Be of Good Cheer

The 2014 Christmas season is coming to an end. After a marvelous week with the kids, they are all gone and things are approaching as normal as they get around Jubilee Acres.

On Christmas Eve we were driving to Salt Lake City to see Amy (our daughter) and Derek and grandson Soren. With us on the drive were Nathan and Amy (our daughter in law) and we were having a grand old time singing along with Nathan’s collection of Christmas music.

“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” was playing. You know the words.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

With the kids jingle-belling

And everyone telling you

Be of good cheer

It's the most wonderful time of the year

I couldn’t remember anyone ever telling me, “be of good cheer.” Can you? I adopted that as my Christmas greeting. Every time someone said to me, “Merry Christmas,” I answered, “Merry Christmas, be of good cheer.” The result. A lot of blank stares.

I am not discouraged. I want you to be of good cheer.

I Love You! ... Ditto.

The Wedding Site

Omen of things to come.

Ashley was a beautiful bride on the verge of a miserable experience. Her wedding day will be memorable, a day to be talked about for decades. Taking real care in her walk up to San Sophia overlook where she will make the brides grand entrance, her first clue she is nearing the wedding site is the Woodwind Trio’s canopy cover rolling by, end over end, with her brother, who is to be her escort chasing it.  

Meanwhile, the groom and I are standing on the wedding platform our backs to a very cold wind that is right in the face of the gathered congregation. The wedding must go on, full steam ahead.

The Trio, who haven’t missed a beat, even as their canopy went flying off of them switches to the brides song and she and her escort, heads bowed into the fierce wind, come down the grassy aisle. As they arrive, and we are all on the platform I look into three very cold faces. It is not my nature to watch a lady freezing when I have a coat on and I have to fight the urge to put my suit coat over the brides bare arms and shoulders. Looking into the grooms eyes I ask, “Josh, do you want me to condense this ceremony?”

“Please, as short as possible!” was his reply.

“Ashley, are you ok with a shortened ceremony?” Through bluing lips and chattering teeth she said, “Please, please, do!”

And then, if the cold wind wasn’t enough, it began to sleet, little pellets of ice, driven by the wind. The grooms father, my good friend David McConkey, jumped up from his seat and brought an umbrella and for the rest of the service stood behind the bride keeping the sleet, well, attempting to keep the sleet off Ashley.

I am going through my, “I am going to give her my coat thoughts” again, when out of the audience someone braves the cold and places a nice warm shawl over her shoulders.

We prayed, a very short prayer, I asked, ‘Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” whereupon her brother shouts into the wind, “I DO!”

How short did I condense it? I said, “I have some biblical advice regarding keeping your love strong, I will send you an e-mail.”

“Oh thank you,!” Ashley said.

We rapidly went through the vows. I asked for the rings. The bride beat me to the ring bearer to get them.

“Josh put the ring on Ashley’s finger and repeat after me.” I condensed the ring ceremony and he repeated. I looked at Ashley, she was shivering, sleet was on her face where most brides have tears of joy. David was struggling to keep the umbrella from collapsing in the wind, incidentally just like the trio’s tent had totally collapsed.

Misery pushing Joy aside

The large vases holding the flowers suddenly blow off the platform onto the ground. Looking past the couple into the congregation all I could see was row after row of clear plastic umbrella tops pointed at us. “They can’t hear a word that I am saying,” I thought.

“Ashley,” I hurried, “just say “ditto.”

“Ditto!” she replied.

Prayer. Again very short. “Lord please bless this message. Amen.”

“I pronounce you husband and wife.” Ashley immediately turned and was ready to head out! Josh reached over and took her arm, if nothing else, he didn’t intend to be denied this wedding kiss. She responded, but without much enthusiasm.

NOTE to Groom: “Josh, Just the first of many times you will have to chase her for a kiss.”

The crowd erupts into applause; everybody jumps up and runs for cover, so much for our carefully planned exits.

The thunder began to explode around us and although I never saw lightening, I was ready for all of these folks to be off the mountain top. I couldn’t keep them there if I wanted. They were dashing for the gondola.

Mountain top weddings are beautiful. The views from the marriage site were awesome in every direction. If you choose such a site for your wedding, just know that no one, not even a fantastic wedding director can control the afternoon thunderstorms.   

In the evening at the reception, Bride and Groom, and the wedding party were all laughing and happy about the way things turned out. I only hope their lasting memories are good ones.

Of Super Bowls, Life, and Perspective

        Watching the end of the not-so-Super Bowl Sunday night I was in a funk. I was looking for the Broncos to show up, not the imposters wearing the orange jerseys. As soon as it was over, and I watched it to the last tick of the clock, I opened Facebook, turned on my phone for messages, and checked my email. (Because I went to church on Sunday night I was watching on about a two hour delay and I didn’t want any spoilers coming in.)

         I read what everyone was saying, trash talking if you will. I laughed at the good ones, 

was disappointed in the old worn out ones. (Any joke referencing OJ Simpson’s Bronco) I changed my Facebook profile picture to a black ribbon and went to my desk to finish preparing for teaching my class on Monday morning. I tuned the television to a Denver channel but the game was over; no more mourning. 

         After class on Monday I received this message from a good friend, one who likes to razz me about my sports team choices. But it got me to thinking.

         Some time this week I will go sit in the home of a woman whose husband died during heart surgery in Colorado Springs on Saturday. She hasn’t come home yet.

         Two of my classmates recently lost their husbands, one to a heart attack, one to an accident.

         These are the people my heart aches for, not John Elway, Peyton Manning, or Champ Bailey. They are not in mourning. They know it was just a game, or just a bad day at the office for them.

         While Bronco fans were mourning, and Bronco haters were piling on, Peyton Manning was in the Seattle post game interview room talking to Richard Sherman, congratulating him on the win and asking about the extent of his leg injury. See the article here.

         While fans were wondering how they would face their co-workers tomorrow, the Bronco players, coaches, executives, and families were at a party back at the hotel. The Denver news station reported that the room was the same, the drinks were the same, the food was the same as it would have been had they won. The atmosphere was less festive, but they weren’t out crying in their beer, they were partying with champagne.  

         

      I wish they would have won. But almost every season, in every sport, at sometime, my favorite team goes down to defeat before the final championship. None of my teams have won championships since the 2010 Lakers. In 2009 both the Lakers and the Yankees were champions. In 1998 and 1999 both the Yankees and the Broncos were champions. The Lobos have never won it all. The good years are far apart. I have been a Yankee fan since childhood. I have been a Laker fan since they traded for my favorite player, Kareem. I have been a Bronco fan since 1976 when I moved to Utah and Craig Morton became a Bronco.

         Lets keep things in perspective. Sports are just that, sports. And if the players and coaches don’t take things personally, why should we?

It is 2014 for Pete's sake.

   On the highway between Shiprock, New Mexico and Tuba City, Arizona my Ford F250 rumbled across Navajo country. It is the heart of the reservation and about 25 miles east of Kayenta I stopped to pick up a hitchhiker. He is standing by the highway in the absolute middle of nowhere, no kind of structure in sight anywhere, the wind is blowing, it is January and he looks very cold. I have no idea how cold it was because my pick up is plain Jane, no frills, and knowing the temp would be extra.

 His name is Luke. He was on his way to Monument Valley where he lives. Today he was hoping to find out why his 85 Ford pick up won't run. He was on his way back from delivering his truck that did run to his mother. He said he gave it to her as a gift.
 
We had a good conversation. After I finally got him to talking he told me about his family. He is born to the Folding Arms Clan of the Navajo nation and  to the Many Goats Clan. The first is his mother's clan the second his Father's. His 2 grandfather's clans are the Mexican Clan and the Big Water Clan. I find that fascinating.
 
   I let Luke out at the McDonalds in Kayenta. Not 100 yards further down the highway I picked up Donald. Donald was an older Navajo, probably close to my age. He was only going 9 miles, and unlike most Navajos I know he talked the whole 10 minutes. He was pretty excited. He showed me where they were working in a water line from Kayenta toward the west. He said it would go close enough to his house that they would have running water by summer, and maybe sometime in 2015 they would get electric service.

  2014, and they still live like it was 1914. Made me feel pretty small that Jen and I thought we were really toughing it out these last 18 months living in a RV. We did have running water and electricity.

  I am drawn to the Navajo people. I enjoy listening to their stories. Luke is a 7th day Adventist. I asked him if was a vegetarian. His reply, "Nope, I still eat mutton." I didn't tell him one of my life long ambitions, ever since my first taste of Mutton stew back in the 60's is to never let the meat of the sheep pass my lips again.

  As he was getting out of the truck I asked Donald if his wife was excited to be getting water. He looked at me with a wide grin and said, "we are all pretty excited about it."