A Few Things I'd Like to Share

Bill and I spent the weekend with our daughter and her husband in Phoenix.  Although it was a 12 hour trip from our home in Utah, (we had a 3 year old granddaughter with us who had to have potty breaks about every 30 minutes…seriously), the long drive was well worth it.  We came home with some good memories and a feeling of warm satisfaction that our children are wonderful parents and that our grandchildren are making good choices. 

Back home in Utah, one of our sons lives next door to us.  We get to see a replay of some of the trials we had raising him and I am proud to say that he and his wife are much more patient and intuitive about what is important than we ever were.  Still, I have learned not to be too hard on ourselves about the job that we did bringing up our five children because I believe that we are all only building on a foundation that was passed on to us. Bill and I talk a little about the way we were brought up in our book. (Wrestling Pigs in a Clean White Shirt) Although there are both good and bad experiences in our foundation, we realize that no parent is given a handbook.  We learn most things by example or by trial and error.  If the example is not good, then we have to figure it out.  We try not to judge our folks too harshly and Bill and I fall back on the knowledge that we gave it our best effort as well. 

For many years, I have kept a static file of stories, thoughts and pictures.  I use these for inspiration when I’m speaking or writing.  Sometimes I find things that I never used and probably never will.  However, they are just too good to part with.  I thought perhaps I could share a few with you.  I’ll give credit where I can.  Today’s contributions regard children.

Rebuke

These things I do despise:

Hypocrisy and lies,

And anything at all that dims

The light in children’s eyes.

       

-        Ruth T. Stamper, quoted in Interaction

Something I learned from my Children:

When you hear the toilet flush and the words “Uh-oh,” it’s already too late.

-         

IF I HAD MY CHILD TO RAISE OVER AGAIN,

I’D FINGER PAINT MORE, AND POINT THE FINGER LESS.

I’D DO LESS CORRECTING AND MORE CONNECTING.

I’D TAKE MY EYES OFF MY WATCH, AND WATCH WITH MY EYES.

I WOULD CARE TO KNOW LESS, AND KNOW TO CARE MORE.

I’D TAKE MORE HIKES AND FLY MORE KITES.

I’D STOP PLAYING SERIOUS, AND SERIOUSLY PLAY.

I’D RUN THROUGH MORE FIELDS AND GAZE AT MORE STARS.

I’D DO MORE HUGGING, AND LESS TUGGING.

I WOULD BE FIRM LESS OFTEN, AND AFFIRM MUCH MORE.

I’D BUILD SELF-ESTEEM FIRST, AND THE HOUSE LATER.

I’D TEACH LESS AOUT THE LOVE OF POWER, AND MORE ABOUT THE POWER OF LOVE.

                   -Diane Loomans (In Family Circle Magazine)

Something I learned from my Children:

You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on.

(Bill and I lived in Pennsylvania for a few years. We sometimes saw Amish people around the Lancaster area. Although they really have a different way of living, I mean no disrespect by the following and, OK…it’s a little out of date.)

Top 10 Signs Your Amish Teen is in Trouble

10. Sometimes he stays in bed until after 6 AM.

 9.  In his sock drawer, you find pictures of women without bonnets.

 8. Shows up at barn raisings in full “KISS” make-up.

 7. When you criticize him he yells, “Thou sucketh.”

 6. His name is Jebediah, but he goes by “Jeb Daddy.”

 5. Defiantly says, “If I had a radio, I’d listen to rap.”

 4. You come upon his secret stash of colored socks.

 3. Uses slang expression “Talk to the hand, cause the beard ain’t listening.”

 2. Was recently pulled over for “driving under the influence of cottage cheese.”

 1. He’s wearing his big black hat backwards.

Something I learned from my Children:

Legos will pass through the digestive tract of a four year old;                                                        Duplos will not.

Elder Vaughn J Featherstone shared this anecdote in October 1987 General Conference:

 “I recall the story of a teacher helping a young student on with his galoshes.   They seemed smaller than his shoes.  She got down on both knees and pushed, pulled and stretched one boot until she finally got it on.  Then she went through the same struggle and finally got the other one on.  As she finally finished pulling it on, he said, ‘These are not my galoshes.’  The teacher pulled and struggled and finally got them off.  Then he said, ‘They are my sister’s, but my mother made me wear them.’   

Some who work with youth may feel that they do not ‘fit’ the calling.  It is not always comfortable to work with the youth but for me, as God is my witness, I love them.”

Something I learned from my Children:

Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.


(Bill and I have no adopted children.  But I love this!)

The Adopted Child

Not flesh of my flesh.

Not bone of my bone.

But, still, miraculously, my own.

Never forget for a minute,

You grew, not under my heart,

But in it.

- Author unknown

Some Things I learned from my Children:

A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 square foot house 4 inches deep.

Marbles in a gas tank make lots of noise when driving.

You probably don’t want to know what that odor is.

Always look in the oven before you turn it on.

 The fire department in Phoenix has at least a 5-minute response time.
Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.

The glass in windows (even double panes) doesn’t stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan. 

 There is no such thing as childproofing your house.

A good sense of humor will get you through most problems in life (unfortunately, mostly in retrospect.)

Discouragement Wins

Sorrow looks back

Worry looks around


Faith looks up


Unknown

No one is immune to encounters with discouragement, the very young the very old and everyone in between. We are especially vulnerable when the reality that is unfolding does not conform to our wishes or our intentions. Learning to evaluate situations realistically can help us close the gap between what we want to do and what we are actually able to accomplish.

Recently, I found myself in just such a place.  I will turn 60 years old in a few weeks.  Everyone tells you that age is just a number; that you are only as old as you feel.  Maybe.  But I have discovered that this number means something to other people who have the power to make decisions that influence my life.  I would like to speak more to this later.

I remember very well the day before Diane and I were married when, without warning, I lost my job. It was not the job of my dreams, but it would have allowed me to perform as the provider for my new wife.  I recall how distracted I felt from what should have been a joyous day for both of us.  I suppose it speaks well for my new bride that she looked at the situation as an opportunity for us to have a slightly longer honeymoon without the pressures of me having to be back to work right away.  Apparently she had more faith in my abilities than I had in myself at the time.  

Because of good friends, and past relationships, my stint of unemployment only lasted a few days. In hindsight, if I had known that I would find something else as quickly as I did, I would have enjoyed our wedding day and honeymoon much more.  But at the time, the goal of beginning our married life without a job made me feel pretty nervous. I suppose those moments of self- doubt as we started out together forced me to evaluate my strengths and weaknesses in a way that might not have happened for a long time otherwise.

All people experience disappointment.  If not for unhappiness, it would be very difficult to understand the joy that comes from overcoming obstacles and finding new talents.  If we merely accept disappointment and become more or less content with a certain life-style, work or relationship, we miss the joy of accomplishment.

The problem that we face is maintaining balance and perspective.  We will have disappointments. That is unavoidable. But we must examine our goals to decide if we are being realistic or if we have based our decisions for the future on some target that is impractical.  In other words, are my expectations part of the problem in advancing my position?

Disappointment brings a kind of sadness. I have no illusions that anyone else can permanently make me happy.  I understand that I must do that for myself.  And the thing that brings me immediate gratification is seldom the thing that will bring me real long-term joy. 

Well known motivational speaker, Zig Ziglar said,  "The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what you want the most for what you want now. "

In Proverbs 3:5–6 we read: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

And perhaps the next scripture gives me the most direction and hope; Doctrine and Covenants 61:36: “And now, verily I say unto you, and what I say unto one I say unto all, be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you.”

True happiness, regardless of the circumstances that surround us comes from being true to ourselves and then trusting on the knowledge that there is a Supreme Being who not only knows that I exist, but actually cares about whether I am happy.  Hence, the saying, “When you walk in the light of God’s Spirit, happiness follows you as a shadow!”

Some argue that a person does not have a great deal of choice about the problems he or she encounters. I counter this statement saying that many people make their own problems by getting into situations they could have avoided.  If they would only walk in obedience to the commandments, they would be blessed with personal inspiration on how to deal with problems.

One thing I have learned about going to the Lord with my disappointments is that I must be persistent in involving him in helping me find the solution.  At the same time, I do not have to repeat things in the same words over and over again to get His attention.  Someone once pointed out that God is the most intelligent being of all and that we do not need to remind him of our predicament in the same way we might remind a small child, repeating things in the same words until we get the results we want.  In asking for his intervention, we might look upon Him as a trusted friend who we have taken into our confidence, seeking educated advice on how we should proceed. 

Another thing I have learned is that we should not wait for the Lord to do everything for us.  We can, to a greater or lesser degree, exert influence over our own progress. It takes personal commitment to follow through on the steps we need to take to change things that are a hinderment to us. Too often, people expect others to solve problems for them, thereby foregoing opportunities to learn and grow.

When we boldly face disappointments and the pains that accompany them, we are more likely to see the solutions and begin moving in a more productive path. If we deny our frustrations or failures, chances are great that we will become worn out with finding unworkable solutions. Meeting our weaknesses with a prayerful attitude, asking for inner strength to overcome will not only bring quicker resolution, but will turn our adversity into an element of great strength and a firm foundation for further growth.

Mastering disappointment is the key to gaining experience and learning to control emotions that come through personal loss. The necessity to do this seldom occurs until we experience an impasse in our lives. Often, we will then see that our disappointment is not only directly connected with the present situation, but it may also be related to past experiences. A current crisis usually reopens problems from the past; past and present tend to merge.

Maybe this is one of the lessons that each of us must learn, that through disappointments in life we also find wisdom.

Diane used to say that I am a chameleon.  I’ve always known how to adjust to change.  I learn quickly, evaluate situations and then use my experience and skills to work with new conditions.  I know I am still that man.

But looking at myself from another paradigm, that number 60, I realize that, to others, I am suddenly a gamble. 

Will the bank be able to recoup a loan to a heart – attack statistic?  Why should a potential employer train a 60-year-old man to take over a position of responsibility rather than a younger associate?  Everyone knows that old people have no sense of humor, no people skills.  They forget things. So much for all the experience that I have garnered, I think. 

But I’ll play along.

Maybe I should list some advantages to taking a chance. 

1.   I go to bed at a reasonable hour.  No longer worried about being “one of the boys,” I have nothing to prove by how late I can stay up.  I go to bed when I am tired. I get up rested.

2.     I enjoy hearing about other people’s interesting lives.  Since my best years have gone by, I no longer take risks that would allow me to “one up” anyone in a conversation, I will always be a ready listener to a client who wants to hold court.

3.   Company cars are safe with me. I don’t have to have anything ostentatious.  Just give me plenty of legroom and an oldies station on the radio and I will be happy.  I never get tickets because everyone knows that old geezers like to drive slow.

And #4. 

           I’m never late to appointments because old geezers like to get

           where they are going early.

I’ve just proven that I can look at things from different angles, something else I’ve learned to do after many years of learning to master myself. I know that disappointments can be seen as either a prelude to continued failure or an overture to great personal growth.

The famous writer Aldous Huxley said it best:

           “Experience is not what happens to a man:

                                       it is what a man does with what happens to him.”

The Only Instrument I Can Play is the Radio

One afternoon, I watched my dad replace the blown fuse in the circuit box on the side of our house with a penny.  (You’d never guess he was an electrician.)   While I watched him, I experienced Elvis for the first time.  The teenage girl who lived next door was playing “Teddy Bear” on her record player and her bedroom window was open.

At first, I don’t think my mother was sure what to think of Elvis Presley.  I would guess that she might have been as interested in the new sensation as we are about the shocking antics of Lady Gaga.  I really don’t know because some topics of conversation were guarded around us kids.  I recall asking who Marilyn Monroe was once and being forbidden to say her name in our home again.  But Elvis was never banned. 

When there was a dance at the church, my mother and her friend who worked with the teens had to screen the music beforehand.  My mother’s friend brought all of the latest music down to our house to go through what they could play.   I remember “Sugar Time” by the McGuire Sisters and Tennessee Ernie Ford’s “Sixteen Tons” being played that night. 

I asked Mom why Marguerite had all the music and she had none.  And then, a short while after that, my sister and I helped her build a kind of entertainment center out of some cinder blocks and boards in the living room.  We set up a turntable that Mom’s brother gave us when he fenced some electronics for one of his acquaintances and though we only had a few records to start with, we thought the music we played that summer was great.  We learned all the words (or what we thought were the words) and Mom taught us to dance the jitterbug by holding on to her hands and twirling under her arm. 

In fifth grade, I had a crush on a boy named Lonnie.  When I heard “Johnnie Angel” by Shelley Fabres, I changed the words and sang “Lonnie Angel.”  Leslie Gore was my favorite female artist.  She and Joanie Summers sang the other “Johnny” songs that taught me all I needed to know about falling in love and surviving a broken heart.

The first time I heard Frankie Valli, (it was The Four Seasons then) I was in the front seat of our ’57 Ford Fairlane in the Bayless grocery store parking lot.  Mom thought it was a disgrace that a man would sing as high as a woman.  I thought it was cool.  She flipped the radio off that day, but, like everyone else, she was eventually won over.  She loved the Beach Boys and Jan and Dean as much as we did.  And later when The Beatles were popular, I thought she was the greatest because she bought me a portable record player that was so small you couldn’t even see the turntable underneath the “Rubber Soul” album. 

It feels like the radio has always been on.  Like a real life version of “American Graffiti,” music has scored my life.  There is hardly a memory that doesn’t have a song tied to it. At times, I have tried to share outdated music with my children and grandchildren.  They liked some of the things I did for awhile, but no one ever seemed to want to play them over and over again as I did the first time I heard “Listen to the Rhythm of the Rain.”

Stevie Nicks has said, “Rock and menopause do not mix.”   I guess that is true.  But I think music and the time in which we hear it are connected in some mystical way.  I can find no other way to explain the emotions I feel when I hear the Four Tops singing  “I Can’t Help Myself” when I am shopping for toothpaste in Walgreens.

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.

Bob Marley

Kid Logic (Part Two)

1960 – Phoenix, Arizona

I don’t think any child really understands the value of learning to clean properly, but the power struggles my mother and I had over ‘doing it right’ have helped me to appreciate what constitutes a well kept home. 

Mom posted lists in every room that we had to check off before we could go outside.  They included minutiae as meaningless as wiping down the space between the toilet seat and the tank, sanitizing our closet floors (they didn’t carpet the closets then) and checking to make sure the sheets on the bed had hospital corners.  Even as those lists had to be adhered to and checked off every day in the summer, at the very same time, we had several “junk” drawers in our home that had so much crammed in that they couldn’t even be closed all the way.   The oven only got easy-offf’d when we had no room to put a casserole inside and I remember using a putty knife and a hair dryer to loosen dried, melted ice cream when the freezer needed defrosting.

But those were “‘Mom jobs” when I was little and, as I said, when Mom did clean, she didn’t fool around.  

Mom had some kind of vacuuming fetish.    On one occasion, when I was to clean my room, I did, what I thought, was an adequate job.   After checking everything off the “bedroom list”, I reported for permission to go to Kathy’s house.   Without even looking up from the book she was reading, she said, “You didn’t vacuum well enough. Go do it again.”  I protested a little and then gave up and dragged the vacuum out again.  (Incidentally, summer time vacuuming in Phoenix was hard work for a kid.  Swamp coolers saturated the cotton fiber carpets with enough moisture that it was a chore for a full-grown man.) Anyhow, when I finished this time, I felt pretty sure it would pass muster, but I was wrong.  “Do it again.” 

This time, I gave in and pulled the bed out where I found the troll doll the dog had been chewing on. I used the nozzle to edge the wall behind my desk and I pulled out my dresser.  Surprise! I found a five-dollar bill!   This time, when I returned to ask if I could go out, I told Mom what I had turned up.   She looked up and said, “That’s how I knew you hadn’t done a good job.  I borrowed that from the bank on your desk last week when the paper boy came.”    

I tried that trick on my kids.  It worked on them too.

Kid Logic (Part one)

One summer we had a family reunion at my aunt’s home. The adults thought it would be a good idea to turn all the kids out into the backyard until it was time to eat. That would have been a good idea if there had been anything at all to do back there.   All I really remember about that day is my aunt’s neurotic dog that ran in one big circle around the perimeter of the yard barking unremittingly at nothing.  The animal didn’t even bark at us. He just loped around in a trench he had made by running along the fence line where he warned off some invisible invader. 

My little sister could not get over the injustice of being relegated to the backyard.    Perhaps I remember her complaining so well because there was nothing else to do but talk about how wrong it all was.  (As a sideline, I also recall that this was the day that my cousin told everyone that Santa Claus was a myth that our parents leaned on to make us behave.  Useful information for me, but it sure aggravated my mother later.)

We sat around the patio table talking about all the wrongs that adults do to children.  My sister said that she would never treat her kids so rudely.  She said that when she became a parent, she would not discuss things that a child could not talk about with everyone else.  (We all thought that this was the main reason that we were all excluded from the activities inside the house.)

I thought what she said made a lot of sense…that is, until I had kids.   There are some things that adults like to discuss without the kids tearing through the room or interjecting inappropriate comments.  Kids need play time.  Adults need social time.

In general, things that seemed unjust in my youth became procedures that I quite easily adopted either for convenience or convention.  

For instance, I had decided then that, for sure, I would never make my kids write thank you notes.   Sometimes I actually thought of refusing to accept gifts when I considered the alternative of having to write some insincere blabber about how much I liked what I had received.    Now, however, I have to admit that sometimes it is the only good part of my day when I read some words of appreciation for something it took me hours to find to surprise my grandkids.

Unless you’ve been to a podiatrist and received a prescription for orthotics, you don’t hear much about “corrective shoes” anymore. But at one time, it was once quite popular for mothers to worry about shoes and children’s feet. I remember a big controversy about whether baby’s ankles needed support when learning to walk, hence the high top “walkers.”  As for me, I would have outlawed corrective shoes.   My mother believed that if it were cute, it would ruin your feet.  She was obsessed with arch supports and having enough room for my toes.  One of the girls in my class had the prettiest, pointed patent leather shoes.  After listening to me complain every morning, my mother finally relented and bought me a similar pair that I was only allowed to wear on Sunday.    I recall twirling into the living room when we came home from shopping to let my dad see them.  His remark when he saw them will be forever etched in my memory. ”Looks like you’re wearing a couple of gunboats.”    Only now, at 58, can I appreciate what Mom saw in my future if I had been permitted to run wild in the shoe store, purchasing potential bunion makers. 
(Part one of two) 

Note to me...

http://youtu.be/vEM9dodyABo

Clint Eastwood got this right.  Too bad it had to be linked to a commerical.

The Compliment of Trust

A Scottish author, poet and Christian minister George MacDonald said, “To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.”  I can attest to that truth because I have discovered that gaining the trust of a person or an animal, for that matter, is highly satisfying. 

Diane and I live in a very rural area. In fact, cows outnumber people about 4 to 1.   When its warm enough we sometimes we sit outside after dark. We see so many more stars than we could when the city lights surrounded us.  Most of the time, it’s really quiet too.  We don’t hear cars rushing by or arguments in the street.   On a summer night, you can hear an orchestra of crickets chirping, coyotes howling and cows bawling.  I can even identify some of the ‘voices’ of the animals around here and I’ve even begun to understand some of what’s on their minds.  

Occasionally people dump unwanted pets in the country.   They try to relieve their consciences by telling themselves that these are animals, that their predatory instincts will surface, and they will survive better out where they can hunt.  Chances are, if their predatory instincts do kick in, they are more likely to get shot.  But most of these domesticated animals have learned to depend on humans for food.   They wind up on your doorstep, moth eaten, starving and distrustful. Consequently, we have an army of cats from time to time.  We supplement their food until they learn some ‘survival skills,’ but once they are adopted in, it becomes a symbiotic relationship.  We feed them and they mouse.

One cat that was gifted to us by some anonymous person had kittens. A good mother, she kept them hidden from predators. We never knew she had them until we saw them out practicing their hunting skills. By that time, they were extremely wild and skittish, running away whenever we approached.

Like most farmers, it is my practice to get up early. I feed and water the animals that wait impatiently lecturing.  And I milk the goats. The goats routine, I have learned cannot be deviated from in the slightest without rattling their entire day.  When I am finished, I always fill a bowl with fresh milk for the cats. I love to see them impatiently pace around beneath the milking stand, yowling at me to hurry. 

Probably due to being abandoned, this mother cat was not very friendly.  She would crouch down under the tractor, waiting for me to leave the barn before she would approach the bowl of warm milk.  I would stop outside the barn door and look back to see her checking to make sure that I had gone. Now and then she would glance over her shoulder as she drank. Morning and night, day after day, the routine remained the same, and after a long time, she seemed to relax.  Finally, she came out from under the tractor and sat patiently waiting for the milk.  Her two kittens would join her after I left, but due to the early example of their careful mother, they would never approach when I was around.

Then one day, the mother cat jumped up on the stand with the other cats while I was milking!

It took a lot longer to win over those kittens.  But I applied the same time and patience technique.  They at last became so tame that they would crawl all over me while I milked. In the end, they let me pick them up and hold them. I know that if I had tried to pick them up before they had overcome their mistrust, I would never have been able to hold them as I did.

In some ways relationships everywhere are symbiotic. But out in the rural areas, people learn to be even more dependent on one another.  Friendships out here are mostly based on mutual respect.  What few neighbors we have, we know.  Anyone else is suspect when they are seen walking too close to buildings they don’t own or driving a tractor that you know belongs to your buddy.  One man repairs tractors, another family understands the 4-H guidelines. One lady teaches cheerleading and ballet in her basement, another gives riding lessons. Men meet together at regular intervals to help move their cattle or practice roping.  If you run out of something that you have to go into town to get, it’s comforting to know that your neighbor can help you get by until your next trip.  Even the churches forget their differences when a local resident needs help or it’s time for a community celebration.  

When my son and I bought this land and started building our houses next to each other, a little country store opened nearby.  We began to frequent the place for sandwiches at lunchtime and soon met several of the locals who stopped in around the same time as well.  The store closed due to lack of enough traffic to sustain it, but since I believe that God’s hand is often involved in our lives, I like to think that the store was opened just for me.  It was there just long enough for me to meet a few of my neighbors, find out where they lived and learn a little about their history. 

During that time, I found myself looking for opportunities to know people better by lending a hand when I could.   I tried not to repeat unkind rumors or take advantage of anyone’s valuable time without offering something in exchange. 

Something I always tell my wife who tends to give her heart away too easily is that she needs to learn the difference between friends and acquaintances.  Some neighbors are still like the mother cat.  Maybe they will always be that way.  Others have become some of our closest friends, teaching us things it would have taken years to learn on our own. But, I’ve learned that I must go slowly. These kinds of friends are not cultivated overnight.

Wherever we have lived we have watched as the youth follow in their parent’s patterns.  Children who are raised in the country or children raised in the city learn what to watch out for; who to trust and what they need to do to be happy and safe.  We are all probably glad when our children are as cautious as those wild kittens until we give them the signal that they can come out, but if we make them afraid of the world, they may never overcome the obstacles to become truly successful.

As Hemingway said, “The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”

The Cost of a Broken Promise

We must not promise what we ought not, lest we be called on to perform what we cannot.  ~Abraham Lincoln


I suppose that breaking a promise is not such a big deal anymore. It is so common to be disillusioned that we almost expect it.  A journalist from the early part of the 20^th century said, “Half the promises people say were never kept, were never made.”  But I still think that most promises that get made are never kept. 

It starts early, learning to make vows that we do not intend to keep. Maybe you remember impatiently waiting in a hot car for Mom to finish up her errands on the promise of stopping at the DQ on the way home?  Odds are that Mom took longer than she planned and so she found a way of placating you with yet some other promise to be carried out at a later time;  a promise that was forgotten almost as soon as it was made. 

And how about the good grade incentives?  Maybe it was a dollar for every A; until Dad saw that the A was in Physical Education or Citizenship.

When your brother who had his own room moved out, you expected to get the promised room of your own.   No more sharing with your sister.  But your Dad had his eye on that empty space for his man cave and suddenly, Mom and Dad are prepared with talks about how sharing a room prepares you for the future college roommate; helps you develop character.

Soon we were using promises ourselves as our own kind of ‘credit’ program.  We learned young that making promises are a good way of manipulating others to get what we want, deferring the payment to a later time.  We promised to floss for the privilege of going to a sleepover.  You promised to take a bath to stay up a little later. Treat now,  eat all your dinner later.

Once, a two-year-old disappeared during a lakeside vacation. After relatives searched the forest and the shoreline, everyone was relieved when they found the child playing calmly in the woods.

"Listen to me, Matthew," his mother said sharply. "From now on when you want to go someplace, you tell Mommy first, okay?"

Matthew thought about that for a moment and said, "Okay. Disney World."

                                                -Reader’s digest: submitted by Leah Hallenbeck

I’m Just being funny.  You know that didn’t get any consideration.  But even in the mind of a two year old, a little promise negotiating is sure worth a try. 

Anyway, with regard to making and keeping promises, we should be aware that we are creating an image.  When we believe that we can make large promises, never intending to keep those promises, for our words cost us nothing, we are soon identified as an impostor, and others learn to keep their distance.   We might associate this kind of promise making with politicians.   But politicians get started as everyday people who become skilled at conning others with their good intentions.  As Shakespeare said, “ A politician is one that would circumvent God.”

And how about those promises to God?  Made in the privacy of our bedroom, our car, our office, are they less binding than those we make in front of the world?   Some might say that those promises are even more sacrosanct because we are making them to ourselves as well as with Deity. 

My husband and I once agreed to tithe. We made a promise to ourselves and to our Heavenly Father to faithfully give 10% of all our income.  Though it meant making sacrifices to do so, we were able to keep the commitment for quite a long time.  Then, one day, Bill said that he thought that ‘just this once’ we should probably use our tithing money in some other way.  Now, many years later, I cannot remember how it was spent.  But I do remember the aftermath. 

The day after the money was redirected, I found myself stranded in the store parking lot with a crying baby, when the wiring harness in the old car we drove burned up under the dash.  I got a ride home and found that my refrigerator had quit running.  When Bill arrived home to find the counters loaded with the perishables I could save in my neighbor’s freezer, he announced that he had been ‘laid off.’

I began to wonder if God curses a person who breaks promises to Him.  I called my father to ask him what he thought.  He said, “God does not curse you.  He simply withdraws His blessings.”

I learned a simple law that day about breaking promises to God, or to anyone else. 

Sooner or later, breaking promises comes with a price.