Ruminations on Baby Diets

It occurred to me tonight, after my 11-month-old daughter Charity refused to eat a pea that was in a spoonful of her baby food, but gladly popped in a small piece of chalk she found while scouring the baseboards, that there is some serious irony in comparing what she will and will not eat. For example, here is a partial list of things she has put (and kept) in her mouth lately:

* Scraps of paper
* Popcorn kernels
* Dust bunnies
* Thread from clothes
* Any toy she can find on the floor
* Shoes
* Socks
* Grass
* Bark
* Twigs
* Sand
* Chalk
* Dried up old pieces of macaroni and cheese that fell on the floor earlier today
* Dirt

And here is a partial list of things she quickly spits out when they find their way into her mouth:

* Peas
* Chunks of carrot
* Broccoli
* Corn
* Green beans

It seems as if her taste buds are trying to tell us something: if vegetables taste worse than dirt, don't you think they were probably never meant to be eaten?

My wife doesn't buy it.

Imitation is Great--But THIS?

One of the most enjoyable, ego-stroking parts of being a father to young children is seeing their earnest attempts to imitate me. As Anne Shirley, the fictional orphan of the beloved Anne of Green Gables books so aptly says, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

And flatter me my children do. From the youngest age, they learn to mimic facial expressions, lighting up a whole room when they return a toothless grin, tugging at their parents' heart strings when they repeat back "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma" and "Da-da-da." In fact, it has not escaped my attention that my eleven-month-old daughter Charity seems to say "Da-da-da" when she is feeling her very happiest. Flattery, oh yes. She seems to understand already who the weaker parent is when it comes to getting one's little way or begging for a special treat.

Charity has recently supplemented her one-syllable-repeating-word vocabulary with some fabulous non-word sounds, a family favorite being her lip-smacking noise that she lets loose when she hears us blowing kisses. Yes, with deep blue eyes at least twice too big for the rest of her body, she is an A-grade kiss-blower.

She has also started doing "raspberry" sounds, much to the delight of her older siblings. She sticks that little pink tongue out and blows with her might, vibrating her whole mouth and sending spittle into the stratosphere. Yes, her siblings are enjoying the flattery of imitation too.

But ultimately, my wife and I set the gold standard for our children's' behavior, as far as imitation goes. With such power of suggestion comes some inherent responsibility, an inconvenient detail I sometimes forget. But I was reminded today as I walked into the kitchen where I had placed Charity in her high chair for lunch. It was just the two of us in the room. She looked eagerly at me, and as I not-so-discretely discharged some gassy buildup from my bowels, she responded with a loud, long raspberry.

Laugh if you want; I sure did.

Yes, imitation is great, but it looks like I've got to start watching my vocabulary.

I Believe in Christ

I believe in Christ; he stands supreme!
From him I'll gain my fondest dream;
And while I strive through grief and pain,
His voice is heard: "Ye shall obtain."
(Bruce R. McConkie, 1915-1985)

This is the verse of the hymn "I Believe in Christ" that explains the deepest reasons for my gratitude for our Savior.

Jesus Christ has done so much for me: He created this marvelous world under our Father's direction and filled it with beautiful things to experience and enjoy. He has called prophets from the days of Adam until these latter days, teaching them how to invite all the rest of us to come unto Him. These prophets have given me specific commandments, suited for this day and time, that allow me to maximize my happiness and avoid Satan's pitfalls.

Jesus Christ condescended to come into this world himself as a baby and grew up among "mortal men, his earthly kin." He showed us a perfect example of how to live under the most difficult of telestial circumstances. He taught us his gospel, full of ideals so lofty that they truly transcend this world and lift the earnest disciple of Christ onto a higher plane. His call is ever upward, beckoning me to reach for celestial heights.

He meekly and willingly endured unimaginable pain in Gethsemane and on the cross to free us from the twin monsters of death and hell. He descended below all things so that he might comprehend all things (D&C 88:6), and be prepared to succor and save me in every condition I might stumble into (Alma 7:12). In so doing, he has freed me from the "woes of sin" and made it possible for me to have hope:

Ether 12:4 -- Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God.

His atoning sacrifice for me has placed within my reach the greatest gifts of God, "even peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come." (D&C 59:23).

Abinadi called Jesus Christ "the founder of peace, yea, even the Lord, who has redeemed his people; yea, him who has granted salvation unto his people" (Mosiah 15:18).

And eternal life, in all it's fullness, is that "fondest dream" that I sing about in the hymn. Only as I have married and become a father myself has the true meaning and infinite value of the phrase "eternal life" started to sink into my soul; only after having tasted the sweet joy and companionship of a woman who means more to me than anyone else in this world; only after experiencing playing a part in giving life to another soul, bringing a precious child of God into this world, and experiencing the love of a father for a child.

My fondest dream is to live a life of peace and joy with my wife and children, my brothers and sisters and parents, and all my other friends and loved ones, in the presence of our Heavenly Father the Lord Jesus Christ; to live with Them and continue on, with my loved ones, in Their divine pattern of eternal living.

Jesus Christ has not only redeemed me, He has redeemed everyone I love. Only through him is it even possible for me to be worthy to hold the sacred priesthood of God, and enter His house to be sealed to my wife and children for eternity. Only through him can I hope to become the type of husband and father I need to be to qualify for the blessings of an eternal family.

Jesus Christ is the center of my faith, the source of my hope, and the divine giver of what charity I have.

Jesus Christ has bridged the gulf between who I am and who I may become some day. He is my Master and Lord, a position he eternally and irrevocably occupies of His own merits alone, but which I gratefully and gladly sustain him in. I believe in Christ, I love him, and I look to him as my personal Messiah.

Dwelling Together In Unity

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! (Psalms 133:1)

Over the last dozen years or so I have experienced the joy many times of being in the temple with a large group of family, as we have attended together in preparation for missions or marriages. Those experiences are always special and rewarding and give me a glimpse into what eternal life might be like with my whole family intact, in the Celestial Kingdom together.

Last night my wife and I experienced a special temple session just for members of our ward. We had a phenomenal turnout of about 75 people, maybe a little less than half of the adults that we mingle with every week at church. Among them were a handful of couples that my wife and I consider close friends, many more whom we enjoy in our neighborhood and church associations, and even some that for one reason or another we don't interact with often.

There was something refining and exalting about the atmosphere in the Lord's temple that must have softened my heart last night, because as I scanned the room, I felt an affection for all of my neighbors who were there, not just my close friends. It felt like a great privilege, a joyous occasion, to be serving together in such a beautiful place, under such a heavenly influence. I felt a genuine love for them, and a desire to do whatever I can to assist each family in our ward, especially those who weren't present last night, to live faithfully so that we might continue our friendships and associations in the Celestial Kingdom. I felt that brotherly love was so real and alive that I would expect them to feel the same way about assisting me and my family.

As I pondered how much I enjoyed the temple session last night, this scripture came to mind:

And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy. (D&C 130:2)

Based on what I felt last night, dwelling together with both family, friends, and neighbors in unity, with eternal glory coupling the earthly affections we have for them, sounds wonderful. To have the privilege of living forever among such fine people would be, well, heavenly.

Through Children's Eyes: Easy Solutions To Tough Problems

I'm going to do something a little unusual here, which is to publish a story by another author, my maternal Grandpa. He wrote a short autobiography which will probably never see very many eyes outside his own posterity. However, this sweet, unassuming, meek man had an ordinary yet fascinating life and a bit of talent for telling stories, and I am going to share with you one of the gems he recorded, in his own words.

This particular trouble seems, in my estimation, to be newsworthy, but I don't have an exact year to the events (probably around 1918), and have not yet been able to find any newspaper archives containing an independent record of his story.

Lastly, let me point out that we all have memories that attest to the fact that children are particularly talented in both creating and getting out of trouble. Grandpa's contemporaries were no exception. Without further ado, here's Grandpa's own words.

* * *

Irven's Escapade With the Dogs

Our dog Pat had a habit of slipping his collar off over his head. Of course, the license was on the collar. One of the times when the collar was off the dog catcher got him and took him to the pound north of Warm Springs.

Irven, then about nine, and his cousin, Jim Glade, walked to the pound to get the dog back. Upon arriving there they found no one present. The dogs were in an enclosure of heavy wire on all four sides and the top of the enclosure. Not wanting to return home without the dog, they climbed on top of the enclosure and removed the metal plate covering the opening. Irv dropped through the opening into the cage, gathered Pat in his arms and boosted him up through the opening to Jim who reached down and took the dog. Then Irv with Jim's help got back through the opening and placed the plate over the opening.

After jumping down from the cage, they started home. The cage was full of homesick dogs, and you can imagine the racket they were making during all this procedure. As Irv and Jim left the dogs were still barking, "Arf, arf, arf, irf, irf, irf." Irv was so touched at their calling his name that he and Jim returned, climbed to the top of the cage and repeated the previous procedure with each dog.

As they left the pound the dogs' joy at being free was unbounded. They barked continuously and ran in every direction causing quite a commotion. Back of Warm Springs and up Wall Street Irv and Jim went with dogs all around them. Housewives came out of their doors, mothers called their children home, and gates and doors were closed against the hoard of dogs.

As they neared the top of Wall Street, none of the dogs had left to find their ways to their homes. Things began to look serious to Irv and Jim. They could well imagine what would happen if they arrived home with all those dogs. Something had to be done! And quick!! As they crossed the Capitol grounds the solution came to them. Going to the west entrance to the ground floor of the Capitol building, Jim held the door open while Irv with Pat in his arms ran as fast as he could through the building to the east door. All the dogs, still joyous, followed into the building. Then Jim ran to the east door and slipped out, closing the door behind him. Joining Irv and Pat, down the canyon side they went, crossed the canyon bottom and up the other side as fast as frightened legs could carry them.

I was in the kitchen talking to mother when Irv came in with Pat. Irv quickly slipped across the kitchen to the bedroom and closed the door. Mother apprehensively asked, "Now what do you suppose he has done?" Not a sound was heard from the bedroom. After a little mother asked me to see what he was doing. I passed through the bedroom and returned to the kitchen to report, "He and Pat are under the bed." Hours passed before hunger drove him to the kitchen. After eating he promptly returned to the bedroom with Pat and to their haven under the bed.

Neither the boy nor dog left the house for three days. Many inquiries were addressed to him, hut he would not say a word. Their fright was justified. You can imagine what a disturbance twenty ecstatic dogs would make in that dignified building, the well-oiled machinery of State abruptly halting, and the anger of those who had to contend with the turbulent situation. A long time passed before we finally learned the truth.

Thank You, Thank You, Sam-I-Am!

Personal inspiration sometimes comes in the most unexpected ways. This point was emphasized to me while I was reading the Dr. Seuss classic "Green Eggs and Ham" to my three-year-old the other night.

Being a father to five children ages nine and under, I spent most of the book sympathising with the grouchy, nameless narrator, as he was pestered relentlessly by Sam-I-Am. Rewinding the day's events in my mind, I could hear myself saying:

"No, you can't have a Popsicle in a box."
"No, you can't eat a pre-dinner candy bar with a fox."
"No, you can't ride your bicycle in the house."
"No, you can't touch that dead mouse."
"No, you can't torture your sister, here or there."
"No, you can't get your way by nagging, NEVER, ANYWHERE!!!"

So it came as a little surprise to me when all of a sudden, at the end of the book, I found the tables turned in my mind, and I became Sam-I-Am.

For reasons unexplained, when I read the last pages of the book where the nameless narrator has a change of heart and cracks a smile of genuine gratitude ("I do so like Green Eggs and Ham. Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am!"), I found myself thinking about loved ones that were struggling with various issues. I found myself thinking about friends and co-workers who are not of my faith. I found myself thinking about all the unhappy, nameless narrator figures in the world--millions of them--who are missing out on the highest joys in life, just because they have never had, or taken, the opportunity to taste their first bite of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

And I understood why Sam-I-Am was so persistent in his invitation: the Gospel is just too good, and too important, to let the issue rest. We can't afford to give up on anyone.

So we give an invitation to learn the Gospel in our house.
If that doesn't work, we wait a while and then give an invitation to learn it with a mouse.
If still refused, we patiently wait, and then issue and invitation to learn it on a train.
If needed, we wait a while longer, and then invite to learn it in the rain.
And in a car.
And in a tree.
We love our nameless narrators too much; we just can't let them be.

We never give up hope that someday, somehow, even if it takes decades of cumulative, patient, sincere, love-motivated persistence, our friends and family will eventually take their first bite and taste the sweetness of the Gospel.

The narrator's change of heart is complete, so much that he would eat Green Eggs and Ham here or there, say he would eat them anywhere. And the last page of the book shows the two of them standing together and smiling, having shared something great together.

And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father! (D&C 18:15)

How true it is. And for your example, Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am!

Why the Mormon Philosopher?

This was the first post of an abandoned blog I started called "The Mormon Philosopher." I liked some of what I wrote on that blog, so I slurped it into this one when I decided to consolidate.



An excellent question, thanks for asking.

First, because I'm a Mormon, or to use proper nomenclature, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am a Mormon through and through, and in saying so, I am confessing that I am a disciple of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God and the Savior of the world. I love Him; I love His Church; I love His doctrine. The more I drink it in, the more I apply it to my life, the more I live it, the more I love it. The doctrine of Christ has seeped into the very corners of my soul until it has become an inseparable part of who I am.

In confessing this, by no means am I professing to do a great job--or even a very good job--of living the teachings of the Master. But I will say without hesitation that every single principle of Christ's doctrine that I have put to the test and allowed to become part of me has proven to be true, virtuous, and good, without fail. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has the gospel of Jesus Christ in a fullness and purity that has not been seen on this globe since Adam and Eve left God's very presence in the garden, and I rejoice that I live in a day when I can experience it.

Second, this blog is a repository for my philosophy. Because I never studied philosophy in college, I wanted to make sure I was using the term properly. Within seconds, the miracle of the Internet yielded this definition:

Philosophy

a: pursuit of wisdom
b: a search for a general understanding of values and reality by chiefly speculative rather than observational means
c: an analysis of the grounds of and concepts expressing fundamental beliefs

(http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/philosophy)

I think all three of these definitions suit the theme of this blog quite nicely. This blog, of course, is in no way sponsored or endorsed by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; it is merely the thoughts and ramblings of one of its devoted members who is trying to take the lofty principles of truth and light taught therein and apply them to his life.

I welcome your thoughts and questions, with a few conditions. I'm not interested in arguing, or being told I'm wrong and am going to hell, or having someone else define my beliefs for me (after all, I happen to already know what I believe). For that reason, I will moderate comments on this blog, should anyone actually venture to post one.

I am interested in honest and open-minded responses to or questions about my thoughts and beliefs, made by persons who will actually make an attempt to understand the inner-workings my little brain. I don't ask anyone to agree with me, but if you are going to take the time to write a comment and want me to take the time to respond, I ask that you be sincere and respectful. I will try to do the same in all of my ramblings herein.

With all that explanation and disclaimer out of the way, let me say that I'm so glad you stopped by.