me share MY good intentions.

Outside of the fact that I intend to be healthy, smile more, eat better, love more, etc., I am intending on writing about people. People who in one way or another, have influenced me and my life. Be it small or major. In so doing, I hope to share with all of my reader (yes, I left the s off intentionally), how you never know what kind of effect you might have on those around you. There are some days my heart is so full of thanks for people, and there are others, that I fight against my inborn pride and selfishness--trying to remind myself that the world is made up of more than just me.

Part of my motivation stems from a video clip my sister posted on Facebook about a man in India who gave up everything to help those with nothing. It moved me. From thence, I have made "intentions" to follow this question: Have I done any good in the world today? For some, that question will ring because is comes from a song.

"Have I done any good in the world today? Have I helped anyone in need? Have I cheered up the sad? Or made someone feel glad? If not, I have failed indeed."

"Has anyones burden been lighter today, because I was willing to share? Have the sick and the weary been helped on their way? When they needed my help was I there?"

These poignant words echo emotions in my mind in such a way that EVERY time I hear them or read them, I want to stand and do something. But EVERY time I want to do that, my own natural desires to sit and do nothing get in the way. I'm left to think about the chorus of that song: Then wake up! And do something more than dream of your mansion above. Doing good is a pleasure! A joy beyond measure. A blessing of duty and love.

Over the last little while I've forgotten that a little too often. I'm married to an amazing woman. A motivated, very beautiful woman. I often recognize that I got the better end of this deal. I routinely make silly mistakes, big mistakes, dumb mistakes, and foolish mistakes. I'm not very good at expressing my thoughts and emotions in explanation of said mistakes. But through it all, she has continued to love me and for that I'm grateful and indebted. Now what does this have to do with anything I've written above?? A lot. I simply wanted to say that she is a giver. She is a lover. She doesn't waste time dreaming of her mansion above. Yes life gets overwhelming and frustrating for her, just like everyone else. But she is a shining example for me. I have many, but Lana is my love.

So, in the coming while, I hope to share with you those people who have influenced my life. Some entries might be shorter or longer than others. If someone isn't mentioned--nor harm intended. If someone obscure IS, lucky them. hahahah. With that, I'll bid all a fond farewell. Until we read again.

Porter.

My New Book

I wanted to post the first chapter of my new book. I'm going to refrain from any details at this point, and if you know about it, please also refrain. But I'm trying to gauge some interest in this short, simple chapter. If you like it, will you please let me know. If you hate it...be gentle. :) Thanks!

It’s the little things in life that get you. The accidental slip into a puddle—new shoes ruined. The unintended hurtful word that you let fester until you are certain that the person who said it ought to be punched in the mouth. The missed taxi, the late friend, the longer than expected work day. We’ve all had these little things bother us—get us down. I’m no different. I find a rock on the side of the street and throw it at a nearby garbage can. The sound echoes my frustration though the alleyway.

My name is Bert. I’m 16 years old. I should be in school. I should be with friends—with her. But life is different for each of us. Instead of doing what I ought to be doing, I’m sitting on the curb outside my house dreading going in.

I finished work 20 minutes ago. I’m filthy. My hair is covered in ash and soot; as are my clothes and any exposed skin. I am a chimney sweep by trade. It pays ok enough—enough to provide food for my mother and me. I sit and stare off into the distance, thinking about my father—wondering how things would be different if he were alive.

I remember what life was like. Cleaner house, more money, more food. I’m running home from school to play with my father. He’s a large man with huge hands—hands that could seemingly crush you, yet they are more often used to hold you and comfort you.

I burst through the door and yell, “Father! I’m home!” There is no response. “Mother? I’m home.” Again nothing. I go from room to room. I hear something in my parent’s bedroom. My mother is crying. The scene is unreal. I’m only 14 at the time and I can’t comprehend what I’m seeing. My father is face down on the floor, blood pooled by his body. My mother is kneeling next to him, uncontrollable. It’s only then that I notice the house—really notice it. Items are broken and strewn everywhere. I feel my heart hitting my chest. I’m going to be sick. I’m in shock and I scream, “BLOODY HELL! What HAPPENED! Mum! WHAT HAPPENED?!”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead she holds my father. Then I notice the broken window. “Did someone break into the house? What happened?!” I’m kneeling next to her, shaking her, avoiding the thought of my father. I need to know what happened.

“He’s dead.” She whispers. “Shot. An intruder. Looking for something…”

I’m brought back from my thoughts by a passerby. I decide to go inside. I face the door, and realize I’m facing another evening of hell. My mother is sick. She has never recovered from my father’s death. It haunts her and as a consequence, she has failing health. She’s nearly bed ridden, and thusly, I have to provide—in every way. But I’m 16. I feel so alone, yet I have to be strong. I can’t let my mother ruin the rest of my life. I loved my father and I miss him, but I have my life to worry about now—and my mother has hers, and ought to shake free.

I open the door. The smell sickens me. My mother is bad today. The foul odor tells me she’s had an accident.

Opting to by myself a minute or two longer, I move quietly to the washroom to clean up a bit. In front of the mirror I look at myself, pausing to search for signs of happiness. The signs are there. My life isn’t a total waste I think. “You’ll be something great!” I say to myself.

There, from those deep blue eyes staring back at me I see it—the flame that drives me. Drives me to rise past my lot. To find those responsible for my father’s death and bring justice. To be with her.

“Bert? Is that you?” My mother’s voice is raspy and weak.

“Yes mum. I’ll be right in.” I try to place a tone of compassion in my voice when I speak to her, but admittedly I’m getting frustrated and it clearly seeps through.

I gather up the needed clothes and rags to clean up her mess and her room. After the cleaning, I sit hunched in a nearby chair. My mother has drifted off to sleep again and I can hear her soft breathing—so calm and relaxed. I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath. The anger and frustrations of the day give way to my own fatigue and hunger. I take one last look at my mother and realize that I love her so dearly. I hate my lot right now, but she is my mum, and I know eventually she will snap to and things will eventually have some tone of normalcy again.

I leave her bedroom and make my way to the washroom to get cleaned up before putting together some dinner. The soap is already covered in days worth of soot and filth, but rinses clean as I hold it firmly under the faucet. I twist it round and round in my hands, careful not to drop it. “It’s like a game!” My father would say to me. “Careful now, it gets a bit slickery.” Slickery. He always made up words just to make me smile.

The soap slips from my hands and rattles around on the bottom of the basin. I lost the game. I chuckle to myself at the thought. Splashing water on my face makes me feel renewed and ready to leave behind the day’s weight. I dry my hands and face and make my way to the kitchen. I’m not really sure what I am going to make. I spy a relatively fresh loaf of bread—at least I don’t notice too much mold on it. I tear the moldy pieces off and then piece out the loaf into two dishes and pour some milk over the bread.

I eat this meal most every day it seems, but I still enjoy it and it’s filling. I devour my portion and then walk the other into my mother’s room. “Mum, I’ve some supper for you.” She moans a little and turns to face me. Her eyes find mine and she smiles. My heart warms and for a moment I see her again—beautiful and full of life. But the moment passes and I can only see how skeletal she looks. Her eyes are sunken and creased from months of inner turmoil.

“Bert, thank you so much dear.” She struggles to sit up so I set the bowl down and take her by the hands. She takes the food as I hand it to her and pretends to enjoy a couple bites. But I’m smarter than she knows. I know she can barely keep the food down, but she tries for me.

I note something different in the way she is eating tonight. Every move is deliberate, determined. She pauses and clinches her jaw in what I can only assume is anger. She sets the food in her lap and weakly lifts her head to face me and then I see it. Her eyes are aflame.

“Mum what is it?” I say.

“Bert, it is all I can do to sit up in this bed. It is all I can do to eat this food. If I had to wager, I would say I didn’t have long left to live. But I don’t wager Bert! And I want to live! And I will live!” Her breathing was heavy and very labored.

“What are you saying Mum?”

“That I’m sorry Bert. I’m so very sorry! You have borne too much burden. It has not been fair to you son.”

I certainly agree with her words, but I find myself sitting by her side, holding her and telling her it is alright. Of course I’m lying. But I can’t believe what I’m seeing and hearing.

“I’m weak son. But starting this night, I am resolute to be whole again—and shortly!” At that she falls back on the pillows, her breaths shallow and wheezing.

“Eat your food mum.”

For the first time in two years I find myself smiling at home. I have reason to hope—until I notice that my mother has stopped breathing.

Once, Twice, Three times a tubby

My brother Eric has a blog that chronicles his fitness journey. It's a great read, and is generally inspirational as well. For those interested here is the link. He and I seem to share many things, one of which is our propensity to get off and on the proverbial wagon.

Nearly a year ago now, I started at what was called Competitive Fitness. I quickly dropped nearly 30 pounds, but then flatlined. Never gaining, but never losing. I puzzled at this, all the while knowing why I wasn't losing--I kept falling off the good eating wagon. RATS!

I've posted before about attitude, about giving service, about many other things that I used for self motivation. But Eric nailed it today--it's about persevering. Never quitting despite the countless road blocks and ups and downs that we will face. Just don't quit. Fall off? Get back on. Trip and skin your knee? Just get back up. Gain 15 pounds? Re-evaluate and move forward. NEVER look back, ALWAYS look forward. If we can learn anything from the bible, let it be from the story of Lot's wife--She just couldn't let go of all the "stuff" she felt like she was leaving behind (most of which was detrimental to her well being). So, in turning back, she lost her life. I hope WE can be smarter and learn from her mistake. Let's leave all of the failure, hurt, negativity, and disappointment behind us. Never look back or else you might reopen those things that will ultimately be your downfall.

I've looked back once, twice, and three times......and I'm still tubby. :) So it's time to put the blinders on and finish my race. Come along for the ride....should be fun!

Is it possible?

Is it possible to love somebody that you don't really know? When I say 'really', I'm talking in terms of depth, in detail. Is it possible to love someone that you know in some ways, but not in others--someone you have shared tough experiences with, but whose favorite food, or color, or music you wouldn't have the slightest information on? To all of these questions I would say yes.

I have a friend (a few actually) who has changed my life. You've seen my past posts, and my most recent "transformation" post. I still have a ways to go to get to my goal, but in the process of achieving this goal, I came across some people that helped me see my life, and the way I view it, a little bit differently. Jason , Sally , Nick , and Ben are the trainers at Competitive Fitness--the place that I have been going to change. They are however, much more than trainers to me. I love them all dearly. I want to tell you though about Jason, and what his dreams, have done for mine.

Today was a day that if it were possible, some of us would like to give back--turn back the clock if you will. Today, Competitive Fitness closed her doors. But, even though the gym is closed, my heart will forever remain open and touched because Jason had the gumption to dream. He dreamed of more than himself. Having 9 fitness certifications was all well and good to him, but it did no good unless he could reach the masses. He managed a 24hr fitness, and even trained that good ol' Alli Vincent on her way to biggest loser victory. But he knew something wasn't right. Most people going in and out of 24hr were missing out. He wanted to be able to help more people. It's ALWAYS about others for him. A true example of Christ, and ironically, he's just getting closer to the Savior in more recent days. Anyway, to keep a long story long, he took everything he had, found a shyster of a partner, and started Competitive Fitness.

CF was to be a place of love, a place where people could work their butts off, and yell and scream for one another. A place where strangers two minutes earlier could put arms around shoulders and share a laugh at how they nearly passed out from a workout. It was to be a FAMILY. Well, I'm here to tell you that Jason's dream was accomplished. It was a family.

Time passed, and as it goes with many new businesses, he ran into some big hurdles. The partnership was dissolved, but the damage was done, and here we are today. If I could say one thing to anyone reading this (Jason included)--Jason, did not fail in this business venture. If anything, he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. That's easy to say when I'm not the one stressed about the other parts of life that require money, I know. But beyond money (which never has been the driving force for Jason), LIVES have been changed--including mine. The Savior said: "...How great shall be your joy in the kingdom of my Father if ye shall bring save it be one soul unto me. But, how much greater shall your joy be, if ye shall bring MANY souls..." Jason saved many.

You might read this and say, "how does working out save a soul?" That is a valid question. But I'm here to tell you that the longer one travels down the lonely path of laziness and gluttony, the lonelier one becomes. With loneliness comes discouragement, and with discouragement comes apathy, and with apathy comes a hardened heart--the Lord, cannot dwell in a hard heart. Conversely, with exercise comes hope (and lots of physical pain sometimes), with hope comes faith/belief, with faith comes knowledge of the truth--the Lord IS truth.

Anyway, I'm totally rambling. But my point in the WHOLE post is to tell you that although I don't know Jason intimately, I love him. He's a brother to me. I owe him part of my life, because he so willingly shared part of his. He risked all he owned to help people like me. In turn, he is losing most of what he owns.....to help people like me. People who do that make me strive to be better in all aspects of life. My father did that--he is my hero. Jason....in many ways, so are you. Mind you all, this is not a funeral here. Jason is still alive and kicking--I just saw him this evening. But it's important to know and be reminded, that it's people like Jason that make this country run. People who risk it all to live the dream. Well, Jason, your dream didn't pan out the way you envisioned it. But friend, it's not gone. It's not over. Your dream, fueled many others--many of which, you may never see the full fruition of. You dream inspired others to dream. Your dream brought hope to hundreds, and the chain reaction of that you may never know. As a tie in to that thought--my grandparents (dad's parents) joined the LDS church when my dad was 3. That missionary who baptized my grandparents had no idea what kind of a chain reaction was started and how many more THOUSANDS of people have come unto Christ because of that single act. Upwards of 30-40 missionaries from my gpa's posterity alone have gone out to the world and baptized. And the chain goes on. Jason, your dream is the same. You have inspired, and people who move on, share your dream with others, and inspire them, and the gift goes on, and on, and on.

I posted something before about attitude. In it, I quoted Jim Valvano. It stands today as one of my favorite quotes to keep me going. So to all, I'll repeat it tonight. "Don't give up. Don't EVER give up."

Jason, I love you. Sally, Nick, Ben...the same feelings apply.

So, can you love someone without knowing everything about them? I mean really love them? The answer depends on you as a person. But as for me, I can. And I do.

Ch-ch-ch-changes....

Other than having a better camera....can you see any changes in me since exactly one year ago? It's the same way that I looked when I started working out at Competitive Fitness in February of this year.

Fat? Hmm, I think so.

  Well, sometimes we all need a little edumacation on some basic principles.  Sure, all of us know that eating too much of just about anything isn't good.  And we all especially know that eating too much junk is even worse.  

So, why this educational video?  Because even smarty pants' need reminders why it is important to eat right and exercise.  

This applies especially to me since I have gained 4 pounds since Crew was born.  I had lost approximately 25 pounds.  Then, I began to see myself making tiny rationalizations for my behaviors.  Similar to what I had done in the past when I had worked to lose weight.  It is one thing to allow yourself to have a cookie or an ice cream every ONCE IN A WHILE--and not beat yourself up about it.  It is, however, an entirely different story when you begin to use the fact that you have lost "x" amount of weight to justify your junk eating choices..."I have lost 25 pounds.  I'm ok.  I'll just have "this" and be right back at it.  

BE CAREFUL with that type of logic.  It will quickly lead you back to the weight you were running from.  So, allow yourself a treat once in a while, but remember the end goal...a longer, healthier, happier life.  That is where I have found myself these past 10 days.  I have since recognized it, have hit the workouts hard again, and have focussed my eyes on my prize.  I hope the rest of you all do the same.  

Keep pushing ALL!  Find a new goal, a new race, a new reason to remind yourself that every day is a great day to get the heart pumping.  It's WAY more worth it than being sloppy and frustrated that our food addictions are controlling us.  Yay friends.                    

You may need to pause my awesome music before watching the show.  :)