WISDOM FROM FOOTBALL AND WAR

Vince Lombardi is credited with saying, "Fatigue makes cowards of us all." The same words have also been credited to General George Patton. Irregardless, the truth remains that if manly men of football and war know that fatigue can break our spirits and cause us to cower, we can admit it too.

We've all had those days when the laundry list of life overwhelms us and instead of beginning at the top and working through it, we slump in a chair and whimper, unable to organize our thoughts enough to even choose where to start.

I remember day five of a siege of illness that plagued our family. The laundry backed up with fetid linen--the refuse of the children's illness--the dishes were piled like Mount Vesuvius and you could have turned my stove top into a Science Fair contender. Still, meals needed to be prepared and well-intended classmates kept stuffing make-up work through the doorway, despite my complete disinterest in participles, dangling or otherwise. It had been days since I had had more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep, and REM was a distant memory.How did I handle it? I sat in a chair and stared at the greasy water marks running down the front of the sink cabinet, the residual by-product of the well-est of the children's attempts to do the dishes. . . and then, good soldier that I am, I cried.

Tom was out of town as I recall, but other help was available. It almost always is, but I was too stubborn or proud to ask. And so, determined to stay in the pocket, to march on, I wore myself to a frazzle. I'm two decades older now, and I'm still that way to a degree. I'm buried by obligations right now and pressed against a wall of deadlines, but experience and wisdom have taught me to recognize when it's time to accept proffered help. And help is coming in abundance this weekend.

It's Conference weekend for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I will sit and listen to the voices of modern day apostles and prophets of God, and feel the Lord's peace. And next week? Some of the things I pushed back today will still be there, but they'll concern me less. I'll remember what few things really matter, and I'll be still and remember that God is ultimately in charge.

Sometimes we get ourselves into trouble. But sometimes stuff just happens. Stuff is happening to a lot of people these days, but help is still at the ready, if we will accept it. Comfort? Peace? Could you use some of that? Then push the debris back for a few hours, and come listen with me. Their counsel isn't just for Mormons. It's for anyone hungering for a pocket of quiet and hope in the storm.

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PERSPECTIVE

One measure of an author's gift is his or her ability to articulate and maintain the story through a clear perspective or point of view. Through whose eyes is the story being told, and in what position is the reader placed? Simply put, is the story written to make the reader feel he is the main character, able to see from the main character's point of view, or from many characters' point of view? It makes a difference in the intimacy the reader feels between himself and the characters.

Art draws from life. In life, perspective matters deeply. And perspectives change. Last Thursday I was puttering around on Face book contributing some inane banter about something nonsensical or at best, unimportant. The next day, after receiving some tragic news from dear friends, my Face book wall seemed almost obscenely irrelevant. My heart was in first person mode with my friends. The world seemed at best to be in distant third mode or even more removed. At that moment, such notations as, "I took the 'What Kind of Cookie Are You?' test, and I'm Oatmeal Raisin!" seemed a ridiculous waste of our limited time here on earth. The day before? Well . . . I wasn't rushing out to determine what my cookiness was, but the quiz didn't sting or annoy.

There just are some points of view that matter more, some moments that cause crystal clarity about the exquisiteness of life and its purpose. At such times we feel the world should halt for a moment and note that life has altered monumentally for someone, but the grass still needs mowing, the socks need matching, meals need to be prepared, eaten and cleared, and life moves on. It's how it is. It's how it must be, I suppose. The Lord seemingly knew that and gave us a permission slip to move on past grief or pain or sorrow or work. It's written in Ecclesiastes 3:1 and immortalized in Pete Seegers "Turn, Turn, Turn".

So I returned home to find my little two-month-old grandson sleeping in my family room. I never wanted . . . needed to hold a baby more than right then, to shift perspective back to life and joy and routine again.

I doubt I'll ask you what cookie you are today, or even tomorrow for that matter, but it is again a time to smile and seek joy, while always remembering and reaching out to those whose perspective will be one of sorrow for quite a while longer.