Christmas, and wanting someone special

I don't write here that often anymore, but I feel compelled to write something, because something has been on my mind all the time.

I want someone to love. Someone I can come home to, or just call and talk to, who is close by, who shares the same passions that I do, and most importantly, genuinely cares for me the way my heart aches to care for someone.

It is so hard, though. I have two children whom I love dearly. I don't want to subject them to a parade of people and have them get mixed signals. I love them too much to put them through all of that. And in a sense, I almost feel like it's not worth it, from the standpoint of being a father. I feel like I owe them everything, and I want them to have the best of what I have to offer.

But what about me? I long for someone to hug, to hold, to share thoughts and memories with. Someone to be there who can eventually love me for who I am, who isn't afraid to show love. I have so much love in my heart to give someone, and it does no good just sitting there, where no one can enjoy it or cherish it or experience it. I want someone to take that love and accept it.
So far, no one has.

It is Christmas, and I am thrilled that I get to spend it with my children. This will be the first time since 2007 that I have spent Christmas with them -- the first time in three years. That is fantastic, and I can't wait. I'm hoping to take them to Salt Lake City to see the lights on Temple Square just before Xmas. I need to find someone to wrap presents! I don't even have a Christmas tree!

It has been wonderful being with the kids these past four months. I have enjoyed every moment of it. I just hope they have enjoyed being with me as much as I have enjoyed being with them.

Challenges every day

I have been in Idaho for two months now. It is a challenge pretty much every single day. I'm either having to deal with things related to the kids, Cherie or some kind of financial shenanigans. I suppose that comes with the territory, and that I should expect that, after nearly a year of having no responsibility living in California.

But it has been nearly all good. In fact, the bad isn't bad at all when you consider most of it is just life: getting two jobs, moving into a new place, getting acclimated, meeting people and adjusting to a life that has my children in it a lot of the time.

That has been the best part of all of this: that Isaac and Savannah are with me frequently. I would watch them at any time, day or night, as long as I was not working. I love watching them, taking them places, watching them play together, even sharing the same room with them, which they insist on doing, when we go to sleep. I don't mind. I love them all so very much.

As far as my relationship with Cherie goes, that to is a work in progress. It has not been easy, but I am determined to make it work, for the sake of the children. I must make it work. I have to, for my sanity and theirs. We have begun attending a parenting class together, and are working toward helping Isaac and Savannah get the most out of the class that they can. It feels awkward, though, to be there with Cherie. I wish our relationship was better. If it is going to get better, it will be up to me.

For now, I'm continuing to work to improve myself and the lives of my children. They truly are a blessing to me.

It's almost moving day

There's too much to report at the moment, but I'm finally going to go home to be with Isaac and Savannah. It's been 2 1/2 long years, but they spent the past month and a half with me, and it was glorious. This is the toughest and easiest decision I've made, but I'm moving to Idaho. I have a place, and I'm looking for work.

I wouldn't be able to do any of this or make it very far without the help of loving family and friends, and their guidance and support. I have truly been blessed, even if I don't say it as much as I should or tell the people I care that. I am just glad to have finally made the plunge and taking this risk I believe will be the biggest challenge and greatest reward I'll ever receive.

I met wonderful people and renewed great friendships along this journey. And though I'm saying goodbye to family I love, and a woman with whom I love a great deal, I hope we all will reconnect and be together some day.

It's been a while since I've posted here, I realize, and a summer of great memories with Isaac and Savannah. Swimming, going to museums, ball games, street fairs, time with new relatives; the whole bit. It was a summer I will never forget as long as I live. My desire to be a part of their lives stems from the great times we had together in California for six weeks. I can't let them go, and I won't. I want to be Daddy and be a constant presence in their lives.

I love my children, and that's why I'm taking this challenge. It is, I believe, exactly what the Lord wants and needs me to do. He has been waiting for me. I am grateful to all of my family for taking me in a time of need. Now it's time to repay that love and generosity by being with my children and taking care of them.

I said I was going to leave a year ago; now, there is no way I'm going to back out on that promise now.

Saying goodbye to good friends

I visited Grass Valley for the first time since October. I bid farewell, at least for the moment, to Gordon and Camille Southam and their family. Gordon is moving to Louisiana, across Lake Pontchartrain, to take a new job. I am happy for him and his family; they have been dear friends to me. I hope it's not the last time I see them. I don't think it will be. Times change, and people's situations change, and we have to adjust to it. You can't expect things to stand still. I just hope that we can meet occasionally, and I know that we will still communicate. I really wish the best for them. I also visited The Union for a bit. That place will always be important to me, but it also is bittersweet and very slightly creepy to be there. It's proof that a former employer can never compete with friends and family. I did get to reconnect with good friends over there. I did like coming to Grass Valley. That place will always be home to me to an extent. It feels comfortable and familiar, like walking into the Southams home or into the chapel in Grass Valley. I get emotional when I think of those places. Those places were sources of great happiness and wonderful memories for me and for my family. Life changes, I think, and you can't really re-create what once was there. Maybe it's best not to. I left Grass Valley hopeful for the future. I have things going on in my life that will eventually put me in a better place. Times change, and it's important for me to change with it.

Helping my children

I am supposed to be writing a story right now. I can't do it. I'm thinking too much about Isaac and Savannah. Specifically Isaac. He has always had a hard time with this divorce, and now, I think, two years of difficulty are coming home to roost. For the past month or so, Isaac has struggled mightily with his behavior, principally at school. He has yelled at teachers and students, tried to jump on other students, thrown things at people and flat-out refused to do what is asked of him. I have increased the frequency of my calls to him and Savannah since I was last there. He has not been the same since I visited him in March. He has been difficult at school and less so at home. My heart aches for him. I can't help but blame myself for this. It's easy to say that this problem with my son is a product of what Cherie did. It is, to a point. She took him and Savannah away from me. But I don't want to dwell on that. What's important is how I can help him. The easy thing to do would be to pack up and leave for Idaho. I'm trying to build a future for him and Savannah long-term. Cherie has even asked for me to move to Idaho. I feel like people are all tugging at my heart. Isaac and Savannah want me there. I want to go to school. Cherie even says she wants to quit school to concentrate on the kids. An honorable thing, to be sure. I wonder. Why aren't I doing the same thing? I want to go to school and get a solid foundation for the kids. I think she should move closer to where I live. There is family here, and she's closer to relatives of her own. She's further from Destiny, yes, but here, the kids have a built-in support system. I get the kids in June, but it's not enough. They need more. My heart aches for my children. I just want my children to be happy. They aren't, especially Isaac. Cherie is struggling mightily -- and she always has been. Why can't they just move here, Heavenly Father? There is so much here that's better for them. We don't have to be together. That chapter is closed. But my chapter with my kids remains open. I love them so much. I can't be having a good time and building a life for myself knowing the kids are suffering. I have to help them. I just don't know the right thing to do. I feel like I did a few months ago. Why couldn't we have figured this out years ago? What gives right now? I don't get it.

Saying goodbye, preparing spiritually

It's been a while since I wrote here. A lot of things are going on. Isaac is having a lot of trouble at school, being mean and difficult with his teacher. We're trying to work it out, between his teacher, mom and specialists and counselors. It's difficult to discern, because Isaac is still fairly young and can have a hard time expressing himself.

I've also begun observing in the classroom as part of my learning process to begin my teacher credential program. It's been two days, and it's been fun. There's so much I want to do. I work in a special-education classroom of elementary school kids. It's near the end of the school year, but I hope that I can bond with them a bit before they go home for the summer.

I got some big news today. Perhaps my dearest friends in Grass Valley, Gordon Southam and his family, are going to be moving. Gordon is an engineer by trade, and as I've mentioned before, perhaps the smartest person I've ever known. I've known Gordon and his family for about 10 years; they are the best friends I could ever ask for. Gordon has been working sporadically over the past few months or so, and will be working for a company that makes electric meters. This means he's moving to the company headquarters across Lake Pontchartrain from New Orleans. This is great news for Gordon and his family, for Gordon is very talented and pretty much does anything he can for his family. His wife, Camille, is also a wonderful friend who has been there for me, my ex-wife and our family over the years. She's part of the reason why I'm going into the teaching profession.

It is bittersweet for me, for I almost cried when I heard the news. I was at once proud and relieved for Gordon and his family; raising a family of six on essentially two part-time salaries is near impossible. So now, he can provide for his family and do something he knows.

I was sad because this family, outside of my own, has been in my corner more than anyone else I know. They immediately came to my aid (and my defense) when Cherie left with the kids. I remember the first time Gordon came to visit me in Carson City after he asked me why I waited so long to call him; I remember him saying he left behind the 99 so he could help the one (me) because he cared. This was the first time that another man told me he loved me, and I knew exactly what he meant. I remember him inviting me to Six Flags Discovery Kingdom with his oldest son Tanner. I was a basket case then, silently crying for my own children and wishing they were there. But I knew then, as I know now, that Gordon and his family really loved me.

I remember going to Gordon and Camille's house for dinner and staying up until 3 a.m. talking with of them. They have given me more than any I could have ever asked for or deserved. I remember Gordon talking to me about how his faith was tested so many times before the birth of his first child, and then during the pregnancy and the subsequent birth of Brendan, Paige and Whitney. Gosh, I love those kids so much! I will miss reading bedtime stories to them, whispering in Paige and Whitney's ears to "tell them a secret" when I forgot their names; and hearing how smart Brendan remembered so much, or Tanner's dance moves.

The Christmas in 2008 will never leave my memory. It was the kindest thing anyone not related to me had ever done for me.

I will also be grateful to Gordon, Camille and their children for visiting Cherie and the kids on my behalf. They did something they didn't have to do, but didn't hesitate in doing what they did for me. Isaac and Savannah and the Southam kids, I hope, will always have a relationship with "their cousins."

I hope to visit the Southams once before they leave town. Life changes before our eyes or when we least expect it. When I left Grass Valley in October 2009, Gordon and his family were constant confidants as the divorce proceedings ensued, and even as I debated to move to Idaho where the kids are. I often call Gordon "the eternal optimist," and we had some difficult conversations over the last few months. Like good friends, though, there was always respect, and more importantly, love behind those difficult conversations. We all knew and understood that.

They helped make two of the most difficult years of my life tolerable, bearable, and at times, enjoyable. Now, Gordon's selling his junky truck, and I have sold mine for a car that the kids can fit in. Perhaps that's indicative of our new stages in life. I hope to be a bigger presence in my childrens' lives, and I need a bigger car. Gordon's going to get rid of his truck, too. Big changes for all of us.

So today, as I prepare to meet the bishop to talk about going to the temple and taking out my endowments, I also wish Gordon and Camille and their children the best as they prepare for their exciting journey. I love them and know Heavenly Father is looking on them, just as He's looking down on me.

The heart is full

I have said that a lot over the past two-plus years. Because I have many reasons to have a heart that is overflowing with good things and good emotions. This morning, early as it is, I have not gone to sleep because my heart is indeed full.

So many things are in my head: school, my children, and my love for people. It's like I don't want to go to sleep for fear that I would miss something important, even though it is so late it's almost not worth going to sleep anymore.

My heart is brimming with love for the people in my life, even if some of them don't readily notice it. My heart is wanting to show others that I love them so much, and it is the timing and distance that prevents me from doing just that. It is at once a marvelous and maddening feeling.

I want to help Isaac, and I want to show Danielle and her family how much I love them. Yes, I do. I want to show Isaac and Savannah how much they are loved by me, and I want them to always know that. I want Danielle's family to know that too, that I love them quite nearly as I do my own family. I hope I can always say that, and show everyone -- Isaac, Savannah, and Danielle and her family that that love is constant and unending.

Sometimes, I get scared writing that, but it's true, and I can't hide it. I'm writing this at this hour because I don't want to hide the way I feel inside, and I want everyone to know it.

My heart is full to the point of overflowing. I hope it always is this way. I am so thankful to my Heavenly Father for making me feel this way.

Some random thoughts

I got a new car a few days ago. Well, new to me. Got rid of the pickup I'd been driving for two years. Guess there goes one more vestige of me, the old version. The pickup, for all of the negative things I said about it (not really) got me through a lot. Two jobs. Countless rides given to Cowboy Jason and others. A few moves. It always worked just fine, except for the time the windshield wipers conked out in a rainstorm on my way to Fresno.

I was grateful to have that car. I traded it in for a sedan that can actually seat Isaac and Savannah when they come to visit me in June. I'm not as excited as I would be if it were a brand-new car, but it runs, is big enough, and I'm sure will do just fine.

Easter was pretty wonderful. I went to my chapel to watch General Conference, only to find out the satellite feed was messed up. So me and about a half-dozen others ended up listening to it via the Internet. Then, on that Saturday and Sunday morning, I watched it from the Fresno stake center, a place I'd never been to before. Heard a number of inspiring speeches. I really like all three members of the Presidency for different reasons. Every time I go to conference, I am reminded of all the things I need to do to be better.

Still have much to do do get the life in order. I'm working on it and trying to be diligent. I think I have a pretty good idea of what needs to occur before I take that next step.
For this week, I'm concentrating on school stuff and finishing that by the time the week is over. Hopefully, will prepare for another trip to see the kids this month.

So many things to do

Every day, I make a list of the things I have to do that day. It's something that gives me direction and a sense of purpose. Without it, I'd be stuck on stinkin' Facebook all day.

The list includes things I have to do for work, and for school, and life in general. And it seems that while I don't have many obligations, this should be a time that allows me to take care of the ones I have.

It seems like the more obligations I write down, the more I seem to have. That's not a bad thing. But if I write "finish grad school apps" I usually find that I have more things to do connected to that one thing. Like applying for financial aid. I just wrote those two things down on my notepad.

I have to be honest, however. I usually don't get to everything; just the top things on the list. Some things are perpetual priorities, others are simply more pressing. I don't put "work out" on the list either, cuz if you've seen me, you know I need all the help I can get in that regard.

The bottom line here is, I have so much to do before I can get to the next level. So much to accomplish and take care of. I think people would take me seriously if I did what I was supposed to do sometimes.

That's another way of saying I have so much more to do in this life before I can consider it somewhat straightened out.

Building trust

So it's Sunday. Went to church, but didn't feel really good about it. The reasons why are obvious to anyone who had spent the past 48 hours with me. Let's just say I want to work hard to build trust in people who care about me.

That's a hard thing to do, even though it might not seem that way. Building trust is so vitally important in a relationship, especially a new one where you're both still trying to figure each other out. You can have so much love for that person, and yet, realize that so much of it can be extinguished just by the choices you make.

The key here perhaps is to never take the person you care for, for granted. And that includes believing they trust you unequivocally. They may want to, but then again, things are new. Wanting to trust someone and actually doing it are two different things here. I'm not talking about me trusting someone. It's that someone trusting me.

You see, it's not about what they do or the choices they make. It's about what I do and the choices I make that can determine the outcome of a relationship. I want to do whatever I need to do to build trust in my partner, to build love and understanding. That's my job, and it's what I need and want to do, because I love that person. And I don't want that person to ever doubt my resolve or love for them or people they are close to.

So on a spiritual day, I'm not feeling really spiritual. The Lord needs me to do certain things, and even though I haven't done them today, I am determined to make progress in that regard. I hope the Lord understands that.

What an incredible week

This past week or so has been incredible. I realize that it's been a long time since I last blogged, and there's much to write about.

For starters, the divorce is final. There's not much to say about that. It's time to move on. We met in Cherie's attorney's office and hashed it out. I get to be with the kids for one month by myself, but I can see them whenever I like, provided I give Cherie enough notice.

I have to be honest. I will always love Cherie, even if we are not together. I will never love her like I once did, but I will love her as the mother of my children and someone who gave me my faith. I simply have to be cordial to her, and I will always try to be.

The time I had with Isaac and Savannah this past week was wonderful. They are such sweet kids, and I love them so much. I bought them clothes, we had fun going to places like the mall and the pet store and the bowling alley and to every fast-food joint you can imagine. I also got to go to the kids' schools and hang out for a day, and that was really wonderful.

I now know that I have to make a better effort to be in their lives. I was gone for far too long before to not go and see them. Finances make it possible, yes, but I need to do a better job of saving up the money to go and see them. They need me and miss me as much as I need and miss them.

I signed up for school. Yesssss! I finally did it! I have much to do before I actually can enroll, but it's going to happen. I can feel things moving in the right direction. I believe Heavenly Father has always wanted that for me, to do His will and be rewarded for the work that I'm doing.

This has been a week of sea changes for me, and I hope to keep the positive momentum going. There are a lot of challenges left for me to accomplish, but with my faith and my family behind me, I know I will be able to get all that I need to do.

Understanding my faith

When I came back to Fresno, I was grateful that I had a place to go. I would be near my family, even if they were really the only people I knew in this area. It's the first time that I'd been back permanently in 14 years, so the passage of time has lots to do with that.

If there was anything I was fearful of, it was that people -- my family -- might not understand my faith. To a degree, they don't. I don't expect them to. They really haven't asked about it much, and when they do, it's more from the standpoint of "why would you choose this faith and not something else," or, more recently, why I still subscribe to the faith espoused in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, even if my soon-t0-be ex-wife, is no longer with me and isn't practicing the faith anyway.

A person's faith is not unlike their unconditional love for a child, or, hopefully, a spouse or relative. Done right, this faith is unwavering and non-negotiable. It takes time to develop a testimony, in this case, of one's faith. It does not happen overnight -- nor, in that respect, does a love for someone else.

But it has been a bit of a struggle since moving home, since no one of my family members share my faith or understand it. On this past Sunday, these issues came to a head at my father's house.

My father was born and raised Muslim. For many years, it would be safe to say that he did not exercise his faith, though it was there for a while. I suppose it's because he immigrated to a country that doesn't have the corresponding population of Muslims that Iran has. I don't think there are many Christians in Iran. In fact, I would venture to say there are more Jews in Iran than Christians.

Nevertheless, religion to my father has always been important to him, even if the faith he ascribes to doesn't mesh with my beliefs. I have to respect the fact that he does have a relationship with God, or Allah, in this case, and that he does pray several times a day and does what he can in his own way to exercise his faith.

His tolerance of my faith doesn't show the same level of acceptance, and it became evident Sunday when I came home from church. He questioned why I fasted, and told me he didn't believe the LDS faith in part because of its "racist" beliefs. I think there was more to his argument -- I think he's offended that I'm not Muslim, but then neither are my brother or sister, who, while they both believe in God, have an ambivalence toward religion as a whole.

We argued this point for more than an hour on Sunday -- how I could betray my father by choosing a religion not like his, and continuing to practice it even after the person who gave me my faith is less and less a part of my life. We yelled at each other, with each of us pointing negative things out about each other's respective religions. It got ugly, as our voices were raised, and fingers were pointed, and things were said that we should not be saying -- especially on Sunday.

I figured I could use this as a teaching moment. I have to respect the fact that my father is close to God, in his own way. He's been to Mecca twice, which is the holiest city in all of Islam. He's stoned the Devil and visited the Kaaba, at two of the most sacred sites in the Muslim faith. I told him that I respected his religion, and that mine wasn't necessarily better than his, but that I had chosen the Mormon faith for a litany of reasons. My father, and anyone else for that matter, is free to choose their own religion. And that's in fact what I told him. The LDS church teaches us that each of us has our agency -- our free will, if you will -- to do what we choose. Heavenly Father will not smite me for drinking coffee. But He knows I know I will be blessed if I don't, simply because I've made a covenant with Him.

In the end, after nearly walking out of my dad's house, I told him that I wanted to talk to him. He described to me why he doesn't attend the mosque -- that he has some differences with organized religion. That's perfectly fine. It's not my place to tell anyone how to live their lives or what religion to choose, or foist my beliefs upon someone so as to "convert" them. That's not my job. If you want to know about my faith, I'll tell you. But I'm not going to run around saying my faith is better than yours. If you want to know why it might be, that's up to you.

We talked for another hour, and we were able to hopefully come to an understanding. I asked him for a hug, and he gave me one, and I told him I loved him. That doesn't happen often, as I can probably count on both hands the number of times he's told me that. At the same time, I haven't told him that many times, either. So I guess we have more work to do in that department.

I'm not sure if we came to an understanding or not. But at least he knows how I feel, and I know how he feels. And I hope the mystery surrounding my faith has been lifted a bit for my father. If anything, I would hope that he would be glad that I have a relationship with Heavenly Father, just as he does.

And no one can criticize that.

Stark differences

It has become ever so clear to me why it no longer makes sense to be with Cherie, and why I'm actually relieved that divorce proceedings are rolling.

She and I share diametrically opposed views on so many levels. It's like she's a different person entirely. She is so focused on being "independent," yet stands there with her hand out constantly. She says she "loves" herself. That she made the "right" choices.

Well, at least I can say that I'm not shacking up with someone who smokes, drinks and has tattoos with curse words on them. I also am man enough to admit my mistakes and do my part to own up to them and try to learn from the past. I'm not perfect, and I don't pretend to be. She does, because she feels "empowered." Never mind that her attitude is as transparent as caramelized onions.

I might feel "empowered," but it's not because my family ditched me. I'm not "independent" right now; far from it. But I must continue to work on it. I'm working, and I don't have my hand out to anyone. I'm waiting for a tax return so I can save money and work on bringing my children home. I know it's not going to happen overnight, and I know it's not going to be easy, and it won't happen unless I do something to change it.

The thing too, is, she brings out what might appear to be the worst in me. Why do I do that to myself? Why do I become judgmental and hypercritical of someone, when I share those same faults?

I want to be kind, gentle, deferential and work hard at all those things. I want to be spiritual and I want to be a good provider for myself and my children. And yes, I do want to share those things with someone else. There is nothing wrong with wanting to do that. I want to share those things with someone who shares my same interests. I know that my children will grow up knowing me. Right now, it's just temporary that it's not that way. But it will change. I vow that. I owe them that.

But Cherie will never, ever be part of those plans, even if she should change. I don't trust her, and I don't want her in my life on that level. That's just the way it is, and what I've learned over the course of the past few months.

I want to move forward, as best as I can, and keep myself out of the mud pit that is and was a relationship that is no longer anything I want to be a part of.

Making plans, I hope

Tomorrow has the potential to be a big day. I have been working slowly to get my life in order. At least I want to go from thinking about making plans to doing them. So tomorrow I'm going to the university to figure out information about graduate school and/or a second bachelors degree. I think I'm certainly going to work on my teaching credential but will add a special education component to it. Teachers are a dime a dozen these days; I need to do something to separate myself from the field. It is a big step, to be sure, but I can't just run in place. I moved here, got a freelance gig for some money, but it's not enough. I need to put myself in a financial position to take my children when the time comes. It's clear that Cherie has no clue what she wants to do with her life, and I can't be like that. I can't. I have to have a plan and stick to it and be successful. I will be visiting the kids as soon as I get a tax return. I will spend a week, maybe longer with them, to gauge how they live. I get the sense that it's not the best situation. I want to show them that there is a better life for them. A life with me, where they are safe and secure. To do that, I must make an effort and a sacrifice that I haven't really done. Things have come relatively easy for me, and I haven't had to work for them. I think Heavenly Father wants me to challenge myself. If I do, I am certain He will bless me, in whatever way He sees fit. Stay tuned. It's about to get interesting.

A most spiritual day

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. I walked into the chapel and sat in the front pew, because that was the only pew, it seemed, that wasn't occupied by members of a family.

No worries, though. It gave me the perfect vantage point where I could listen to what people were saying during fast and testimony Sunday. I told myself that I would not be giving testimony this day; that no one knew who I was or would care what I had to say.

But you have to realize something. It had been months since I'd told many people about my faith. In fact, aside from some close friends and Danielle, no one really knows over here in Fresno, where I now live. So I guess you could say that was a prompting that the Spirit gave me. I listened to people talk about returning to the church and being re-baptized. And this woman who said this really struck an arrow into my stomach. I simply had to go up there.

And you know what happened when I did? I was welcomed up front by the bishop, who motioned for me to sit next to him. He whispered to me, "I'm glad you're here," almost as if he knew exactly how I was feeling. I wonder what compelled him to say that?

I gave my testimony about how I believe being a member of this church, and how my connection to my Heavenly Father has been a great source of strength to me during this time. It's almost as if I could see Heavenly Father nodding his head along with me, like He'd been with me the entire time. He knows exactly what I've been through.

I mentioned what it was like to be in this faith, and that I had been a "Sunday Mormon" most of my time in the church. There's quite a difference between being that and one truly unselfish, spiritual and loving to others and being of service to others and magnifying the Gospel. I'll be the first to admit I didn't do that for so long, and that I still have a long way to go.

I did not give my testimony to receive accolades, or to hear myself talk, or to be a shining example of great oratory speech. I went up there because I felt the Spirit inside of me, so strong and so true. He knows I was scared to go to church, and yet He knows that the chapel, the people and the message is of great comfort to me. There is no denying that.

And then, in elders' quorum, I was witness to the changing of the presidency there. Each member past and present received a blessing. What powerful messages were wrought there! I think I must have had tears in my eyes for most of the service. And then, I walked outside, and I saw the Fresno Temple right across the way from the chapel I'd just attended. What a special sight that was.

And then, later in the night, I was able to share my experiences as a member to a friend I've recently reconnected with that I went to high school with. We spent an hour debating the merits of faith and family. I have to remind myself that it's moments like these that aren't easily duplicated or replicated. For what a blessing it is to share thoughts about one's faith, in a manner that is both respectful and insightful.

I have to wonder if Heavenly Father had a role in that discussion, too. Because I know He knows much better than I do what is inside of me. Maybe yesterday was the perfect day to bring so much of it out.

On a day dominated by the Super Bowl, it certainly was my Super Sunday, of different proportions.

Somewhat scared at what feels right

I will be going to church today. It matters little that it is Super Bowl Sunday or fast and testimony Sunday. I will be going to church.

I have not gone to church since returning to Fresno in October, save for one brief time. I am scared. Scared of what, I don't know. But it is where I need to be, I feel, despite the presence of my family who might be asking why I would forgo greasy food and a six-hour pregame show just to go to church.

Those who ask that question don't or won't understand. It simply is where I need to be. I have missed it very much and want to be a part of something. I want my understanding of the Gospel to grow. It can't do that well if it's not being spiritually fed.

I know it won't be a big deal to go through the chapel doors or sit in the pew, hearing other people's testimonies of Heavenly Father and his son, Jesus Christ. It won't be hard to hear why people feel compelled to get up and talk today, even if they haven't talked in months at a testimony meeting.

I doubt I will say something today. I might want to, but I think it's better to listen and observe, just for once. It's time to reconnect with Heavenly Father, who gave me so much to be thankful and proud of. I may not tell Him as often as I should.

So wish me Godspeed. There's a part of me -- a very big part of me -- that can't wait to walk in the chapel today.

Shedding

It's hard not to get too excited about losing weight. I've done it before, having lost about 70 pounds a decade ago. Well, I gained it all back and then some, just as soon as my body began accepting the greasy diner burgers, all-you-can-eat buffets and 24-hour gluttony bonanza that is Las Vegas.

I also once lost about 30 pounds about six years ago by going to Weight Watchers. Well, the only thing I watched once I stopped going to that group were the french fries going in my mouth.

This time? It's not different, really, except that I have a longer way to go. I have some time on my hands, so it's easier to go to the gym when I want, and not scheduled around available times.

I wish I had the same enthusiasm for losing weight as I do other things in my life. The truth is, I need a butt-kicker to keep me going. It's so easy to slouch toward the epicurean graveyard, such as it is. Way too easy for me.

But it's also easy to look at your plate and figure you could eat a little less. Maybe send the rest you would have eaten -- the money to pay for half the meal -- to Haiti.

This is a weighty challenge, to be sure. I just hope it's one I meet. No guarantees or promises on this one. Just my effort each day.

Constant euphoria

I started writing this blog mainly because I wanted to get my thoughts out on a device on a regular basis. Reading most of these entries, it becomes clear that this blog is almost like a "concept" blog, much like the "concept" rock albums put out by Pink Floyd, the Alan Parsons Project and so forth. They have a story to tell, with crescendoes and arcs.

Anyone who reads this could probably surmise that it's been a rough time since I started writing here. And it has. The constant literal (and mostly figurative) hand-wringing over my situation takes the most precedence.

And so it almost seems counterintuitive to write about positive things in here. But positive things do happen, and have happened to me over the life of this blog. Why not celebrate them? Why not put away the self-loathing feelings I've had for myself?

I say "constant euphoria" because that's the way I've been feeling for a few weeks now. The catalyst for this has been a new relationship, embryonic as it is. And it is embryonic, no matter how long Danielle and I speak to one another each time out. We may sound like the most wonderful people on the planet together; there's quite a difference in dealing with that person in everyday situations -- cleaning the house, shuttling kids, paying bills, eating right, even making time for dates, etc. I haven't had the opportunity to leave the toilet seat up, for example; nor have I drank straight from a milk carton in front of her yet.

It's a complex emotion, what I'm feeling. The heart says one thing, and the brain says something else entirely. Not that the two are fighting; it's just that the brain is, well, to be honest, cerebral. There's more logic involved there than with the heart, if you will.

I'm thinking it's best to let it ride, and let this blog be perhaps less of a "concept" and more of my reality at the moment. That's what it always has been; I just feel incredibly lucky to be in the place I am now.

And there's no shame in admitting that.

A new and most wonderful place

I am not even sure where to begin. The loyal readers of this blog, all two of you, I don't know what to say.

How do you describe pure happiness? Joy? An incredible connection? Euphoria?

I can't believe I'm writing these things, much less feeling them. They were feelings once thought inaccessible to me.

Short of being with my children in September, this week has been the greatest in my life for a long, long time. I feel guilty being so happy. But why? Aren't we allowed to be happy? Isn't that what Heavenly Father wants for us? To be happy?

Danielle has got me thinking about so many things. Going to the temple. Improving myself physically. Following my temple recommend and furthering my education. I mean, she's so KNOWLEDGEABLE about what she does, it motivates me. To see her eyes light up when she describes what she's learning is infectious. It makes me happy for her. And shows me that I can do it, too.

I want to do these things for myself, of course, but also for her, and for my children. I get the sense that my kids would LOVE Danielle. I just sense that she "gets" it as a mom, having two children of her own. Maybe the time will come. Who knows.

For now, I want to focus on improving myself. I have a lot of work to do, in so many areas. I am certain that Heavenly Father will help me along...as He has so many times before, even when I forgot to ask.

But I must say that I have never felt this loved by anyone before. I can only hope to repay the debt that I owe.

One foot on the accelerator, two on the brake

Another wonderful, fabulous night of communication for me and Danielle. How patient she is to listen to me! How wonderful it is to have someone to share so much with.

Can this be real?

I certainly hope so. It sounds so good to be talking to someone who appreciates who I am. And I feel so good to be talking to someone who clicks, who wants to be taken care of (and who wants to take care of someone).

Six hours of communication. I never enjoyed that kind of openness with anyone, including Cherie. She never gave me that kind of time.

And this young lady? She's incomparable on so many levels. She lets me be brutally honest and truthful. I was scared to tell her about a particular point in time in my life, and yet, she listened patiently, and told me something revealing about herself, too!

Where does this go? I don't know. Does it matter? It only matters that I can do my best to make her happy, and we'll see where it goes from there. That's all I can do.

A place I haven't been in a long time

I have debated whether to write anything about my latest developments. From a personal standpoint, it's my life and I can do whatever I want with it.

I have begun conversing with someone recently. Someone I met online. She is the most wonderful person I've met in a long time.

For nearly two years, I've resisted the urge to even look in anyone's direction. I didn't think I should, or I thought it was wrong, or un-Christlike. I didn't think I deserved to be happy.

And then, this week, I meet someone. Granted, it's online, but yesterday we talked for nearly seven hours online. That's right. We started talking at 9:30 p.m. and didn't stop until 4:30 p.m. The sun nearly came up when we were talking.

I don't know what to say. I don't know if it's the attention of someone, or if there's genuine attraction there or what. She's a bit younger than I am and has two children. She likes my humor. She's patient.

Oh, boy. I need to be with my children. But what is this? She's everything I ever envisioned someone in the church to be: someone with a strong testimony, who loves the Lord and the Gospel. She's going to school.

And then there's me. No place of my own. Creaky freelance job. Not much money. Kids in a different state. It sure doesn't look good. What am I supposed to do? I love my children and they need me...but I want to be personally happy, too.

I think we just let this ride out and not worry about what happens. The Lord will find a place for me, I'm sure. And when He does, I hope that He understands that I am looking for someone to love, to share life's joys with, and be a life partner.

She's a wonderful lady, this person. Makes me feel like I haven't felt in years. Makes me feel appreciated. If nothing else, it restores my faith in humankind, that there are nice people out there.

No one knows this at this point except a very dear friend of mine who lives in Atlanta. And that's only because he caught me online very early this morning. His advice? Have fun.
Perhaps that's the best thing I can do at this point.

Something bigger than myself

There are times when I wonder if a blog is one of the more narcissistic exercises one can engage in. You know, writing about yourself, your day, your trials and tribulations, successes, etc.

Sometimes, it can all be a bit much.

Which is why, today, we take a time out to discuss a place I've never been to, and a place I wish I could help.

The island nation of Haiti was hit with a giant earthquake, as everyone around the world knows, on Jan. 12. And I find myself, after reading as much of the news accounts as I can, feeling helpless about this country that I know almost nothing about. Some names come to mind, of course. Wyclef Jean. And three dictators, Jean-Bertrand Aristide, and the Duvaliers, Jean-Claude Duvalier and his father, "Papa Doc" Duvalier.

And I realize that's pretty much what the rest of the world knew about Haiti up until now. A few names. Perhaps they knew that's where "voodoo" supposedly comes from. That's pretty much all I knew. I did know that the country was one in massive political and economic strife. And viewing the pictures, reading the accounts, seeing the video and the news shows, it looks worse than any place I've ever seen in my life.

Such massive human suffering, in a country that was already suffering so much. So much physical destruction in a country with no building codes and flimsy infrastructure to begin with. Only the tsunami that struck at the end of 2004 matches this. I think the toll from Haiti will end up being much worse than the giant wave that washed upon parts of Thailand and other places.

It's as if someone bludgeoned an already crippled soul. Who would do such a thing? I almost wonder, why would God allow something like that to happen? I've not been there, but I heard many parts of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast may never recover from what happened when Katrina hit in 2005. And this is in a first-world country, mind you, with good infrastructure, a stable government and aid readily available.

In Haiti? People struggle just to sell charcoal for pennies a day. Nearly all of the country's rich forested lands have been laid barren by the burning of wood for resources. On a good day, I'd venture to guess you'd be lucky to have running water and electricity in your home -- never mind the Internet or even reinforced concrete holding up the place you call home.

What will happen to Haiti? Will it rebuild? Will it slide into a state of permanent chaos and uproar where rubble and ruin stay in the streets forever? Is it possible the people of this French-African Caribbean nation stand up and say they will no longer stand for corruption, for widespread, permanent and pervasive poverty, and create, in effect, a new nation?

The only way for it to get worse is complete anarchy -- and you can bet that even as planes from the United States and coalitions from the United Nations send flotillas of rescue workers, food, medical supplies, drinking water and triage materials to Haiti -- that the world, including the U.S. -- will be watching nervously from a political standpoint as the country tries to recover, rebuild and perhaps reinvent itself after this massive tragedy.

Making sweet music, part II

I've been listening nearly all day to barbershop quartets. I absolutely love this music. This morning, I discovered a group that's probably well-known to anyone who sings in barbershop choirs, quartets or loves "tags," those impromptu jam sessions where it's just you and your voice, and perhaps a pitch pipe.

I came to a conclusion while listening to this group, Crossroads. They are a group I'd only heard of like two days ago. I checked YouTube and heard them. I'm listening to them now, singing at a 2009 championship. They're singing a song, Lucky Old Sun. It is about six minutes of the most pure, the most beautiful music I've ever heard.

And you know something, I've heard this song about two dozen times today, and I STILL get goosebumps from listening to their tight-as-a-drum harmonies. These guys are so absolutely talented. I can't describe it. I'm getting chills just listening to them now as I type.

This is what I want to do with my spare time -- that is, time that isn't spent loving my two children as much as possible, working hard, studying or doing my church callings. I want to sing all the time, whenever I can.

This barbershop music, it simply makes you feel good every time you hear it. You can't help but smile when you listen to it. You can't help but get chills down your spine when you hear those harmonies, aided with nothing but the voice of the person next to you. And it's all positive, funny, poignant and feel-good music. I could listen to it all day.

Here's the deal. I have a voice that has been largely dormant since I left college. No more. I'm going to sing my lungs out from now on. It's what I feel the most euphoric doing. There is no bigger individual high I get than from singing. Nothing matches it.

Wherever I end up, wherever I land, I'm going to sing, and sing loud and sing proud. I have an instrument, and I think the Lord wants me to use it to make people happy.

Making sweet music

Before I ever became a journalist, I was a singer.

Not a great one, but one who could definitely hold my own, usually in choral settings, and sometimes in solos as well.

I first joined a choir when I was in the second grade, I think; though when I was in first grade, I remember singing a duet with a kid: a rendition of "Yankee Doodle Dandy." My mom remembers it better than I do. I remember the kid's name I sang with: a kid named Jason Weeks.

I joined a choir for good in the fourth grade. And I sang in choral groups in school until I graduated from college. The only year I didn't sing in choir was my senior year in high school. Had I sang then, I certainly would have tried for a scholarship to a four year institution to study voice of music instruction.

Singing is absolutely the greatest thing I can think of as a way to spend the time. There is nothing on earth that compares to it as a vocation. I'm not talking about being a husband and father; those things were taken from me and I would love to get them back. But singing is the most euphoric thing I've ever done in my life. You can have your BASE jumping, your hiking, your skydiving or cooking. I've got my voice.

Now, mind you, I'm not great. I joined a barbershop group yesterday, and I was as rusty as The Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. When my voice is at its best, it won't blow your hubcaps off, but I sure can work hard at it.

I was at the rehearsal yesterday with about 30 other men, and these guys are good. I'd never sung any of the music before, and so I had to sight read. Not very good at that, since I can't play any instruments. It was a three-hour rehearsal. The voice is rusty and needs work, and it needs some coaching. Karaoke has got NOTHING on choral or any other kind of singing.

A long time ago, I was in a barbershop group in the wine country where I lived. I didn't stick with it. I will say this. Barbershop singing, especially in quartets or doing "tags," which are impromptu four-part harmony "jam sessions" is pure heaven. It's something I think I will be doing for the rest of my life. I'm sold.

This time, I'm in this group, and there's one guy I recognize. A friend of my family's, whom I've actually sung at one of his daughter's weddings. He's been in barbershop for years. I had no idea. I knew he liked to sing, but I didn't know he was any good or much less had that much of an interest. Guess I was wrong.

I loved singing with these guys, singing the tight harmonies, even doing the vocal calisthenics that we seemed to do for like a half-hour. All of it was great. I just wish I knew the music better.

The music gives me goosebumps. I can't help it.

You know the feeling you get when you hold your firstborn in the hospital for the first time? Or that first kiss you give the woman you love? It feels just like that. And the great thing is, you are making people feel good. They smile, they cheer, and they can't help but feel wonderful.

Is there anything on Earth that does that well as the power of a song?

Hanging out back home

I've been "home" for about two months now. I've come home before, but it's usually only been to visit. The last time I spent so much time here was over 10 years ago. Being "home" makes me feel young and old at the same time.

It makes me feel young and old -- for the following reasons:

I know how to get to and from a lot of places. Like I did when I was first driving when I was 17 years old.

Hanging out with my parents. No matter how old I am, it still makes me feel like I'm in the 11th grade sometimes, talking to them. It also reminds me that I've got to get out of here soon. Not that I don't love my parents, but I mean, they should be doing their own thing rather than wondering if I've had enough to eat. Thank you very much, and I'm doing OK.

I see a lot of old references to my past -- my college, driving past my old elementary school, pulling into the driveway of my dad's house.

I've also spent a lot of time hanging out in the places where I used to work right after college. One place, Kingsburg, is like a place where time stands still. It's still the same town where you see perfectly made-up plus-sized housewives in pleated black slacks and sweaters, driving empty Suburbans through a "Swedish Village" with piped-in music playing from speakers suspended from the trees. The next block, you hear Tejano music blaring from a '67 Impala and some young guys buying tacos al pastor from the carniceria. The young Hispanic men struggling to support their young families and the overweight stay-at-home mom with the Coach purse and overscheduled four kids have paths that never cross, strangely, even though they live about two blocks away.

People make fun of a town like that, yet many would give their next of kin to live in a town like that -- a peaceful town that looks a lot like Mayberry.

A lot of things feel the same, which is to say comfortable and scary at the same time. Comfortable because I realize that my life could stay like this forever, in a seemingly holding pattern, and me doing the same thing day in and day out.
Scary because that's the last thing I want at this point. But I can see how that can happen.

There was a reason why I came home. That I can see. But there's an equally important reason for me not to stay here longer than I have to.

Just curious

For months now, I've been curious about a specific question. There have been times when I've gone a week, maybe even two weeks or longer, where I haven't called to ask to speak to the kids. For this reason alone, I sometimes feel guilty about that. After all, it wasn't their choice to be taken from me. They shouldn't have to miss out on talking to me because of it. But there's something I've always wondered. Why doesn't Cherie ever have the kids call me to talk to them? I mean, we may not be together, but again, why should the children suffer because of this? Like I said, I've been guilty of going weeks without talking to them or calling them. I've not been proud of it, either. I was explaining to their grandma that listening to the dumb ring-back tone on Cherie's phone, combined with her alleged boyfriend's voice telling callers "bye-bye now" in a sing-song voice makes me cringe. But that reason alone shouldn't be a reason for me not to call, right? Of course not. Suffice it to say, I wish she would realize that in addition to me being a sort of well-established gravy train for her, that I also am the father of those children, and I am someone who loves them and wants to be with them. There's not much she has to understand here, The simple fact that I am Isaac and Savannah's father should be enough for her to understand that I want to communicate with them on a regular basis. Countless parents get this, I'm sure, even ones with axes to grind. I don't have an ax to grind. I just have love. That's all. And I want to be able to give it to my children. It has nothing to do with being with Cherie or not, and everything to do with wanting to show my children I love them. It's harder for them to understand why they can't talk to me than it is for me to understand why Cherie doesn't see that as a priority. I'm just curious as to why she can't figure that out.