Sorry, Your Family & Friends Can’t Come to Your Mormon Wedding

Los Angeles LDS Temple

When I was the bishop, the ecclesiatical leader, of a single adult congregation of the LDS Church in Glendale, California, I was asked to do a "ring ceremony" for a couple that were married earlier in the day in the Los Angeles LDS Temple.  It consisted of the newlyweds and their bridal party entering the chapel area of an LDS Sunday meeting house, as bridal parties usually do to the music of the Lohengrin Wedding March, I welcoming the guests, I being kind of a master of ceremonies and offering very brief advice to the couple, overseeing the vows each offered to their new partner, and overseeing the exchange of rings.

For many Californian members of the LDS Church, this serves as kind of a "consolation gift" to family members and loved ones who are not members of the Church, or who are members but who voluntarily do not enter into the Temple because of worthiness issues, or who are too young.

Besides the honor of being asked to participate with this particular bride and groom on their special day, my excitement was tempered by the knowledge that non-member family could not be present at the real wedding ceremony.  It seemed a shame to me.  I had heard stories about, and had personally witnessed, how challenging it was to not allow loved ones, particularly parents who were not members of the Church and were attempting to accept their child becoming a member of it, to be excluded on this momentous day. Now I was in the middle of this dilemma.  It seemed so exclusionary, so off-putting to non-members at a time when the Church hungered for acceptance and pushed for missionary work among family and friends.  

However, I simply never questioned the issue; I simply relegated it to the shelf of "that's just the way things are."  

I also didn't question the idea that if a couple decided to not get married in the temple; they needed to wait a year before doing so. That too went on that shelf. 

I embraced the belief, and still do today, that if one or both spouses were newly baptized, it was a prudent practice to have them wait a year before making the sacred promises or covenants that I believe in that are made in the Temple.  But in some cases, the bride and groom are not new members, but must still wait a year. 

Also, there is a definite stigma associated with choosing not to originally marry in the Temple.  It is widely thought in most congregations that if a couple do not at first marry there and are long-time members, they have engaged in pre-marital sex and as such are not worthy to enter.   Ironically, not every worthy couple chooses to be married in the Temple because they may want to have their non-member loved ones participate in the ceremony. But they likely will be gossiped about in the congregation by unknowing, uncaring members.  And they still must wait a year...BUT NOT EVERYWHERE IN THE WORLD!

It seems very ironic that Church policy on this issue differs in different parts of the world.  In the US, Canada and South Africa, where the governments have empowered Church members with civic powers to marry people, couples who choose to not marry originally in the Temple must wait a year.  They are compelled to make a choice of whether to have only members at the ceremony or not be married in the Temple.

But in the United Kingdom, for example, where the government does not empower church members to marry, LDS couples are required to be married civically outside of the Temple, a marriage in which all loved ones can participate.  The couple then enter the Temple later in the day where they are able to "be sealed for time and eternity" and which is attended only by members.  Such temples in the UK will even go so far as to make the temple available as late as 10 p.m. to accomodate the two services.

Micah Nickolaisen, a professional LDS photographer in the Phoenix area, has observed how painful these matters often are for young Mormon couples. He stated recently, “If that pain is justified, if that’s what God wants, if there’s some doctrinal or theological reason that it has to be that way, then maybe that’s the price we have to pay, but it seems so pointless. What are we accomplishing except creating distance from us and the people we’re trying to influence and put on a good impression for?”

Consequently, some faithful Mormons are asking leaders to reconsider the policy of forcing couples wherever possible to wait a year for the sealing if they also have a civil ceremony. A new website, Family First Weddings, collects statements about the policy and encourages members to write respectful letters to the church hierarchy explaining how the policy hurts them and their relationships. I went to the website and copied their mission statement, which is found below:

Our mission is to raise awareness of a current policy of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that discourages couples from having a civil marriage prior to a temple sealing. This policy makes a temple sealing unavailable for one year to any couple that decides to have a civil wedding first. We want to see this policy changed.

Our goal is to urge people to carefully ponder this policy with open hearts and determine whether or not they would support a change. We invite all who would like to see a change to join us by writing a letter or by sharing your wedding story.  We are collecting emails, stories, and letters to help format a letter that will be sent, through official channels, to our leaders in Salt Lake City. We will be also passing along the letters and stories that will be part of a packet that will accompany the letter.

Subsequent to my research on this matter as well as looking into my heart, I am choosing to support a change in policy, at least for the US, Canada and South Africa, promoted by Family First Weddings.  I will ask the leadership of the Church along with others to embrace a Church-wide policy (I believe this issue is not doctrinal in any way) similar to what now exists in the UK, to allow there to be a choice for LDS couples.  I would like non-LDS family and friends to not be excluded on this very special day, and would like for them to walk away from the events of the day without any possible negative feelings about the Church.  In the doctrine of the Church, families are always first.  Family issues can even trump meeting attendance and acceptance of responsibilities, for ecample.  Why not promote the family first concept on this day when new families are first begun?

This marks a definite transition in my thoughts and feelings on this matter.  I hope that a change is forthcoming.

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.

He Did It!

            Yesterday was a very special day for me.  I saw a good friend reach a goal that he has worked 9 ½ years to achieve.  During that long stretch, he has transformed himself (been transformed) from a proud and stubborn SOB (his description) into a teachable and sensitive man.  The former is what he would say that he was, and the latter is what he would say God has made him.  I would say that he was always teachable and sensitive but that it was covered up in a toxic way, and that he is now is what he used to be before he allowed himself to be swallowed by his toxic thoughts.  I would also say that his stubbornness helped him to doggedly cling to his ideal in the wobbly moments.

            Isn’t it wonderful that we have the ability to change (be changed)?  Change is so difficult, so scary.  It requires us to surrender what it is that we want to change about ourselves, to give it away.  It requires us to acknowledge the status quo and to realize that there is discomfort ahead.  But at least we can change. 

            My friend says that he is not finished changing, that there are rough edges still to be smoothened.  He has more goals to accomplish, and knowing that he needs God’s help and the help of others is a great discovery.  He will utilize that help to achieve them and continue the transformation.   I likewise recognize that I cannot change without such outside help.

            I am grateful for the changes in those around me.   It gives me hope that I can continue transitioning—changing.  Change is a good thing!

Trying to Let Go

Yesterday, a friend of mine got a tattoo and sent a text to show it to me.  I am pleased that he sent it to me; I am quite confident that I was one of the first people to see it on him.  The tattoo, prominently placed on his left chest, is of the three intersecting circles, circles used by industry to connote that something is radioactive.  He had first gotten a temporary henna tattoo of the circles to determine what kind of reaction he might receive to such an adornment.  He talked to me and others about its implications, and at length decided to get a real one. 

Not a lot of my friends have tattoos.  Nor are many of my friends gay.  But he is now tattooed, he is gay, and he is also HIV-positive, and is a wonderful person.  I care for him.

Reflecting back on my earlier years, I believe that I have not always been so open-minded.  My sheltered and religious upbringing in Utah kept me somewhat insulated from “the world.”  I was really innocent when I was sent to Argentina as a missionary for nearly two years, and only slightly less so raising a family in conservative, homogenous Utah.  I remember that  I was attracted to my wife partly because she was a “California girl,” and I thought that California girls were exciting and different.   I think that moving to California in 1994 was, in part, a conscious move on my part to expand my horizons and to succeed in the “real world.”

Since being sent my friend’s picture, I’ve been pondering this ongoing transition in my life.  Being surrounded by a little bit of everything here in Southern California, and now being in a profession that demands open-mindedness, it is quite something to me that I have come so far.  I find that I can be comfortable in many environments with many different types of people.  What is changing within me?

I recognize that humanity can be open-minded without spirituality, much less a belief in God.  I am grateful for such open-minded people in many lands doing so many good deeds out of the goodness of their hearts and their desire to help others. They are, for the most part, an inspiration to me. 

But for me, I have adopted a paradigm, a belief system if you will, that springs from a spiritual understanding.  I consider that I am no better and no worse than anybody else on the planet.  More importantly, I truly believe that God is no respecter of persons; that He loves everyone equally. 

I believe that He sees me and all of humanity as His children, and as a perfect loving parent, He loves every one of those children, no matter their station in life.  As a parent myself, I care for my four children.  I have tried to love them as best I could, whether they’ve made good or bad choices.  He does that perfectly.

If He loves everyone the same, how can I be better or worse than anybody else?  Should I consider myself worse than my brother Tom whose six children are all active members of the Church?  Should I consider myself better than him because I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s Degree and he doesn’t?   Does God love me less than people with gifted intellects and talents, or less than LDS Church leaders?  Does God love me more than the refugee escaping from war and bloodshed, or more than the man asking for a handout on the off-ramp or on-ramp of the freeway?  Is it possible that God loves me more than my newly-tattooed friend who is gay and is HIV-positive?

NO!  And if He doesn’t consider me better or worse, and He respects all humanity equally, why shouldn’t I do the same? 

I believe that relationships are either horizontal or vertical.  I have come to the conclusion that by making one’s relationship vertical—where there is a better and a worse, a higher and a lower—we physically distance ourselves, or emotionally distance ourselves from one another.  I believe we do that because of anxiety or fear we have of the “other” person, either consciously or subconsciously.  We do not understand “them” and don’t want to.  We do not feel comfortable being vulnerable with “them.”  It is easier to be judgmental and keep our distance so that we don’t have to engage with “them.”  I would propose this to be one of the main reasons why there is war and bloodshed all over God’s earth, why there is prejudice and bigotry, why there has always been a lot of unneeded pain and suffering in the world. 

By working to make one’s relationships more horizontal through surrendering our preconceived notions and being vulnerable—no easy thing to do, to be sure—we can experience great understanding, great humility, great caring, great empathy.  It is becoming quite freeing for me to begin to lose the chains of judgment.  And while I believe that there are some really bad people on the earth, I must be prudent in my judgments of them.

Asking understanding of those who read this blog who do not come from my LDS spiritual orientation, I believe that Jesus Christ, the Savior and Redeemer,  descended below all things in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the Cross at Calvary, so that He might have a more horizontal relationship with us, even though He is God.  I believe that because He took upon himself flesh and dwelt among us, He perfectly knows our pain, our sorrows, our fears, our anxieties.  And again, if He achieved and possesses perfect love and understanding, if He loves people equally, no matter how good or how terrible, rich or poor, black or white, gay or straight, why shouldn’t I attempt to do so as well if I’m trying to be like Him?

I am nowhere near where I ultimately want to end up in this regard.  My journey is full of missteps and judgments.  But, as my blog title indicates, I am in transition.  I am trying to let go.

WANTING TO WANT

When I was quite young, my mother developed colon cancer and as a result had a colostomy in which her bowel was rerouted to a stoma on the side front of her body.  This radical surgery apparently not only traumatized her (she reportedly had a nervous breakdown as a result and took anti-depressants for the rest of her life) but also my father.  I don’t know if prior to the operation and breakdown her nature was to be very emotionally needy, but she definitely was afterward, and he did not respond well to her neediness.  I was too young to really absorb what was occurring in their relationship at the time, but in retrospect, there seems to have been little or no emotional intimacy between them when I was growing up. 

As a result of my mother’s neediness, she looked to the only other person physically near her who could satisfy it: me.  My brother and sister were both married, and I was her dutiful “baby” who would do just about whatever she wanted. I was an obedient, good boy by nature and an ideal foil for her neediness. When there was a behavior that she wanted from me that I did not want to do, she would often say, “I’ll just go and eat worms.”  I didn’t fully understand this dynamic at the time; I just wanted to please my mother because she was my mother.  (As I write this, I feel tremendous sadness, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes.)  I didn’t know any better.  

The result of this emotional manipulation combined with being tender hearted by nature and not wanting her or anybody else to suffer, was to set me on a life course of putting others’ emotional needs before mine, and being willing to always give up what I want for the wants of others.  It further means that I have gone through most of my adult life flailing about trying to figure out what I want, what I can feel passionate about.

No wonder that I went through university not really knowing what I wanted to study and major in, finally settling on Spanish and Teaching English as a Second Language to give me employment options to help me find a career that I really wanted.  No wonder that I have spent my entire post-university life in a career that is easy (too easy) and safe that was put in my lap by my father.  No wonder I looked through the years for other career possibilities (teaching, tourism, self-employment) only to settle for what was known and provided a constant supply of funds for my family.  

I have to acknowledge that my life has not been completely void of want or passion.  I have wanted to have a good marriage, and in my own codependent way (at times) I have tried to provide emotional constancy and support to Ann.  Sadly, it has sometimes been at the expense of behaviors I probably wanted.  I have been passionate about my religiosity, and through the years I have felt joy in learning Gospel truths and serving others in my various lay service capacities.  I have wanted to be reliable to my children, wanting them to always know that their father loves them no matter what.  I have pursued my musical hobbies which have brought me great joy and satisfaction.  I have been passionate about staying informed about current events.  I have wanted to maintain friendships with male friends through the years and have been successful doing so.  I am passionate in my appreciation for the beauties of nature (just look at some of my blog postings!)

Because I have sensed a lack of want and passion in my life, I have in recent times attempted to pay more attention to those feelings of want and passion. Since I grew up fairly poor, I have felt the want to be freer with money.  Because I have not been able to sing regularly the past few years I have begun to spend as much time as possible with the Southern California Mormon Choir (I am singing with them in performance early this Easter morning).  I asked for and received a camera for Christmas and I am endeavoring to become a more adept photographer, a talent I have always wanted but let slip by.  I love writing this blog, and feel great passion as a write in it.  I feel great passion when I am surrounded by nature, involving all of my senses.  Perhaps most significantly, I have been allowing myself to assert myself in my marriage, often doing what I want to do and not acquiescing to what Ann necessarily wants or would like.

Thus, having felt some passion as I have transitioned through my life, and feeling more passion and want now than I have ever felt, I am confronted now with existential dilemmas.  I really enjoy my life presently, especially the new awakenings of want that I am feeling.  Anybody who has been reading my blog should be able to sense my heartfelt gratitude for my life and just how blessed I feel.  It is a comfortable place (a couple of people who know me well might say, “too comfortable”).  I feel great contentedness for what is my life, humbled that I am so fortunate (those same couple of people might say, “too contented”)

 

So am I deceiving myself?  Am I opting for comfort when discomfort is what passionate/wanting people feel?  Should I always be angry with my mother? Is feeling contented really a good thing?  Is my comfort and contentment just repeating the same, well-known behavior of accepting what my circumstances are, or are my gradual forays into wanting and passion enough?   Am I rationalizing, or am I paying too much attention to what some people who know me well are suggesting to me, surrendering myself once again to persons outside of me?  If I want something I’ve never had before, then must I have to do something I’ve never done? Am I rigid in my religiosity, of thinking that I have found truth and that I am so blessed and that I am in a pretty good place and is that keeping me from feeling—from wanting and from passion—and do I find virtue in that?  Is constantly wanting a virtue?  What is enough? Does wanting ever end and contentment begin?  Am I just copping out?

This is really hard for me to navigate.  Transitions can be uncomfortable….

A Little This, A Little That

For the past five weeks, Ann and I have been “camping” out in our home while our kitchen was being remodeled.  Using paper plates and plastic utensils is fine and fun for awhile (no dishes to clean—although I would routinely rinse them and reuse them, appealing to my thrifty self), it became tiring.  Having to buy lunches or dinners or eat frozen TV dinners also became tiring as well.  

So it was with great relief and gladness to realize that the remodel is finished and we can begin to live/eat normally once again.  Yesterday, the appliances were installed and the kitchen was inspected.   It is great to have a brand new refrigerator and dishwasher, and to have the use of our beautiful O’Keefe and Merritt range/stove again.  Ann cooked some sausage and eggs yesterday for breakfast.  Yummm!!! 

Today I spent time placing stuff in our spiffy new cabinets.  We still need some shelves for one of the new cabinets which will allow us to place the rest of our food in it, which will then give us an idea as to how much of our rarely used stuff (i.e., Japanese dishes) can be placed up high in some of the cabinets.  By the weekend, everything should be finished in the kitchen, furniture in the living and dining rooms put back where they were, and the old refrigerator that has been in the living room placed as a backup in the garage.

I love the look and am particularly proud of the tile backsplash since I designed it. I really like the look of the booth we had made.

Otherwise, last week Ann and I had the blessing of being able to attend BJ’s Rehab facility for a nice dinner.  It is still wondrous to me to see the light in his eyes, in his face, and to hear about his journey.  What was special about the night was that Ann felt comfortable to share with him aspects of her emotional journey that she is on.  There was deep connection, and BJ was pretty overwhelmed (positively) by Ann’s vulnerability and realness.  

Because the three of us are in our own transitions, and are in psychological healing “mode,” we talk the same language which lends itself to incredible clarity, connection, and communication.   I must say that being a part of this experience was special and indeed memorable.

Over Hill, Over Dale, He Has Hit the Dusty Trail

Today was definitely a transitional day for me.  My youngest son, Douglas, a 27 year old father of a three-year old boy, and with a bachelor’s degree in Psychology, entered the U.S. Army.  This ends a journey for him that started last summer.  This blog post is to help me process what happened today and its implications for me.

He will likely leave on Thursday for Fort Sill, Oklahoma for his basic training, and then goes to Fort Sam Houston in Texas for training as a medic.  I was informed that with roughly three weeks to go in his medic training, he will be assigned to a post somewhere on the planet.

Douglas has already lived on his own, while attending Cal State University, Long Beach, and then upon graduation, in Santa Clarita.  It was when his employment reduced his hours, and we knew that he was going to enter the Army in January, that we broke our rule after he asked and allowed him to live with us.  He won’t have to worry about housing and meals for quite awhile now, a fact not lost on him or me.  And while living with us had its good times, he didn’t really want to live with us, and frankly, it was often bothersome and even unpleasant to have him in our home.

Living with us did afford me a weekly opportunity to see little Daniel because he spent with his daddy a couple of days each week.  He is a delightful little guy even though he would not allow me to touch him, much less hold him.  He did like to play catch the ball with me—I think he will be a good athlete—because that didn’t involve touching him.  But he squawked when I attempted to touch him.  Early on, he would look away from my gaze, I guess to make me disappear!

Douglas hopes that this new chapter in his life will give his life direction, especially with employment.  He chose to be a medic because 1) he could, having scored very high on an aptitude test, but more importantly, 2) it likely will equip him for his life after the military, assuming he opts out after his four year commitment.  I commend him for his foresight, although he will be going into a field that will exact every ounce of intellect, courage, and determination that he can muster.

So my boy officially launched today.  Sad?  A little.  Hopeful?  Very much so.  I look forward to seeing my young man turn into a full-on man!  Today I officially let go of him, and now trust him to God.

I Want to Sing Again

My Hero, Dr. Ralph Woodward

I sang all through my childhood years in church.  I sang in choirs all through junior high school.  I sang in choirs all through high school.  I sang in choirs all through university. I sang in the Mormon Youth Chorus and in the professional cast of a play.  I sang in an alumni choir after university. I have sung in different choruses and barbershop quartets through the years.  I have sung in or directed church choirs off and on all through my adult life.  I was a member of the Southern California version of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir--the Southern California Mormon Choir.

Singing has been a BIG part of my life.  Frankly, I am a pretty good singer with a decent voice and wide range.  So it has been a shock to my system to not sing professionally since I went back to school to get my Master's Degree in 2007.  My evenings since then have been taken up doing psychotherapy, something that I love doing and am happy to be doing.  This has been my effort to get my 3000 hours of performing psychotherapy.

But now as I near the end of this long interning journey, I am allowing myself to be hopeful that I can once again sing in a choir,  Performances of the Southern California Mormon Choir are usually on weekends, but rehearsals are on Wednesday nights.

I am blogging about this because I just returned from a rehearsal of a multi-congregational church choir, led by the director of the SCMC.  As I sang lustily, I felt melancholy that I have not been able to sing with the SCMC.  I felt a similar melancholy when Ann accompanied me on a rag business trip a few weeks ago to San Diego and we were able to find and participate in a holiday Messiah sing-along, led by a professional conductor and I sang alongside professional singers.

The Southern California Mormon Choir (I'm in the middle of the 3rd row)

Yes, I always sing with my congregation's choir.  But it is not of the professional caliber of the SCMC.  And not that the SCMC is the very best that Southern California has to offer, but it is a known quantity and it's good enough for me.  My hope is that sooner than later in 2013, I can transition back to singing regularly with a professional choir!

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?