Fathers' Day
I wrote a blog post about Mothers' Day last month, so it seems only right to write a companion post today. My Mothers' Day post focused primarily on why I felt it was not only appropriate but also necessary to address the reason I use the plural posessive form of mother when talking about the holiday. I feel the same way about Fathers' Day, but I don't think I need to go into it again. After all, the argument is essentially the same.
Today, though, I want to share some bits of wisdom I've picked up from my father over the years. This is in no way going to be an exhaustive list, and I am sure that there will be plenty of things he's told me that were incredibly insightful and important that I will leave off. Sorry, Dad.
The first thing that comes to mind when I think of wisdom my dad has passed on to me is this bit of advice: If you ever want to identify what is most important to you, make a mental list at the end of the day of things you accomplished; you will always make time for the things that are most important to you. While I am sure I could come up with a way to dispute this claim, I won't, because I think it is generally true. Throughout most of my life, I have found that I have had the time and means to do everything that I wanted to do that I thought was important. This past year I finally found myself in quandary in which I had to pick between two things that were incredibly important to me. I had been a member of the Parkland Wind Ensemble for many years, but I was also a full-time teacher with work responsibilities. Unfortunately, circumstances created a situation in which I could not do both with the level of commitment required and I had to make a choice: would I continue to participate in the ensemble and let my work suffer or would I try to focus on work and cause the ensemble to suffer through my tardiness and absence? I finally was forced to decide and found myself quitting the ensemble. This was very difficult for me, not only because I had been in the ensemble for years and not only because I felt like I was on good terms with the director, but also because this was the first time since fifth grade, with the exception of my missionary service in California and my one semester in Australia, that I was not participating in an instrumental ensemble. I still have not found a replacement for this. But when I looked at my day and examined what I made time for, I knew that work had to come first. (At least when deciding between these two commitments.)
Another piece of advice from el Papa has to do with making decisions. It is a dated aphorism, but it still make sense to me. He often counseled his children to "play the tape through." If you have to make a decision, think it through all the way to the end. This is similar to Stephen Covey's advice to "start with the end in mind" but I think my dad's advice takes it to another level. Don't just have the end in mind; think about everything that will most likely happen in the course of your decision. There aren't any specific experiences in my life that I can recall applying this counsel, but I think that that is because it has always been in the back of my mind. "Playing the tape through" has become just a part of what I do when I make decisions. That isn't to say that I always follow this advice. Sometimes I play the tape and decide to go with it anyway. I am, after all, imperfect and prone to making mistakes. But I would like to think that I have done this whenever making serious decisions in my life, such as going to the University of Illinois, marrying Gretchen, or taking my job at Wiley Elementary School.
A third saying from my father, who I often address as "Pops" in person and in emails, has to do with living my religion. It is no secret that the members of my family are intelligent, thoughtful, and reflective people. We like to think and we like to talk about what we think. Our dinner conversations growing up very often focused on philosophy, politics, religion, and the state of the world. Both of my parents went to college, and nearly all of their children have earned college degrees, with some working on advanced degrees. The saying my dad has passed on to me that relates directly to this high degree of knowledge is this: "I've never met anyone too stupid to live the Gospel of Jesus Christ; I have met people too smart for it, though." This saying arose out of the high number of close friends who rationalised themselves away from living their religion. They became obsessed with the academics of theology and forgot the pragmatic side.
Here's the thing: I love the academic application of theology. I love talking with people who have become religious scholars, who have a deep understanding of not just what was written in the scriptures, but also how they were written and the historical context for them. I like to get onto religious blogs and read, discuss, share, and debate. I don't like to quarrel, though. Nothing good has ever come from quarreling with others.
But debate, sharing differing viewpoints and seeking to understand others, that is something that I think we can all benefit from. When it comes to my religion, I know that I don't know everything. I know that I cannot comprehend all things that my God can comprehend. I know that the men and women that God chooses to lead and guide His children are imperfect and prone to mistakes, as well. I don't believe in the infallibility of any mortal being on earth. I do know that God lives. I know that He loves me and that He knows me in way that I do not even know myself. I know that I have many friends who don't believe in God. I have friends whose religious beliefs are drastically different from my own. And I have friends who share the same views that I have or, at least, fairly similar ones. My father's saying reminds me of a passage from the Book of Mormon:
Thanks, Dad, for all of the great advice over the years!
Today, though, I want to share some bits of wisdom I've picked up from my father over the years. This is in no way going to be an exhaustive list, and I am sure that there will be plenty of things he's told me that were incredibly insightful and important that I will leave off. Sorry, Dad.
The first thing that comes to mind when I think of wisdom my dad has passed on to me is this bit of advice: If you ever want to identify what is most important to you, make a mental list at the end of the day of things you accomplished; you will always make time for the things that are most important to you. While I am sure I could come up with a way to dispute this claim, I won't, because I think it is generally true. Throughout most of my life, I have found that I have had the time and means to do everything that I wanted to do that I thought was important. This past year I finally found myself in quandary in which I had to pick between two things that were incredibly important to me. I had been a member of the Parkland Wind Ensemble for many years, but I was also a full-time teacher with work responsibilities. Unfortunately, circumstances created a situation in which I could not do both with the level of commitment required and I had to make a choice: would I continue to participate in the ensemble and let my work suffer or would I try to focus on work and cause the ensemble to suffer through my tardiness and absence? I finally was forced to decide and found myself quitting the ensemble. This was very difficult for me, not only because I had been in the ensemble for years and not only because I felt like I was on good terms with the director, but also because this was the first time since fifth grade, with the exception of my missionary service in California and my one semester in Australia, that I was not participating in an instrumental ensemble. I still have not found a replacement for this. But when I looked at my day and examined what I made time for, I knew that work had to come first. (At least when deciding between these two commitments.)
Another piece of advice from el Papa has to do with making decisions. It is a dated aphorism, but it still make sense to me. He often counseled his children to "play the tape through." If you have to make a decision, think it through all the way to the end. This is similar to Stephen Covey's advice to "start with the end in mind" but I think my dad's advice takes it to another level. Don't just have the end in mind; think about everything that will most likely happen in the course of your decision. There aren't any specific experiences in my life that I can recall applying this counsel, but I think that that is because it has always been in the back of my mind. "Playing the tape through" has become just a part of what I do when I make decisions. That isn't to say that I always follow this advice. Sometimes I play the tape and decide to go with it anyway. I am, after all, imperfect and prone to making mistakes. But I would like to think that I have done this whenever making serious decisions in my life, such as going to the University of Illinois, marrying Gretchen, or taking my job at Wiley Elementary School.
A third saying from my father, who I often address as "Pops" in person and in emails, has to do with living my religion. It is no secret that the members of my family are intelligent, thoughtful, and reflective people. We like to think and we like to talk about what we think. Our dinner conversations growing up very often focused on philosophy, politics, religion, and the state of the world. Both of my parents went to college, and nearly all of their children have earned college degrees, with some working on advanced degrees. The saying my dad has passed on to me that relates directly to this high degree of knowledge is this: "I've never met anyone too stupid to live the Gospel of Jesus Christ; I have met people too smart for it, though." This saying arose out of the high number of close friends who rationalised themselves away from living their religion. They became obsessed with the academics of theology and forgot the pragmatic side.
Here's the thing: I love the academic application of theology. I love talking with people who have become religious scholars, who have a deep understanding of not just what was written in the scriptures, but also how they were written and the historical context for them. I like to get onto religious blogs and read, discuss, share, and debate. I don't like to quarrel, though. Nothing good has ever come from quarreling with others.
But debate, sharing differing viewpoints and seeking to understand others, that is something that I think we can all benefit from. When it comes to my religion, I know that I don't know everything. I know that I cannot comprehend all things that my God can comprehend. I know that the men and women that God chooses to lead and guide His children are imperfect and prone to mistakes, as well. I don't believe in the infallibility of any mortal being on earth. I do know that God lives. I know that He loves me and that He knows me in way that I do not even know myself. I know that I have many friends who don't believe in God. I have friends whose religious beliefs are drastically different from my own. And I have friends who share the same views that I have or, at least, fairly similar ones. My father's saying reminds me of a passage from the Book of Mormon:
O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish.
But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God.(2 Nephi 9:28-29)My dad's saying is a constant reminder to me to be humble and to always hearken unto the counsels of God. The day I start to think that I know better than God is the day that I need to quickly check myself and play the tape through again.
Thanks, Dad, for all of the great advice over the years!
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