A View From the Font

My Daughter’s Baptism

Yesterday marked a wonderful spiritual moment in the life of my daughter but as well for me.  My dearest daughter’s baptism day had arrived.  I had previously written some thoughts about this moment and the importance in my family’s history.  The day has come, and it was wonderful.

We had invited all our extended family to attend the event, but since we moved from Arizona we knew that not everyone would be able to make it and would be surprised if anyone could.  We actually contemplated doing it back in Arizona so that we could be closer with friends and family, but ultimately decided that where our Ward is would be just fine.  My wife’s parents and my mother decided to make the trip.  I was sincerely grateful that they chose to come.  I was actually surprised that my mother, not of LDS faith, decided to come…more on that later.

The process leading to Baptism for my daughter was an interesting one for me.  I felt the responsibility of helping her come to the decision (or I suppose it’s an affirmation for an 8 year old most of the time) of Baptism.  I tried my best to help her understand what it meant and the importance.  With her attention span (which is less than mine :-)) it was difficult at times.  Despite the fact that she had been given lessons in Primary about Baptism and our efforts to specifically have family nights centered around the theme, she still got frustrated feeling like she didn’t know the answers to really what the purpose was.  The week before her interview with the Bishop I got much more serious about it (and perhaps too stern at times!) in my discussions with her and we talked about what Baptism meant each moment I had with her.  I tried not to coax her into any answers but rather wanted her to recall the things I already know she had learned.  Eventually she finally felt comfortable in her confidence of the meaning.

We met with the Bishop (who is a new Bishop) and she was VERY concerned about the process.  You wouldn’t think she’s shy if you saw her in her own setting, but around adults she is very shy and apprehensive.  The Bishop was very kind and asked her the same things we had been discussing more earnestly the past week.  She promptly answered all his questions to his satisfaction and he was pleased that she would be Baptized.

My wife had struggled to find just the “right” dress for her (our daughter is pretty picky about clothing).  Eventually a week before we found one that she was happy about…at a bridal shop (hint to those looking for the perfect white dress in a season where it is impossible to find them!).  Our daughter picked it out and declared it to be the one.  And of course, she looks beautiful in it.

My mother was in town for the occasion but I felt that she had forgotten about the actual event and instead was just coming to hang out with the kids.  I have to admit I was a little disappointed in what I felt was unpreparedness for this important event for my daughter and our family.  On the other hand I could tell my mother just wasn’t in tune with the importance.  I’ve not had conversations with my mom about spiritual stuff in a long time and I’m guessing she’s not really attending church or have a strong faith in God anymore…just a hunch.  Another struggle we had the entire weekend was that my mother uses “Oh my God” as slang in almost every sentence.  It’s not as striking as hearing the F-word every 3rd word, but when you have changed your belief about things of the spirit, you notice these things more.  It also was extremely hard to see my daughter try to process it as she heard it…after all we’ve told her that is not appropriate to use Heavenly Father’s name like that when we talk.  A few times I tried to correct her, leaning over and whispering “gosh Mom, say ‘gosh’” but it didn’t stick.  A little part of me felt she didn’t like to be corrected and was just going to do whatever she wanted.  Regardless I didn’t feel like she was making an effort to understand, let alone correct.

The day of Baptism came and my daughter saw the font in a different light as she’d be the one in it this time.  Her mother helped her get dressed in the outfit as I went to the men’s room to squeeze into my jump suit (yeah, my girth being disproportionate to my height makes fitting into things like that ‘interesting’).  We would be the first of 3 being Baptized this day, which made my daughter happy.  Her grandmother (my mother-in-law) gave the opening talk on Baptism and it was great and age-appropriate.  We then went into the waters with my father-in-law and our Bishop serving as witnesses.  I had rehearsed the exact ordinance in my mind a lot of times and was sure I’d screw it up.  But I didn’t.  Everything went fine and we retreated to change into our clothes.  When I came out of the bathroom I saw my daughter in her white dress with a smile on her face.  She was absolutely beautiful and innocent.  I pondered for only a second if she comprehended the importance of the ordinance that just occurred.

We concluded with the Confirmation of the Holy Ghost, accompanied by my home teacher and one of the Elders who we’ve come to enjoy his company in visits to our home.  It was a great day.  My daughter got a journal to record her thoughts for the day (an awesome gift) among other things like her new personalized scriptures.  I will indeed need to record more personal thoughts in my journal this evening.

As I walked into the font, I couldn’t help but flash back almost exactly 15 years ago when I was in the same outfit, yet on the receiving end.  A man of 21 having made what appeared to be such an odd decision to my family and friends, I walked into the font and made the decision to be baptized.  Now 15 years later I am able to do the same for my family and ensure they have the same opportunity to grow a faith in the Gospel that I have come to know.

Defining ‘Home’

Due to some organizational changes and opportunities I have recently relocated my family away from what has been ‘home’ for the past 6 years.

Six years is a good amount of time to get rooted in friends, schools, familiarities, etc.  My family is lucky (for lack of a better term) in the sense my kids are young and their roots aren’t that deep yet.  My oldest is 7 and has one year of school (minus kindergarten) under her belt.  My youngest can adapt to anything (I think/hope).  It was hard to decide to do this move on several levels, but mostly for us – mom and dad – leaving everything we know to be comfortable.

Moving sucks.

We’ve been in our new place for almost a month now and in the third week my daughter had a bit of a breakdown.  This wasn’t spawned by random emotion but rather from her mother telling her we probably weren’t going to have friends over today to play (as she has for the past 3 weeks daily) and that the house needed some cleaning attention.  My daughter was not happy about this and it spawned her to claim that this was the boringest day in the world and the meltdown started.  Apparently she started to get angry about not seeing her other friends and then perhaps realized the sense that she wouldn’t be seeing them regularly anymore.

The next day my daughter reminded me of her episode and told me: Daddy, I got homesick yesterday. Which was a good opportunity for me to have a brief but serious conversation with her.  I asked her what happened, what she missed and a few other questions.  Her bottom line was this: I miss our home.  I have to admit that I’ve been missing our friends as well a lot.  But her comment struck an emotion in me and I quickly responded with this:

Zoe, as long as you have mom, dad and your brother, you are home.  Home is wherever we are a family.  When we are together, we are home.

I’m not sure if she understood or not, but it really made me think if I believed myself even.  I’ve contemplated it a bit and I think I do. 

For me, as long as I have my family, I’m home.

Eight is Great!

A new era of my family history is about to begin.  I’m the convert for the Heuer family name in my tree.  I’m the only baptized member in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Last night my family attended an ‘Eight is Great’ presentation by the primary presidency.  It was a short program (meant more for parents I think) to talk about the various aspects of turning the age of 8 in the Church.

Our daughter turns 8 this year and was reluctant to go to this program.  I think she thought we were going to drop her off or something.  To be honest, I was reluctant to go as well because I had to put a suit on…sigh…I hate suits.  The program was about preparing for the actual day of baptism (i.e., get your crap in order) as well as what it means for girls (activity days) and boys (scouts).  I think our daughter half paid attention.

As I was listening to this though and seeing the baptismal day in my head, it dawned on me, that she’ll be the second Heuer in the Church for my family.  This is my spiritual legacy beginning.  I felt odd and pressured a bit.  I’m not weirdly emotional about it, but perhaps when the day comes I’ll find it more inspirational.  I’m looking forward to it and trying to be a good example to my daughter so that she can start paying attention better to the foundations of the Church and the gospel.

Weird though.  1995 I was baptized.  2010 will bring another in my tree into the gospel.

Why do you journal?

I recently had a thought about journaling.  As a convert, this concept of journaling was new as it was introduced to me during discussions and indoctrination of the Mormon culture.  Of course, everyone knows about a diary.  So to me, I suppose I thought it was the same…sort of.

The more I think about journaling, the more I’m curious.  The concept of a diary to me has always been one of secrecy.  Heck, the fact that most diaries are sold with little locks tells me so, right?  I never kept one, but I’d always imagined those who did never intended for them to serve as lexicons for their life.  I always imagined they were the most personal of thoughts, written down as perhaps part of some therapeutic expression. 

As I started journaling (I suck at it mind you) I was writing in the concept that I’d imagine I *was* writing a lexicon of my life for future generations.  After all, in the Church we always hear about people reading from journals in talks, referring to historical moments, etc.  But have you ever heard someone read a journal entry that contained a deep secret of their life, or perhaps thoughts about their best friends that they never expressed (that were negative)?  I haven’t.  But why not?  If we write in journals with the knowledge that they may be read by future generations, wouldn’t we hear some of these things?  Surely even the Prophet had bad days and made note of them…angry with parents or friends, or girlfriends he thought was stinky? :-)

For me more lately my written journal has, in fact, been a therapeutic expression of things that have gotten me down.  Reflecting on it recently it reads as a book of sad and angry thoughts, writing when I’m bummed out about life, work, or other crap that frustrates me.  What causes me to be inspired to write the bad times, but not the good?  And what of these sad/bad thoughts?  Do I want my adult children/grand-children of the future to read them?  If not, what then is their purpose?  If you go through troubling times in your life whether they be personal, with other family/friends, etc. – and you journal them – are they things you’d want your future generations to read?  What would/could the future impact be on thoughts of you?  on thoughts of those you wrote about?

What about you?  Do you journal for purely yourself or for future generations?  And do you hold back those most personal, emotional moments in fear of future interpretation?

Deep Thoughts…

Maybe not by Jack Handey, but I had one today…

If your spouse wrote a journal of you you treat them…what would it say?

Your family’s legacy on prayer

Today’s Elder Quorum lesson was on prayer (Elder Bednar’s October 2008 talk Pray Always).  As a convert, I quickly learned that a big part of the LDS Church was prayer.  Pray for every meal (we used to say ‘Grace’ before special dinners only while growing up), pray morning, night, blessings, ordinances, family prayer, individual prayer, pray after studying scriptures, spouse prayer, Temple prayer, etc.  You get the drift.  Being a convert who hadn’t prayed much, this was somewhat foreign to me…not in a bad way, just in one of those yet-to-be-established habit sort of ways.  When things aren’t a habit, they are harder to start.

As a introductory question to the lesson today, our instructor asked the room full of about 30 fathers the following question:

Who grew up in a home that had family prayer?

Now, our Elder’s Quorum is filled with a range of age groups.  My best guess is that there is enough range to represent 4 different generations.  Upon hearing this question – I knew my answer was no – I expected a different response than what I saw.  I knew how I looked at certain people in my Ward and pegged some as the Peter Priesthood types and assumed their extended family was too.  After some chuckling of Can you qualify the parameters of that question?  Every day? Individual or all family? etc., the room had no hands in the air.

I was taken back a bit.  I’m not sure what the next 5 minutes discussion was.  I only know my thoughts were: I’m not alone.  But those thoughts came with shock as well.  Here is 4 generations of families…surely someone grew up in a home that followed the guidance of the Lord?  It was comforting and alarming at the same time.  Alarming in that how could I, a lowly convert who struggles constantly with a lot of things, be successful in the simple ask of family prayer, when those Peter Priesthoods weren’t successful either?  Comforting in that I’m human.

I mentioned the word habit above.  Perhaps here lies the problem.  If prayer becomes a habit, does it follow the guidance from Elder Bednar?  Is it always?  Sure if it is your habit.  Is it with sincere gratitude?  Hmm, for the routine things?  Do you pray for others?  Wow, beyond my family you mean?  Maybe I’ve been looking at this wrong the whole time.  If I’m trying to form a habit, I surely will succeed in forming one, but fail in the desired outcome of why I’m forming the habit.  I do want to have family prayer.  Despite my struggles religiously, I do want my children to establish their own thoughts on prayer and I want them to see that I have faith in that belief.

This small exercise today had me think the rest of the afternoon about my legacy on my family.  So I challenge you as well.

What is your family’s legacy on prayer?

I hope that my thoughts turn to sincere actions and a change of heart from habit to desire.

Learning about Mormons easier

I got an email from Laurel today pointing me to a site that I think she’s involved with.  I had a moment to check it out and thought it was cool.  I can’t help think it is inspired by the Common Craft “Plain English” series of videos which are oft used to explain things in the technical community.  I think this is a great way to simplify some of the frequently asked questions about the Church, the people and things of practice (meetings, youth involvement, etc.).  Here’s an example of a 3 minute explanation of what to expect at a typical Mormon Sunday service:

Great idea guys and can’t wait to see what others you’ll have coming.  My suggestion would be to enable some RSS feed so that I can be notified of when new videos are posted (hint, hint).

ABC Talks Temples with Elder Ballard and Cook

I just came across this video where ABC news did an interview with Elder Ballard and Elder Cook and talked about Temples, misunderstandings of belief, etc.

It was an interesting piece, but even interesting is that despite the interview they (ABC) did, where the Apostles mentioned that the FLDS groups are not a part of our belief, the news agency still included the Texas compound situation in the same sentences.  I suppose titilating headlines/intros still prevail over truth.

As a convert though it is great to see more open discussions about the faith.  We should not hide from our beliefs (nor should anyone) but be proud of them and declare the truths which we know.

Video and story: Mormons Open Doors to Discuss Religion.

A humble reminder

A month ago I wrote about three words that simply made my day.  Today, after 2 pretty long days with my kids while the wife was out with friends, I had lost a lot of patience.  My daughter fell asleep in our bedroom as she does sometimes, and I was preparing to bring her into her room.  I usually go into her room first and get it all ready so that I can quietly just pick her up from ours and put her in her bed.

Tonight as I did this routine, I pulled the sheets back and discovered something poking out beneath her pillow.  This is what I pulled out:

This was unsolicited.  Something she probably was drawing today while keeping herself busy.  A HUGE smile came across my face and my eyes teared up.  I am so humbled to have been rewarded in my life with such a wonderful spirit in my daughter and son.

I love my family too, Zoe.

‘I love you dad’

Last Saturday, despite being the day of our annual holiday Festivus party, it started as a pretty rough day.  People disagreeing, arguments ensue, etc.  Hey, these things happen.  Hopefully we all have it within us to try to temper our emotions (some of us better than others—and I’m NOT speaking of myself).  That Saturday wasn’t one of those moments.  Before our party, my kids were going to be picked up to stay at Grandma’s for the night so that we could party ‘til the wee hours of the morning (yeah right).

As my stress level was at the highest and my emotions boiling over, my daughter stops on her dash to the car picking her up, turns around and drops her backpack and runs back.  She ran up to me gave me a great big hug and simply said ‘I love you dad.’

My heart had never been so full as it did in that moment.  I didn’t let her go.  And she didn’t mind that either which made the moment even more precious to me.  It was the absolute best moment I’ve ever experienced as a parent so far.  The moment felt like hours but I’m sure it was only a few seconds.  My eyes were definitely watery (I’m an emotional sap anyway) and all I remember is whispering to her “thanks Zoe, I really needed that.”  I let her go and she was off.  She probably has no idea how important that moment was for me and for our relationship as father-daughter.  I’ve written it in my journal and hopefully one day she can appreciate it.

It reminded me of the awesome responsibility of parenthood.  And not ‘awesome’ as in the ‘far our cool’ sense, but the weight of us as parents.  I think that every decision in my life now has a third pivot of analysis – how does it affect my children.  This is as simple as going out to dinner with friends to job changes that might affect moving, etc.  We, as parents, don’t decide for ourselves anymore, but rather decide for those we preside over in our family.  How can I think it is okay to decide about a great job opportunity if it involves taking my children away from an environment that they love so much?  Sure, they are young and it is likely they can make new friends, adapt to new schools, etc. – but to simply discount those as trivial seems irresponsible.  I haven’t yet had to hit these types of walls yet, but I know that I eventually will.

I’m comforted though that my experience in my faith helps me through these times as a parent and helps guide me to what is right in life.  I’m hopeful that as time passes that I can continue to be strong with my children and teach them what I believe and why…to help them discern for themselves the spirit that they feel when thinking about such matters of faith.  I guess that only time will tell.

But thank you Zoe for that moment…and I love you too – more than you can even imagine.