Desultory Thoughts

I wasn’t planning on attending the viewing of our recently deceased Prophet, but when I found my day cut short at the Capitol where I was lobbying on behalf of our children while representing the PTA, I decided that if I could easily find a parking spot by the Conference Center that I’d go ahead and pay tribute. Others in attendance no doubt had more determination than I and would have stood in line for hours to have this opportunity, but I’m sure glad that the circumstances presented themselves just right because it was a great experience.

The line started at doors 14 and 15 or thereabouts, which is on the east side of the building. There were ushers every so often so that you were sure to stay on course and that led me through the middle level of the auditorium all the way to the west side of the building and then back out into the halls and all the way back to the east side of the building, almost to where I entered. Then up the escalators and finally up to where the busts of the presidents of the church are on display. That’s where the Prophet laid peacefully, surrounded by flowers and mourning members (and likely non-members, as well). As I paid my respects I recited the words Gordon B Hinckley (which has become our own personal family motto and that we’ve all memorized; even Griffin can say it word for word) and felt a profound love for him and the difference he’s made in my life. Our family motto is:

The time has come for us to stand a little taller. This is a season to be strong. It is a time to move forward without hesitation. It is a time to do what is right, regardless of the consequences that might follow. It is a time to be found keeping the commandments. It is a time to be considerate and good, decent and courteous towards one another in all of our relationships. We have nothing to fear. God is at the helm.

Our Prophet was always one to encourage and in a way that made you feel loved and not scorned. He always commended the Saints for doing their best and then encouraged us to do a little better. As I thought about his legacy (many say it’s a legacy of Temples that he left us that he is best known and will be best remembered) but the reoccurring feelings and thoughts that passed through my mind was that of his pure love that he had for everyone. He was truly a charitable and loving man of God. He will be missed.

I was sad to come across this obituary in the Tooele Transcript Bulletin.

Our miracle, Hunter Greyson Keel, has decided to return to his home in heaven.

He was born in heaven on Jan. 11, 2008. Hunter was born on earth April 14, 2007, and weighed only 2 pounds, 14 ounces. Our precious boy came into this world with a shock of red hair and big beautiful hazel eyes. He was also born with Holoprosencephaly and other challenges that he valiantly struggled through.

Our little guy had a sweet personality with a serious disposition. He had wise eyes and didn’t get impressed all that easily. His feisty temper amused and astounded us as he fought the statistics and gave us almost nine beautiful months with him. He could throw temper tantrums while sleeping (his mom called this cheating) but as long as he got his way he was a very easy going baby. Of all things he loved being cuddled and held the most and we are so thankful to have had so much time to do so.

We all love Hunter so much and will miss him greatly. We want to thank our family, friends and the community for all the support given to us throughout Hunter’s short, meaningful life.

Hunter is survived by his mom, Amber Keel (Brannan); dad, Dennis L. Keel Jr.; his entire family and all the people who loved, cared and prayed for him during his times of trial.

It will be a wonderful reunion for his parents when they see him again in heaven; free of his earthly trials.

I was impressed with the story that Clint at BonnevilleMariner posted on his blog tonight. At first I was skeptical and sad for Clint, thinking he had fallen prey to some schemer. My first thought was to verify the story…isn’t it sad that we live in such a world that we have to be such pessimists? My heart was quickly softened after reading Hunter’s blog.

Read Clint’s thoughtful post and then check out http://helpforhunter.blogspot.com/ The love that a parent has for their child is self-evident, but I can’t imagine how much that love must increase when every moment may be the last. Thanks for helping me feel a little more charity this Christmas season, Clint. Hunter’s life will not be for nothing. His life will touch many lives. Thank you, Hunter Greyson Keel.

I don’t like to think about 9/11.

Probably for the same reason I don’t like waking up in the morning. Not because I am depressed or don’t want to face the day. I’m just fine once I open the door and dash out for my morning run. It’s getting to that point that’s the problem. I dread waking up in the morning probably because I enjoy sleep so much and I don’t think I get enough. It’s hard to leave the warm, comfortable world of sweet slumber.

But I do, every day, because I have to.

I don’t like to think about 9/11 and I don’t think I’m alone. As Americans, we enjoy the comfort of our every-day lives. The human mind likes to pretend problems don’t exist. Perhaps this is a survival instinct. I loved the perceived innocence of the pre- 9/11 world, that slumbering twilight before the alarm went off- the calm before the storm.

It’s been six years. Long enough to get used to the security inconveniences at airports, long enough to be ok with the provisions of the Patriot Act, long enough that our nation at war is the rule, not the exception.

Long enough that I don’t really need to think about 9/11 as much anymore. Gone are the days that I worried about the national Terror Threat Level. Gone are the days that I worry about flying. I still realize the short and long term threats of Radical Islam, but it’s late enough in the day that the nightmare of 9/11 begins to fade.

It was six years ago today, on a crisp, clear Tuesday morning. It’s time to wake up again.

I left too early this morning to talk to my first grader. I wanted to remind him that today is a special day. I hope they mention it at school, but I won’t be surprised if they don’t.

You’re probably reading this at work. Chances are you’ve got a decent Internet connection. Watch the towers fall again- the footage is out there. Shut the office door and listen to the emergency dispatch tapes. Take your phone off the hook for an hour and listen to the cell phone calls from planes. Listen to the victims speak their last words as the towers collapse. Watch it. Listen to it. Relive the horrible catharsis. Forget 9/11 and the American Spirit will fade with it.

Wake up.

Here’s a good place to start.

The above phrase in Arabic is “lan astaslem.” It means “I will not surrender/I will not submit.”

I’ve been involved with the PTA since my daughter began school in September of last year. I attended my second Leadership Training Convention on Thursday and Friday which happens annually in May. Last year I was inspired by Ronda Rose, Legislative Vice President on the Utah PTA Executive Board. She finished up her term this year and she will be greatly missed because of her ability to speak from her heart, stand up for her convictions, and truly inspire! All the effort I’ve given and all the effort I will continue to give will be, in part, inspired by this amazing woman.

This year I was inspired by the last workshop that I attended; one that I really didn’t have time to attend and one that I had to leave half way through, but the half that I was privileged to listen to proved extremely worthwhile. The workshop was entitled Rachel’s Challenge and was brought about by the tragic events of April 20, 1999 when two students killed 12 students and 1 teacher at Columbine High School. Rachel Scott was the first to die that dreadful day. But little did anyone know, except Rachel herself as she foreshadowed in her diary, that her death would touch millions of hearts.

After her death an essay that she had written for a class was found under her bed. The message of the essay inspired the family to share and challenge people everywhere to take upon themselves Rachel’s “Codes of Life“. There are five of them and they gel nicely with my personal beliefs. But put in perspective of her life and tragic death, they suddenly took on new light and meaning. How this girl of 17 was able to have such vision is a miracle.

I listened eagerly as Dana Scott, Rachel’s sister, shared her story with us. The presentation consisted of heartfelt narration by Dana along with video clips and slide show pictures. It was the best powerpoint presentation I had ever seen. I found myself watching Dana as she watched the video clips and I tried to imagine what she must have felt losing her sister and nearly losing her brother. I watched as her emotions changed from sadness and fear during the news clips that showed the tragedy of that day to pure joy when they showed footage of her as a child, full of joy (incidentally her middle name) and life. I felt myself empathizing, which has only begun to happen in my life as of two years ago.

Several years ago I had a friend who had cancer. I wasn’t being especially empathetic as I talked about the situation with my wife in the car one day. She chastised me for my lack of a Christ-like attitude. At first I didn’t accept that I needed to change. My feeling was that difficulties happen in everyone’s life and that you just accept it and get over it; a complete lack of empathy. But the fact that I recognized that it was not Christ-like to have such an attitude led me to search out that attribute and I began to pray for it.

Several months passed and nothing major had changed despite my prayers. I still had a general sense of disdain for other people’s burdens but continued to search out a change of heart. It was a hot day on the 18th of July, 2005 where Clint (a friend and co-worker) and I found shade under the curved steps of the Salt Lake City Library. Just as we were finishing our 7-11 hot dogs we heard what sounded to me like a skate board hitting the pavement, but much louder. It wasn’t long before we both realized that something terrible had happened. We ran over to where the noise came from and much to our shock we found the body of a woman lying face up on the brick-lain sidewalk. I’ll spare you the rest of the details, but suffice it to say, the woman had jumped from the top of the library to her untimely death, despite what paramedics tried to do for her.

I was still unaware how much this event would effect my life. Clint and I tried to deal with it the best we could through humor, but as the days went on it haunted me. I found myself reading her obituary and all of the online comments from the online version on the local newspaper’s website to try and find out who this woman was and why she would do such a thing. Her name was Michelle Marie Macy and she was only 39 years old. She was a pharmacist and married, but had no children. She loved cats. She had family who loved her. I began to recognize feelings of empathy within myself, but the true change of heart came when I found the courage inside to pray for Michelle – a complete stranger. I prayed for her family and those who must be feeling the pain of her untimely passing. I experienced true compassion and charity during that prayer and when I finished I found that I was crying. The change of heart that I had been praying for had finally come!

I hope Michelle’s family will find comfort that her death was not in vain, just as Rachel’s death was not in vain. My life was touched and I learned a lesson that was long overdue. I hope that one day I can give Michelle a hug and tell her that I love her. I don’t know what circumstances she must have been going through to come to that point, but I know that Jesus Christ loves her. I know that her family loves her.

So it was with charity and love that I listened to the message that Rachel’s sister had to share. Her message did not fall on unfertile soil. I will take the message to heart, re-evaluate my life, and strive to improve myself. That is the Purpose of Life – day by day, week by week, year by year.