Good-bye, Stan

I have occasionally dealt with the ultimate transition on this blog.  Most recently, I wrote of the emotions I felt upon visiting Ground Zero this past summer.  A friend not much older than me was killed in an accident a couple of days ago, and it has given me pause in my hectic but healthy and accident-free world.

Stan Klock was a single man who sang in the Southern California Mormon Choir.  He lived a solitary but fairly fulfilling life in the Long Beach area.  I know that he lived quite modestly and also know that his wants and needs were likewise modest.  He tried to take the train whenever he could, and mostly relied on others to take him to SCMC performances.  I did so on a couple of occasions.  He accepted what his life was and never complained.

I also gave him a ride a couple of times to performances in Santa Clarita of the The Master's College Christmas Program which we attended along with a few others from the SCMC.  It was during these rides that I really got to know Stan, and appreciated his goodness.

He always tried to be upbeat.  He always made a big deal out of seeing me at Choir, especially recently when I have not been able to attend consistently.  He never spoke poorly of anyone but really tried to build them up.  Stan always attempted to build me up, telling me what a good singer I was, how I seemed to have my life together, how wise he thought I was, how great I was for helping him.  Stan seemed to humble himself in my presence, which at times I must admit made me feel a little uncomfortable.  

In the future, when I think about Stan, I will picture his interesting face and graying hair.  I will think of standing next to him or near him as we sang together in the bass section.  I will remember his kindness toward me and his desire to be a friend and to connect with me.  Our trips to the concerts in Santa Clarita will stay in my memory.  I will not forget his gentle way, for he indeed was a gentle man.  

I feel a loss and I am sad.  The world is a little bit worse off because he is no longer here.  But I have deep faith that he will find great contentment and joy on the other side.  Thanks for being my friend, Stan.

Confessions of a Mormon Bishop

Some people who read my blog are members of the LDS Church.  Some are not. For those who don't know, I served as a lay minister, a Bishop, of a flock of some 200 young single adults in the LDS Church from March 2006 to May 2009.  It was a transformational experience for me.  Indeed, it pointed me into the profession I now have as a psychotherapist.

Bishop Bob Davis

I was given to read the blog post below because I have served as a Bishop.  It touched me profoundly because I can easily relate to this Bishop's experiences.  In fact, I have many of these thoughts now as I sit in front of people as a therapist.  

By sharing this article, it will give you a glimpse into this singular experience as well what I often think of as I sit in front of people in 2013.  It's the real deal. 

Confessions of a Mormon Bishop

by RUSS HILL on MARCH 19, 2013

I pulled into my driveway at 12:30 this morning.

I sat in the car in front of our dark house for a few minutes.  Everyone inside was asleep.  The whole neighborhood was still.  And yet my mind was racing.  So many questions.  So many emotions.  Sadness.  Hope.  Inadequacy.

Welcome to the life of a Mormon bishop.

Like pastors, priests, and clergy in other religions, those of us asked to serve as a bishop in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints spend hours behind closed doors meeting with people who allow us into the darkest corners of their lives.

They come to us for various reasons.  Because of guilt.  Because they have lost hope.  Because they have been betrayed.  Because they don’t know where else to go.  Because they feel worthless.  Because the person they are isn’t the person they want to be.  Because they have questions.  Because they have doubts.  Because they believe in a forgiving God yet feel disconnected from Him.

They come and sit in front of me.  Some hesitate.  Take a deep breath.  And grasp for courage to say out loud what they have been hiding inside for days, weeks, or years.

Others almost run in.  They spill before I sit.  They’re anxious to clear their conscience or announce their doubts.

Each one is different.

For hours every week I sit.  And listen.

I did not ask for this opportunity.  I never considered I might someday have an office in a church.  I have no professional training for this position.  I am not a scriptural scholar.  I have not walked through vineyards with robe-wearing monks.  And, if you’re wondering about vows of celibacy let me introduce you to my four kids.

All I did was answer a phone call.  Show up for a meeting.  And nod when asked if I would serve.

I don’t sometimes wonder why me.  I always wonder why me.

And yet they come.  Share their stories.  And look to me for wisdom.

I’m not sure any of them have learned from me.  But, I have learned so much in the hours I’ve sat in that office listening to them.

I have learned that we believe it is a strength to conceal weakness.

I have learned that it is easy to want others to overlook our flaws as we expect perfection in them.

I have learned that it is hardest to show compassion and grant forgiveness to those closest to us.

I have learned that while curiosity is a strength it can also be a curse.

I have learned that we are creatures of habit.

I have learned that faith is a muscle.

I have learned that it is far easier to deny deity than to deny desire.

I have learned the mystery surrounding death forces a consideration of spiritual matters.

I have learned that observance of the Sabbath recalibrates perspective and improves judgment.

I have learned that most of us bear scars from the failure, disappointment, and fear in our lives.  And, we prefer to wear long sleeves.

I have learned that to deal with life’s pain most of us choose one of the following: alcohol, drugs, pornography, or spirituality.

I have learned alcohol and drugs are the easiest path.  As long as you’re willing to never stop drinking, smoking, or swallowing.

I have learned pornography is highly addictive and has nothing to do with sexual appetites and everything to do with escape.  And that the habit is never overcome in isolation.

I have learned that we feel like a failure when we make mistakes even when we profess a belief that the purpose of this existence is to make and learn from them.

I have learned that forgiveness is the greatest gift we can offer someone.  And ourselves.

I have learned that many know about Jesus Christ but more of us could make an effort to know Him.

I have learned that the strongest among us are those with the cleanest mirrors.

I have learned that the sins of parents profoundly affect children.  And are often repeated by them.

I have learned that affection from parents profoundly affects children.

I have learned that most communication between parents and children is what psychologists call “superficial.” Strong relationships are built on the “validating” variety.

I have learned that children desperately desire parents who listen.

I have learned that churches are not museums or catwalks for perfected saints but rather labs for sinners.

I have learned that “tolerate” and “love” are two very different verbs despite what popular culture professes.

I have learned that there’s more sadness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned there is more goodness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned that to be happy is a choice.

I have learned those preoccupied with serving others have less time to count their problems.

I have learned that a habit of one brief moment of spirituality a day can alter one’s entire direction.

I have learned that we want God to grant us space to make decisions but step in to stop others, nature, mortality, or illness from hurting us or those we love.

I have learned those who have made more mistakes have a great gift.  Empathy.  Now to the matter of searching out someone who hungers for it.

Indeed, I have learned I have much to learn.

The names of those I meet with will never be known.  Confidentiality demands I never disclose their stories.

But, late last night as I sat in my car on the driveway I decided I should compile a list of what the people I meet with are teaching me.

And, I wanted to share it.

The Ultimate Transition of My Friend Jason

         My friend Jason Akers passed away last Sunday.  His wife Christine asked me to speak at his memorial service. I tried to memorialize him in a respectful, heartfelt way.  It was very hard to talk because of my profound sense of loss, but I managed to get through it.  Since learning of his death, I've kind of been in a somber mood.  This loss has been an affirmation of my knowledge of how fragile my existence is and of the importance of living in the moment.  So here is my funeral talk.

Jason and I were friends.  I was very open about my life and he was open about his.  As such, we would sometimes discuss very personal matters.  Because I opened up to him and he to me, I came to have a sense of who he was and what was important to him.  I felt privileged that he trusted me enough to share his inner thoughts and feelings.  Whenever he would open up with me, I felt I was on sacred ground.  I came to really understand this man, my friend.

As he pondered his mortality and impending death, we would sometimes talk about his life on a macro scale.  In other words, we talked about what he felt he had accomplished and hadn’t accomplished, and what he had become and what he hadn’t become.  He lamented to me that he felt that there was so much he hadn’t accomplished and hadn’t become, and that he was trying not to be bitter about being deprived of the balance of a lifetime to accomplish and become.

I would like to share with you this solemn day what I saw that he had accomplished and what he had become.  And even though ultimately his life was cut even shorter than he expected, I would propose that he leaves a legacy of accomplishment and becoming.  Accomplishing in life does not necessarily equate to becoming.  A person can be very accomplished in their work or career, or even in responsibilities in their church congregations, without becoming a good individual with good values and character.  Jason would say that he didn’t accomplish much. I choose to focus on what he became, and I only wish (and I’m sure he would agree) that he had been given more time to become even more.

The first becoming I would like to share is how he became a good and caring man.  It would be a great understatement to say that His upbringing was challenging.  He would sometimes share with me how his family of origin was full of dysfunction and abuse and it would have been easy for him, and understandable for him, frankly, to live in that dysfunctional world for the rest of his life.  Instead, he made the choice to escape it and to try to have a meaningful life.  He used his upbringing as a bad example, as something not to allow himself or his family to become.  Sometimes, that can be a huge motivation for us and it certainly appeared to be a great incentive for good in him.  He became a caring man.  I marvel at how he was able to become so caring.   I knew he was a caring man because he cared for me, and I will always hold that caring in my heart.

The second becoming I am witness to is how he overcame challenges and adversity.  He was blessed with a dogged determination, or even, a stubbornness of spirit.  Perhaps his family would occasionally see a stubborn father or husband, but that same tenacity was useful in stoically sticking with changes he wanted to make in himself.  Once Jason put his mind to do something, it was eventually going to happen if it were in his control.  He obviously had many challenges and adversity, especially near the end of his life.  But for me, his determination was something to behold.  I have learned more about determination from his example than I have learned from just about any other person.

The third becoming would be how important his family came to be for him.  Having had such a challenging childhood, with an absence of family role models other than a kindly grandmother, he could have believed that life’s cards were stacked against him and given up.  But being the fighter that he was, he determined to give his children what he had not received.  Did he always do the right thing in his child rearing?  Nobody always makes the right decisions in the excruciatingly difficult job of raising children, except for God.  But he tried the best that he could.  His intention was be the best father possible.  He would tell me how deeply he cared for Aaron and Linnet and Mallory.  Christine was his childhood sweetheart and the key to a more normal family life than what he had experienced.  She was and is very important to him. And now that he is in heaven, I must think that he deeply misses them all.

The fourth becoming I would like to touch on was his great, insatiable thirst for knowledge.  He always seemed to be reading something.  He never seemed to get enough.  He loved to learn and anybody who talked with Jason for any length of time would soon understand that he was well-read.  He could wax eloquent on any number of subjects and not superficially.  He was always open to new ideas, new concepts, new ways of looking at things.  Even in the last difficult time of his life, he seemed hungry to know about what was happening to him.  It is a humble person who realizes that he or she does not know it all and wants to become better informed, and Jason personified that humility.  I have to believe that part of Christine’s attraction to Jason was that desire to learn more and use that knowledge to benefit himself, his family, and others.

Living each day to the fullest would be the next becoming I perceived.  This was something that became important to Jason in the last few years of his life.  He came to appreciate being alive and being completely aware of those around him.  He grieved over not having been more awake and cognizant of each day.  Especially at the very end, when he knew that his time here on earth was drawing to a close, he sincerely wanted to enjoy each day and to experience life as fully as his failing body would allow.  His pain would sometimes get the best of him, but that determination and positivity would kick in.  No wonder that he went to Disneyland last Friday.  That alone speaks volumes.

Lastly, the becoming that might be the most important was his embrace of the Gospel plan.  Even though he was quick to downplay his knowledge of Gospel doctrine and scriptures, he knew that what he had been taught was true and eternally important.  He believed in the power of prayer.  He knew that Heavenly Father lived, that Jesus was His Son, and that the Savior had performed the Atonement, and Jason was determined to live Gospel principles the best way he could.  He took pride in belonging to the Church, and dearly wanted his children to be blessed by its teachings.

So you and I are left with this great legacy of this good man.  Funerals are not for those who’ve passed on but for those who remain.  What shall do we with his life?  Or perhaps more importantly, what shall we become because of Jason Akers?  Shall we not be more good and caring?  Shall we not overcome adversity and challenge with dogged determination as he did?  Shall we not hold our families close to us and put them as the highest priority in our lives?  Shall we not hunger and thirst after knowledge?  Shall we not live each day as if it were our last—because it might be?  Jason’s untimely death reminds us of that fact.  And finally, shall we not seek truth and determine what God’s plan is for us?

Let us hold close and sacred his memory and allow those memories to influence us to be better people—better parents, better children, better citizens, better disciples of God.  What will be said by others at our funerals of our becoming when we pass through the veil and embrace Jason? 

   

My God is Great!

Just a quick post. Sometimes I look at my life, the lives of those around me, the lives of the billions all over the earth, and I realize once again how blessed I am. A number of my posts have been about gratitude and this is yet another one—but occasionally I am overwhelmed by my good life. I feel to thank my God for His goodness. He blesses me far beyond my capacity to fully acknowledge what I am given.  I want to echo what my good friend and brother, Jim Birrell, says, "my God is great!"