Transitions and Tender Mercies

Well it has been far too long since I have blogged. Life never seems to slow down and sometimes it seems like its just full throttle and you hope and trust that some higher power is in control. The past fews weeks only attest to this fact. Im so grateful that we have a loving Heavenly Father who allows us to go through trials but allows us to see so many tender mercies. One of my favorite talks I have heard in the past few years was the one by President Henry B. Eyring about adversity. I highly recommend it. He explains why we are allowed to have trails and how be can cope with them and find peace in serving others.

Recently my Father underwent major open heart surgery a few weeks ago. While at first this was scary, it turned out to be a major blessing. He went in for a check up and was told that he had to have the operation stat. The doctors were surprised he had not already had a heart attack. The surgery went great and he is recovering well. I was glad it happend close to when school got out so I could be home to help. While there is never really an opportune time for something like this, it happend at a time where my dad could get excellent medical help and our family could be there to help him, since he has always been there for us.

Part of the fun of all this was that the surgery took place in San Francisco, and my family had drivin a rental car out there from denver. So, my sister and I embarked on the great adventure of driving from San Fran to denver, to drop off the rental car. This in and of its self would have been an adventure, however, we had to drive our families car back out to cali. This was all said and done over the course of four days. Needless to say, the 2,600 mile journey was a full of music and an obscene amount of caffeinated beverages and my new favorite, Fruit Punch flavored Rockstar.  I even got nailed with my first ticket in wyoming...im not proud of it but as my buddy Thatcher told me, "your now a real man!" haha! Not many people can say they drove 42 hours over the course of four days but it give one a lot of time to think and reevaluate your life.

I realized I've been home from my mission for a year and that is straight up craziness! It makes me glad because in many ways, I should have either a) not been alive or b) handicapped. So even though the summer break has been nuts, i'm glad i've been able to be around to help. Ever since my mission I feel like i've had been given a new lease on life. I can be that guy who helps out or be there for people because under normal conditions, I shouldn't be around. It changes the way you look at life. Potencial disappointments suddely become opportunities that im grateful that I was allowed to be a part of. It also gives a certain sense of purpose like you have a misson or something you need to accomplish in life because clearly it wasnet your time to go. Overall it gives me a greater desire to be a better and more effective instrument in the Lords hands to serve others.

I've mainly come to realize there are very few things that matter most; family, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, friends, education and helping others. Every day we are surrounded by people who need somebody either to listen to them, be nice or be a friend. People in Provo constantly seemed to be held back by the idea that everyone around them is doing well, they have the Gospel, they are going to school or have a job, and there is really no, "real opportunities to serve."While at first this line of thinking seems logical, I have found it false. After having moved so much growing up and being the "new kid" I've learned that there are always so many people who need kindness or friendship. Some of the most rewarding experiences I have had at college so far have been when I have been able to make a difference in someones day. It's never been big stuff but being nice takes really so little time and relative effort and makes such a difference. Being on both ends of giving and receiving, I think its fair to say that when we really try to live the Gospel in the way we act and treat others, we see its optimizing effect not only in the lives of those we touch, but in our own. The would would have us be so self centered and self absorbed, but Christ has showed us how we should forget ourselves and focus on lifting and helping others. Amazingly, this is how we truly find ourselves.

One of the greatest lessons my parents taught me growing up was if your feeling down, look around and try to find somebody who is or might be having a hard time and try to server them. Service to others is the balm that heals the soul. Selfiness is pervasive in our society and it can even feel strange or a little awkward to try to be of service to others, but I can tell you that this simple solution to this common problem works every time. For example, the other week, a few of us went to a center for autistic young adults. As we talked and played with them, everyone felt happy. As we left, my friend turned to us and said, "next time im having a bad day, im coming here!"

Its amazing how simple and yet profund the Gospel of Jesus Christ is. As we just strive to live it, things work out. We are not exempt from the hardships of life, but as the wise man who built his house upon the rock, we are better able to weather to stoms of life that come our way. My invitation is next time your feeling down on life, go find someone who could use some kindness and do something to help. The Lord helps us as we try to help others. It works every time!

Charity & Forgiveness: the pathway from pain to peace

I have wanted to write about charity and forgiveness for a long time. These two things are not only vital concepts, but also commandments. The Lord has taught us that we need to forgive everyone, including ourselves. The ancient Book of Mormon prophet Moroni also taught the crucial importance of charity. He stated that if a person does not, "have not charity, he is nothing." (Moroni 7:44) He even further explains that we should pray unto Heavenly Father with, "all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of Christ." (Moroni 7:48) Put simply, in order to be more like God, we must love others more perfectly, with the Christ like love of Charity, which helps allow us to forgive.

Now that all seems simple enough, but what about when something happens and you are deeply hurt, or someone else who you know and love is hurt, or when you make poor choices and hurt yourself? We need this pure love of Christ to be able to reach out and love and in many cases forgive others as well as our selves. 

Is there a strong correlation between charity and forgiveness? I would argue that to a large degree, the answer would be a resounding yes! But how? I will try to illustrate with to personal examples from my life that occurred while I serving an LDS mission in the South Pacific:

The first experience occurred when I had been out on my mission for about a year. A lady who was interested in joining our faith decided she wanted to be baptized into the Church. This was great news! We the missionaries were ecstatic. I had only been serving in the area for two weeks and she had been taught in another area, which meant I knew little of her situation or preparation for this sacred ordinance. As we tried to work with the local church leaders to plan the baptism for this lady, it became clear that something was amiss. I tried to explain that we needed make sure this good woman was prepared properly and had been taught the basic lessons and was keeping her engagements. The ligitament concern was taken as a lack of support. I tried to explain how the process worked, privately after the regular Sunday meetings, but something backfired. I became a little frustrated because if this lady was baptized without being properly taught or interviewed by the proper authority, it would not be valid, since convert baptism are under the priesthood keys held by the presiding mission president, delegated to the missions, not the local leadership. Once baptized members, the new members would then be under the care and jurisdiction of his or her local priesthood leadership. It seemed clear that this very basic doctrine had never been really taught to the man I was trying to work with. The situation became heated, so I left the room and gave a little smack to the door with a rolled up piece of paper in my hand. This ignited the anger in this good brother who then jumped to his feet, grabbed me by my shirt and hauled/shoved me into his office, slamming the door behind him. He then proceeded to yell into my face from two inches away. I was terrified. I thought I was going to get my face punched in. I said one of the fastest prayers of my life and did some fast-talking till he cooled down and let me leave. 

The next day I went to this mans house with another missionary and after being torn over what to do, decided that all I could do was ask forgiveness for whatever I may have done to have caused a problem. I mostly wanted to give the man an opportunity to ask forgiveness from me because I felt I had been so wronged when I was just doing my job and was following the established doctrinal way of planning and organizing this type of event. I was so upset that I had been treated in such an abusive way when I had not created the problem but had only tied to help solve it. However, I learned a powerful lesson. 

I asked him to forgive me and told him I was very sorry and would do all I could to help set things strait. He listened and said little. Finally, he invited me to close with a prayer. I prayed my heart out for him, his family, the branch and the lady who was to be baptized. Afterwards, we embraced and parted ways. Even though he had not asked forgiveness of me, I could forgive him and he forgave me. I was freed from the guilt and the festering anger that had been boiling up inside me over the injustice of it all. I needed to forgive him more for me that for him. I was able to move on and not be held back so to speak.

The second incident occurred at the end of my mission. I have already blogged about the event. It was when a drunk man assaulted me while on a ferry with my companion to another island. Initially, the man had seen our nametags with the inscription, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and asked if we represented the Catholic or Protestant faith. We gently explained that while me had many similarities and values as these two faiths, we were, in fact, different and distinct, having an unique message about how God has once again reached out in love to help save His children. This did not sit well with the man. He decided that we could not possibly be "Christians." We explained that, on the contrary, we considered ourselves very Christen, since we believed in Christ and His atonement and tried to follow His teachings and apply them in our lives. 

The situation went from bad to worse. Sensing the severity of the situation, I deiced we should try to find another place to sit on the boat and maybe talk to the captain to get some help. As I was standing next to the seat where my companion was sitting, the man in a fit of sudden explosive anger leaped from his seat and started to come at me. As missionary we consider ourselves as official representitives of Jesus Christ, and as such, peacemakers and non-combatants. I tried for a few seconds to dissuade the man form what he was about to do but to no avail. All too late I realized, I was about to get my light punched out, I started to turn to run for safety or help. The man was about 6 foot 8 inches and maybe 320 pounds. I knew that there was no other way than trying to run, to escape being hurt. As I started to turn, he struck me on the side of the head. The hit threw me down the aisle and I landed like a rag doll, crumpled on the floor. 

Everyone on the boat leapt to his or her feet to stop the man and help me but the damage was done. I went into shock and could not breath normally for the reminder of the 30 min boat ride to the next island. Upon arriving, the police boarded the boat and removed the man then escorted my companion and me off the boat. They drove me to the very small and primitive ER on the island. The man who had assaulted me was in the back seat of the same car, handcuffed and looking dazed and despondent.  

Upon arriving at the mini hospital, I suddenlty felt the overwhelming urge to talk to the man who had hit me. He was hand cuffed and slightly sedated from something the police had used to get him off the boat. I asked the lead police officer if I could have a word with the man. He gave me a funny look but consented. I got out of the front and walked to the back of the car. I looked at the man and told him I was sorry if there had been anything I had done that had provoked him. I told him that I did not know his name and he did not know mine. I knew he had not hit me in a sense, but He whom I had tried to represent for two years. I told him to never touch another missionary like me again. Then I remmembered the short Mormon Ad film I had watched the week before on forgiveness. I had thought to myself at the time how much I wanted to commit to forgive no matter what. I again looked strait at this and man and said, "look we may not be considered Christens to you or others, but we strive to be Christ-like. For this reason, I can forgive you for what you have done to me, because it is what Christ would have me do."

I then proceed into the ER to get checked out as the patrol car drove off to the station to deal with the legal process of handling the incident with this man. The only doctor on call was in the middle of a life and death operation and asked if I could wait a few miniutes before he saw me. This I did gladly, because, as I figured at the time, I was just a bit shaken up and maybe had a black eye or something. 

It was not until 48 hours later I realized the gravity of what had happened. My neck and back pain continued to worsen and got to the point it was hard to walk or do anything. It was Sunday, two days after the hit, when the thought crossed my mind that this might cost me the rest of my mission. I wouldn’t let myself think about it. But this thought kept coming back. I felt a since that. My mission was coming to a close and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Hot tears fell down my face as I faced the reality of the situation. I thought to myself, "why did I forgive that man?! he took from me all that I really wanted, the oppertunity to server the Lord full time as a missionary. Was that not a righteous desire? How could this happen?" As my mind started trying to grapple with these questions, the Sprit taught me a powerful lesson that I will never forget: I didn’t need to forgive the man for his sake but for mine. I could not fully access the healing power of the Atonement if I did not forgive him. He had cost me so much more that I ever could have dreamed, yet the Lord had given me an opportunity to further try and acquire the Christ-like virtue for which I had only the night before pled with Lord to bestow upon me, even charity. 

Now I don't want to scare anyone into thinking that if you pray for charity, you will get punched out by a huge island man the next day. No. Or even that life may become suddenly very difficult. What I am trying to convey is that, when we pray for spiritual gifts, the Lord will rarely if ever give them to us directly; rather, I believe that He will give us situation to exercise these gifts.

At First, I maybe thought I had to forgive the man to prove that Mormons were Christians or even that I had charity. But, as my mind has pondered over this I have come to the conclusion as to perhaps why the Lord has commanded us to forgive all me. It is so that He, the Lord, can heal us. Forgiveness is the pathway that leads us away from the pain and injustice and refocuses us on Christ, His perfect example and Atonement. He not only could forgive all the very men who crucified him as he was being put to his death, but he had also being wiling to pay the ultimate price, in atoning for the sins and mistakes of the whole human family. Being able to forgive, provided me with an exit to the endless the common cycle of hate, remorse and feelings of revenge. That is why I believe the Lord has asked us to forgive all men their trespasses against us. It is not so much to help the offender, but the offended. The Atonement of Jesus Christ covers both aspects of the situation: comforting those hurt by the actions of others while also helping the he whoever has trespassed the eternal laws of God. 

Forgiveness and charity are like two best friends. Where you find one, you find the other. When you pray to obtain one, you will likely acquire the other in the process. 

My invitation to anyone who may have been wronged or who may have wronged others, is this: seek this pure of Christ, even charity and forgive others, or seek forgiveness from them, yourself  and most importantly, God. Let go of the pain. Share this burden with He who has trodden the wine press alone. Christ suffered to we would not have to if we would simply turn to Him, and share our burdens and seek to righteousness and to keep the commandments. I can testify that if you do, you will feel the sweet love that results from forgives in your heart. You will be able to love others more like how God loves them, seeing in them their divine potential and be able to love them unconditionally and perfectly, being filled with Charity, even the "greatest of all, for all things must fail--But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever, and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.'' (Moroni 7:46-47)

Why I love going to Church on Sundays

I love Sundays and I love going to Church. Your thinking, “Dallin your crazy man!” But I’m not haha, let me explain why I feel that way...

When I was a kid, Sundays = no fun! I felt like it was the day I couldn’t do anything! In my family, we don’t shop, attend sporting events or play sports on Sunday. We went to church for THEE HOURS and when you’re a kid, three hours is an eternity! Sunday to me early on was a drag.

As I grew older, I began to see the wisdom in what my parents had taught me. My weeks became more stressful and busier. Suddenly, I need time off my busy week. Sundays became an oasis of peace in the middle of a hectic week. By not working, doing homework, or competing in some athletic event, I was able to re-center and refocus on what was most important in my life.

Then there was Church. I liked my friends and my teachers, but it just seemed so long! But that changed for me as well. Suddenly, church was exciting and insightful. My teachers prepared and taught wonderful lessons on gospel topics. The talks in sacrament meeting were interesting and applicable.

Sundays became a cherished day to me. A day to “rest from my labors” and think about what really matters most. At home, it was super chill. We attended church as a family, then would come home and usually have a nice family dinner and talk about our weeks and what we had learned at church. It was a quiet day, and very relaxing. Sometimes, I would even take a lovely and much needed nap.

This all changed when I began my two-year service mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Sundays were still great but, they became almost my busiest day of the week! A typical Sunday on the mission went kind of like this: wake up at 6:30am, eat breakfast, personally scripture study, many phone calls to coordinate rides for our investigators and less active members, a long bus ride to the chapel, attend church, teach Sunday school and then soak up a wonderful lesson during Priesthood. Then, we would eat a big lunch with a member family, after which we would hit the streets and go teach and proselyte till it was time to go home at 9:00pm. Sundays were packed! But they are the best days to talk to people about Christ because most people were at home with their families and understand that for one reason or another, Sunday is was a special day.  I grew to love Sundays even more because they provided such a unique opportunity to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

On the mission, we would teach people the principle of the Sabbath day with an analogy of a battery. As you go throughout the week, your “energy” (spiritual and otherwise) is somewhat depleted. Then Sunday rolls around and it’s a chance to get “recharge” for the up coming week!

Sundays are now full of family time, Church and fun! I love spending quality time with my family and close friends and having gospel centered discussions. I love attended Church with my local congregation. It feels like a second family, a close nit community where I feel needed and belong.

So if you are feeling a little low or worn out from the demands of life, I invite you to put the Lord to the test and try to more fully observe the Sabbath day by resting from your labors and attending a worship service at Church. I can promise you that you will feel the blessings that accompany all who try and abide by this eternal law. Now I can honestly say, I love Sundays!

When life doesn't work out as planed and running the BolderBOULDER!

 This past week has been, in a word, epic! I have experienced so much joy, pain and love. Let me explain. I'll start with monday. Two words: BolderBOULDER! ok so that's just one word, and I figured out that it was "bolder Boulder" not "BoulderBoulder" as I had always assumed my whole life. So much for being a colorado native. That ranks up there in shockers with figuring out the "D" in Disney is really a "D" and not a backwards "G." So yea, I have a way good friend who convinced me to run it with her and I talked my bro into running it as well. Its a 10km race with over 50,000 participants! It ranks among the largest of races in the USA. Add to that the setting of Boulder, and you have a legendary race! The guy who won it, ran it in about 30mins, averaging about 4:55 a mile. I thought I did well running it under an hour, that is until I realized that I finished in like 18,000th place haha, no joke! It all depends how you look at it though. I could say I finished in the top 2/5ths or that I did it in less than an hour, with little training (a terrible idea by the way) or I can just happily claim that I ran the BolderBoulder with my bro and one of my best friends. I like the last one the best!

Why was running the race such a big deal to me? Because I was able to run and finnish it. Your thinking, "um no big deal Dallin. So did 50,000 other people." And I would agree with you except for the fact of how grateful I am to be able to play sports and run again.

Last August, it would have been out of the question. Three months prior to the close of my two year volunteer LDS service mission, I was assaulted by a drunk/high guy while on a ferry with my companion, from one Island to another. He, as stated, was very drunk and upset that we had name tags which stated the name of the Church we represented, The Church of Jesus Christ, of Latter-day Saints. He asked if we were Catholic or Protestant, and when we explained that, while have many similarities to both of these major religions, we were in fact different. He didn't like that answer and told us to get out of the islands because we were not welcome. We tried to explain, we are just there to help and server, not force anyone to listen to us or convert, we only want to add to the truths they already believe. He said we could not be Christians. Realizing the situation was getting out of hand fast, I told my companion we needed to move to another part of the boat. As I stood, waiting for my companion to get his stuff, the guy suddenly flipped out, jumped out of his seat and came at me. I backed up and told him to chill when I realized all too late that he was going attacked me regardless, I started to turn to run, but just as I pivoted left to right to turn tail and run away, he hit me right to left across the face, hard enough that I momentarily blacked out. I was thrown down the aisle like a rag doll.  As soon as he hit me, everyone else on the boat jumped to their feet to stop him from further attacking me and they picked me up off the floor and held me like some little school beat up school boy.

Thankfully only sustained torn ligaments and soft tissue in my neck and back, not to mention a pretty bad concussion, the extent of which I would only learn about later. I was scared and shaken up but I thought it was no big deal, I had played contact sports in high school, and I would be fine. Or so I thought. As it turned out, even with the very limited medical equipment they had on the small island, the doctor determined I was hurt pretty bad and needed to get to a major hospital, back on the major Island. The only catch was, the next boat back, was in three days. And the next flight was in about a week. Thankfully, we got tickets for the boat back after three days and I was able to see the doctor in Noumea. He could tell it was bad and that i needed expert medical care. They figured that my neck was fractured or broken in certain parts, meaning that peices of bone were just free floating, and if jared could severally injur my spine, even paralize me. By this point, my mission president had consulted with the Area medical doctor and my family and the Area Presidency, and they had all determined that the best corse of action was to send me home, to the states, to recive the medical care I needed. This meant, the end of my mission, due to the fact that I only had 12 weeks left, 6 of which were part of my request to extened. It was a crushing blow. It all happend so fast. Within a week of the incident, I found myself on an airplain to New Zeland, then to L.A. and then home.

I was only in colorado a few days before I flew out to St. Louis, to see one of the top orthopedic surgeons in the country. It just so happened, that my father had recently met the guy a few months before, and he was working very closely with him. After two MRI's, a CAT scan and a full body bone scan, the doctor could not believe that my neck or back was not broken or fractured in any way. He told me I had been very fortunate. He explained that had the man hit me a little harder, it would have paralyzed me form the neck, down. Had he hit me a little harder than that, it would have snapped may neck and killed me. Big gulps. I think the term is protected or blessed as opposed to fortunate, but all the same I was grateful to be alive and walking.  Thanks to him and a great team of physical therapists, they set me back on the right course towards recovery. After about two and a half weeks in St. Louis, I flew back to Denver and started the long road to recovery. They set me up with a great physical therapy place here and I went every day for about a month, then four to five days a week for the next two months. At the end of six months, i only had to go once or twice a week, as long as I worked out personally at the gym, strengthening my neck and back muscles. Now, I no longer have to do physical therapy, and am back about 95% of where I was about a year ago.

In addition to the physical recovery, was the concussion. I hadn't really realized it, but as time went on, I learned that I had lost most of my short term memory capacity. This became a joke with my friends and family but was also super frustrating. Even once, I had a girl tell me I was just like the movie, "50 First Dates" haha because I would forget so many little things that it was like a first date every time! I even introduced myself to one guy who ended up being a great friend, no less than three times over the course of a few days haha! My plan was to return to BYU for the winter semester to continue my education, but due to the physical therapy and loss of my short term memory, it just was not feasible at the time. Thankfully, as time as gone on, I have gotten a ton better and now I'm almost back to normal with my memory!

This is all to say, running the BolderBOULDER was a big deal to me. I only knew maybe five or six or those 50,000+ and almost no one would have know me or my situation. That is why in life, it is so important to not be judgmental. We run along in the race of life, and only see how well we are "doing" relative to the other participants. We don't know their stories or backgrounds or the trails they are going through or the weight on their shoulders. Yet we have the common bond of being in it together. Some walk, jog or full on sprint, but eventually we all finnish and "return home."

I honestly feel so blessed to have been able to serve the Lord for two years by serving the people of New Caledonia. I love them so much and I have felt their love for me and the Savior. I don't believe the Lord orchestrated the accident, but I do know, that He has made great things come of it. I have met some awesome people and had some incredible experiences that I would never have had if life and just "gone according to plan." My vision of my future a year ago, is totally different from my present situation. The amazing thing is, its better than what I had envisioned. The Lord takes us as raw material and shapes us into instruments in His hands, to bring to pass His eternal purposes. When life doest work out as we planed, and we are striving to live right, we can relax and trust in the Lord, knowing that he is in control and wants whats best for us. Being the perfect parent, He would never allow us to suffer more than He knows is absolutely necessary for our eternal welfare. Just like the loving parent who takes their child to the doctors for a vaccine, knowing that a little pain now is of much greater value than the terrible sickness which it prevents. If i have have learned one thing, it is that God loves each of us infinitely and wants whats best for us, even more than we do. So all we can do is trust Him and move forward in the great race we call life.

A Day in Their Life....and how it changed my perspective

So it turns out blogging is great and I have all these great ideas I want to share with the world and then I just never really get around to doing it....But, not to be out done, I will give it another try, as I attempt to recount my day. Since I'm not as cool as some people I know who are on fancy semester abroad programs in places like europe or africa, and can regal the reader with thrilling tales of their adventures and experiences, I will still try and attempt to provide a small illustration of the slice of life I observed today, as if I were a foreigner, here in my home land. 

Today I had the opportunity to do some professional shadowing of my cousin in-law who operates his own little business here in colorado. Its called Beeline, and as you may have guessed from the name, it is a pest control company. Now before you turn up your nose in disgust of some sketchy MLM company based in happy valley, know that this is different. It local and privately owned, and in fact, an awesome set up. 

The day consisted of a bunch of different appointments to treat houses for bugs or mice. Im not really into bug killing, but the business side of it fascinated me. I picked my cousin in law's brain about everything from overhead costs to percentage of returns on yellow page adds, to basic business ethics and philosophy. He knows his stuff and gets the job done. He told me it wasn't so much the type of work he loved, as much as being able to be a true entrepreneur and grow his own business, and get to help people by solving a problem. As it turns out, he was a history major in college and so really, his degree has nothing to do with his profession but he is doing great. It kinda made me think like, "hey why don't I study something I actually love in college and take advantage to learn all I can?"

My favorite part of the day though was not the actual job, but the people we encountered. Some were just concerned parents who wanted the peace of mind of knowing that there would be no more spiders or whatever crawling around their house and kids. One guy, legit believed there were these tiny bugs infesting his house, but he could not see them but he itched all over....when he stepped outside, one of his co-workers came up to us and asked if we saw any signs of real bugs (we hadn't) and conspiratorially told us he had been at the house all week remodeling and had never received so much as a bite....in his opinion, the guy was crazy. We, of course could say nothing, but sprayed the house all the same and left in a hurry. Right after we both felt an itch but then it was gone....was it all in our heads?

Next we hit up an apartment complex in kinda a ghetto part of town, where we had to treat two apartments for the landlord. We went into the first one, and were greeted by a tall north african man, he showed us where the mouse hole was and we left some blocks and went to the next apartment. I was really looking foreword to this one because the landlord lady had told us that the women who lived here had come to the office the day before and was very upset that there were bed bugs and would not leave till something was done about it. The situation escalated to the point where the landlord had to call the cops and have the women removed from the office. Crazy intense? Defiantly. She had warned us to be careful and if we had a problem just leave. I had this "crazy" lady all pictured in my head as we knocked on the door. To my surprise, a very small african women answered our knock and showed us in. As my friend sprayed the bed and around the room, I thought I would try to talk to this lady because surly this could not have been the terror that had been hauled out of the office by the police yesterday, could she? I started by asking her where she was from. "Africa," she responded. Ok, I explained that I had had the opportunity to live there myself for a year, several years ago in Ghana, and asked her which part she was from? She told me she was from Somalia. She spoke pretty good english, so naturally my curiosity was peaked and I had to find out what had brought this women and her family to Arvada, all the way form Somalia. She explained that her husband had worked in the US embassy in Somalia and when things went south over there about ten years back, either the US government or the UN (it was somewhat unclear) had pulled them out and brought them to america. Good work america, right? They had lived in four different states since then, and now her husband worked as a cab driver. She explained that he also was attending night school at a local college to earn his degree in chemistry or something. I asked her if she preferred america to her native land or did she wish to return home to Somalia. Her answer shocked me. Without hesitating, she said she wished that she and her family could return to Somalia. The only issue (and not a small one mind you) was the government was a mess and was totally unstable (not to mention corrupt) and her two children would have no educational opportunities. She told me that if the government in Somalia were stable, she would go back there in a heart beat. Interesting. They are on welfare and the husband has a government loan to pay for his schooling.  Not a bad deal if you ask me, but at the end of the day, its not home. Our conversation only lasted maybe ten mins but I blown away by her story. The client that I was told would be the most "crazy" turned out to be my favorite of the day. When my cousin in-law and I went back to the landlord, she kinda laughed and asked how it went with the "crazy" lady. We told her she was just wonderful to us. Go figure. Different perspective or what, just goes to show that there are always two sides to every story and by and large people will responded to situations generally they way they are treated. If you treat them like their best selves, they tend to bring that out of themselves. If you treat them like they are incompetent or stupid, it frustrates people. From what I can gather about the situation, its pretty remarkable that they are making a go of life in a foreign land, in a language they are not familiar with, and a culture which is altogether different from their own. Eye opening.

From there we went to a super nice area of town, and treated this massive house. The family was super nice and the house was beautiful. The contrast from out last visit was almost jarring. It reminded me of when we would fly out of Ghana, leaving the true third world, and land in London. It was hard to fathom that we were on the same planet. To me, the "first world" and the "third world" were truly two separate worlds with no overlap whatsoever. This is not to say that a nice house for your family is a bad thing, or am I making a commentary of our broken welfare program, but just an observations into the different walks of life that coexists a mer twenty mins from each other and rarely overlap. Is one better than the other? Some would say yes or no. For me, it depends. As my Somalian friend pointed out, with a bit of money in africa, you can live very well. Here in america, everything is expensive in comparison. A low grade apartment in a dodgy area in colorado, rivals some of the nicest housing in many parts of africa, yet I hardily ever met an unhappy or discontent Ghanaian. Why? In my humble opinion, it all boils down to expectations. In Ghana, if you have a job, aren't sick with malaria or AIDS, and have a loving family and food to eat that week, life could not be better. Here in america, we often take for granted these blessings and indeed come to expect them and feel shafted if poor health befalls us or we lose our employment, or the government seems to not be working so well. In africa, people are just happy to be alive and not really have the same media access that we do. They don't watch the ridiculous TV shows we are exposed to and don't feel the need to have a massive home and three flat screen TV's and a BMW parked in the garage (because all these things are what make someone happy, at least in the movies, right?). Honestly, they have all they need to be happy, as do we, yet the majority of the people I interacted with today, we not generally happy or content with their lives.  We have so much, yet so little. I believe, the its the Africans who are truly rich. 

I loved today. It was amazing to get to see all these different ways of living, all within little metro Denver. Walking though all those houses, can tell you a lot about the people who live there. It made me think about my own home and the pictures we hang on our walls, the general cleanliness and atmosphere. I talked about this with my cousin in-law and he told me how he had thought about that a lot and hoped that if anyone walked through his home, he hopped they would be able to tell that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, by the pictures of the Savior and things like Temples. I thought a lot about that. I hope people would be able to say the same about me, not just from my house or room, but how I try to follow Christ's perfect example in interacting with my family or strangers. Its a high standard to meet, but at the end of the day, weather we live in the "slums" or in a flashy part of town, how we choose to live and treat others, determines our happiness, not our circumstances. The beauty of that simple truth is that our personal happiness, by definition, fundamentally lies within our personal power control, if we choose to do so. 

I never thought I could have learned or experienced so much, shadowing a pest control guy in a place like metro denver, but it just reaffirmed the fact that the more we think we are different from other people, the more we are fundamentally the same.

So it begins...

So im starting a blog. Why? Not just because all the cool kids are doing it, or that it is 4:13am local time and I am sitting in the lobby of the hotel because I can't sleep, no its because of what happened today: I had one of the best days of my life! Thus, wanting to share the good news of the day with my family and friends, I tried to summarize it and post it as a status update on Facebook, only to be informed that the limit is 420 characters.....so how does one explain one of the greatest days of his life in 420 characters? He can't. Or at least, should not and obviously couldn't and thats why I am venturing out further into social media and creating this blog.

Why was my day so good? Great question haha let me tell you! It all started with our free breakfast at the hotel. No better way to start the day, than with a way good breakfast, knowing your eating it free, while all those around you are paying around 25 euros. Then I saw one of my favorite bands, Owl City, had a new song! If you know me, you know I love music almost as much as life it's self. So I downloaded it and made a new playlist for myself for the day, entitled, "Les tubes pour Paris" or hits for paris. The playlist included, John Mayer, Owl City, Lady Antebellum,  Fictioinsit and Flight of the Concords (you have to play Foux Du Fafa if your in france), just to name a few. Armed with these songs, my family and I drove into Paris for the day.

We started out hitting the Left Bank. My Mom went looking at shoes with my bro and father, and i took off to find the La Post to mail some things off. I got lost, found a McDo's (they have free wifi) bought myself a coke and logged onto the internet and found a map and then the la post! Score 1 point for Dallin! Afterwards I met up with the family and we went to a local department store called Monoprix. I was getting some chocolates for some friends when this elderly parisian grandmother approached me and asked me where she could find some "white" chocolate for her three grandkids. I showed her and she queried me further on which was the best and such, and i tried my best to help her haha. Finally satisfied with her choice, she turned to me and asked why I was holding so many chocolate bars. I explained that I was flaying home to america the next day and I wanted to take some to my friends there. Her shocked expression surprised me and she gasped, "Oh I'm so sorry! I thought you were an employe here and a native frenchmen! Please excuse me!" I was blown away! I had had the opportunity to live in france over ten years ago when my father was a mission president, then had spent two years serving my own LDS mission in New Caledonia (which is a French territory), but I had never been mistaken for a frenchmen! I responded, "Oh please it is no problem, thank you so much! You have paid me a great compliment!" That was one of the shining moments of my life! No joke!

After I floated back down to Paris from cloud nine, I found myself at the Louvre. What an incredible museum! It's a toss up between it and the British Museum for my all time favorite but there is nothing really like it in the world and maybe its because its built in the old palace of the French Kings. From there, we wondered over to the river and just meandered down the banks though all the street vendors. I love maps, especially ones of ancient date and is there a better place to find them then in paris? No. So I found a guy who had a huge collection. I asked him if he had any ancient maps of New Caledonia (the island where I served my mission). He was like, "Bien sure!" So it turned out he had four, one dating back to the 17th century! I instantly fell in love with it but saw the price and knew there was no way i could or would pay that much. Luckily, the year my family and I lived in Ghana (west africa), and some timely advise from a friend,  prepared me perfectly for this moment. I told the man how beautiful it was, and how much I loved it but regretfully only had a certain amount of cash on me and thats all I could spend. He told me he could lower the price but could not sell it for as much as I had offered. I told him I was sad we couldn't work something out but i was in a real fix and only had so many euros on me. He pulled out a common trick they do in paris and said, "Well, do you have any dollars with you as well?" I was like, well I have a few but not that many. At this point we both knew we had each other. I told him that if he would give me the two maps i liked the best for the price of the more expensive one, I would give him all the euros I had left and the some of the dollars I had in my wallet. He looked at me and smiled and said, "C'est bon!" Done! He was happy that I loved his maps and had put up with the barging. He told me most americans are as he put it, "Oui, or non." or yes or no, meaning its a deal or it isn't they don't tend to bargain. I was pleased as punch and almost skipped the rest of the way down to Notre Dame. What a beautiful cathedral! We checked it out and my mom lit a candle then we left.

Next up was the Isle St. Louis! This little island in the middle of the Seine is magnificent! Not only is it home to the best sorbet in the world in my opinion, but it is just beautifully laid out. We found a little restaurant and ate crepes for dinner then got some wondrous sorbet for desert! We walked around and then headed but up the river to the Louvre where our car was parked. The setting sun cast some amazing light on the building and the huge glass pyramid out front. Of course, this magical light only meant one thing: time for my brother and I to pretend like male models haha! We got some funny looks as we snapped off the photos of each other but it was a laugh! Its an inside joke between us.

Lincoln, my brother, said that he thought the perfect way to finish off the day would be to go see the Eiffel Tower, when its sparkles at ten o'clock and every hour, on the hour after that at night. Great idea! So we drove over there and watched with thousands of other people, as the clock struck ten and the tower lit up like a giant sparkler! Paris is just amazing! I resolved that I have to find a way to come back and live here. From there, we drove up the Champs-Elyees and then out of paris, back to our hotel, where we proceeded to pack our bags and get ready for bed. Perfect day in Paris. One of the best days of my life. Life is epic, so live epically!