100 Years

Earlier this week, I was paid to play the piano for a funeral at a local Lutheran church. I've been to countless funerals throughout my life, and normally they are not events that plant too firmly into my brain. I don't mean to be heartless; what I mean is: I go to a funeral, I pay my respects, I feel sorrow for the passing of a human being, I mourn with those who linger in love, and I move on. Typically, I find nothing too earth-shattering from my normal pattern occurs.

However, this experience was different. The man being honored was named Carl, and lived to be 100 years old! I didn't know the man, nor did I know anyone there in the congregation. I didn't know what to expect. First of all, I was the only non-white party there. Secondly, this church was located in a town called "Elk Plains," as hick a name as I've ever heard. And thirdly, I was not surrounded by a Mormon crowd, like I'm used to. So I half-expected some uncomfortable scenarios to play out. Maybe a story that laughed at the old guy's semi-racial prejudices, or his senile ways; or a lot of ridiculous tears and wailing.

None of that happened. Instead, one elderly woman married to one of his sons addressed the audience with a list of notable merits Carl earned, a few quirky but lovable tidbits of his character, and a rundown of his family history. She was followed by the testimonies of 4 grandsons and 2 great-grandsons. These testimonies really affected me: these were great men, of great stature, taste, and refinement. They shared their favorite memories of growing up with their Grandpa, and how the man helped mold them into the wonderful fathers, brothers, and husbands they are today. And though the woman before them shed no tears while she spoke, these guys wept openly and appropriately for the man they considered their hero.

What impressed me the most was the obvious theme throughout their testimonials: Carl is a family man. He understood the importance of family bonds, and made sure that that was embedded into the members of each generation of family after him. He exemplified righteous living through the morals he kept, and instilled this in all of the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. He served them in little ways like cooking daily family breakfast, inventing creative embellishments for family stories, and emphasizing the importance of recording and keeping family history. They could not say enough how wonderful a family man Carl is, and how they would never forget that because of his example.

I couldn't help but ponder to myself the kind of life I would want to have lived if I was to look back on it after 100 years. Would I be proud of it? Would my family be proud of it? Will I have posterity to cherish my life? Will I have the opportunity to bless the lives of generations of Mose's to come over the next 70 some-odd years? These are the kinds of questions that continue to haunt me since that day. Sometimes, I can't even see past today, and I'm only 27! Yet going to that funeral taught me that time passes so quickly, and then your time is gone. I so badly want to make my life something worthwhile, something... special. And I'm realizing now that it would mean little to nothing without a family of my own. Just when I was getting used to the idea of being alone the rest of my life...

Where You're Going

Before Jason passed away, I wrote a song for him. I never had the guts to sing it to him, or to anyone else but my brother and his girlfriend. However, the song has served as such a strength to me in helping me cope with his passing, and I'm beginning to wonder if it would do the same for anyone else who has mourned his passing, or the passing of another loved one recently.

So here are the lyrics. Soon, I'll post a video of me performing it...

Where You're Going

Where you're going is beautiful
And the gift of knowing helps keep me whole
'Cause I know that one day I want to be
Where you're going

So will you please save a plot for me
Next to your place, or across the street
'Cause I know that one day I want to be
Where you're going

Promise me you'll wait
To usher me through heaven's gate
I'll meet you there one sweet day
We'll be together again

But until then, I'll do all I can
To be a good friend; I'll try to be as good a man
As you are 'cause I want to be
Where you're going

Where you're going is a special place
There's no crying, there's no sickness, and there's no pain
Everybody's happy to be
Where you're going

So promise me you'll wait
To usher me through heaven's gate
I'll meet you there one, one sweet day
We'll be together again

But til that time comes, I'm gonna live each day
As if it was my last one, and I promise to keep the faith
And walk as you did, 'cause I want to live
In that special place where now you wait
I would give anything to be
Where you're going
Where you're going

The Parable of the Chicken Pot Pie

Jason and I have known each other half of our lives. When we were 12 or 13, he moved from the beautiful islands of Hawaii to the overcast wetlands of Tacoma. Our families became close, and we told people we were cousins.

Then my cousin Sailau came home from Japan when we were 15, and she moved in with us. We became brother and sister, we grew so close during those years. So when she and Jason started dating, we had to make the adjustment from calling Jason our "cousin" to calling him "our sister's boyfriend." Complicated? Try explaining to people why your cousin is dating your sister!

Jason and Sailau were on-again, off-again high school sweethearts that became a beautiful wedded couple. They are so cute together, and watching them grow from teenage lovebirds to parents of 3 children has been entertaining and inspiring. Though their lives have had their own share of drama (like everyone else's), I've been so proud of how much Jason and Sailau have grown and matured as people, as a couple, and as loving parents.

Jason has always been very athletic, very vibrant, and very active. So when I found out that he had cancer, I was a bit shocked. I was even more perturbed when Jason started getting hospitalized. At first, I reacted the way I always do: I went numb, and I steered clear from the situation as much as I could. A month ago, however, Sailau called me, and asked me to come visit her and Jason at the hospice where he was staying. She sounded like she really needed some support, and it was on the way of an area I planned on visiting that afternoon anyway.

I remember walking into that room for the first time: there were only 3 people there: Sailau, Jason, and our cousin Christian. i awkwardly greeted everyone, and sat in a chair. We talked pleasantries for a while before we started making fun of the rich kids on an MTV show that was on. Time went on, and more of it passed by than I originally anticipated before I made a weak exit. They were very appreciative of my little visit, and though I felt anxiety from being there, I felt that I needed to come back again, soon.

I returned the next day, Easter Sunday. Much more of the family was there this time, and I remember feeling closer to them than I had in a very long time. We had a great meal and spent much time talking together, singing for Jason, and enjoying the company of loved ones. Because of my crazy schedule and my lazy habits during the few leisurely weekends I do get to myself, I had chosen not to spend a lot of time with my family, and I'd forgotten how good it could feel to do so. I think I was touched more that day by the love in that hospice room than I had been in a very long time.

I came back to visit Jason every single day after that. I found myself thinking about him and Sailau and the kids constantly while at work, at church, or wherever else I was. After work, my arms and legs would automatically drive me to that hospice house, and I'd visit that room full of love, and be filled by it. Other members of the family would visit daily as well, and we all grew to love each other so much through the service we rendered Jason and his family. During this month, I gained friendships with family I had either barely met or had never known. I saw people of all races, ages, and religious affiliations come through that room to visit Jason, and bond with everyone else there. It has been one of the most incredible phenomenas to watch unravel.

Jason demonstrated this phenomenon to me one afternoon during a quick visit I made before work. He was wide awake and aware, and was in a great mood when I walked into the room. I told him I was there for a quick pitstop, and he offered me food and drink before I lef, like any good family member would. I declined, having no honest appetite at the time. He sighed and told me not to refuse, and once again requested that I visit the kitchen to make myself a plate. I politely turned it down again, explaining that I was truly not hungry, and that I'd take another break soon for lunch. He started getting upset with me, telling me that he really wanted me to eat something, and that he was not kidding. He told me that there was a chicken pot pie on the kitchen table that he was not going to be able to eat, and that wanted me to take it to work with me. After insisting twice more, I finally obliged, and promised I'd take it to work with me. The rest of the family members there coaxed me on, reminding me that Jason really wanted me to do it, and to make him happy. After thanking Jason again, and reassuring him that I really did have the chicken pot pie with me, and promising him that I would eat it, I left the hospice house, and arrived at work 30 minutes before my next lesson would begin.

I remember sitting in the back room, and setting my things down. I noticed a sudden and slight pain in my stomache: I WAS getting hungry after all. I had been up for 4 or 5 hours, and had skipped breakfast. I looked at that chicken pot pie, and immediately thought of Jason. How did he know that this would happen? That I really would get hungry, and need that pie? Gratefully, I sat down and finished that pot pie in 5 minutes flat. It satisfied me more than a chicken pot pie normally would, because I appreciated it more today. To me, that pie represented the love and wisdom of a loved one who refused to back down, and who looked out for his own, despite my stubborness.

Over the next couple weeks, I saw Jason help facilitate growth, healing, and maturation in the lives of all of those around him. Looking back now, I am amazed at the things he was able to accomplish from his hospital bed. He helped mend rifts in relationships that had fallen apart over the last few years, bring together old friends who hadn't spoken in a long time, create everlasting bonds between strangers, release the positive sides of pessimistic people, inspire hope in cynics, and encourage the good in an otherwise cruel world. All through simple things like a forgiving word, a pretty song, or a delicious chicken pot pie.

Last Tuesday, Jason was called back to our heavenly home. At the young age of 25, Jason had already fulfilled his mortal life's measure. There's no doubt he was good at taking care of things in a timely manner; it was obvious how well he'd done that in the way he prepared his wife, his kids, and his family for his departure. Over the last month, Jason taught me a lot about life's biggest priorities: life well-lived before God and yourself, love everlasting that is grown and nurtured through family ties and bonds of true friendship, and the pursuit of happiness that is fulfilled by the measure of your granting it to others. All it took for me to learn this valuable lesson was the cost of gas to get to the hospice house, time well spent visiting my brother in law, and a chicken pot pie I'll never forget.

My big little brother ~

Today is my brother's birthday. I call him my "big little brother" because his stature is larger than my own, and he is younger than me (it was very catchy in a song I wrote to my family; I'll share the lyrics to that song another time). So in honor of his big day, I am dedicating this post to the great wonder that is Vivic:

My mother calls him the "miracle baby." Vivic was born 2 months premature, and more than 2 pounds lighter than the normal healthy newborn. He was named after the doctor that helped preserve his life during his first wee hours. They are the only 2 people I've EVER known with the name Vivic. So when I tell people that they will never meet another Vivic, it's just as literal as it is metaphoric, haha. My mom was always afraid that the complications revolving his birth would implicatively affect him as a person. Boy was she wrong! Vivic, since day one, has NEVER let anything get in his way.

Vivic is the youngest of the four of us. So naturally, he was a little more spoiled (he will never admit that to you, but it's true). But he was a great kid. He always thought for himself. He would get into a lot of trouble because of it, too. Whenever my parents would scold him for things, and tell him to do or not to do something, he ALWAYS asked "Why?" And if he wasn't satisfied with the answer he got, he'd ask again. And again. And again. He's relentless, haha. But it was always something I found admirable.

Most kids who are born premature are typically shorter, or smaller than other children. Not Vivic. He's always been larger than life. He was never an obese guy. But he's definitely not starving, haha. And he's got such a big personality. My brother has always been a clown. He has quite an inate sense of human humor. He can get anyone, and I mean ANYONE, to laugh. And the best part about it is he doesn't even have to try! Vivic has more energy than most people I know, and others feed off of it when he's in the room. It is a wonderful sort of energy that draws you in and keeps you there. It is a healthy, positive, vital type of energy.

But I think all in all, it's his heart that counts the most. Vivic has the biggest heart. He may not be the warmest person, or the most affectionate. But he is probably one of the most generous. He is quick to forgive, and quick to forget. He does whatever he can for me because he loves me. I already shared in a previous blog one of my most memorable and intimate experiences with Vivic. He is living proof that blood really is thicker than water. He puts me before almost everybody and everything else. He respects me, and tries so hard to make me happy. He is my best friend! And he is so worth getting to know. To know him is to love him! He is popular in many social circles because of his wit and charm. And not that he's 21 years old, those circles are only going to grow even larger!

I doubt he'll read this, but in case he does, I want Vivic to know that he is the best brother in the world! I could not have dreamed up a better brother for me, ever. I thank God that Vivic is in my life, and that we will be together, eternally bound by the ties of brotherhood. I am so blessed to have the best big little brother, and I love him.

Happy Birthday, Vivic!!!

Christmas 2008

Every Christmas, my parents put on a very large Holiday Get-Together with relatives, friends, and missionaries from our church. We typically get anywhere between 20 - 50 people together. For me, it's quite the ordeal. I would much rather have a quieter Christmas with just immediate family. I prefer a more intimate holiday, at home, with little hustle and bustle. Every Christmas, I complain that it's too crowded, too busy, and too noisy, and ask if next year, we can have a traditional stay-at-home family Christmas. Every year, my parents say, "Maybe next Christmas;" and I take it as a "no."

I guess you'd have to know my family a little bit to totally understand. My parents are very generous, loving, God-fearing people. They will give the shirt off their backs to any stranger they thought could use it, even if that stranger already had 3 shirts on. They have always been very popular with my friends, especially at Halloween: my parents would take all of our hard-earned candy, and give it to all of the other kids at school, just to make sure they all had some. It didn't matter if there were any left for us, as long as our friends were happy.

I remember, 6 years ago, when I told my mother that I couldn't go on a mission because I'd broken the law of chastity. Her first question was, "With a girl?" After I shook my head, she asked, "With a boy?" I felt so ashamed as I nodded, I thought she was going to disown me. She sighed, and said, "Oh, son! If it were a girl, it would be okay, we could fix it. But it was with a boy, so I don't know!" I was so shocked, I laughed. We spent the next 3 hours, analyzing my situation and hypothesizing as to why I had feelings for other boys. She was even able to pinpoint one of my ex's, and asked if we'd been intimate. Mothers always know! She felt guilty, she asked if it was her fault that I didn't like girls. I laughed, and gingerly reassured her that it was no one's fault, that it was something I dealt with, and didn't know why.

My mother asked me not to share this with my dad, that she would tell him herself. I was so grateful, I had no idea how to do it. Telling my mother ended up being so much easier than I ever dreamed it would be. My father was not so understanding. She told him that evening as the went to bed. He hardly slept. He cried; in fact, he cried for the next 3 days. He didn't look or talk to me during this time, it was so difficult for him to accept. After the 3rd day, he pulled me aside, very early in the morning, to talk to me about it. I felt so bad for him, to have to deal with the realization that his oldest child, the second man of the family, was unworthy to serve a mission, and worse, was a homosexual. I promised that I would fix things in my life, and that I would be more careful around boys. He half-heartedly believed me, but I could tell this burden would be very heavy for him. He went on to carry it in a very heavy manner for the next couple years, and gradually found solace and comfort as he shared this burden with a dear friend who also was going through the same thing with one of his sons, as he shared it with my sister, and as he grew comfortable enough to joke about it with me.

The older of my two younger sisters was the first sibling I talked to about SSA. She had a hard time with it in the beginning, much like my father. She even lashed out angrily at me from time to time, in frustration and disappointment. She stayed my close friend, though, and I'm so grateful for her support. She is now serving a mission in Las Vegas, and is fulfilling a dream my parents have always had for their children.

My other sister was the last person in the family that I became open to about SGA. I never actually came out and told her; she just always had the sense about me, and I realized one day that we were talking about homosexuality openly, and she was hanging out with me and my gay friends, and she was very comfortable and very much herself. She's now married, and living in Utah with her wonderful husband.

My brother was the most touching when it came to coming out to my family. It was in the afternoon, and I was hanging out with him in his bedroom, talking to him as he cleaned it. I was 20 now, and he was only 15 years old. I don't remember exactly what lead us to the conversation; I just remember receiving the distinct impression that it was okay to share my struggles with SGA with him. I remember telling him, and he stopped what he was doing, looked up at me, and said, "Wait, really?" I told him, "Yes, really." He stood up, smiled at me, and said, "Wow, you know... I didn't know. But I don't care. I love you, you're my brother. If it were someone else, I might care, but it's you, and I don't care." He gave me a big hug, and I stood there, shocked beyond comprehension. I was overwhelmed by the love he showed me, and as I hugged him back, I thanked God that I had such an amazing 15 year old brother. He is one of my very best friends to this day, and has the best gay-dar on a straight man that I've ever met! When recounting this event to him the other night, I almost cried, and he laughed, and remarked, "Wow, I was pretty open-minded, even at 15!"

This year, my sister's aren't going to make it to our Christmas gathering. And, yes, my parents are still putting on a huge Christmas thing, with tons of people, tons of noise, and tons of bustle. But at least I'll have my parents, and I'll have my brother. I am so grateful for them, and the love that they have shown me, all through the years. Sure, they can drive me crazy, but this year, as I celebrate Christ's birth with these people that love me so much, I'm going to remember why I love them so much, and I'm going to smile.

Anniversary

November is a very emotionally intense month for me, every year. I don't know if the weather affects me a strange way this time of year or not, or if it's because the holidays are here, or because I'm always single in November. Maybe none of those things affect me, or maybe they all do. I think the biggest factor, though, is the fact that November marks my anniversary of the split from my college sweetheart back in '01.

It's kinda pathetic, seeing as it happened 7 years ago now. It's significant, though, because it catapulted a great series of events that brought me to where I am today. I don't know exactly why, but I feel impressed to share this experience for the first time in writing:

I called him Ty Ty. I met him through his best friend and roommate, J., whom I thought was beautiful and super nice. One night, J. invited me to hang out with him and his rommies. I accepted, only to find out that it was a group date - haha. I was the 7th wheel that night! Still, I knew the 3rd roommie who was in the group, and all the girls were super nice. I remember stuffing myself on the floor in front of the passenger seat of Ty Ty's truck, while the others squashed onto seats. Ty made sure I was comfortable as possible as he drove us out to the dunes for a movie night. After that night, I became an unofficial roommate to their household. Ty, J., and I became the best of friends, practically inseparable.

A month after we met, Ty Ty and I decided to go back to the dunes alone. We ended up coming out to each other, had a romantical evening, and came back home in the morning in time to watch General Conference. We kept things pretty innocent for 3 weeks. We shared every dirty secret we'd never spoken before, and grew to love each other more than I thought was ever possible. One night, we slipped up, and went way farther than we ever meant to. We felt terrible at first, but we didn't slow down. We kept things up for another month, before Ty Ty felt so guilty that he put our romantic relationship to an end. I was so numb by now, that I didn't feel the same way Ty did. I was so used to living the double life that I didn't try to fix it. But Ty was trying to be good, and get right; I respected that, and I tried to move on. Just after Thanksgiving, at the end of November, I found myself losing grip on the one person I could share EVERYTHING with.

Throughout the remainder of the school year, I became more and more distanced from J. and Ty Ty, and I built relationships with other guys whom I could potentially share everything with. But no one was Ty Ty. Deep down inside, I was still so in love with him that I couldn't share certain intimate things with the other friends I made. I left all of that behind in November.

In April, Ty and I hung out again. We were in a very nostalgic mood, and we had one more intimate moment that did not go as far as we did in November. We went our separate ways after that, me still totally numb, and Ty suffering so much that he decided to try and take care of it.

In June, I got called into my bishop's office. I thought we were going to work on my mission papers. My parents thought I was going in to interview for the Melchizedek Priesthood. We were all wrong. The bishop received a call from Ty Ty's bishop, revealing my deepest, darkest secret to someone I never was going to tell. I was caught off guard, and as I listened to the bishop speak to me, I knew it was over. Today was the day that I would have to choose which way to go. He asked me why I hadn't told him anything til now; I told him the truth: I was scared, and I didn't want to hurt my family.

I remember the drive home from the office with my mother. She knew something was wrong. I ended up spilling this terrible part of me with her for 3 hours. She listened supportively, not totally understanding me, but she let me know she still loved me, and gave me wonderful motherly advice. She told me not to tell my father, that she'd worry about it. She told him herself, and he avoided me for 3 days as he cried. They both blamed themselves, and I reassured them that it was NOT their fault. They continued to support me, and encouraged me to participate in the local single's ward.

That's where I met my best friend Tommy. He took me out to a late dinner one night after FHE, and asked if I dealt with feelings for the same sex. I opened up to him, and we conversated the entire rest of the evening about things we had in common. It was so nice to finally have someone else around that understood me. I told him how I got disfellowshipped, and shared my experience with the bishop. He was surprised that I got outted to the bishop without an opportunity to come forth of my own accord and confess my sins. He asked how I felt about it. I realized that I wasn't angry at all. I thought about Ty in Idaho, and how hard it must have been for him to talk to his bishop. I thought about how tough it must have been for him to tell his bishop about me, and to know that his bishop would contact mine. I knew how much he suffered before, and how numb I was. I knew that if it weren't for Ty, I would still be stuck in the corner of my own closet, and I would never have talked to my bishop, my parents, and maybe not even Tommy. I decided I was grateful that Ty told his bishop.

In September, Tommy and my other besty Jerr Berr took me to my first EG Conference in SLC. It was a great experience for me, meeting other guys in the church who dealt with the same struggles I deal with. The big bonus for me? After 5 long months, Ty and I got to see each other and talk. He felt terrible for what happened to me, and spent the entire summer worried about it. I told him how I felt, and we enjoyed a pleasant night - as friends.

Something wonderful and terrible happened: I was brought closer to God, and had my life changed immensely for the good thanks to what Ty did for me. What happened to Ty Ty? He lacked the support system I had, and he gave way to the world. The boy who once suffered because of all the guilt he felt decided to stop feeling it by giving in to things that numbed him the way they numbed me. I felt terrible! Why couldn't I have been a positive force for Ty when he needed one? Instead, I was a bad influence. How ironic: the one that should have been saved because of his decisions ended up saving the lost boy that wasn't even trying to be saved.

When November came back around, I was a totally different boy from the one that existed the previous November. I was on the path to getting my life back in order, a path that was totally different from the one I was on just a year prior.

Every November, I am reminded of the tender mercies of the Lord, and for the wonderful people He's placed into my life. I would not be where I am today without them. I am also reminded, though, of the beautiful one who was lost. To this day, I still blame myself for what's happened to Ty, and will forever regret the fact that I was much too weak and selfish to help someone who positively changed my life forever.

T-Day

It's Thanksgiving guys! You know what that means: turkey, family, and stretched pants! Haha, I'm going to be cliche and tell you what I'm grateful for today, but I'm going to keep it to my top 10 things.

TOP 10 THINGS EJ's GRATEFUL TO HAVE

10. Motorized Vehicles - Man, the ability to go and see any part of the world within hours, or the opportunity to be at someone's side within minutes... what a blessing. Cars, airplanes, boats - if a place exists, we can typically get there without too much trouble.

9. Clothing - Getting dressed is so much fun! Mixing and matching colors, patterns, washes, styles, layers - I know, not always the most exciting thing, but it can be! Building up your own personal wardrobe can be such an adventure, and it's an opportunity to express yourself in a unique way, without wasting words.

8. Plumbing - For pretty obvious reasons, right? Getting those clothes you love laundered within an hour or so, taking a nice hot bath at the end of a stressful day, or quickly removing evidence of a visit to a man about a horse; I am grateful EVERY DAY that I live in this day and age where I'm not spending a lot of time boiling water, or digging holes.

7. Modern Day Technology - Some of my favorite pastimes include watching Heroes and Ugly Betty, playing video games, talking to loved ones on the phone, and blogging. Get it?

6. Food - When I'm stressed, I eat. When I'm happy, I eat. When I'm bored, I eat. When I'm hungry, I eat. Don't ask where it goes, I just know I put it in my face.

5. Good Friends - Man was not meant to walk alone, right? Thank goodness, 'cause it'd make for a pretty boring life. I've had wonderful people leave special marks on my life over the course of my young lifetime so far, and I'm grateful for their love and support.

4. My Health - It's brought me so many blessings that I rarely think about. But man, it's so important to me. My job relies on it, my callings rely on it, I rely on it. I thank God that I have my health.

3. Music - My soul: music lives in me, and I breathe it in order to survive. It's what has helped me to sort through my emotions, understand others' perspectives on life, and gain testimony of things that God would have me know are true. It's the most personal thing I'm willing to openly share with people. I love music!

2. My Eternal Family - I have the most AWESOME family in the world! My parents are always there for me, and are quick to respond to my needs. My sisters are beautiful, and are my angels. My brother is my best friend, and is my right hand man. I am so grateful to have my family, and to be sealed to them forever.

1. A Loving Godhead - I could never express truly how grateful I am for a loving Heavenly Father, who has done much for my preservation. He listens to my prayers, and answers, even when I forget to be grateful. He sent His son Jesus Christ, who bore all of my sins and afflictions. He is the truest friend. And there is no denying the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life. He has affirmed truth to me on so many occasions, and has brought my soul comfort in so many instances. I would not still be here if it weren't for these three loving companions.

So Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Eat, drink, and be merry, but not the way you're not supposed to.... right. I love you guys!

Beautiful Day

I started out the day today listening to that song I keep talking about: Beyonce's "Halo." I can't help it; it's so beautiful. It's a poignant tune that she sings to someone who has gotten her to fall in love again because of his goodness, even though she had built walls to keep love out. He broke through them with his halo, haha. I know, sounds dumb, but I love it!

I walked into work, and the very first thing that happened was my co-worker Prema handed me a gift-wrapped box. It contained candy canes, a hot-cocoa packet, and an invitation to a white elephant party. It was adorable, with rhymes and everything! At lunch time, I spoke with my sister Audrey on the phone for about 10 minutes, just to catch up. I bumped into an old friend, Wasami, from high school, and her beautiful little boy. And on my way back to work, I got to help push the vehicle of a distraught woman out of the way of traffic, and to a place of safety. The only other gentleman that came to her rescue was such an angel, and his wife was so kind to wait and allow her husband to play the good Samaritan. The entire rest of the evening was pleasant, and I really have nothing to complain about tonight.

I thank God above for wonderful days like this: days when I get to see the beauty and good in people; days when I get to enjoy simple things; days when I get to be useful and needed; days when I can feel the love God has for his children and for me.

And I live to tell!

Today proved to be a very humbling one. I should have known things wouldn't turn out so well when I refuted the prompting to pray this morning. While driving to work, one of my tires started stripping away badly. The car shook violently, and I was able to pull off to the side safely, thanks to some divine help. I got out of the car to look at the damage, and this is what I saw... (Ugly, so bad)

I was so grateful that things weren't any worse. The Lord preserved me once again, despite my insolence. Man am I stupid sometimes, haha. My brother, whom I was speaking to on the phone at the time of the incident, notified his girlfriend and my parents, and rallied their aid immediately. Karen arrived at the scene not 5 minutes later, and my parents were only 3 minutes behind her. Karen dropped me off at work, while my parents went and purchased a new tire, and replaced my old one. They dropped my car off at my place of work way before my lunch time so I could use it, and even put some more gas in the tank. Vivic called again later to check on the progress of my car, and make sure I was okay.

I realized again today how truly blessed I am, and how mindful the Lord is of me. I felt terrible for choosing not to pray this morning, after receiving the small but distinct prompting to do it. I've repented since, and thanked the Lord for being with me today, and allowing me the opportunity to learn from my mistakes, and to grow and mature spiritually. I am so grateful for my family, for the eternal bond we share, and how quick they are to respond to my needs. I love them so much, and thank the Lord that I am so blessed to have them in my life.