Best wishes to you all for 2018! If you search for the good this year, you'll find it.
Click here to see more from this series.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Peace by Piece--D&C 88:63
Best wishes to you all for 2018! If you search for the good this year, you'll find it.
Click here to see more from this series.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
A Morning Routine for Normal People
With the new year fast approaching, many people are examining their lives and making resolutions to improve themselves.
If you're like me, your goals likely involve making better use of your mornings. With titles like "5 Things Super Successful People Do Before 8 AM," self-help articles abound in ways to supercharge your day. They generally sound something like this:
But freezing showers? 5:00 AM? Not my thing. I wouldn't be surprised if they're not yours, either.
For those of us who don't find paradigm shifts or thought leadership particularly exciting, I propose a different morning routine--one that doesn't require a certain amount of protein in your breakfast or an eagerness to die.
And it's incredibly simple:
Just get ready for your day . . . but also give yourself time to do at least one thing you love.
Love to read? Make time for a good book before you head to work.
Have a garden? Breathe some fresh air and enjoy your flowers in the morning.
Play an instrument? You may want to check with your roommates, but start your day with a song or two.
And if your ideal morning still involves a treadmill or a frozen bath, those are great ideas, too. The whole idea is to start your day the best way possible--for you.
As for me, I set aside some writing time each morning, and I can tell the difference when I miss it. I love going to work knowing I've already gotten to express myself creatively, and my customers and my company benefit from that positive energy, too.
The bottom line is, take care of yourself. Make your health--physical and mental--a priority. We all define success in different ways. But good things follow happiness.
Here's to a happy and successful new year, friends. I can't wait to see what you do with it!
If you're like me, your goals likely involve making better use of your mornings. With titles like "5 Things Super Successful People Do Before 8 AM," self-help articles abound in ways to supercharge your day. They generally sound something like this:
- Get up at 5:00 AM. Schedule time to sleep when you're dead.
- Listen to an audiobook while doing yoga. On the treadmill.
- Bathe in ice water. Visualize all the unsuccessful peasants you'll step on today.
- Eat a protein-rich breakfast of condor eggs and avocado toast.
- Write in a journal. Use terms like paradigm shift and thought leader.
But freezing showers? 5:00 AM? Not my thing. I wouldn't be surprised if they're not yours, either.
 |
| Image credit: Giphy |
For those of us who don't find paradigm shifts or thought leadership particularly exciting, I propose a different morning routine--one that doesn't require a certain amount of protein in your breakfast or an eagerness to die.
And it's incredibly simple:
Just get ready for your day . . . but also give yourself time to do at least one thing you love.
Love to read? Make time for a good book before you head to work.
Have a garden? Breathe some fresh air and enjoy your flowers in the morning.
Play an instrument? You may want to check with your roommates, but start your day with a song or two.
And if your ideal morning still involves a treadmill or a frozen bath, those are great ideas, too. The whole idea is to start your day the best way possible--for you.
 |
| Image credit: Giphy |
As for me, I set aside some writing time each morning, and I can tell the difference when I miss it. I love going to work knowing I've already gotten to express myself creatively, and my customers and my company benefit from that positive energy, too.
The bottom line is, take care of yourself. Make your health--physical and mental--a priority. We all define success in different ways. But good things follow happiness.
Here's to a happy and successful new year, friends. I can't wait to see what you do with it!
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Peace by Piece--Ether 12:4
Why a lawnmower and someone painting a fence?
It's the reason why I love this verse.
Obviously there's the promise of a better world to come in the next life. But I especially love this verse because it could also be interpreted to promise a better world in this life--here and now.
It's not a magic button that will suddenly make everyone hold hands and sing kumbaya. This world will have its problems all the way to the end.
But faith, as a principle of action, drives us to do what we each can do, in our own small spheres of influence, to make this world a better place.
And so, with faith, we can enjoy a better world--right now, and into the eternities.
Merry Christmas, friends. I'm grateful for the coming of Christ, who gives me the hope and strength I need to do my part in building a better world.
Click here to see more from this series.
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Warped Plastic #14--Merry Christmas!
If there's one pet peeve I have about this time of year, it's the controversy over which holiday greeting to use. Every time I see one of those silly social media posts that say "It's Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays," I think, why can't it be both?
To all my readers, I hope you're having a wonderful holiday season filled with good times and good company. Merry Christmas!
Click to see Warped Plastic #13 and #15.
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Because Bad Things Happen
Why does God let bad things happen to good people?
Turn on the news and you get a stream of murders, thefts, assaults, and kidnappings; house fires, landslides, storms, and floods; car accidents, injustice, corruption, and disease.
And good luck escaping through entertainment. Open almost any book or go to the movies, and you get the same load piled on, because this is what we know.
I can hardly stomach it anymore.
In my younger days I didn't think too much about the darkness that surrounded me just for being in this world. But now--especially as a parent of young children--I see what happens in the news and popular entertainment and can't help but hurt.
I see the victims of violence and other crimes and think of my own children, so innocent, so sweet and loving and bright and good--too good for the world they will inherit.
I want to protect them. I want to hold them close and tell them it will all be okay. I want to keep all the bad parts of the world away from them.
And because I've learned to see through the tender eyes of a concerned parent, and have practiced seeing through others' eyes studying the humanities in college, my heart breaks every time the bad parts of the world hurt someone else, too.
The victim of that mugging? He was just trying to get home from work, where he toiled all day to make sure his family had something to eat.
The victim of that carjacking? A single mother on her way to school.
The victim of trafficking? Only a child, torn from his family and everything he knows, obsessed with trucks and trains and Sesame Street, now crying and abused and far away from home because his sale could make some money.
The accidental victim of that drive-by shooting? She wasn't in a gang. She didn't know anyone in a gang. And she had plans she'd worked so hard for, friends who cared about her, talents and potential that would go with her into the ground because she walked down the wrong street.
Suicides. Hurricanes. Bullying. War.
Everyone in these stories is a human being, with a life and talents and experiences and relationships as rich and detailed as my own. Somebody loves them. Somebody depends on them.
And it's gotten so, so heavy.
Maybe I've gone soft, but even some of the scripture stories I grew up with trouble me these days. Recently I re-read the account of Alma and Amulek, a pair of ancient missionaries in the Book of Mormon, and their experience as they taught the word of God in a city called Ammonihah.
Few people listened to these missionaries. In fact, things were so bad in this city that the people took all those who believed and burned them to death--forcing Alma and Amulek to watch.
I've never liked that story, but it had never affected me too much. Now, though, I could hardly handle reading it. I related so strongly to Amulek, who, when he "saw the pains of the women and children who were consuming in the fire, he also was pained; and he said unto Alma: How can we witness this awful scene?" (Alma 14:10).
I ask again: why does God let bad things happen to good people?
The question is worth discussing. But even though I believe I have some of the answers, that's not the point I want to make today.
My point is this: Recently I've realized more and more that that question, as valid as it may be, is incomplete. It only considers this life, in this world.
Concerning the victims of the flames, Alma answers Amulek, "the Lord receiveth them up unto himself, in glory" (Alma 14:11).
Another Book of Mormon character, Ether--who saw some terrible things in his own time, including the complete extermination of his people--writes, "whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world" (Ether 12:4).
We can ask why bad things happen all we want. And maybe we'd be right.
But I choose to believe in God, and to trust Him, because bad things happen.
In a world where every day we run the risk of meeting gun-wielding psychopaths at school, work, dinner, the movie theater, the library, the mall, and even at church, one thing keeps me from locking myself into my house and never coming out again:
The promise of a better world.
Someday, these terrible things won't happen anymore. There will be no more war, no more hate, no more theft, no more death, no more pain--no more of the darkness I feel constantly pressing in. Even minor inconveniences like traffic jams will be a thing of the past.
In the eternal picture, the heartaches and injustices of this world really only last one fleeting moment. And, according to my belief system, pretty much everybody will get to enjoy a better world than this one when we're done here.
We'll all make it there. Someday, we will all be happy, safe, and whole.
The hope that idea gives me is exactly what keeps me from living in constant fear. It's what inspires me to go help customers at work, to go out and make fun memories with my family, to see the good in the world and live joyfully and fully and contribute everything I can to make this world a better place as long as I'm here.
That hope is what I celebrate at Christmas.
Because of the baby born in Bethlehem, a light shines through the darkness. Because that little Jesus grew to take upon himself the pains and sins of everyone, we can all enjoy the hope He brought the world that starry night in the manger.
 |
| Image credit: Simon Dewey |
Every loss, every challenge, every hurt will be made up to us. From the smallest inconveniences to the deepest sorrows and most harrowing nightmares, everything will be made right.
In the meantime, when the world feels like it's caving in around me, I choose to hold on to that promise.
I choose to let God lead me through the dark.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Friday, December 15, 2017
When Blessings Don't Look Like Blessings
It turns out the Murphy of Murphy's Law was a real person. Which is good, because in the next life I'm gonna have some questions for him.
I have one day a week when I can reasonably run errands and do projects. So, on my day off this week, my wife and I made ambitious plans to finish all our Christmas shopping, go to the library, and pick up some milk.
And, lucky us, we just happened to find some cash in our basement. A Christmas miracle!
Enter Murphy.
It was bad enough we still couldn't find any gifts in our price range for the people on our list. But then, on our way out of a parking lot to try the next store . . . our car died.
As in, "call a tow truck" dead.
I didn't say anything for a moment as my blood pressure rose. I may have steamed more than the car did. On my one day off, I thought. I don't have the time or the money for this!
I called my favorite towing company. Because this has happened enough that I have a favorite towing company (but we can't buy a new car yet because we keep spending our money to just be able to drive our current one--a terrible cycle).
Their soonest available truck was at least two hours out. And it was cold, and I was mad, and my mechanic wouldn't be open in two hours.
I took a moment to breathe. Then I used my handy-dandy smartphone to google other towing companies and got a truck out with just enough time for my mother-in-law to take my wife and kids home.
The repairs ended up using all that cash we found in our basement.
And there went my day off, too.
I don't write this to complain. I don't want pity. I don't want money. An extra day off might be nice, but you can't give me that.
I only bring this up to point out that, more often than we realize, blessings don't really look like blessings.
And our family car breaking down when it did truly was a blessing.
The next day, my wife had planned to visit her sister in a town thirty miles away. While I don't doubt she would have been capable of handling the problem, I'm glad it happened close to home and at a time when I could be there.
The tow company that came to our aid ended up being more affordable than the company we normally use.
And that money we just happened to find that morning? That definitely looked like a blessing at the start; we just didn't realize what kind. We were meant to use it for our car repairs so we wouldn't completely break the bank.
Sometimes we think of miracles as these grand, once- or twice-in-a-lifetime moments when the heavens open up and God's voice thunders from the clouds. A cancer patient is miraculously cured. A baby, born blue in the face, miraculously breathes. A boulder miraculously misses a car on a mountain road.
And those are miracles.
But we can easily forget that small miracles surround us every single day. Some may be obvious blessings: arriving to work on time despite heavy traffic; a presentation turning out much better than expected; a friend sending a much-needed text.
Other blessings may come disguised--but they're miracles, too. Like the time I missed my bus to school . . . but discovered the train was not only more comfortable, but also faster. Or the time I failed a class and had to delay my graduation . . . but gained skills and friends I couldn't leave college without.
Or the time my car died on my day off . . . but I had the time and money to take care of it.
When life gets heavy, pause and take a look around. The miracles will surprise you.
I have one day a week when I can reasonably run errands and do projects. So, on my day off this week, my wife and I made ambitious plans to finish all our Christmas shopping, go to the library, and pick up some milk.
And, lucky us, we just happened to find some cash in our basement. A Christmas miracle!
Enter Murphy.
It was bad enough we still couldn't find any gifts in our price range for the people on our list. But then, on our way out of a parking lot to try the next store . . . our car died.
As in, "call a tow truck" dead.
 |
| Don't let the cute toys fool you. This ain't fun. Image credit: Dickie Toys |
I didn't say anything for a moment as my blood pressure rose. I may have steamed more than the car did. On my one day off, I thought. I don't have the time or the money for this!
I called my favorite towing company. Because this has happened enough that I have a favorite towing company (but we can't buy a new car yet because we keep spending our money to just be able to drive our current one--a terrible cycle).
Their soonest available truck was at least two hours out. And it was cold, and I was mad, and my mechanic wouldn't be open in two hours.
I took a moment to breathe. Then I used my handy-dandy smartphone to google other towing companies and got a truck out with just enough time for my mother-in-law to take my wife and kids home.
The repairs ended up using all that cash we found in our basement.
And there went my day off, too.
 |
| Image credit: Giphy |
I don't write this to complain. I don't want pity. I don't want money. An extra day off might be nice, but you can't give me that.
I only bring this up to point out that, more often than we realize, blessings don't really look like blessings.
And our family car breaking down when it did truly was a blessing.
The next day, my wife had planned to visit her sister in a town thirty miles away. While I don't doubt she would have been capable of handling the problem, I'm glad it happened close to home and at a time when I could be there.
The tow company that came to our aid ended up being more affordable than the company we normally use.
And that money we just happened to find that morning? That definitely looked like a blessing at the start; we just didn't realize what kind. We were meant to use it for our car repairs so we wouldn't completely break the bank.
 |
| Image credit: Giphy |
Sometimes we think of miracles as these grand, once- or twice-in-a-lifetime moments when the heavens open up and God's voice thunders from the clouds. A cancer patient is miraculously cured. A baby, born blue in the face, miraculously breathes. A boulder miraculously misses a car on a mountain road.
And those are miracles.
But we can easily forget that small miracles surround us every single day. Some may be obvious blessings: arriving to work on time despite heavy traffic; a presentation turning out much better than expected; a friend sending a much-needed text.
Other blessings may come disguised--but they're miracles, too. Like the time I missed my bus to school . . . but discovered the train was not only more comfortable, but also faster. Or the time I failed a class and had to delay my graduation . . . but gained skills and friends I couldn't leave college without.
Or the time my car died on my day off . . . but I had the time and money to take care of it.
When life gets heavy, pause and take a look around. The miracles will surprise you.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Peace by Piece--Jeremiah 1:5
Every year at Christmastime I consider what I can give the Christ child. After all, why shouldn't He get presents at His own birthday celebration?
Some years my gifts to Him have included working on my patience, trying to pray more sincerely, and paying more attention during family scripture study.
This year I've chosen to give Baby Jesus my talents.
While this isn't my first foray into illustrating scriptures with Lego, I wanted to take what I've learned from making my webcomic and create simple, shareable images with uplifting messages (as I am LDS, these scripture messages would come not only from the Bible, but also from the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, and the teachings of modern-day prophets). I believe pairing these words with Lego can inspire new ways of thinking about them, and as much as I look forward to having an easy and unique way to share something that means so much to me, I hope my pictures can help lift other people up, too.
New installments to this "Peace by Piece" series will be published every Sunday. I've chosen one of my favorite scripture verses to start with--Jeremiah 1:5. It has always brought me so much comfort to know that God knows and loves me personally, and I feel closer to Him every time I read this little reminder.
I hope all of you are happy and well, and enjoying this wonderful holiday season!
Click here to see more from this series.
Friday, December 8, 2017
Let's Talk About Nostalgia
Elementary school nearly scared me away from college.
A presenter visited my fifth-grade class one day to teach us how to perform research at a library. She used terms like Dewey Decimal System, demonstrated how to use a card catalog, and promised us that when we got to college--even high school, depending on the class--we would spend endless nights with our noses crammed in books.
I imagined myself then reading through thick volumes to find one quote to use in the lengthy papers I was also promised I would have to write.
It took me probably a month to get through Harry Potter. Library research? Not. For. Me.
Thankfully by middle school, Google had arrived to save the day (and my future education). I never did have to sort through a card catalog like some barbarian, and with every click of the mouse I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn't stuck in the library. The world changed--and it changed in my favor.
(Looking back, I have to appreciate the irony that I became an English major and ended up spending countless nights with my nose crammed in a book anyway. But I digress.)
A lot of things are so much easier now thanks to technology: research, communication, finding directions to that new Indian restaurant. With a tap on a screen, I can read the news, schedule a colonoscopy, and wish a friend a happy birthday.
When you sit back and think about it, the level of sorcery we've attained is truly amazing. In the old days, we would have all been burned as witches. We're truly blessed.
But I also can't help but wonder if we've lost something. And by we, I mostly mean I--but maybe you can relate.
I've always been prone to nostalgia. Sometimes I drive certain roads just because I used to go there with my friends. I consider the Super Nintendo the pinnacle of gaming. I've loaded my Bricklink wishlist with Lego sets from the 80's and 90's.
And if the multitude of 90's nostalgia pages I've followed on Facebook is any indication, I'm not the only one. Even Wendy's got in on the action with a recent ad campaign:
Nostalgia serves a valuable purpose. J.M. Barrie said, "God gave us memories that we might have roses in December."
Whatever age one grew up in, who doesn't, on occasion, look back with a smile on what appears to have been a simpler time?
I miss late-night summer drives, letting the cool air blow in from the open window and feeling no responsibility for anyone but myself.
I miss Saturday mornings playing Donkey Kong Country in my friend's basement, on a boxy television that hummed when you turned it on.
I miss the charming, light-hearted aesthetic of 90's Lego catalogs, whose colorful backgrounds and smiling characters transported me to a happier world.
I can't help but smile when I think of all those things. But to entertain thoughts of the past requires balance--a delicate walk between living in the past and learning from it. And I have to recognize that the past, as beautiful as it was, isn't necessarily better than the life I have now.
The Lego sets from my childhood continue to fill me with wonder, and they feel positively different from what the company produces today. Different--not better. What I wouldn't have given to have a set like the massive Ninjago City when I was a kid!
And while a hallmark of the Super Nintendo is how its games have stood the test of time, I know my seven-year-old eyes would have gone wide with amazement at, say, Mario Kart 8.
And yeah, I have a lot more responsibility now than I did as a teenager. But I'm also married to my best friend, and we have three children who I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. They light up my whole life.
Whenever I start thinking about "the good ol' days," I try to steer those thoughts toward an internal discussion of what lessons I can use from them.
If I long for a simpler time, maybe I should make this time simpler.
If my happy memories are about people, maybe I should leave my phone in a back room while I spend quality time with my family.
Maybe I can use the Internet to access the vast stores of human knowledge instead of arguing with strangers over politics.
Maybe I can go outside a little more, or read more books, or build my own happy Lego town.
Someday I'll look back on this time of my life the same way I look back on my childhood. Right now, I get to choose what that future me will see.
Thomas S. Monson has said, "The past is behind, learn from it. The future is ahead, prepare for it. The present is here, live it." By learning from the past and truly appreciating the present, I can make memories the future me will treasure.
These are the moments I will someday get nostalgic for.
A presenter visited my fifth-grade class one day to teach us how to perform research at a library. She used terms like Dewey Decimal System, demonstrated how to use a card catalog, and promised us that when we got to college--even high school, depending on the class--we would spend endless nights with our noses crammed in books.
I imagined myself then reading through thick volumes to find one quote to use in the lengthy papers I was also promised I would have to write.
It took me probably a month to get through Harry Potter. Library research? Not. For. Me.
 |
| There's a reason N and O are next to each other in the alphabet. Image credit: Your Dictionary |
Thankfully by middle school, Google had arrived to save the day (and my future education). I never did have to sort through a card catalog like some barbarian, and with every click of the mouse I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn't stuck in the library. The world changed--and it changed in my favor.
(Looking back, I have to appreciate the irony that I became an English major and ended up spending countless nights with my nose crammed in a book anyway. But I digress.)
A lot of things are so much easier now thanks to technology: research, communication, finding directions to that new Indian restaurant. With a tap on a screen, I can read the news, schedule a colonoscopy, and wish a friend a happy birthday.
When you sit back and think about it, the level of sorcery we've attained is truly amazing. In the old days, we would have all been burned as witches. We're truly blessed.
 |
| "It was only a Snapchat filter!" Image credit: Wikimedia Commons |
But I also can't help but wonder if we've lost something. And by we, I mostly mean I--but maybe you can relate.
I've always been prone to nostalgia. Sometimes I drive certain roads just because I used to go there with my friends. I consider the Super Nintendo the pinnacle of gaming. I've loaded my Bricklink wishlist with Lego sets from the 80's and 90's.
And if the multitude of 90's nostalgia pages I've followed on Facebook is any indication, I'm not the only one. Even Wendy's got in on the action with a recent ad campaign:
Nostalgia serves a valuable purpose. J.M. Barrie said, "God gave us memories that we might have roses in December."
Whatever age one grew up in, who doesn't, on occasion, look back with a smile on what appears to have been a simpler time?
I miss late-night summer drives, letting the cool air blow in from the open window and feeling no responsibility for anyone but myself.
I miss Saturday mornings playing Donkey Kong Country in my friend's basement, on a boxy television that hummed when you turned it on.
I miss the charming, light-hearted aesthetic of 90's Lego catalogs, whose colorful backgrounds and smiling characters transported me to a happier world.
 |
Image credit: The Brothers Brick |
I can't help but smile when I think of all those things. But to entertain thoughts of the past requires balance--a delicate walk between living in the past and learning from it. And I have to recognize that the past, as beautiful as it was, isn't necessarily better than the life I have now.
The Lego sets from my childhood continue to fill me with wonder, and they feel positively different from what the company produces today. Different--not better. What I wouldn't have given to have a set like the massive Ninjago City when I was a kid!
And while a hallmark of the Super Nintendo is how its games have stood the test of time, I know my seven-year-old eyes would have gone wide with amazement at, say, Mario Kart 8.
And yeah, I have a lot more responsibility now than I did as a teenager. But I'm also married to my best friend, and we have three children who I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. They light up my whole life.
Whenever I start thinking about "the good ol' days," I try to steer those thoughts toward an internal discussion of what lessons I can use from them.
If I long for a simpler time, maybe I should make this time simpler.
If my happy memories are about people, maybe I should leave my phone in a back room while I spend quality time with my family.
Maybe I can use the Internet to access the vast stores of human knowledge instead of arguing with strangers over politics.
Maybe I can go outside a little more, or read more books, or build my own happy Lego town.
Someday I'll look back on this time of my life the same way I look back on my childhood. Right now, I get to choose what that future me will see.
Thomas S. Monson has said, "The past is behind, learn from it. The future is ahead, prepare for it. The present is here, live it." By learning from the past and truly appreciating the present, I can make memories the future me will treasure.
These are the moments I will someday get nostalgic for.
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
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