Back to Heaven

Alden woke me up at 3:30 a.m. on July 24th and I couldn't go back to sleep.  What to do, but head back to heaven, aka the Uintas.  I know there are some out there who are nowhere near mountains and really miss them.  This one is for you.

Not Your Typical Sunday

Alden spent most of last Saturday with fever and chills.  When he tried to swallow breakfast Sunday morning, he literally screamed in pain.  Fearing strep, we skipped church . . . 

and went straight to heaven!  

Otherwise known as Soapstone cut-off in the Uinta mountains, Kate arrived and exclaimed "Dad!  This place must be heaven!"  And so, for a day, it was.  I truly have never seen so many flowers in one place at one time in my entire life.  

Add in white-barked aspen, and how can you not believe in the hand of God? I think the very essence of God can be found in the fact that he takes what could be such a huge negative -- the chaos and brutality of survival of the fittest -- and uses it to create such remarkable beauty and order.  That speaks so deeply of faith and the power to match any circumstance with soaring hope.  Surely therein lies our God. 



Add in family, and the picture from heaven is pretty complete.  So for now, greetings from heaven!
 

SUMMER!

Take one hot, sunny day and add one grassy hill, one four dollar sheet of visqueen plastic, one running hose and two kids, and what do you get? 

A TOTAL FREAKING BLAST!

Nothing like an otter pop break in the shade. Below, pictures of the poor little guy who slept through it all -- just because he is too cute to leave out!

Should

Life is full of an awful lot of “shoulds,” and they can form a suffocating tsunami as the days race by. But today I must give in to one despite the late hour, and write this brief note. No, there is no momentous event to record.  Simply a wonderful evening, filled with visits from some very dear, old friends, much laughter, a beautiful sunset, and chasing children.  After our friends had gone our smiles still lingered, and as the night sky darkened, fireworks filled the air over the North Salt Lake hills we see from our back yard. 

There I sat on a grassy hill behind our home, Alden on my lap, Kate in my other arm, and my sweetheart by my side (Keegan was long asleep), watching the show.  Kate squeezed me; Alden kissed my arm repeatedly, without saying anything, and there we sat quietly, perhaps for the first time in months, thinking about life and multi-colored flame. These are the moments one "should" always remember—quiet holding, fond thoughts, a complete and serene spirit of joy in simply touching someone you love.

I am more content now than I have ever been at any time in my life.  I deeply love my wife and children; I live close to the father I idolize and my giving, thoughtful mom. The father-in-law whose spirit I so enjoy and who never ceases to amaze me is just down the road with his sweet wife.  I am part of two great families, with brothers, sisters and in-laws that I feel, to a person, are best friends.  My work is, for perhaps the first time ever, verging on the border of fun.  My home is beautiful and built with great care. My life has been filled with wonderful people.  I have seen much of the beauty God created in this world, and I live in the freest, most open and miraculous country on the planet. 

No, things are not perfect.  Yes, I worry often about many very important things, not the least of which is what kind of future will bear down on my children.  Mortality bores into my bones a little more each day (and some days more than others). Yet I cannot deny that of all of God’s children, I perhaps have the least room for complaint.  Who knows what tomorrow brings, but at this time, on this day, I am very, very happy.

In Retrospect, It Was A Little Too Quiet In There . . .

All we wanted to do was have an adult conversation for FIVE MINUTES. Is that really so much to ask? Ok, Ok, we have been repainting the whole house for weeks now, and I suppose that deserves some penance, but was it really that much of an affront? Isn't it punishment enough that one of us has had to guard Keegan (keep him out of the paint, so to speak) for literally every waking minute for all of those weeks?

Guess not. How can someone so little do so much damage? His status as “Perfect Child” is hereby permanently revoked, and no amount of cheesy grins is going to change that.