Gratitude

Today I’m grateful to have gone to church where I was reminded of those things that are most important. Among those things are family. The ward I went to today, as well as last week, is a conventional family ward. (The use of the term “conventional” is no accident; we are meant to be in families. Singles wards are truly an anomaly on so many levels.) Besides families, it was great to sit in Sunday School listening to different comments especially as we discussed Alma 13-16 and what those who chose to believe in the words of Alma and Amulek had to give up. The comments of the class were striking because a number of the class members were long-term converts had joined the church independent of their parents. One woman commented on how after being a member for 25 years or more her parents have started to warm up to the idea that Mormons are actually good people. It’s also humbling to realize as I walk down the streets here in Irmo, SC that my grandfather was here in the 1930s preaching the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Although he probably didn’t have any direct impact on the people I’ve interacted with here, I was grateful to consider his missionary work in tandem with these fine saints. The church is growing throughout the world because it’s His work, not ours, His authority, rather the puny authority man, and His doctrine, and not the doctrine of men. The issue of doctrine brings me gratitude for something else that seems somewhat unique to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints–uniformity. Although members of the church may have different accents, vocabularies, or even languages, it is always the same doctrine. It helps too that the church buildings all look the same.

Awesomeness is . . .

Awesomeness is being on a random trip to Irmo, South Carolina with no transportation other than my own two feet only to discover that the local ward meetinghouse is less than a mile from my hotel. I’m going to church and taking a few friends with me!

A choice

That’s it? A choice? Really it’s so simple that you might miss it if you’re not paying attention or if you’re like me and you make things far more complicated than they need to be. I’m sure you’re asking what in the world I’m writing about. I’m sorry for the confusion but I probably have less of an idea than you do.

I still have a dream

This post isn’t very cheery so I apologize up front. I had an experience tonight that caused me to reflect about some themes I’ve been thinking about on and off for some time.

Today was a great day for several reasons. I worked at the temple, I got a phone call from Senator Clinton’s office (just trust me when I say it was a good thing), I picked up some wonderful produce, and I went to listen to a great fireside at our Stake Center. After all of this I was in a fantastic mood. My mood was so good that I decided to stop and get some Chinese food from one of the local establishments (bad Chinese food is a guilty pleasure of mine for those who don’t know). The place I chose to go to is in Harlem, my neighborhood. I ordered my food and was waiting when a drunk came in. He was nice at first and shook my hand and I was cordial in return. He then asked me to buy him some food and I told him no. If he has the money to buy beer, which he was drinking in said Chinese take-out place, then he has the money to buy food. He then started to ask me who my father was and when I told him that my father’s name was David, he said that his name was David too. At this point I tried to avoid him but I had already given him my attention (you would think that living in New York would have made me callous; I still don’t know why I chose to talk to him) and to a certain extent he had me. He then started calling me names and saying things about my father and really he wanted to fight. Eventually his belligerence and name calling got so bad that another customer chewed him out for swearing in front his daughter and by the time I had received my food everyone waiting was visibly displeased with this man’s actions. I tried to tell him that I had done nothing to wrong him but of course that did nothing and I walked away while he continued to provoke me. I was the only one in the restaurant who was Caucasian. The owners were Chinese and everyone else was African-American. As I consider it retrospect, it wasn’t about race to anyone but this drunk. It was about choosing decency and respect to others as well as self. Although this wasn’t the first time I’ve had this sort of exchange in Harlem, it was certainly one of the most unpleasant.

I still believe in the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I still have a dream that we will live in a nation where where no one is judged by the color of their skin but rather by the content of their character. I am grateful to live in Harlem. I am grateful to see that racism is largely a thing of the past and that we can embrace each other as children of the same God. However, I am also very saddened to see anyone, black or white, who continues to hold on to these useless and wrong stereotypes and prejudices. Despite the frustrations I experienced tonight, I am also grateful to my dad. He was the one who taught me to be loving and tolerant and accepting of everyone regardless of what they say, do, or think. He taught me both in what he said and in what he did that we are all children of the same God, a loving Father in Heaven and that as such, we should treat other with love and respect. I just hope these outdated modes of thinking will die sooner than later.

Increasing readership

The cousins on my dad’s side of the family have this great monthly email called “Cousins Connections.” The purpose is to get to know each other in a little different way. Usually my cousin Jana takes the lead and asks a question and as many of the cousins as choose to, reply. I have been less-than stellar at responding though and made my first response when my cousin Skeezie spoke up and asked for the addresses of our blogs, if we chose to be writers of such. The result of that sharing is part of why my readership is increasing.

The name of this blog, “Marcus only, hold the mustard please” comes from a simple idea. I want to tell about who I really am through different experiences and thoughts that come to me with nothing to obscure the view. Hopefully it is accomplishing that purpose. What’s more is that I hope I can fight my inhibitions and stay true to my purposes especially as more and more of my family and friends see my writings. I am Marcus. I love my family and my friends at their best and at their worst because they do the same and better for me. I love myself even though I’ve struggled to do that in the past and occasionally find it difficult to do so now. I love my life with all of it’s twists and turns, challenges and heartaches, and thrilling moments that somehow make it all worth it. I love my God because He is my Heavenly Father who loves me with a perfect love despite myself. I look forward to the future and am excited for the possibilities. Who are you?

Friends, church, and fireflies

My friends are pretty incredible. They never cease to amaze me how they manage through the perils of life in a manner that seems so easy, at least to me. One of my best friends is 6 months younger than me and has 4 kids! I have no idea how makes it work. Of course it wouldn’t work at all if it wasn’t for his wonderful wife but still, I have to give him a lot of credit. Others that I admire are those whom I hometeach. These sisters have such a way in their love and concern for others. Also, there’s my bishop, who I respect greatly for all that he and his counselors do and for the examples they set. Besides them are all my other friends, my wonderful, awesome, insightful, beautiful, talented, caring, daring, inspiring, fantastic friends. I am very grateful for each and every one of them. (Among my friends I would most definitely include my family, even my brother who I fought with for years. He’s a very good man who inspires me to be better.)

Today I was able to be with some of my friends in church today . . . for the first time in more than a month. Due to other obligations I have been prevented from going to church the last little while. Quite frankly it was a powerful experience. I took the sacrament, listened to two talks on being happy, and sung hymns. After that I went to Sunday school where a marvelous friend gave a wonderful lesson on being stirred up to humility, fighting off pride, and remembering what the Lord has done for us. Part of why this lesson was so effective was because of how intensely personal it was. She taught from her experience and as I listened I remembered some of the blessings the Lord has given me (most notably today were the blessings of my friends and the opportunity to go to church). In Elder’s Quorum we were taught about the power of sincere prayer. I cannot conjure the words requisite to adequately describe the realities of today.

Tonight I went to Central Park to call my dad and to wish him happy father’s day. Again, it was great to talk with my father, my friend. Even though I’ve struggled with him for years for different reasons, he’s influenced me in more positive ways than any other man except for my Saviour. As the night began to fall, the fireflies came out with their bums ablaze against the encroaching darkness. It was pretty awesome.

Bagpipes in the city?

A usual forum for bagpipes is Saint Patrick’s day on 5th avenue as part of the parade.  Tonight they were heard in Harlem at about 118th and 8th avenue at about 10 pm.  The player, who was pretty good, was a ConEdison employee on a break behind his truck.  What’s more is that he was playing Amazing Grace.  This city can be so odd . . . 

Grateful for my visiting teachers

Today I am grateful for my visiting teachers and the love and compassion they showed me.  Rachel and Georgina are truly wonderful in this sacred capacity.  This may sound a little odd for me to be saying, since visiting teaching is a program of the church where the sisters of the Relief Society are to visit and care for other sisters in the Relief Society.  Still though, they were there for me in an hour of need and the story is worth telling.

Yesterday I fell off of my bicycle while traveling at a reasonably quick speed.  The result was just a flesh wound, or two or three or maybe four , and it needed some proper attention.  After riding my bike home, I called Georgina and Rachel, whom I have the pleasure of hometeaching.  They invited me over, gave me some bandages as well as some antiseptic and sent me home.  I showered, bandaged myself, and then returned to their apartment to return the unused bandages and antiseptic.  (By giving me the tools to take of it myself, they responded perfectly to my needs, the needs beyond my injuries, as I do not respond well to mothering.)  Perhaps somewhat sheepishly, I apologized to Rachel for being so needy.  At that comment she replied that her and Georgina were happy to be my visiting teachers and in that moment, that’s exactly what they were.  Thank you both!

From my journal, continued

In this post I described certain blessings I felt that I had received. However there was something more that I wasn’t entirely aware of at the time and am only slightly more conscious of now. The accolades of the world really don’t mean anything especially in comparison to the type of person we choose to be. This principle has been illustrated in the lives of some of the best men who have ever lived. The greatest man never traveled more than few hundred miles from his birthplace and was murdered in a terrible manner fitting only for a slave. Of course that was none other than our Saviour. His greatness came from what He did, most importantly, the Atonement. From His general time period Paul also comes to mind. Even though he was a Roman citizen and a member of the Sanhedrin, after his conversion he only used these worldly positions as a means to spread the gospel. In our times, Elder Bednar of the quorum of the twelve was a very successful consultant when he was asked by the prophet to be the new president of BYU Idaho. He knew that taking that position would kill his consulting career but instead he chose to follow the Lord. There are of course countless other examples such as President Eyring with his degrees and experience who instead chooses to share what he has learned by following the Lord or Kim Clark who left his post as the dean of Harvard Business school to become the president of BYU Idaho because he was asked to by the prophet.  The common theme with all of these men is obedience. They recognized the voice of the Lord, followed the specific direction they were given and were ultimately more concerned with spread of the gospel than they were with worldly accomplishments.  I need to follow these examples. I need to learn how to be more obedient today than I was yesterday and to make this a pattern in my life. Does this sound right to you, the two or three readers of my ramblings? Please let me know either way. I really appreciate your insights.

I heart New York City

So the title of this entry is pretty generic but nonetheless is completely spot on. Tonight I went to a friend’s birthday party and decided to walk. My route took me first past a gas station where I saw the horrific cost of a single gallon of gas at $4.05. My $81 for a month-long pass on the largest mass transit system in North America suddenly seemed like the greatest bargain on transportation in the history of man (there’s only about 700 miles of track in the New York City subway system). Following the shock and gratitude for not owning a car, I walked along side Morningside Park. For the benefit of those reading this who aren’t familiar with New York City, you may be familiar with another place that is also near and dear to my heart, although it’s not very near anymore as it’s been nearly 5 years since I’ve lived there. Yes, I’m talking about Provo. Remember the area just south of BYU campus? Morningside Park is very similar in that it’s a park between a high area and a low area and the space in between was somehow deemed unusable for anything other than green space. It makes for a very lovely park complete with lots of trees, grass, and old scary stairways that look really cool from a distance. What makes Morningside Park even better though is the waterfall. Oddly enough it fits in quite naturally even as you look above it to the tops of the trees only to see buildings reaching even higher. Above the buildings was a fantastic sky half-filled with clouds scattered randomly, some off-white and some pink from the setting sun all in front of a muted bluish-gray canvas. To add to this unfathomable beauty of urban landscape was the drying out from the rain we had earlier today. The usual noise of the city was somehow hushed in the cool of the early evening as the roads and sidewalks had that moist look about them with the occasional puddle interspersed either begging to be jumped in or to be cautiously avoided. As a whole, it was an everyday experience that truly eclipsed the ordinary. . . it was worth blogging about.

Now that the sappy part is over, I have to tell this story that was related to me at my friend’s birthday party. Becca Shim, who hosted the party but was not the one being celebrated, told us about her coworker’s roommate’s experience with her dead dog. It goes like this. Becca’s coworker’s roommate’s dog died. Unfortunately it was a big dog. She couldn’t just throw it in the trash or bury it in some random park and tossing it out in front of a car to make it look like roadkill certainly wasn’t an option either. She decided that the best, and probably only way to dispose of it properly was to take it to the humane society where apparently they have animal crematoriums. She put it into a duffel and was getting onto the subway when a nice man saw her lugging this enormous bag and offered to help. He graciously carried it for her onto the train even though he kept commenting on how heavy it was. They got on the train and were chatting casually when he eventually asked what was in the bag. Not wanting to tell the truth she replied, “oh it’s just some books and a computer.” At the next stop he found his chance, took the bag, and ran. After realizing that this guy who initially was very gracious just took off with what he thought was something of value but in reality was her dead dog, she let him go. I love this town.