My Unlikely Adventure Through The Book of Mormon

As a young man I was a very poor reader. My comprehension was mediocre, but my reading speed was dismal. Being called upon to read a passage of scripture in church was always traumatic. I would often butcher it beyond recognition. In elementary school, I would be placed in reading groups with other kids who were likewise “challenged”. Taking turns reading aloud in the group was terrifying. But I took some comfort in the fact I was not alone.

One year for Christmas, I received the book “Tom Sawyer” by Mark Twain. During the 5th grade, I carried that book around with me for the entire school year. I had it with me at all times. One day near the end of the school year, Tad Pierce, a class mate of mine asked “hey Howard, you’ve been carrying that book around with you all year, are you almost through with it?” I smiled and told him that I was almost done. The truth was that I was still on page 6. It would have been just as possible for me to read the entire Library of Congress then to finish that book.

Throughout my school years, whenever a book report was due, I would simply read the summary on the back cover. That gave me a good place to start. Then, using my knack for story telling, I would go to work filling in the details. Even back then, I must have had a great imagination. It was always good for at least a “B”. Although I had a sponge-like mind, I did not enjoy reading. It was way too much work for what I could possible get out of it.

As I entered my senior year in high school, I was the only person who knew of my deep dark little secret; that I had never read an entire book from cover to cover (Except comic books and children books).

That school year, (1974-1975) our course of study for seminary was the Book of Mormon. Our seminary class began at 6:00 AM sharp. My alarm was set to go off 15 minutes before class started. When the piercing buzz of the alarm aroused me from my slumber, I would shut it off, roll out of bed, put my shoes on and walk out the door. No, I didn’t attend seminary in my pajamas. I simply slept in my clothes. It was just easier. To most people, this reveals the inner slob within me. However, to me it was a reflection of my brilliance as an efficiency expert.

Using my fingers as a comb, I would straighten my hair as I walked down to the end of the block on 5th Street in Manhattan Beach. Then I would cross Meadows Ave. and walk through the storm gutter the entire length of the next block, scale the cinder block wall into the back of the church parking lot. The seminary room was located in the far corner of the building.

For this year’s curriculum, The Church Educational System introduced a self study course for the Book of Mormon. According to my recollection, there were 20 to 30 separate booklets comprising the entire course. Red in color, these booklets were standard 81/2” by 11” in size that all fit together in a large three ring binder. I was excited about the subject matter and was anxious and eager to learn. I really wanted to do well in the class. Although it was a self study course, the schedule required daily attendance. From Monday through Thursday, we would work through the study manuals on our own. Then, on Friday, we would have a course lesson by the teacher. The teacher was available for help at any time should one need it.

I launched into the course with gusto! A typical lesson would consist of a reading assignment, followed by a series of essay questions you would be required to address. I gave it all I had. After reading the assigned chapters, I would attack the essay question with real intent and full purpose of heart (Moroni 10:3-5). On each essay question, my responses were the result of a thorough and comprehensive analysis. I considered all facets of the subject, and thoughtfully formulated my conclusions in the most articulate way that I knew how. I was very proud of my effort and meticulous treatment of the issues. Simply put, I did my best.

However, after a couple of months, It became obvious that I was falling noticeably behind the class in their pace. It took me a long time to read the chapters, and even longer to formulate my answers.

There were 3 or 4 girls who sat together in the back row against the wall. They were all beautiful, intelligent, and very popular. They had it all. They were the complete package. They were flying through the assignments like greased lightning. I never saw any of their work. That was none of my business anyway.

As I was finishing up book 1, they were already on book 5. By the time I was half way through book 2, they were working on book 9. I got very discouraged. I didn’t know what to think. Was I that stupid, that I was falling so far behind where they were at? I knew I was a poor reader, and had always heard that girls matured faster then boys. My only measuring device was to compare myself with the progress of others, and when I did, I came up wanting, in a big way.
One day, after using some simple arithmetic, I realized that at my current pace, there was no way I would even come close to finishing the course by the end of the year. It was simply too daunting.

Being disheartened, I made an executive decision. I would forget about even trying to finish the assignments. Instead, each morning I would come into the class, sit in my chair and do nothing but read the Book of Mormon.

And so……. There it was. Day after day, I plowed ahead, for the entire hour, until the end of the class. I wasn’t sure if I would finish the book or not by the end of the year. But at least I would be reading it; and as long as I was doing that, I had to be getting closer each day.

The book came alive, from the life changing stories, to the most profound discourses ever recorded. I became aware that the doctrine and principles taught within these pages, contained more truth and wisdom than all the other books that men have produced from their puny minds combined. And all of this, brought to us by a little farm boy with no education in western New York State 200 years ago who translated the book from gold plates in less than 60 days!

Each day, I looked forward to my hour of reading. I couldn’t wait to take up where I left off. Soon, I began to expand my reading time into the evenings and weekends on my journey towards the end of the book. One night, as I was reading about the prophet Abinadi (A-bin’a-di) testifying against wicked King Noah and the corrupt priests in his court, I felt the spirit of God so strong that I have never forgotten it.

Even more amazing, was that each and every time I picked up that book and started reading, I would feel that same spirit testifying to me again and again of the glorious truths that are taught nowhere else but in this book. I already knew at that point that this book contained Gods will revealed through Holy Prophets. I loved reading that book and longed to continue.

The Central and only theme of the Book of Mormon is that Jesus is the Christ, the very Son of God, and the Savior and Redeemer of all mankind to them that follow him with full purpose of heart. Nineteen chapters in the book actually record Christ’s visit and teachings to the Nephites in the Americas following his resurrection! His post mortal visit to the Americas becomes an even greater testimony of his divinity then what men wrote of him during his mortal life.

I always knew there was something special about the Book of Mormon. As a young boy, I would often stare at the old copy of the Book of Mormon on my bookshelf that I received from the primary president when I was baptized. It was the brown cover edition that was common back in the 1960’s. I would often take it down from the shelf and read her personal testimony to me, hand written on the inside cover. I would often flip through the book reading selected passages and knowing that someday I would understand it.

I began to supplement my study of the Book of Mormon by studying other scriptures. I cross referenced several hundred scriptures between the Book of Mormon and the Bible “scripture chaining” them together on subject matter.

I persisted, day after day undaunted. During the month of May, I finished the Book, all 521 pages, (the old version without all the extra footnotes). I had actually read the entire Book of Mormon. I hade done something incredible! I had amazed myself. I was only the second Scout to ever attain the Eagle Rank in the history of my ward and was great at many sports, in my heart, I felt that this was the greatest accomplishment of my life.

Another provocative observation is that even though I did not complete the course work as the other students had, I believe that learned more about the Book of Mormon and My relationship to my Heavenly Father then any of my classmates. It was my sincere desire that overcame my weekness.

Joseph smith recorded in his journal,

“I told the brethren that the Book of Mormon was the most correct book of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, then by any other book.”

Imagine that! What are the chances that the first book I have ever read would be the greatest one ever written? I wonder if I am the only one who could make this claim.

But something even greater was about to happen! As the school year was winding down and all of the pomp and circumstances of graduation were filling the air with excitement and uncertainty, something took place that forever changed the concept I had of myself.

The Elders quorum used the Seminary classroom on Sunday and also shared the same cabinet located in the far corner of the room for storing materials. The top shelf of the cabinet was used by the Elders quorum for storing books and other materials, while the rest of the cabinet was for the seminary students to keep their scriptures and notebooks in after class.

One Sunday, for some strange and unknown reason, I was asked by John Payne, the Elders quorum president to go and get a notebook for him out of the metal cabinet in the seminary room. I don’t know why he asked me, of all people, or why he couldn’t get it himself. But I was a willing candidate so I did it.

I walked into the room and weaved my way around the desks to the back corner where the cabinet was. I grabbed the silver handles, twisted one of them counterclockwise and pulled open the cabinet doors. I then looked on the top shelf, and retrieved what I had come for. It was right where he had said it was.

Standing there gazing into the cabinet, I took a moment to reflect on the past year of seminary, the blessing of my accomplishment, and the other students in the class. As I reminisced, I took a quick glance at the contents of the cabinet.

I was all alone in the room. A little imp on my shoulder whispered something into my ear. I couldn’t tell if it was the good imp or the bad one, but either way, curiosity got the best of me. I just had to look. I took out the notebooks of each of the girls who excelled with flying colors in the class, threw them open on the table next to the cabinet and began to leaf through their work page by page. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.


Question: What was the main reason why the Lord sent Nephi and his brothers back to Jerusalem to get the plates of brass?

Answer: Cause he wanted to.

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Question: Why do you think that Nephi had such great Faith when Laman and Lemual did not.

Answer: Cause he was a good guy and they weren’t. _________________________________________________________

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Page after page, study manual after study manual, I flipped through the entire course of each of them only to see nothing but short flippant answers containing no thought or meaning. Their answers revealed a lack of thought and fundamental knowledge of the subject matter. I don’t believe they even read the book at all!

I quickly folded up the binders, put them back into the cabinet, and walked out of the room with an opposite view of the world, and a chuckle that only a startling revelation can invoke. The individuals that I was dwarfed by, was nothing but an illusion in my own mind. When the real truth was discovered, I was the one who excelled and they were dwarfed by ME! The truth had not changed, just my discovery of it.

We rarely understand why things are happening the way they are. But for those who ponder on the wake left behind and desire to know why, understanding awaits. I believe that the Lord prepared a gift for me that day and arranged for me to find and open it. Like Nephi who slew Laban under the commandment of the Holy Ghost, it was the promptings of that spirit that authorized me to look.

That summer, I made an appointment with our stake patriarch, William Jones. I went to his house on a Sunday afternoon. After talking to me briefly, he started the tape recorder, placed his hands on my head and gave me my patriarchal blessing. In his first words he said,

“Brother Lemmon, thou art a valiant and faithful servant of our Heavenly Father. You have been born of goodly parents who have loved you, but your testimony of the gospel has come because of your faithful study of the scriptures and the desire in your heart to know weather these things are true”.

These words became a personal witness to me that the source of this blessing was from an

Omniscient (All Knowing) God. Becoming a student of the scriptures is rarely a teenage

pastime.

During my mission in Illinois, after reading all the scripture and other required reading material, I began consuming books. I would borrow books from member’s homes, read it during morning study time and return it to them the following week. Thirty years later, as I write this article, I have read the Book of Mormon countless times, and made it the central element of my life study. I continue to learn from its pages every time I read. I gain something new and delightful even if reading a passage for the one hundredth time, a quality of any true scripture.

Another quality of scripture is that its claims can be tested and proven to an individual by personal application. For example, the following principle taught by Christ in the Book of Mormon has been proven to me by personal application in my own life.

27. And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness, I give unto men

weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men who humble

themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me and have faith in me,

I will make weak things become strong unto them. (Ether 12:27)

I read more each year then the average person does the rest of their adult life following their education. As my story illustrates, I am a living example of the power of Christ and his ability to make men equal to any task. He used the Book of Mormon to give me that strength. I Thank God for it. I will always love the Book of Mormon.

Conclusion
Despite your weakness, you are literally a child of god and posses unlimited potential for greatness. But potential is not greatness. To harness and unleash your potential for good, we must remember the words of Ammon, who said, “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; (Alma 26:12).



Authors Note: 33 Percent of High School Graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives! 80 percent of US families did not buy or read a book last year!

Rest

Rest


On a beautiful Wednesday morning, we departed from the White House, completing our tour of the national treasures in Washington DC. The long and arduous schedule over the last 3 days was as exhausting as it was informative. I felt like breathing a sigh of relief but there was one last site to see before we hit the road again and continued our journey towards New York.
I saved the best for last. The level of excitement coursing through my veins reached a fever pitch. I was finally going to see what I had waited for my whole life, the Washington DC Temple.
The whole family was loaded into our rented brown Chevy Astro-van. As we cruised around a bend of the Washington DC Beltway, the glorious spires of the Washington Temple suddenly appeared. Jetting above the tree line in their majesty, it appeared as if a heavenly city was floating above the ground. Its divine beauty and radiant splendor seemed as though it had prepared itself just for us as a sanctuary from the world and waiting for our arrival.
When we finely got there, we strolled through the temple grounds, took pictures and basked in its grandeur. Being there on Wednesday at around noon, we found very few people there. We did not have plans to attend a temple session and discovered that the visitor center was closed for remodeling. We still hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, but we weren’t planning on staying long.
I decided to take a stroll around the perimeter of the celestial edifice and lovely temple grounds.
I walked around the back side of the Temple. There, on lower ground, I fond a secluded patio area encompassed by the landscape of greenery in all it varieties. It was secluded and serine. I felt like taking a moment out of the rush and enjoy the beauty and tranquility of the Lords House.
I was all alone.
I sat down on the concrete bench near the far edge. The winding nature trail behind me traversed its way through the brush until it could no longer be seen. I looked up at the magnificence of the temple and its spires, masked against the clear blue ski jetting upward towards heaven. I pondered on the eternal significance of it all.
As I did so, I could hear the sweet sounds of songbirds singing in the surrounding trees. I could hear the squirrels playing in the woods, scampering up and down the trees in their playful mood and rustling the leaves that lie on the ground. The peacefulness of nature filled my soul.
In this environment, something happened to me that I will never forget. I was temporally lifted up to a higher plane of existence. Suddenly, the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders and I didn’t have a single care, worry, trouble, responsibility, or obligation. I felt nothing but pure peace and rest. I sat there basking in the experience. I did not want to leave it. It was joy, it was happiness. It was peace and rest. I marveled at the total absence of care for worldly things. I pondered on my blissful state. I contrasted it with the continuous assault of earthly obligations from multiple roles that I play in my every day life. It is the contrast of the pain that is used as the tool to establish the Joy. Or as Lehi taught, put it,


“there must needs be Opposition in all things”… “otherwise”, there would be “no happiness no misery” (2 Ne. 2:11-15).

I Thought to myself, “this must be what the spirit world is like, no cares, no work, no worries, just pure peace, and happiness”. I immediately recalled Alma’s teachings to his son Corianton….

And then it shall come to pass that the spirits of those who are righteous are received unto a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all cares and sorrow.
(Alma 40:12).

There I sat, on a concrete bench, but more comfortable than I have ever been in all my life. I loathed the idea of returning to a world of driven intensity and constant rush. I wanted to stay there and enjoy it.
But still, way back in the recesses of my mind I knew that the rest of the family was impatiently waiting for me in the van wondering what I was doing. In my imagination, I could almost hear the shrill voices emanating from the vehicle. It sounded like,

“Where’s Daddy!!! Would some body go get daddy! We gotta get outta
here and get something to eat before we all starve to death!”

Reluctantly, the weight of my fatherly obligations brought me back to this earthly state and shook me out of my heavenly abode. I looked down at the ground and got a dose of mother earth to complete my journey back. I stood up, took a deep breath and exhaled. I looked around me one last time at the place that gave me peace, and a little glimpse of the eternal world. I hesitantly finished my circumspection around the temple grounds and headed back to the parking lot.
There is a day when the righteous shall rest from all their labors. Moroni write,

Wherefore, I would speak unto you that are of the chuch, that are the peaceable followers of Christ, and that have obtained a sufficient hope by which ye can enter into the rest of the lord, from this time henceforth until ye shall rest with him in heaven.

I for one look forward to that day. But for now, there is so much more to be done. There is so much more to be done.

The Quest For
A Personal Mission Statement

In 1989, my father gave me a copy of the book “7 Habits of Highly Effective People”. It had already been on the New York Times best seller list. A place it would reside for a decade to come. It was written by Steven R. Covey, a notable member of the church and world renowned management guru.
It is a great book that I still have and refer to frequently. A portion of the book was devoted to developing a personal mission statement as a necessary component to the application of the principles and habits outlined in the book.
Upon completing the book, I said to myself, “I’m going to write my own personal mission statement”. I took a piece of paper and a pencil and I wrote a personal mission statement.
To this day I have absolutely no idea what I wrote. It amounted to a large pile of nonsensical gibberish. Reflecting on this fact however, does not embarrass me because I tried my best. Neither did it discourage me. Unfortunately, throughout the years from time to time, I would try my hand at it again and again only to meet with the same results.
This exercise in futility reminds me of the proverbial author who, in an attempt to write a “best seller”, continually rips the paper out of the typewriter, crumples it up into a little ball, and throws it behind him only to start again, and again.

How am I different from others?
Personal observations about the world around me, and all those I came in contact with lead me to conclude that no one I had ever met really had a personal mission statement. And that if they did, they were certainly going to extremes to hide it. How could I know if others had one or not? Is it none of my business? Is it so personal that it cannot be shared with others, like a patriarchal blessing? Or do they not even know what one is?
It seemed to me that people live day to day with little or no concept of a “Master Plan”. No real blueprint that maps out their mission in this life and acting as the foundation for everything they do.
If I was to hand out a pencil and paper to people, they would experience at least as much difficulty as I had. But it either doesn’t seem to bother them or they pretend to know what they are supposed to be doing. Anyone can scribble something down, but would it represent the daily driving force of everything their life is about “even unto death”. Will it ever change? Or is it permanent? Still undaunted, I always believed that someday I would figure it out.








The Quest
Near the end of the millennium, with the year 2000 approaching, I decided within myself that I would make another attempt at developing a personal mission statement. This time however, I would come at it with a totally different approach. Instead of trying to figure it out myself, I would rely wholly on the merits of him who is mighty to save (2 Ne 31:19-21).
My plan was that I would fast for 24 hours each and every Sunday and Wednesday for as long as it would take to get a personal mission statement. I would abstain from all food and drink, twice a week accompanied by prayer and supplication to the lord for a personal mission statement and continue indefinitely. No end of the process was planned. If it took the rest of my life, so be it.
Beginning on the first day of the new millennium, I began my process. Praying each day and fasting twice a week.
After 90 days, at the beginning of April. I completed my Wednesday fast on Thursday at noon. To end my fast, I decided to take my lunch break and drive through McDonalds. There was one near my work that always had a promotional discount on the big red banner floating on top on the restaurant advertising “99 CENT BIG MAC”. I drove around the building and pulled up to the big menu board. I know that “Micky D’s” is not high on the “Word of Wisdom” top ten list of healthy foods, but that was not my concern at this time. I ordered the old Standard, two 99 Cent Big Macs and a courtesy water.
After parking the car in a secluded area of the parking lot, I ended my fast with a prayer, thanked God for the food and blessed it. After the meal, I turned my McDonalds receipt over and jotted down the words that would become the core of my mission statement. It was short, clear, concise, simple, yet thorough. I had it. I had a TRUE mission statement. What made it a true one was that it will never change. And that is the test. It will never change. Ways and means of getting there lie unknown on the road ahead, but the core principle behind it all is the foundation of an unchangeable core at the center of my being.
My mission statement centers around and has to do with building an eternal family. The elapsed time period of three months is notable, representing the natural order of things in a “season” of work followed by the harvest. I would later “wordsmith” the idea into a more complete statement:

My mission is to build a legacy of faith in Jesus Christ by raising a righteous posterity through priesthood power and service unto eternal exaltation for my family through all generations of time and throughout all eternity.

My heart was filled with gratitude. I was happy, relieved, and blessed. I had finally received what I had been searching for, for so long. I possessed a pearl of great price. Like gold, it is so rare because it was so expensive. I sat there reflecting on the enormity of it all and basking in the moment. What became clear to me from my current vantage point was this: That the great benefit far outweighed the sacrifice, even though the sacrifice was too great for others. I heard a little voice inside of me that said, “That wasn’t so bad”.
Like standing on top of Mount Whitney at 14,495 feet, overlooking the vast expanse of the Sierra Nevada mountain range after a week of hiking as I did in my youth with my scout troop, the work shrunk down to nothing as the accomplishment set in.
Like Elder John Groberg who lay starving on a secluded island during his mission waiting for food to arrive, I too became loath to leave my blessed state, even after food had arrived. “How much further could I go?” I wondered. I decided to continue my fast twice a week until the end of the year. That would be 104 days of fasting in one year.

Powerful side effects.
Exercising your faith leads us down pathways that have unpredictable benefits not necessarily related to our intention. One of these unexpected changes was a great “paradigm shift” experienced by my consciousness. It is the sin of being a wasteful society. The great blessing of affluence to Americans should produce waves of endless gratitude. Instead it has created unmitigated waste in all its varieties.
In my own household, we have one huge trash container plus 4 regular sized trash cans, yet if we should miss just one weeks trash pick up, God help us! Each week, they are all filled to capacity. Most of it is packaging. From diapers and paper towels to appliances and automobiles, products are not designed to be repaired or reused, but disposed of and replaced. The waste begins at the drawing board, it’s disposable.
Moreover, people threw away perfectly good and usable items not needed instead of giving it to someone that could use it or to a Charitable Organization.
Often the wasteful person will make sure that others know it was thrown away in a perverted ploy to exalt themselves above others economically. Perhaps it’s the “I wipe myself with 100 dollar bills“ approach to self esteem. For example, it has become a customary practice among business people to order a very expensive meal at a restaurant, eat a couple of bites and shove the plate away. They believe they are exerting economic supremacy over their audience. In truth, it is a hideous and discussing sin against God. In our Grand Parents era, it was “waste not, want not”. Little or nothing was ever wasted. If you ever tried to leave the table without “cleaning your plate”, you would get an earful you would never forget. Yet today gluttony has become a sport and wanton waste is the order of the day. If it is pointed out that there are starving people in other lands when seeing perfectly good food wasted, we laugh at their stupidity, scoff at their frugality, and look down at the “little people”.
During this time, on a few occasions, I ate at CiCi’s Pizza Parlor, home of the then very popular $2.99 all you can eat pizza buffet; good quantity food. My eyes were open to a certain social eating behavior. I was stunned and amazed at the utter waste of food. I saw people taking 12-15 slices of pizza and build a pyramid out of them on their plates at the buffet line. Then after eating 3-4 pieces, simply walk out the door leaving the topless pyramid to be thrown in the trash. Why did they take it if they weren’t going to eat it? Are they even aware of their tremendous waste? Do they even care? We all waste to some degree, but I found this practice to be particularly disturbing. I became aware that to be a wasteful person is ungodly and grieves the spirit of the lord. I learned how easily the Holy Ghost is offended.
On another occasion, half way through the year, we were asked to make a pie for the pie eating contest that would take place at our 24th of July celebration. At that time, my wife Cathy and I, with our kids, had paid money to pick our own bushel of peaches off the trees in a nearby orchard. Cathy and the kids spent hours slaving over a hot oven adding value to something beautiful (peaches) to create something wonderful (peach pie). The next day Cathy told me that she was donating one of these pies for the pie eating contest. It upset me greatly.
“You’re not going to put that pie in the pie eating contest”, I said. “They’re just going to ram their face into it, smash it around, and loose half of it on the table and the ground. Then when someone sees that they’re re not going to win, they start a food fight by throwing the remains of their pie at someone else”.
On the fateful day, as the festivities approached, I respectfully declined an invitation to participate in the impending mayhem. I had just finished making final preparations as the featured pioneer “story teller” following the contest. As I watched from a distance, I heard the famous words, “on your mark, get set, GO”
At that instant, 15-20 faces simultaneously went down into their respective pies. I’m not 100 percent positive, but I thought I saw a shadowlike figure in my peripheral vision. It was a silhouette form flying straight up toward heaven. I looked upward towards the sky to get a better look, but it was already gone. Ever since that day, I have had a firm conviction that the Holy Ghost does not attend pie eating contests. My predilection of the outcome of the contest was fulfilled to a T.
An interesting side note, however, is that although I had strong feelings against such an event, I felt no animosity towards anyone who participated. I had love in my heart for all.
. Some might say, “well, come on Howard, ya gotta have a little fun every once in a while”. “Ya gotta relax and enjoy life sometimes”. One thing I know for sure is that a person sees things totally differently based on how they have prepared yourself.
Waste, as a principle in and of itself is a sin, irrespective of waster’s net worth. Unless one has prepared them self exactly as I did that year through fasting and prayer, they can never say that my paradigm presented here is incorrect, askew, or slanted. Others may never see what I saw or view things as I have viewed them, but I had prepared myself in a way that surpassed all expectations that have been imposed by my leaders.
Why are we such a wasteful people? Why do we feed our vanity and gratify our worldly desires by consuming them upon the lust of our flesh? Being a wasteful people is a reflection of our ingratitude.
I continued to fast throughout the year. In the middle of November, it was really starting to wear on me physically. I looked forward to the end of the year. I could have quit at any time, but I made a commitment and I was going to endure it to the end. The last couple of weeks were very hard, especially since Christmas and New Years is full of food and endless goodies. I remained undaunted and finished my commitment. It was an incredible year. I learned more that year then every before. I had a mission statement. I saw life through a different set of eyes

Conclusion
I marvel that for me to produce a personal mission statement, it took a monumental sacrifice. Does it come easier for others? Am I the slow and stupid one while this stuff comes natural to everyone else? Or am I the honest one surrounded by pretentiousness? Do the principles of the universe apply equally to all or is there a simpler and easier set of requirements for others. Could it be that most people will never know their mission because the cost to get one is just too great?
I have come to know that any religion or ideology that requires little or nothing of you, will make little or nothing of you. Promises by charlatans to the contrary should be a sign to turn around and run as long and as far away as you can get until you can’t hear them lying to you any more. It’s all very hard work.
In Steven R. Covey’s follow up book, “7 Habits of Highly Effective Families”, he talks about developing a family mission statement. He states, “My brother John and his wife Jane were both Parents and Grandparents when they developed their mission statements. They had married children living in different parts of the country as well as some children living at home. They spent eighteen months communicating with them in various ways, and they finally came up with this single phrase that embodies the essence of all they were thinking and feeling: “No Empty Chairs”.
As simple as this little phrase is, notice that it took the whole family 18 months to come up with it. Again, it’s hard work.
Is there anything worth having that doesn’t require hard work? Is the Gospel of Jesus Christ hard work? If you say “no, your not in it”.
“No Empty Chairs”, is probably derived from a famous talk by Ezra Taft Benson about a vision for his own family that in the hereafter, that there would be no empty chairs at the family table. The same sentiment embodies the essence of my own mission statement. Not in wording, but in principle.
If your process ends in the same result, then why not just take the Mission that others have already prepared and call it your own? Or take mine and put in your own words? Why go through all the aggravation if the work has already been done by someone else?
Because even though you might come to the exact same conclusion, the journey is indispensable. Without it you won’t have ownership over it. It will be meaningless to and invisible to you. It will not be in your consciousness day to day because it isn’t yours, it’s someone else’s. Each individual must go through the process in order to make it work.
It’s like getting a testimony of the gospel. Why not just believe it? The scriptures say it’s true, others tell you its true, and your parents tell you it’s true. It doesn’t work that way. In the end, the only way you will ever have your own testimony is for you personally to make the sacrifices. In the final analysis, there are no short-cuts. You cannot rely on another’s testimony. Even if you come to the same conclusions in the end, it is your journey that makes all the difference.
But be of good cheer. If you get there fast, it’s because you took a shortcut, it will fail, and you will have to continuously repeat the process with poor results. However, If you get there slow, and get there correctly, it’s done once and for all and you get the benefits from that time forward.
As Steven R. Cover points out, with things like this, fast is slow and slow is fast.

My most sincere prayers.

Howard Lemmon

Chapter 2.

The Road Ahead

After the sorrow and the anguish had subsided, Jethro and Ellie May began to start a new life. They moved into a little house on the outskirts of town. They didn’t have the special cards any more. They felt like they were outcasts. They were little people now.
One Day while cleaning the garage, Hondo discovered a little speck of Goo way over in the corner. He didn’t know what it was, but he wondered what it would look like under a microscope. He took the microscope from his chemistry set he got for Christmas a couple of years ago and looked at it real close. To his surprise, it looked kind of like it was moving. He thought maybe it was some sort of ameba or teeny tiny itsy bitsy germ or something. He took it into his room and put it in a little jar. He decided that he would take it to school and show it to his teacher for extra credit on his science homework. He wanted to make sure that it was still alive the following week, so he put a little bit of mustard and jelly and sugar in it just in case it needed something to eat.
The following week, when Hondo went to take the little slimey speck of Goo to school, he noticed that it was a little bit bigger then it was the week before. He didn’t need a microscope to see it any more. He could actually see it just using a magnifying glass.
This was very curious to Hondo and he told his parents, Jethro and Ellie May about it. They thought it was kind of cute and hoped he got the extra credit he deserved.
His teacher was very impressed about Hondo’s curiosity and she gave him a very good extra credit score on his science project.
As the weeks went by the little speck of goo sat inside of the jar on Hondo’s desk in his room. However, Hondo monitored it daily just because he thought it was interesting how it seemed to grow. It was no longer a little speck of goo. It seemed like it was the size of an ant. Then after a month or so, Hondo saw that it began to take shape and form. He couldn’t quite make it out just yet, but it looked almost like a little teeny tiny gummy bear.
One day, Ellie May came into Hondo’s room and saw the little creature. It started growing hair all over its little body and she could make out the eyes. At first she was a little scared, but as she stared at it she decided that it was kind of cute.
Each and every day Zooba and her brother Hondo would gather in the bedroom and look at the little creature. They decided to keep feeding it, and it continued to grow and grow and grow.
After about a year, it had grown to size of a little puppy dog. They had moved it to a cardboard box and were feeding it their leftovers from dinner each night. All this time they had kept it a secret from their parents. One day during Family Home Evening, they decided to bring it into the living room and show their parents, Jethro and Ellie May. “Oh my stars, what is it”, they Gasped. Hondo and Zooba didn’t think their parents would be so alarmed. Just then, the little creature jumped out of the cardboard box, ran across the room and jumped into the lap of Ellie May. She let out a chilling scream. But the little creature snuggled up in her lap and looked at her with his cute little lovable beady eyes. It just melted her heart and she fell instantly in love with it.
Daddy whistled to the little creature and it came running over to him wagging his little tail back and forth because he was so excited to have a daddy. It jumped up on daddy and began licking his face and hugging and kissing him all over.
The family instantly fell in love with the creature and he became part of the family. Although no one really knew what the creature really was, the only thing that they could imagine was that it was a little ……. Monster.
They didn’t like Monsters much after the last experience they had with Monsters. But this monster was different, very different. He was kind of ugly on the outside, but he was beautiful on the inside. And as you got to know him better, he became beautiful on the outside too.
They didn’t know what to call the monster so the just called him “The Monster’.
He became so much a part of the family that he had a regular place at the dinner table. He ate like a monster, he grunted and snorted and made monster noises when he ate but every time he ate it seemed that he continued to grow and to grow and to grow. Even thought he didn’t really eat very much, as long as he got fed a little something every day, he was always happy and continued to grow bigger and bigger and bigger.
The monster loved his new family and they loved him. When mother would come into to Zooba’s bedroom to wake her up for school in the morning, the monster would be cuddled up next to her in bed. Even though he couldn’t speak human talk, they communicated just fine.
The monster would always walk with the kids to the bus stop in the morning and see them off to school. When the bus driver dropped them off in the afternoon, the monster would be there waiting for them. Always looking after them and taking care of them.
One day, the bully down the street picked a fight with Hondo and was beating him up. The monster came running over from the house, picked up the bully with one hand and started eating him. He started from the feet first and was eating him up towards the head. The bully was crying and streaming and saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” but the monster didn’t speak English so he couldn’t understands him.
Then he gave Hondo a great big hug and a big juicy wet kiss and gave him a piggy back ride all the way back home. Hondo was never afraid of anyone after that. And no one ever picked on him again.
Mommy and daddy could see what a great benefit having a monster like this could be. He was so helpful in so many ways. Pretty soon daddy decided to quit his job because he found out that the monster could get him anything he wanted. For example, one day, mommy and daddy went down to the car lot to look at a car. They took the monster with them and when the people at the car lot saw the monster getting out of the car, they screamed and yelled, and said, “Please sir, don’t let him hurt us”. We’ll give you a new car for free if you just take him away. So they got a new car.
Then when they saw what this monster could do, they were able to do and have everything that they could ever dream of. But the monster had to grow even bigger and bigger and bigger to really do great things. So each and every day, daddy would ask everyone in the family, “did you feed the monster today?’.
On some days we had forgotten to feed the monster. He would then say, “Well get over there and feed the monster right away, we need him to grow bigger and bigger and bigger so that we can have everything we need and want.
In the mean time the monster kept growing bigger and bigger and bigger.
Believe it or not, pretty soon he started to get too big for the house. Mommy and daddy were wondering what to do with the monster when he would get too big for the house.
Then daddy remembered his old friend that they met years ago. Marty, the Monster expert. So he called Marty back and asked him to come over to the house and tell us what we could expect from our new monster. Marty was very hesitant and scared because of the last time he came over to the old house. But daddy assured him that this monster was totally different then the other one, very different indeed.
The next day when Marty the Monster expert arrived, he was welcomed into the house. Immediately, he was taken back to the monsters room. They had to give him his own bedroom because he was getting so big. Jethro opened the door to the monsters room and as it swung open, Marty looked into the room. He was on his knees saying his prayers. But he was always on his knees now just to fit into the room and he was all hunched over so his head wouldn’t hit the ceiling. It was obvious that the monster was getting uncomfortable having to be cramped into a little box like that when he was so big. But he never complained because he loved the family so much and always wanted to be next to them and protect them.
A great big grin came over the Marty’s face. Then it turned into a smile. Then it turned into laughter. Jethro closed the door and he and Marty and Ellie May and Zooba and Hondo went into the living room and sat on the couch. Marty said, “Jethro, I’ve seen that monster several times before. What you have there is a very rare monster. It is so rare that it is very expensive. It’s worth billions!
A big smile came across Jethro’s face as well. “Oh, but we could never sell him”. You see, we love him and he has become part of the family”. “Oh no no no”, replied Marty. “I wasn’t suggesting that you sell him. I was just pointing out what he is worth. You see the interesting thing about this monster is that as long as you feed him, he will continue to grow and grow and grow. In fact, it’s too late to stop the growth. Even if you didn’t feed him he will still grow, just not as fast. The older he gets, the faster he grows. His growth is exponential. As he continues to get older, the faster the growth rate becomes, until he is growing so fast that that there is no way to keep him a secret. You had better get him another place to stay real fast or he will be bulging out of the house.
Does this monster have a name?” asked Jethro. “Yes, replied Marty” he does. It is a very complex scientific name. He is called

“Wonderful Exposer of Affluence, Liberty, Tranquility, and Happiness”

“WOW”, said Jethro. “That’s kind of a long name, how can anyone remember it?”
Well, those of us in the Monster Business just refer to him as the “W.E.A.L.T.H. Monster”. The WEALTH monster is something anyone can have if the really want one, but the problem is since they are too expensive to buy, you have to grow your own like your family has. The reason most people don’t grow their own is because they are so busy feeding the DEBT monster that they don’t have any food left to feed the WEALTH monster. And its too much work to get one started because they don’t see the WEALTH monster growing very fast at first so they get impatient and stop feeding him and he dies before he gets a chance to start growing on his own.
Jethro, Ellie May and the kids thanked him for his time. After seeing him to the door, they called the airport and rented a Jumbo Jet hanger for their WEALTH Monster. It was a sad day, but they knew they had to do it. There was simply no way that they could keep the wealth monster living with them in the same house. As the Family took the monster to the airport to his new home, they gave him a great big hug. Tears started streaming down the monsters face and he started crying. Hondo and Zooba said, “Don’t cry, wealth monster, we are going to visit you every day. We are going to bring you food every single day. We know that you don’t really need food any more, but we want to keep feeding you a little meal every day anyway just because we know that you like it so much.”
The Family lived a happy life. They had everything they could ever want or need, including one of the most wonderful gifts of all– their lovable, adorable, WEALTH Monster. After a few years, the wealth monster got too big for the airplane hanger and the family decided to build him a football stadium to move into. Again, the WEALTH Monster was comfortable for a little while. But the family knew that it was time he would have to be moved again.
They purchased fifty thousand acres of the national wildlife reserve in Canada from the government for their Monster’s future home. And a few years later they moved the monster to his new home. He liked the great outdoors, especially since he was too big to live in anything else.
Today, whenever the family wants to visit their Monster, they get into their private jet, and fly over the wilderness. They can see him sitting on a mountain eating a pine tree. They open a window, wave, and throw him out some food for old time sake.

Chapter 1.

In Days of Yore.

Once upon a time, there was a man named Jethro. Jethro fell in love with a beautiful girl named Ellie May. Jethro and Ellie May got married and they were very happy together. They looked forward to the wonderful life ahead that lay in store for them. They had just about everything that anyone could want. They had a beautiful home, a couple of nice cars, televisions, stereos, a Ski boat and all kinds of appliances. They had just about anything that anyone could ever want.
Then one day a beautiful little child arrived. It was a girl, her name was Zooba. She was cute and lovable. Then shortly thereafter, a new little boy came into the family. His name was Hondo. He was handsome and adorable. The new little family enjoyed eating out at nice restaurants and taking family trips together.
The reason that they were happy and could have so many nice things was because they had a whole lot of very special cards. These cards were given to them by the leaders of society. These cards had their very own names right on them and they signified that the owner of the card was a Very Important Person. They were much more important then anyone that didn’t have the cards. The cards came in different colors. There were red white and blue ones, silver ones, platinum ones, and mommy’s favorite, the gold one. It was very powerful. Just by showing these cards to the people at the stores, they could have anything they wanted. e r
One evening late at night when the family was all together watching TV on there large screen television, they heard some funny noises coming from the back yard. They all wondered what it was. But they were busy watching TV so they ignored it. And it stopped after a while.
The next day, when they were eating dinner they heard the noises again, but this time it was a little louder. It was kind of scary. It was spookier then the day before. Ellie May was startled and the children looked scared. But daddy said “it will be all right children, it’s probably nothing”.
Later that night just after they went to bed, the children heard it again and came running into their mommy and daddy’s bedroom. They jumped into bed with them. This time it was frightening and it lasted a long time. Their mommy and daddy heard it too. They were just as scared but tried not to show it in front of the kids. They huddled up together and were safe until the morning came.
The next day, it happened again, but it was really loud this time. It was VERY scary and was so loud that they couldn’t even hear themselves talking to each other. The terrible commotion caused so much stress in the family that they started fighting with each other all the time trying to figure out what to do.
This was a very serious problem. It got so serious that daddy decided he had to go out to the backyard and see what was going on back there. He very carefully tiptoed to the backyard. He looked around the back yard shinning his flashlight back and forth to see what was going on back there. He noticed that over in the corner of the yard were two glowing beady red eyes starring at him. He thought it might be a dog, so he went over to check it out. When he got about 15 feet away, the thing leaped into the air toward him letting out a ferocious roar:
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH-
AAAAAAAAAOOOUUUWWWW”
He turned around and ran back into the house as fast as he could and closed the door behind him. “What was it, dear”, Mother asked. “It was something really, really ugly, and quite terrible. It wasn’t real big but it was very mean. I think it was a little Monster.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Mother laughed. “There is no such thing as monsters. I’ll check it out in the morning when it’s light out after you go to work.” Daddy didn’t want her to see it because it was so ugly and dangerous. He worried about her going back there all alone. However, it’s possible that she would see something clearer in the daytime that was different than what he saw that night.
The next morning Ellie May went out to the back yard to see the silly little monster that Jethro told her about. She couldn’t see anything anywhere. Then all of the sudden there was a ferocious yell coming from the roof. Ellie May looked up, and saw the Monster. It was a 100 times uglier in the day time where she could see everything about the monster. It had dirty slimy messy hair all over its body. Its face was so hideous and disgusting that you could not look at it or you would die of fright.
She was mortified. She screamed as loud as she could and ran into the garage. But the monster chased her into the garage. Ellie May ran to the corner of the garage, but the monster cornered her there and she had no way to escape. Right next to her was the upright freezer. She didn’t know what else to do so she grabbed the freezer door and opened it. She swung the door around in front of her to shield her from the monster. There, she cowered into a little ball in the corner of the garage behind the freezer door hoping that the monster would go away and not hurt her. Suddenly, the deafening roaring noise stopped. She heard the monster rummaging around inside of the freezer. She was so scared, she couldn’t stop shaking. Then she heard the monster eating some of the food that was in the freezer. He was munching and chewing and swallowing and making little grunting noises and slurping noises as he ate the food from the freezer. When he was all done eating, there was no more growling and roaring anymore from the monster. She peaked around the freezer and saw him from behind as he was walking out of the garage back into the back yard. He seemed to be satisfied. “I guess he just wanted something to eat,” she thought. She went into the house and locked the door behind her. “I’m glad he’s happy now, but I still don’t like the idea if him living in our back yard,” mother said to herself.
That evening, at the diner table, she told Jethro, Zooba, and Hondo what happed to her. Jethro was very concerned and the kids were so scared they decided that they were never going into the back yard to play again.
Jethro called to police and asked them come over to see if they could take the monster away. The police told them that the monster is to scary and mean and powerful and that there was nothing they could do to make him go away.
Day after day went by and the family started getting use to living with the monster in their back yard. It wasn’t fun at all but they learned to live with it. They realized that as long as they kept feeding the monster, he would be happy and would not get too mean. So they had to buy a lot of extra food. They were afraid that the monster would eat them if they didn’t feed him. So every day they had to make sure that they fed the monster.
One night, they didn’t have enough food. The monster got so mad that he broke some of the windows and was stomping on the roof of the house. Daddy had to go to the store and by ten carts full of food to feed the monster just so he would be happy and stop threatening to kill us and eat us.
Eventually, everyday, when daddy came home from work he would ask, “Did you feed the monster! Often, they had to tell him that they didn’t because they didn’t have any more food. So daddy would get a panic stricken look in his face and rush off to the store to get more food to feed the monster.
The interesting thing about this monster is that every time they fed it, it would keep getting bigger and stronger. They didn’t want to feed it because if they did it would keep growing and need even more food, but if they didn’t feed it, it would terrorize them and threaten to destroy them.
One day, Jethro went to the library to do some research on monsters. He found the name of an expert on monsters. His name was Marty the Monster Man. He knew everything about Monsters. Jethro called him on the telephone and asked him to come over and take a look at their monster. Marty came over, and after taking one look at our monster, dove into his car and drove off as fast as he could screaming “AAAAAAAHHHHHH” out the window of his car until we couldn’t see him any more. He drove non-stop to Phoenix Arizona, where he called us on the phone. He told us that the monster we have in our back yard is the most terrible monster ever known to mankind. The official name of this monster is

“Diabolical Evil of Barbaric Terror”

This was a hard name to remember so we just made an acronym of it and called it the D.E.B.T. Monster.
The DEBT monster kept growing day after day after day. Finally, one day, when Jethro was on his way home from work he saw the DEBT monster sitting on the roof of his house from six blocks away. He had gotten so big that his gigantic feet were planted firmly on the ground. He tried to look away because the monster was so ugly but it was unavoidable. The DEBT monster was looking down the chimney and roaring so loud, the family thought the whole house was going to collapse.
The DEBT monster not get any food that day because they family didn’t have any way to get it for him. When the DEBT monster saw daddy getting out of the car without any food, he went Crazy. Daddy said to the DEBT monster, “please don’t eat us, I’m going to the store to get some food for you right now”. That seemed to please the DEBT Monster so he waited patiently sitting on the house until daddy came back. But when daddy got to the check out line at the grocery store with 32 carts of groceries to feeds the monster, he showed them his card and the people said that his card was no good. He couldn’t buy any groceries. He then pulled out of his wallet 37 other cards to show them, but they said that they were all no good.
This was a terrible day. Nothing seems to be going right at all. When daddy got home, and the DEBT monster saw that daddy didn’t have any food, the DEBT monster got very, very angry. He started going so crazy the family locked themselves in the house had huddled in the bathroom hoping that everything would be Okay. They all got into the bathtub because they were told that was a good place to hide in case of a tornado. There was nothing else they could do, so they said a little prayer and asked Heavenly Father to please help them and save them from the DEBT Monster. But all night long the monster got madder and madder.
Hondo peeked out the bathroom window and saw him picking up one of the cars and throwing it down the street into a junk yard. It must have been totally wrecked. Then Zooba peeked out the window and saw him jumping up and down and stomping on the other car until it was totally flattened like a pancake. Then he must have gotten really hungry because he tried to eat the ski boat. It must have tasted terrible to him because it just made him even madder.
Then he got even angrier, and he ripped the roof off the house and threw it into the street. Then he started kicking the walls until they all caved in and the entire house was ruined. The water main was busted and water was splashing everywhere. The stereo unit and TV and everything in the entire house became ruined. Then suddenly the gas line to the heater broke and a terrible fire erupted. Everything was burning, all of it going up in smoke until there was nothing left.
The DEBT monster must be afraid of fire because when the remnant of the house started burning, he ran off making an awful noise and they have never heard from him or seen him since.
There they stood, in the front yard of the house watching every bit of it go up in smoke. When the fire burned down and the smoke had cleared, there was nothing left but a small heap of ashes and the chard remains of the empty refrigerator.
Ellie May was crying hysterically. Zooba and Hondo stood by clutching their Teddy Bears. The Teddy Bears were Christmas Presents from Grandma and Grandpa and were the only things they owned that were not gotten with the special cards. With tears streaming down their faces, comforting one another, not knowing what to do or where to go, they looked into each others eyes and there seemed to be an unspoken communication. Everyone knew what each other was thinking. A sigh of relief came over them and they began to smile. Then they started laughing. Then they started celebrating. The DEBT monster was gone!!!
They had lived with the Diabolical Evil of Barbaric Terror for so long, they had forgotten what it felt like to be free. They learned how great life can be finding freedom from the DEBT monster, but it took the DEBT monster to teach them to truly appreciate their new found freedom.

I Should be dead! But I’m Still Here!

The summer of 1969 was a turbulent time in America. Anti-war demonstrations tore the nation apart. A zillion hippies converged in Woodstock New York for the biggest rock festival of all time. Through the static of NASA’s communication system, we heard Neal Armstrong speak the immortal words from the surface of the moon, “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”.
But the thing that I remember most about the summer of 1969 was the thing that happened to me.
I grew up in Manhattan Beach, California. It was a little paradise in the middle of the endless urban sprawl of Southern California, Los Angeles County. The Beach was 12 Blocks from our house. The Church was a block and a half away. All the schools were within walking distance. But we used our bikes to get around. It was much faster and convenient.
My bike was a red Sears three speed. It was my faithful companion. Wherever I went, it went. We were almost always together. There were a few quirks about it, but I didn’t mind. I loved that bike, and since love is blind, I overlooked its little flaws.
For example, the left brake didn’t work because the cable was broken. I still had the right brake however. It worked, well, most of the time. You see, the brake cable was very loose. The cable was threaded through a little donut shaped fitting which was attached to the brake caliper. The cable then was connected to the brake handle also secured by the Brake Caliper. As the Brake handle was pulled, the cable retracted and clamped the brake pads against the wheel at the other end to stop the bike. This exact same system is still used on all handbrakes today.
Because the cable was loose, the donut shaped fitting would flop around and wiggle its way out of its proper resting place, disconnecting the cable from the caliper all together. When that happened, I had to reach down with my other hand, grab the dangling brake cable, insert it back into the caliper and then squeeze the brake handle to hold it in its proper position.
The gear shifter was also little funky. You had to fiddle with it to get it to work right. It was more than just a science, it became an art.
Each day was filled with excitement. Our routine went like this:

Arise at 7:00 AM.
Eat a bowl of serial for breakfast.
Ride my bike to my best friend Mike Hoag’s House.
With him sitting on the seat and me standing on the peddles, ride together to Foster A. Begg Junior High School for summer science camp.

The last leg of the journey was the fun part. All the kids would wait at the top of Peck Avenue at the corner of eleventh street. There, atop the steepest hill in the city we would stare down at the ominous intersection below. It was Manhattan Beach Blvd. Two lanes going east bound, two lanes going west bound and a turning lane in the middle.
It was at this location where we would just wait for the light to turn green. And when it did, that’s where all the fun began. A dozen kids on bikes would fly down the hill at speeds up to 40 MPH, shooting through the intersection and coast for a quarter mile all the way into the school grounds.
We would then spend the day playing with tadpoles at pollywog park, shooting off rockets, and other fun things akin to science camp. The classes were over at noon. Then we would make our way back down Peck Ave. towards home. We would always stop at the Spanish style house on the corner of sixth and peck. There we would sit on the adobe brick wall surrounding the home, reach up and pluck the juicy ripe peaches off the overhanging branches. These were the most delicious peaches I have ever tasted. With each bite, peach juice would gush into your face. Sucking your breath inward as you bit down would create that slurping sound in an attempt to keep the juice from running all over the place. But to no avail. It would still run down your forearm and drip off your elbow. When we had our fill, we would then go home, change into our swim suits and ride to the beach. For the rest of the afternoon, we would body surf, ride the serf matt, and just lay out and work on that perfect Southern California golden tan.
On one occasion, I woke up and began to execute the usual procedure. I picked up Mike at his house and we rode down peck Ave. to the top of the hill. There were about eight of us standing over our bikes poised for the traffic light to turn green. Mike was over talking to someone else when the light turned GREEN.
All the kids pushed off and went down the hill. I was waiting for Mike, but he didn’t realize the light has turned green. I yelled to him, “Mike!, C’mon, lets go, the light is green!” He trotted over to my bike in that awkward strut of his. I felt him plop down on the seat behind me and wrap his arms around my sides. I pushed off and stood up the peddles..
Quickly, I looked down the street at the intersection.
THE LIGHT WAS YELLOW!. I made an executive decision. We have to stop and wait for the next light. I squeezed my right brake handle.…..nothing happened. I looked down at my brake, and there it was, my only brake cable, just hanging there! It had come apart from the caliper. By this time the yellow light had turned RED.
I looked up and saw that the cars were already pulling into the intersection. The adrenalin was cruising through my veins at such an incredible rate of speed that it seemed as if everything began to move in S-L-OOOOO-W M-OOO-TIOOOOO-N.
Realizing that we were about to die, my auto-defense system kicked into full operation. I searched everywhere to find a way out. The following internal dialogue raced through my head at lightning speed.
“Is there any way I could reach down and fix the brake with my other hand?” “No, I’m going too fast”.
“Scanning for an out……Scanning for an out.
Looking over to the left, “there is a driveway over there, if I turn sharp enough, I might make the drive way………..Too late”.
Scanning for an out……scanning for an out.
“There is a row of hedges over there. I could crash into the row of hedges. We would get hurt, but at least we’ll live”. “Too late”.
Scanning for an out…..scanning for an out.
“There’s only one thing left to do……
“LOOK OOOOOOUUUUUUTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Wham! I hit the intersection. Cars were skidding and squelching. Twisting and turning all over the place. I leaned hard to the right to avoid the east bound vehicles. I could hear Mike screaming at the top of his lungs behind me, “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”. Half way through the intersection, I cut back hard to the left to avoid a milk truck going west bound. He slammed on his brakes skidding to a stop. My pant leg brushed the corner of his front bumper as I continued in front of the truck. As I went by, I heard ALL the milk bottles inside the truck lunging forward inside their wire crates. The eerie crinkling noise as the glass rattled against the metal will forever be forged in my memory. My senses were elevated to a heightened state awareness. The car on the other side of the milk truck couldn’t see us, it flew by in front of us, and we proceeded through the intersection just behind it and out the other side.
Instinctively, with my left foot on one peddle, I rammed my right foot into the asphalt toe first as hard as I could and drug it for a couple hundred yards until we finally came to a stop.
Mike got off the bike……I got off the bike. I looked at him…….He looked at me. Neither of us said a word.
I looked down at my shoe. I had filed one whole side of it completely down to nothing. They were brand new Van canvas shoes.
We walked the bike the rest of the way to school. We didn’t want anything more to do with it.
Later on that afternoon, and for several days after that, I would find myself sitting on my bed in the bedroom staring off into space and saying to myself, “I’m still here…..………… I’m still here…………..…… I should be dead, but I’m still here”.
Several days later, My mom came into my bedroom. Placing her hands on her hips in an authoritarian position she demanded, “What did you do to your shoe?
I was prepared with an answer. “I accidentally sanded it down with the power sander while preparing the deck in the back yard to be painted”. That was the family project that we were working on at the time. The expression on her face needed no interpretation.
I figured, there are some things moms are better off not knowing.
I don’t know why my life was spared on that occasion. I can only think it was because the Lord was watching over me and allowed me to escape unharmed for reasons known only to him.
Just prior to Martyrdom of the prophet Joseph Smith, he delivered a sermon at the funeral of Ephraim Marks, and said, “Some have supposed that brother Joseph could not die; but this is a mistake: It is true that there have been times when I have had the promise of my life to accomplish such and such things, but, having now accomplished those things, I have not at present any lease on my life. I am as liable to die as other men”. (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 216).
Those of us who are disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ have a great work to accomplish in this life still ahead of us. We know that he is “preserving you day to day, by lending you breath”. (Mosiah 2:21) Each moment of each day is a precious gift from God not to be squandered. As a child of God, make each day count for something great. Make miracles happen. Make the very best choices placed before you so that when your mortal journey is over and you stand before the Savior to report on your mission, he can say to you:

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
(Matthew 25:21)

I share Nephi’s sentiments when he exclaims “O how great the goodness of our God”, and “How great the plan of our God” (2 Nephi chapter 9). Each person’s life is part of this great plan of our heavenly fathers. I take both comfort and encour

Deserted in the Dead of Winter
By Gordon Lemmon

It was winter, the beginning of the year of our Lord, 2001. My second semester at Brigham Young University was underway. One Saturday evening I came home from a long day at the library, followed by an even longer night at the testing center. That whole week had been stressful. I had studied a lot and taken several tests. As the week drew to an end, my friend Bryan felt the same way I did. As we sat in our dorm room cerebrating on our despondently miserable study-holic lifestyle, we decided to do something outrageous…
We realized that we had to go to church the next day, yet, we reasoned, our little overnight excursion would not infringe on our ability to keep the Sabbath day holy. It would be over in the morning. We hastily outlined our late night plans. We hopped in my car, drove to the store and bought some firewood. We then began the several hour drive to the High Uinta mountains of Northern Utah. There we had a secret bounty awaiting us. There we would fire up our two beautiful all terrain vehicles (ATV’s) which roared in that wilderness with such power as to make the weak at heart shrivel before our terrible thunder.
We would make the all too familiar five mile ascent to the summit and camp for the night. In the morning we would watch that stunning sun rise over the lofty grandeur of those snowy peaks. As they always are at this time of year, the mountains and valleys were covered in feet of snow. Yet we were not deterred. Our transports were no ordinary vehicles. We strapped our sleeping bags, wood, tent, and other supplies to our quads and took off. Flying over mounds of snow illuminated only by the high beams on our ATV’s was exhilarating.
The last two hundred feet to the summit were the steepest. They were so slippery, that even our four wheel drive behemoths were no match. We strapped the gear to the stronger of the two vehicles. Then, digging our boots laterally into the snow, and standing on either side of the vehicle, we pushed up on the handle bars while revving the engine. It worked! The next 200 feet were exhausting, but we made it to the summit. Now to heat up this forsaken climate. With wind-chill factors reaching down into the negative 40’s a cozy camp side fire would keep us warm throughout the night.
Wait! Where’s the wood. I can’t believe it; we left the wood at the base. Ok, five miles on an ATV really isn’t that far. But we didn’t want to push another ATV up that hill, so we descended to the other ATV which we had left at the bottom of that abruptly vertical ascent, and began to drive that one to the base. Chug…chug…chug dead! You’ve got to be joking! Out of gas? That’s ok, we have gas at the base. We’ll just take the other ATV. And again we climbed that precipitous place! What a night! At least we’ll sleep well when we get a chance!
And aboard that deafening dragon we went again. While we were driving, we realized that the car was veering to the right severely. What is going on? What is the problem? We inspected it thoroughly. Alas! A flat tire. Unbelievable! Is someone playing a dirty trick on us? What are we to do? It seemed our trip was doomed. We got a hold of ourselves and tried to think.
No need to panic. We are only a few miles from the base. I had a solution. I have an electric pump that we can pump this tire with if we can get it back to the base. There we can load up with wood and gasoline. So we got off and pushed the wounded wildcat, again with one of us on either side, revving the engine and jogging along side.
Back to the base I plugged the pump into the lighter in my car and attempted to fill the tire. No air! I tested the lighter. “Bryan, we’ve got a problem. We are in the middle of no where, and the lighter in my car doesn’t work.” We rested for a few minutes, bemoaning our fate. Woe… woe… woe! Its Sunday morning and we are five miles from our supplies. It seems as if we are doomed to destruction. Is this cruel punishment not in consequence of our poor choice of how to spend a Sunday morning!
Again we pulled ourselves together. We will not be able to carry this wood. We’ll hike the 5 mile ascent carrying this gas can. We’ll switch off. And the journey began. For hours we pulled our heavy boots out of that deep powdery snow. Each time we switched with the gas can, was either an enormous relief or an ominous burden. It seemed to get heavier and heavier every time. The chilling winds crept through my cloth coverings and burnt the skin on my face. Since we were not going to be hiking (so we thought) I wore my new sub-artic insulated boots. My feet may have been warm, but the blisters I would later find were so deep, as to leave my socks stained with blood.
The hours finally passed in what seemed like days. We had arrived! We put the fuel in the ATV, and drove to the final ascent. We hiked the 200 feet for the last time. Exhausted, we collapsed at the summit, only to realize that the sun was rising. The daylight was peaking through the cracks and crevices, pervading that pristine wilderness, and revealing immaculate hills of white— untouched.
The scene reminded me of flying in an airplane looking down on the thick white clouds- ah if I could only jump out and land in those clouds. Yet as solid as they look I would sink right through. And so it was with these hills of snow. With the exception of our well worn tracks, the splendor of these sumptuous peaks was unaffected by our presence, and all the rumble of our man made combustion engines was no match for the crisp resonance of the ubiquitous wind, or the august silence that accompanied its absence.
The night was over. We sat there, reflecting on the grandeur of this scene, and upon the choices we had made. What does it mean to keep the Sabbath day Holy? We had been on the trail literally for eleven hours (9pm- 8am). We climbed aboard our fueled vehicle and drove back to base, this time a little slower. By the time we had put everything away and got in the car, it was around 9 or 9:30 am. I began the drive home, but I was so exhausted, I pulled over about half way back to Provo to sleep. As one last blow— which we accepted without complaint, I had left my headlights on when I fell asleep. An hour later I arose, without power. After a while a generous police officer came to the rescue and jump started us. Another hour on the road… We were home. It was almost 1pm. Fortunately, our ward met from 2-5pm. I took a shower, got dressed and went to church. The peace I felt there was akin to the peace I felt on that summit, above the clouds of snowy life, after a long night of darkness and distress.
And so it is in life. On Sunday we step out of the world, and place ourselves in a higher spiritual vantage point. We can see more clearly. We can make better decisions. And the love of Christ can fill us with peace and lead us on the path to happiness. But remember that keeping the Sabbath day holy means more than just going to church on Sunday!

Is there forgiveness for that?

It was a Tuesday afternoon in the fall 2003 when I first heard it. It was a simple little piece of a larger story that planted a seed in my mind and sent me into a dizzying array of poignant thought and agonizing reflection.
One of the members of the Toastmasters club of which I belong spoke that day about experiences he had during his tour of duty as a GI in Korea. One of the many events that he remembered was his first Christmas away from home. He recounted the feelings he had, anticipating the loneliness and homesickness that he would experience being away from his family over the holidays for the very first time.
However, his anxiety was abated as he lost himself in the charitable act of participating in the Christmas day festivities provided by the military base for the orphaned children of that society.
As I listened to the heartwarming tale of charity (love) and hope, an approving smile came over the faces of the audience. He briefly alluded to the fact that this annual ceremony was something that was done because of “the Gentlemen, if you want to call them that”, who were responsible for the situation in the first place. As I connected the dots, so to speak, this jubilation was quickly ripped asunder by a stark realization. These were orphaned children created by the union of American Infantry men and local girls (prostitutes, one night stands, love affairs, and marriages) whose fathers have outright abandoned them and their mothers. These are the “Amerasian children”.
Across Asia, including the Philippines, Korea, Okinawa, Japan, Thailand, Cambodia, Viet Nam and others, there are untold thousands of these people that are the victims of a fatherless epidemic created by US Marines, GIs, Sailors and civilian contractors working overseas.
This speech conjured memories of a magazine article I read in high school about the Amerasian children. The article interviewed several infantry men after being discharged from the service in Viet Nam who claimed to have fathered fifty to sixty children, that they knew of! I was in high school during the seventies, which means that those Amerasian children are now Amerasian middle aged adults and the problem now spans generations.
The impact that this had on my life has been small. But now I realize that my own wife Cathy and her twin sister are Amerasian Children. They are the product of an American GI and a Japanese Mother. They are one of the Lucky ones. Her father brought her mother to the United States to be married. Although they enjoy the blessings of American citizenship, their Father abandoned the family shortly after birth, and for forty five years at the time of this writing, they have ever since wondered about the father that they have never known. It was subsequently discovered that their father had another family that he returned to.
Why does this make them lucky? They are lucky because in Asia, the “half breads” are the dregs of society. They are the outcasts, the down trodden, the spit upon, the kicked, the disadvantaged, homeless, penniless, jobless, fatherless, ridiculed, hated, and mocked. It’s called xenophobia, the fear of anything foreign. It is racism to the extreme.
The scenario paints itself out all too well. Rich soldiers (by Asian standards) with a lot of U.S. Dollars to spend, have no problem obtaining companionship. Beautiful Asian dolls, who by upbringing, give themselves completely in service to their suitor have no idea of the danger that awaits them. They tread into the territory of no return with the tantalizing image of life in the land of promise, the home of the free. Imagine the horror and distress when the realization sinks down deep in her gut that he is gone, there is no way to contact him and the only thing she thinks she knows is that his name is Frank.
That afternoon I drove home from work with the radio off. I couldn’t stop thinking about the terrible plight of these people. Even though it wasn’t my problem, the very idea of it tormented me. It just kept hanging on like a noisy little terrier clamped on to my pant leg.
It spawned a dialog within my self. The questions kept hammering at me. I needed answers.

Q. Who are these men?
A. Well, they are American military men.
Q. Specifically though, who are they?
A. Well, we don’t really know exactly.
Q. Why don’t’ we here more about this?
A. I guess its one of those deep dark little secrets that’s nobody’s business.
Q. How can people do that?
A. I guess it’s like performing four thousand abortions a day in America. Lets see, 4000 times 365 days a year since about 1971 is umm,….umm… about 50 million dead babies…… Yet very few people seem to know anyone who’s ever had one. That’s how people are.
Q. Why are they here at home hiding from their responsibilities?
A. They don’t want that responsibility. They don’t want anybody to know. They are ashamed.
Q. Where do these men live?
A. In our neighborhoods, our communities. Next door, down the street, around the corner. They are among us. Where else could they be?
Q. But what about the precious little children, and their abused mothers? Don’t they care that they have brought untold tragedy and misery into their lives!
A. They probably think it’s not good, but there is little they can do about it or want to do about it. They try to ignore it, hoping it will go away, that time alone will erase it. But it never goes away. It’s always there reminding them. Their lives are secretly miserable, suppressing the truth about their other family from their American wives and children. Their life is a complete and utter LIE.
Q. I wonder about the daily hardships, the misery, the pain of trying in vain to raise a son or daughter with little hope of any help from any one, and everything around you is against you.
A. Its hard to even think about.
Q. What about the Mothers that are actively trying to find the fathers, I wonder what life must be like for them?
A. They are searching for a needle in a hay stack. Few if any will ever be successful.
Q. Why don’t these men come forward?
A. The “natural man” in them tells them to play dumb and keep their mouth shut.
Q. If they do find the father, can’t they petition the courts for redress?
A. Nope. It’s not in the US court’s jurisdiction. It’s an international issue. They’re “outta luck”.

I went to bed that night with the issue still weighing heavily on my mind. It was a long and tiring day, but sleep was the last thing I could grab a hold of. I usually don’t go to bed until I’m tired enough, so when my head hits the pillow, I’m already half asleep. But this night was different. I did everything I could to fall asleep. It was an exercise in futility. You can’t “try harder” to sleep!
It kept coming back to me, over and over again. All I could do was stare towards the ceiling into the blackness. The only light in the room were the large red digital numbers looming from the clock on the dresser. They served as a constant reminder of the long and winding road I was about to travel during my extraordinary nocturnal journey.
The Pillow wasn’t quite right. Turn it. Twist it. Tuck it. The blankets are too hot, throw a leg out and get some cool relief. The night air in the room is too cold. It’s uncomfortable. Pull your leg back in and throw off one of the covers. Try the left side…Try the right side. Turn this way, turn that way. I gaze over at the click. Its 1:30 AM
I’m wide awake and the dialog continues.

Q. “Oh Lord, what in the world must life be like for a man in that situation. To be haunted and tormented by the unyielding consciousness of this sin in their lives”?
Q. Is it possible that they could be so callused and detached from their conscience that it really doesn’t bother them and they never really think about it?
A. I guess that is possible. There are a whole lot of really bad people around. And we do read in the Scriptures about those that became so corrupt that they were “past feeling”. (Eph. 4:19, Moroni 9:20)
Q. Is that what we’re dealing with here, People that are “past feeling”?
A. I don’t necessarily think so. I remember attending traffic school once taught by a retired policeman who claimed that of the thousands of times he went to peoples homes to arrest them for unpaid traffic tickets that had gone to warrant, he never once met anyone who didn’t know their predicament and knew that someday, some how, they would have to pay the consequences.
Q. How does a traffic ticket compare to abandoning your most important responsibility as a human being….raising your children in truth and righteousness.
A. That’s a rhetorical question, the answer is obvious. There is no comparison.
Q. Then that must mean that they are all keenly aware of their situation.
A. Painfully aware.

The questions kept coming, the thoughts kept formulating. I raised myself up and propped my back against the wall for support. Gazing over at the clock, I got my first report signaling that my hope of a good nights sleep was in serious jeopardy. It was 2:15 AM!
Time slowed down as the pain and sorrow that filled my heart seemed to drag on and on. Yet, each time I looked at the clock, I was amazed at where the time went. The two phenomenon’s stood side by side in curious juxtaposition with respect to my perception of time.
I have awaken from many a nightmare and breathed a sigh of relief that it was only a dream. Similarly, my soul became filled with gratitude that it’s not me with the problem. I had to ask ……….
Q. why am I so lucky?
Q. Why was I blessed to be raised in the church and taught to know the truth about thee, Heavenly father, by wonderful people who served me and helped my testimony grow to where it is today?
Q. Is that purely Circumstantial?
A. No, it can’t be! The Scriptures say that the lord’s wrath is kindled against those who confess not his hand in all things. (D&C 59:21)
Q. Would my integrity as a child of God have “won out” if I were in the same situation as these men were or would I have made the same choices that others have, given the same circumstances and that “but for the grace of god, there go I?
Q. Why was I fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time to feel the Holy Ghost testifying to me on numerous occasions of the glorious truthfulness of your restored gospel? And why weren’t others in life given that same opportunity?
Q. What about those who were there and also felt and heard the same things I heard but they did not choose to follow in Jesus’ footsteps and seek to know and do his will?
Q. What about some of the youth I have taught through the years and watched them make poor choices in their life. Were they not listening or did they just not care. How much of it is circumstances? How much of it is choices?

So many questions! So much we don’t know. I prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, I thank you so much for sparing me from the pitfalls of this world. They are real. I thank you with all my heart for my great blessings. I am witnessing each of my five children embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ with full purpose of heart.
I am the luckiest man in the world. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank so much. I am so lucky and so blessed that this really isn’t My problem! I have my share of problems alright, but I thank you, God, with all of my heart that I get to wake up each morning with the peace and serenity that only a clear conscience (with the help of Christ’s atonement) can provide”.

In this short life, the best thing to do is choose the right and trust in the lord with all our heart, and lean not to our own understanding. (proverbs 3:5).

It’s now 4:00 AM.

After expressing my gratitude to god, I still wondered about the sorry plight of these “Gentlemen”.

Q. How in the world could a person ever get out of this trap that they are in?
A. It seems almost impossible.
Q. Could they possibly repent of something like this?
A. Good Question.
Q. What does repentance consist of?
A. Recognize, remorse, restitution, request it, resolve to never repeat it, serve god…
Q. Restitution? Restitution? What if restitution is not possible? What about the men who fathered 60 children on the other side of the word, and abandoned them all. Even if one of them was to spend the rest of his life trying to track down all of these children, and even if he could find them all, is there any way he could even possess the capacity within himself of being a true father to them?
A. Financially, emotionally, spiritually, and every other way, it is inconceivable. No, it’s flat out impossible.
Q. Then does that mean he cannot be forgiven of his sins since he cannot perform restitution?
A. That’s a darn good question.

5:30 AM

Is it possible for a man in this predicament to gain forgiveness of his sins?
As I sat there pondering upon this question, meditating upon the reality of this situation, I felt the spirit of the Holy Ghost come upon me and I heard the still small voice whispered to my soul…

”Yes, they can be forgiven even of this, on one condition only, that they truly repent of their sins, yield their whole being to the will of god, and spend the rest of their lives until the day they die in the service of the Lord….Nothing less will do”.

As I was left to reflect on what I just heard, I was dumbfounded at the mercy and love and forgiveness of the Lord Jesus Christ. How his arms are outstretched continually to every person, begging them to “come unto Christ and be perfected in him” (Moroni 10:32,33). His unmatched love for each and every one of us is incomprehensible to the mortal mind. Yet it is this infinite and eternal love that Christ has for us that allows his atoning sacrifice to work in our lives.
If true restitution means putting something back exactly as it was before, then perhaps there is no such thing, regardless of the sin. However, it is the broken heart and a contrite spirit that compels one to seek forgiveness and make compensation where ever possible to the best of ones ability. That’s all you can do, the grace of god makes up the difference.
The answer that I received, supports the underlying principle that is eternally woven into the fabric of the universe and determines success or failure on every level. The principle is most thoroughly and concisely stated in what I have come to know as the most correct passage from the most correct book of scripture on the subject of grace and works that we have.

For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do. (2 Nephi 25:23)

Even the very answer to my question reflects this eternal principle. I was given my answer as a gift from god, but only after I qualified myself by making the Enos-like sacrifice (Enos 1-8).
The principle is true. It is universal, available equally to all. It is eternal, and will always work. It is free, offered to all regardless of economic status. It is simple; give all, and it will be enough. That’s why it’s almost impossible for a rich person to enter into the kingdom of god. They have too much to give up. It is perfect. It doesn’t matter how much or little one gives, as long as it is everything. It applies to all circumstances, regardless of the severity of the sin.
As I sat pondering on the message, I had to ask myself the next logical question. What about those who have not committed crimes against humanity? What is s required to be forgiven of the “Little” sins. As I sat contrasting the difference, again the spirit whispered to my soul.

”Yes, they can be forgiven even of these, on one condition only, that they truly repent of their sins, yield their whole being to the will of god, and spend the rest of their lives until the day they die in the service of the Lord….Nothing less will do”.

No difference. The principle is applied equally. It is my testimony that this is a true principle and I admonish everyone to employ it. It is a great bargain. Jesus Christ is the son on god. He is the Savior to all those who make him their Lord or Master, and by doing so make themselves his servant. He is my master, and I am his servant. He has forgiven me of my sins and given me happiness, joy and peace. I serve him because I love him. I love him because of what he has done for me. Because of what he has done for me Jesus could never ask me to do too much for him. I want Eternal Life (Gods Life) It is the only thing that’s worth anything. This is my testimony to you. It is my responsibility to share it. (Mosiah 18:9-10).

Howard Le