Shirley Temple's got the right attitude.

Oh, mister weatherman
Where's that rain you promised me?
Oh, mister weatherman
I've been waiting patiently

Mister, can you spare a drop?
Here a drop, there a drop
Two drops, four drops
Can't we have more drops?
Now its all around me
Gee, I'm glad you found me

I love to walk in the rain
Look for me when it's stormy
Down some lazy lane and I'll be there

I'd love to walk in the rain
The lightning may be frightening
I love the rain, so I don't care

I feel wonderful
When the sky's above are thunder-ful
I don't complain

I know it's fun in the sun
But take all kinds of weather
When all said and done
I love to walk in the rain

Sunday, Monday
Tuesday, Wednesday
Thursday, Friday
Saturday
How about a week
With every day a pitter-patter day?
I wouldn't complain!
Lyrics from Shirley Temple's "I Love to Walk in the Rain"

It's true.  I really wouldn't complain.  I've loved Utah's bipolar nature as of late.  My gmail theme is set to change according to the weather, and while most of the time it has a giraffe and some pleasant bus-riders, when it storms, it changes to this:

Over on the farther left, (their right) it has Benjamin Franklin flying a kite.
So cute.

Two nights ago, as I was parallel parking my car in front of my apartment, pulling forward, turning the wheel, reversing, my whole car shuddered with a loud grinding sound.

Shoot.  I've hit the other car.

So I pulled forward just a bit, shut off my car, and got out.  I had at least eight feet between my car and the one parked behind me.  I kind of stood there, dumbly, until my roommate Satie came out, saying, "Did you hear that thunder?"


Oh. That was thunder, not my car.

So, I decided to take on Shirley Temple's attitude, and spend some time outside.  I kicked off my shoes, placed my cellphone on the coffee table, let my hair down, and ran outside.  It soon became a torrential rainstorm.  My roommate, Shaye, and I traveled down the length of our apartment complex, skipping, kicking up water, and wringing out our soaked shirts and hair.  The awnings over our apartment roofs (why is it "hooves" but not "rooves"?) were pouring down curtains of rain, there was hail, and the largest raindrops I've ever experienced. 

I've always loved storms. There's majesty in the wind, thunder, and rain.  I love just standing, breathing, and feeling the storm work over me.
I'm powerless, but for once, I love being so.

Other times, though, I can't understand why change is occurring.  I generally like my life, like my plans, and love the easy, focused, and clear pathway I set ahead of me.  While I may enjoy the afternoon thunderstorm, I definitely don't welcome the emotional storms that roll into my life, or the physical ailments that seem to cloud my perspectives.  Most of all, I struggle seeing spiritually that soon I will be able to stand, grounded, and strong.

Throughout our lives, we must deal with change. Some changes are welcome; some are not. There are changes in our lives which are sudden, such as the unexpected passing of a loved one, an unforeseen illness, the loss of a possession we treasure. But most of the changes take place subtly and slowly. - Thomas S. Monson, "Finding Joy in the Journey"

Perhaps the  main struggle comes from expecting to have the power to control all changes in my personal life.  When the rain won't cease, or the wind shakes trees that have stood for hundreds of years, I have the faith that the storm will end.  I can't stop the rain, I can't hold the trees still, so I find joy in the experience and wait for it to pass.

The truth is, I should have that trust in my personal life.  I will be taken care of.  My Father in Heaven knows me, loves me, and wants me to be happy.  The struggles and experiences give me the opportunity to change, grow, and become someone with an even greater potential for happiness.  The changes I experience transform me into a better being.

Growth and development take time. Learning takes time. When we understand grace, we understand that God is long-suffering, that change is a process, and that repentance is a pattern in our lives. When we understand grace, we understand that the blessings of Christ’s Atonement are continuous and His strength is perfect in our weakness (see 2 Corinthians 12:9). When we understand grace, we can, as it says in the Doctrine and Covenants, “continue in patience until [we] are perfected” (D&C 67:13). - Brad Wilcox, "His Grace is Sufficient"

Trust.  It all comes down to trust.
I need the trust to smile, walk in the rain, and look forward with optimism for the day when change will come again.

Sunday, Monday
Tuesday, Wednesday
Thursday, Friday
Saturday
How about a week
With every day a pitter-patter day?
I wouldn't complain!

'Squitoes and Speedos

A week ago or so I went to the Juvenile Detention Center with some friends from my ward for a fireside.  Before we began our program on "Integrity," we had a quick not-so-inspiring discussion.  I began it.

"So, I really don't understand why mosquitoes even exist."
"Me either."
"Wait, I do!" (this wasn't me)
"Oh?" (this was me)
"So that we can take the blood of dinosaurs and clone them."
Oh, yeah... I forgot.

But, it's truly summer here in Provo!  You can't go out at night, unless you want to look like you contracted chicken pox, and the evenings are filled with the moist rumblings of thunder.  It's lovely.

Except the mosquitoes part.

And, luckily, most men aren't walking around in speedos as of late.  This is both a blessing for me and for them.  I don't have to see all that upper-thigh, and their skin is more protected from the vampiric insects that come out at dusk.

The Wise Man Doeth

I grew up dancing in primary, offering to lead the music because of COURSE I knew all the hand signals as well as the words.  With my allergy-affected sinuses, I would sing and sing and sing and then talk as well.  I still remember being confused at why my other classmates didn't answer the questions as often as I did.  Maybe they didn't listen to Scripture Scouts.

One of the songs I grew up singing was "The Wise Man and the Foolish Man."  Oh my stars was it fun to bring the rains down and the floods up.  All the boys would go crazy at the end when the Foolish Man's house washed away.  Sometimes, I'd get hit by their flailing arms.

At the time of this picture, I lived on 777 Murray Road.  The house was small, and not quite perfect.  My parents shared the master bedroom, and across the hall from them lived Drake and Racer.  Terra and I believed in imaginary friends, and drew doors to their worlds on Drake's wall as we stood inside his crib.  

I don't think my mom believed our claim that Drakey did it.

If you were to walk west, you'd pass through our living room, where you could see both our front door and back door.  Walking further would lead you into the kitchen, with its blue pinstripe walls.  Even FURTHER would bring you to mine and Terra's quarters.  We lived in the laundry room.  Part of the floor was linoleum like the kitchen, and a small carpeted section hosted our bunk bed.  There was always sand everywhere.  On the floor, in the light fixtures, in the bathroom sink.  Always sand, everywhere.

We lived less than a five minute walk from the beach.  If I were to exit the door from my bedroom, I could see the ocean.  Most of the time, we'd walk down as a family; the "big ones" would carry a yellow floaty-boat so that we could cross the Mad River to get to the coast.  We'd walk down the hill, with me wondering the whole time why I couldn't sit in the boat like Racer got to, and trying so hard to carry it although my arms weren't quite long enough to wrap around anything.  After crossing the Hammond Trail, we would descend down wooden and sandy steps, and then cross the river.

Most of the time, we could just wade across, completely unaffected.  Then we could go frolick on the empty beach, finding full sand dollars and making mermaids of ourselves.

Once, though, a huge storm came through.  As a result, the river and the ocean somehow met together, completely wiping out the beach.  I remember walking down the Hammond Trail and being entranced by the whirlpools I could see in the Mad River.  Perhaps I had been watching too much of The Rescuers.

That silly Foolish Man.  I'd think.  He just didn't know that a storm would come and wash all the sand away.  How was he supposed to know that the Mad River was going to go crazy?

Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:

And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.

And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:

And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.  

 (Matthew 7:24-27, King James Version)

 The Foolish Man was not foolish out of ignorance.  He knew.

He just simply didn't do.

Don't we all sometimes find it easier to lounge in our beach house rather than drill away into a rocky foundation?  We know what's right.  But we'll just do it later.

"...somewhere between the hearing, the writing of a reminder on our smartphone, and the actual doing, our 'do it' switch gets rotated to the 'later' position.... let's make sure to set our 'do it' switch always to the 'now' position!" (Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, "Your Potential, Your Privilege", April 2011 General Conference Priesthood Session)

Exercise, homework, scripture study, dishes, showering, calling up an old friend... later.

The Wise Man Doeth.

View from the Hammond Trail of Mad River and Pacific Ocean, May 2009

Let us be wise men.