A Thanksgiving Miracle

How's this for a faith promoting story. Nine years ago, I was living in Antwerp, Belgium, preaching the Good Word.

My companion and I shared an apartment with two other missionaries. There were four sister missionaries serving in the city as well. Our very nice ward mission leader (much nicer than me, the lousy ward mission leader), knowing what Thanksgiving means to a bunch of American kids far from home, invited us to his house for a full Thanksgiving dinner.

Folks in Antwerp rarely fed us, not to mention full American dinners. So we couldn't have been more excited. I was so excited, in fact, that I totally spaced the standing dinner appointment that we had every Thursday.

I hated to call and cancel, as the couple were so nice to us. But we couldn't miss our Thanksgiving dinner, right? I made the call.

"Hi, uh, about this Thursday night..."

"Oh, Elder, Thursday night is going to be great. I'm preparing you an extra special meal."

Extra special? She fed us the same thing every week--one full rotisserie chicken for each of us, complemented by a plate of french fries. (Belgians eat french fries with every thing, thus making it the best country in the world.) What could be more special than that?

I chickened out. And then I lied.

"Oh, great. I just wanted to see if we could bump our dinner up an hour. We've got a teaching appointment at six." We never had teaching appointments.

"Sure, no problem."

Big problem. She fed us enough food to kill us. How could we possible eat one ginormous dinner and then go straight to an even bigger dinner?

I prayed.

So what does God do to lying missionaries?

We ate the chicken. We ate the french fries. It was delicious. We drove to dinner number two.

And here's when the miracle happened.

We were right on time for the dinner. But we were the only ones. When I asked our hosts if they had heard anything from the other missionaries they told us there was a tram strike. Having to take the bus would make them at least an hour late.

Just enough time to digest and prepare for second dinner.

Prayers are answered.

A Thanksgiving Miracle.

Stickin' it to Chastity

So after much reworking, I got my lesson all ready and catered to an adult audience. I walked into the classroom and one of my class members said, "This is my 16-year-old sister. She's visiting today." D'oh!

So I went to Plan B, Aaron's made-for-seminary approach:

"You could always put a piece of candy in your mouth and then spit it on the ground and say 'Who wants it now?!'"

No. I didn't. I actually don't really remember what I rambled on about. But nobody got up and left class early, or worse, asked me where babies come from. So I guess it was okay. The real test now is whether they come back to class next week.

Gettin' Down With the Law of Chastity

I have to teach the dreaded Law of Chastity lesson in Gospel Principles class on Sunday. The last time I had to teach this lesson was to the Young Men just after Paige was born. Here's how I decided to teach it.

I asked them all how much money they made at their little after-school jobs. Then I told them how much we paid in medical bills for Paige's arrival. I then divided that amount by their minimum wage earnings and told them how many hours they'd have to work to pay for a kid. And then, if they weren't scared enough, I told them about what witnessing childbirth was really like. Are you ready to be a dad? If not, no sex. I think I scared them straight.

But I'm teaching this lesson to grownups. How do you scare grownups?

Even Better than the Jonas Brothers' Hair

We went to the holiday sing-in at Energy Solutions Arena last night with our friends the Bawdens. We were standing in line for our free hotdogs when Janeen leaned over to me and said, "Is that Shawn Bradley?" When I turned my head, I noticed I was looking right at a navel. Whose navel? Seven-foot-six-inch Shawn Bradley's.

As we sat there eating our hotdogs, we were of course excitedly talking about our celebrity sighting. That's when something even more exciting happened. "Guys, where'd you get the ketchup?" What? Shawn Bradley is talking to us?

Brett kept his cool and said calmly, "Right over there."

Shawn Bradley: "Thanks."
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According to this site, Shawn Bradley is also known as:

"The Stormin' Mormon," "The Deathstick," "Missionary Impossible," "The Mormon Mantis," "The Praying Mantis," and "Siggi."

It's hard to choose a favorite, but I think I'm going to have to go with "The Deathstick."

I Hope They Call Me On a...

In Amsterdam with our good friends the Joneseses

I spent an hour with the missionaries last night, waiting for an investigator to not show up. Though I’ve been the ward mission leader for almost a year, my interaction with the elders has been almost all business.

Last night, however, they finally let their guard down and I heard them interact like humans. One of the dudes is going home next month and they were talking about all the awesomeness that happens at the end of the mission.

Here are some of the highlights:

Elder 1: I’m going to get to go to conference like the week before I go home.
Elder 2: That’s sweet.
E1: And then I get to go downtown on my last day.
E2: Downtown?
E1: Well, not all of downtown. Just Temple Square…AND the Church museum.
E2: The church museum is AWESOME! Are you going to go on the temple tour?
E1: And have them tell me all the stuff I already know? Nah.
E2: But you get to go the Joseph Smith movie, right?
E1: Yeah. I should take my digital camera and tape it for you and send you a copy.
E2: And you’d get struck by lightning.

On the last day of my mission I went to Amsterdam with all the other elders who were going home. I bought some silver man capris (or man-pris) that had Velcro on all the pockets at a store called The Bizzee Bee. On the way there we walked past the Amsterdam Sex Museum and a bunch of coffee (the Dutch euphemism for marijuana) shops. Then I bought some white Pumas that looked like baseball cleats.

To each his own, I guess.

And as added bonus, here’s one other conversation piece:

E1: I wish there was a Seagull Book where I live.
E2: I love Seaguall Book. I could spend hours there. If could have like a $5,000 gift certificate anywhere, I’d choose Seagull Book.
Me: Me, too.

A Rough Read Rolling

It took a year--yes, a year--for me to read Joseph Smith: A Rough Stone Rolling, but I did it. Written by a Mormon author, but aimed to give an unbiased history of Mormonism's founder, the book hits on both Smith's strengths and weaknesses.

I would have finished it sooner, had I not taken a break in the middle to read the 600-page autobiography of Slash (you know I can't say know to a good rock 'n roll memoir). Rough Stone Rolling was quite good, if not a bit long-winded at times. I'd definitely recommend it for Mormon folk, but it seemed too detail-heavy to be enjoyable for someone being introduced to Joseph Smith for the first time.

Go Jazz Go

I love how Larry H. Miller skips Sunday Jazz games for religious reasons, but then spends his evening being interviewed on the set of SportsBeat Sunday.

Sunday Jazz games are a funny thing for all us Mormons. If you are a ticket holder, do you go to the game? That's usually an easy decision. But what do you do with your ticket?

"Hey, not-LDS friend, I value the Sabbath day, but you don't so much. Do you want my ticket?"

Values are funny things. If you believe something is bad, but you know others like it, what do you do? Do you sell alcohol at your grocery store? Do you show Brokeback Mountain at your movie theater? Do you play rock and roll shows at Burt's Tiki Lounge?

Whatever the answer, I am happy that the Jazz were able to defend their home court.

Something for Those Quiet Moments: Ruminations on Missionary Music

After the Utes gave up a 40 yard pass on 4th and 18 I needed some cheering up. I found some solace in downloading some new music - The Hippos' self-titled, The Rentals EP and two Get Up Kids albums. The irony being that I don't think there is any group that makes me feel more sad than the Get Up Kids.

As the stream of consciousness continues, I am thinking about the contraband music I listened to on my mission. There was a Virgin Records by our apartment in The Hague (I'd never seen a Virgin Records before) that had a big going out of business sale. Even though we weren't allowed to listen to music, I thought it a shame to pass up such great blowout prices. I picked up a copy of "Something to Write Home About" by the Get Up Kids, even though I'd never heard the band. The artwork, the name of the band, and the name of the album were so awesome that I couldn't pass it by. Like a good boy, I refrained from listening to it until I got back to America.

I would say, all things considered, I was pretty good at abiding by the no music rule. However, here were a few that slipped by the goalie:

Something for those Quiet Moments Mixtape

What a funny mission memory. I was at a zone conference in my first area. I'd only been in Holland a few weeks. I was happy to learn their was a fellow punk rocker in my zone, Elder Josh Ligairi. (Ligairi somehow managed to keep his tongue ring a secret his entire mission. He even created a new way of laughing that kept his tongue hidden. Huh, huh, huh, huh.)

I was in the church bathroom when Ligairi approached me. He slipped me a cassette tape and then disappeared. I shut the stall door and inspected the booty. It was a mixtape titled Something for Those Quiet Moments. Ligairi had included hits by all of the punk rock legends - NOFX, Bad Religion, Millencolin, MXPX. I put the tape into the pocket of my suit and went back to the conference. I felt like I was walking around with a dimebag of marijuana.

Many months later I finally listened to the tape. I think I only listened to it once or twice, but the memory of Ligairi sneaking it to me was priceless.

Ace of Base and the 5BX

Even though he's not a Mormon, my friend Rhett was super supportive of my mission. One day, a couple of months into my mission, I got a package from him. It was an Ace of Base cd. Because my friends always teased me about liking the Swedish dance quartet, I was always too embarassed to buy any of their music. Rhett included a note with the CD: "I saw this in the $1 bin and thought of you."

The CD made its appearance 18 months later when I was introduced to the 5BX workout program. My friend Jonny Wix discovered a photocopied workout program in his missionary apartment called the 5BX (a cool, hip way of saying 5 Basic Exercises). Since we had all grown fat from eating french fries with mayonnaise for every meal, I asked him to send a copy to me and my housemates down in Antwerp, Belgium. Every night we'd do our exercise routine, which included some move where you lay on the floor and pretend to be a fish or something. The best part was that we all agreed we could only work out properly if we had some great work out tunes. Enter Ace of Base. Beautiful Life, Lucky Love, Never Gonna Say I'm Sorry, man, those are awesome songs. The rest of the album sucks, but those tracks were perfect for the 5BX.
....
The list goes on, but time runs short. Many great songs trapped in the time warp of '99-'01, but I guess it I'll have to save that for the next time I'm depressed about sports. There's a story about Enya and other New Age hits, a bad run in with Tom Jones' "Sex Bomb" and many, many more. I'd really like to write a book about my mission, but Traci ensures me no one would want to read it.

The Kooks - All That She Wants [MP3]
Ace of Base - The Sign [MP3]

A Mormon President? (But Trix Are For Kids)

I am still undecided about Mitt Romney. I may or may not vote for him, but that decision will likely not be based on his Mormonoscity.

Anyhoo, the Deseret News posted a link today to an article called "A Mormon president? The LDS difference" published in The Christian Century. It does a good job of giving an overview on the faith. It's super long, but worth checking out.

New Ward: Week Four

Nursery went decidedly better today. Paige still refused to interact with any of the other kids, but at least she wasn't mean to anybody. Well, she did use another little girl as a stool at one point. The girl was playing on the floor by the table and Paige kind of stepped on her back so she could reach a toy on the other side of the table. But other than that she was pretty good.

Traci and I went to our old ward for sacrament meeting for a farewell of one of my young men. There's nothing like the contrast of sitting in a ward where you don't know anybody, followed directly by going to your old ward. It was nice to see everybody, but Traci said it just made her sad.

We haven't really met anyone in new ward, yet. That should change soon, however. The elder's quorum president gave me my hometeaching list today and said, "So-and-so is your companion. He doesn't really come to church." Can't wait.

New Ward: Week Two

Our second week at the new ward brought my turn to go to nursery with Paige. I was curious to see to what degree Traci had exaggerated in saying that "everyone in the ward hated us" because Paige was so bad.

Paige and I were some of the first to arrive in nursery. I greeted the old lady nursery leader and she said hi to Paige.

"Well, we're hoping things going a little bit better this week," I said. "Paige, she kind of hates nursery," I smiled.

"Yes," she replied, very matter-of-factedly, "she does hate nursery." Uh oh. Maybe the people in nursery really don't like Paige.

The first half hour went pretty well (that's the part where you just play with toys). Paige was good unless any other kids even thought about getting up in her business - i.e. either trying to play with her, or with her toys.

By the time singing time came around, she was very upset. She was happy during the songs, but had to be crying and trying to escape in between each of them. I was trying to keep my cool with her, though it was 8,000 degrees in the room. I kept chasing after her and trying to bring her back to the singing circle, all while trying to make sure to not cause anyone to hate us.

I thought I was doing a good job until right in the middle of singing time, as Paige was singing and dancing away, her diaper fell off. Fell off right onto the ground. Though she didn't mind at all, I was quite embarrassed. I was already sweating profusely and had to find a way to calmly collect Paige and the detached diaper without making much of scene. I think the leaders saw it, but didn't even crack a smile. Maybe they do hate us.

I got Paige re-diapered and then we just hung out until lesson time was over. We went back in for snack time (goldfish crackers, my favorite). She happily ate away and then took two sips of her water and then dumped the rest on her dress and on my lap. Church is hard.

New Ward: Week One

Moving into a new ward is a pretty big deal for us Mormon folk. Here's the first in an installment of posts on our transition.

Week One

We celebrated the first Sunday after moving into our house by skipping church. My plan to become inactive didn't last long. The next week we made our first appearance at the new ward.

Knowing that there was no way that Paige was going to make it through nursery on her own, Traci volunteered to go with her. That meant I had to be a grown up and go to elders quorum.

Opening exercises was fine. The only person I know in the ward is the bishopric member that lives across the street from us. He saw me and quickly made his way over to shake my hand. “Hello Traci, it’s great to see you.” Well, at least he remembered one of our names, kind of.

Elders quorum was exactly as I thought it would be. Someone made a reference to the Three Nephites within the first two minutes and there was a lot of the teacher asking us to share experiences, followed by long stretches of silence.

I met up with Traci and Paige in the chapel before sacrament meeting. “Was she good?” I asked. From the look on Traci’s face I already knew the answer. “Everyone in the ward already hates us.” Hmm. That must have been one bad day in nursery if everyone in the whole ward already hates us.

Apparently, Paige was quite a handful. Despite Traci being there, she cried the whole time. She kept pushing the little boy who wanted so desperately to be her friend and she (accidently?) kicked another little girl in the head.

The nursery leader is a mid-70s-ish old authoritarian lady. Crying is basically not allowed in her dojo - er - nursery. Traci said that several times she said, “Who’s crying now? Oh, it’s just Paige again.”

"Paige, were you a monster in nursery?" I asked. Her evil grin said it all.

Looks like we’re getting off to a great start in the new ward.

Wax On?

I am giving up on creativity. I had to teach a church lesson on obedience last week. While I was preparing, I tried to come up with an interesting way to present the topic, so the kids wouldn't fall asleep. I could think of anything when zapppp! inspiration struck. I would show a clip from the Karate Kid.

After fastforwarding through all the swears (that Danielsan sure was an angry kid), I showed the clip of Daniel waxing the car, sanding the floor, painting the face, and painting the house while Mr. Myagi threw punches and kicks at him.

Now, if you were a 16-year-old boy, wouldn't you love to watch the Karate Kid at church? Of course. Not these kids. None of them had even seen the movie. Who hasn't seen the Karate Kid? This is what's wrong with America.

Apostle Night at Pioneer Memorial Theatre

Traci went to Les Miserables last night at the U. Apparently it was the place to be for super religious folk like us.

We were standing in the lobby before the play when we saw Elder Nelson walk by with his wife. Huh, we said. Well, even apostles gotsta go to plays sometimes. Then we noticed that Elder Oaks was standing on the other side of the lobby. And then, as were going to our seats, Elder Ballard walked by.

During the play, I kept wondering what they were thinking about all of the phallus jokes.

Boyd K. Packer, the Mormon Pope?

For some reason, Stephen Colbert recently referred to Boyd K. Packer as the President of the LDS Church. After realizing the mistake, he came up with his own plan - Mormons should rise up and make it so.

Mormons UNITE!

Replaced by, well, nothing.

The second week after Traci and moved into our little house on Knollcrest Street, I was asked to fill in and lead the music in Priesthood meeting opening exercises. The next week I think they asked me again, and then the next week they just asked me with their eyes. Four years later I was still leading the music, the de facto chorister.

Each time I have received an additional calling (at one point I think I had three concurrently) I said, "So, do you think you could call somebody to lead the music in Priesthood?" Each time the bishopric said, "Yeah, sure." When I started holding Paige while leading the music, I guess they decided it really was time to get someone new.

So after four years of asking, they called a new guy to do the job a couple of months ago. I have noticed that he doesn't really show up very often. He was absent again yesterday so they just played the music sans chorister. And you know what, it worked just fine. So after my years of service I wasn't replaced by a human or a robot. I was replaced by nothing. By thin air. That's good for the old self esteem.

Would You Like Some Mormon History with Your Steak?

My friend Wix was in town last night, so we met up for dinner. He brought along a friend from Cincinnati, who was visiting Utah for the first time. I am assuming that Wix wanted to give the friend a bit of Utah culture, as we ate at Porter's Place in Lehi - a restaurant dedicated to the memory of Joseph Smith's sharp-shooting bodyguard Porter Rockwell. The highlight was a menu that included items such as the "Brigham Burger," the "Prophet Plate," and the "Orson Hyde." It was worth the trip for the novelty and for the Ironport old-fashioned cream soda which Wix accurately described as "the size of your head."

More Mormon Embarrassment

When Traci saw there was going to be a new show on MTV called "Engaged & Underage," about kids who are getting married who are under 21, she immediately said 'Oh, I'm sure there will be an episode about Mormons.' Sure enough, episode 8 featured a couple of Utah kids.

Chris and Amanda are both 19 and Mormon; Chris is a convert to the church. The plot of the story revolves around Chris's out of town family not understanding why they can't come to his temple marriage and Amanda being completely inconsiderate of their feelings.

Amanda spent most of the episode crying because she had to have a ring ceremony in addition to the temple ceremony. "As a little girl, I never dreamed of having a ring ceremony." Yeah, I never dreamed of being considerate of my in-laws when I was little, either.

Watch the whole episode here.