Merry Christmas from the McClellans

A visual review of our year...

From the North Pole to the Equator and Around the World.

Lizzy and I had a productive dinner time conversation. Through the help of Wikipedia and my trusty iPod touch, we determined, first of all, that Santa's house cannot be exactly at the North Pole and that there could not be an actual pole there for the following reasons:

1. The north pole is actually in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, which is covered by ice. If you put a pole in the ice, there's no guaranteeing that the ice will stay put.

2. If you tried to put the pole through the ice and anchor it in the earth's crust, it would have to be a really long pole because the ocean is more than 2 miles deep at the north pole. And it would have to be an impossibly strong pole for the top of it to stay directly over the bottom of it with all that ice moving around on the surface.

3. The north pole doesn't stay put. It wobbles around a little due to the wobble of the earth's axis. So even if you did have a pole anchored in the earth's crust at the north pole, it wouldn't be the north pole all the time... sometimes it would be the almost-north pole.

4. Because of reason #3, Santa's house cannot be exactly at the north pole unless he has a mobile home.

5. Santa's house cannot be at the north pole because, well, Santa isn't real and doesn't have a house.


While learning about the north pole, we also learned that the ice at the north pole is only 10 feet thick (or less). And we learned that, yes, a submarine has crossed under the north pole. In the summer of 1958, the USS Nautilus, the first nuclear powered sub, passed from the Bering Sea, under the north pole, to the Greenland Sea.

We also explored the equator and learned that the equator is about 24,901 miles long. If you wanted to travel around the world at the equator, this is how long it would take you:

Walking: If there were a walking path all the way around the world at the equator, and if you walked 2 miles an hour, 12 hours a day (9 hours for sleeping, 3 hours for meals), it would take you about 2 years and 10 months to circumnavigate the globe.

Driving: If there were an equator highway on which you could drive 75 miles an hour (with gas stations placed strategically), and if you could sleep in your car, and if you drove 12 hours a day, you could drive around the world within the month of February (about 27-point-something days).

Flying: If there were a nonstop airline flight that followed the equator around the world (note: in-air refueling would be necessary, as would rotating teams of pilots who could take turns flying without having to land to change crews), you could leave after work on Friday and get back in time for work on Monday, with time to sleep in your own bed when you return Sunday night (49 hours of flying). The catch in this equation is that we didn't count the security lines at the airport, the fruitless search for lost baggage, or the time waiting on the tarmac...

Remembering the Tabernacle

As I mourn the loss of the Provo Tabernacle, which burned last night, I remember something I wrote a decade ago about the structure:

On a warm Sunday afternoon, I studied the stained-glass windows of the Provo Tabernacle. Columns of blue rise to meet arcs of green that shelter open books. Green and purple frame candles on fields of white and gold. Colors glow from every corner, and the windows' beauty is reflected in the entire structure, as cream-colored stones accent lancet windows and cone-shaped roofs cap corner turrets. Surveying the building that day, I was awed by the feat of its creation.

Completed in 1898, the tabernacle grew, orange brick on orange brick, out of the unpolished childhood of Provo. During the same period, the town's less than 6,000 residents also erected the imposing Brigham Young Academy building; religion and education were important to the early residents of Provo.

As I considered their works, I was humbled at the sacrifice of those who raised grace and elegance in a coarse context. The Provo Tabernacle, like other such buildings, is a monument to the faith of its builders.

Welcome to the Last Week of School

Yesterday we sat on the deck to write in our journals and had to put hats on to shade our faces from the sun.

This morning we welcomed the last week of school and the impending onset of summer break with . . . snow.



In protest, we created a variation of a children's song:

Snow is falling on the slide,
on the swingset, on the ball.
Snow is falling on the deck,
in the garden—
Oh my heck!

Ruler, Guardian, Guide, and Stay

This morning in my scripture study I sang the hymn "God of Our Fathers, Whose Almighty Hand." As I pondered the words of the hymn, one line in particular stood out to me: "Be thou our Ruler, Guardian, Guide, and Stay." I like that list and I thought a bit about what each descriptor meant:

• Ruler: Governor, king, judge; one who establishes and enforces laws, who makes judgments in behalf of the people
  
• Guardian: Protector; one who guards against enemies and evil
  
• Guide: Leader and mentor; one who shows the way and helps us make decisions
  
• Stay: Support, stabilizer, grounding mechanism; the ropes that keep a mast in place on a ship; one who sustains, strengthens, and helps us stand through wind and storm

That is a great list of the things we should allow God to do for each of us. But it's instructive to remember that this hymn was written for a national celebration--the 1876 U.S. centennial. So while this list has good individual application, it was intended here for national purposes; it is a plea for God to be our nation's ruler, guardian, guide, and stay.

Sadly, as a nation we seem to be turning against having God serve those purposes for us. We are certainly not following his rule; as a people, we do not obey his laws very well, and blatant sin runs rampant in our society. It does not appear that we seek his guidance in our national decisions very well, nor do we "stay" or rely on him for support as we should. We turn to philosophy, reason, and debate in our decisions, which is good, but do we add heavenly guidance to the equation? We still tend to hope God will be our guardian, but without having him to be our ruler, guide, and stay, any request for him to protect us rings a little hollow.

It seems to me that if we wish to enjoy the continued heavenly protection and support we have enjoyed for so long, we need to return God to his place as our ruler and guide. We need to teach and adhere to high moral standards and we need to seek and follow God's guidance more frequently.

Churro Roll-Ups

After dinner tonight we made up a new dessert: Churro Roll-Ups. Lizzy was the primary creator, with Christine and I serving as consultants and cooking staff. The inspiration was, of course, churros, but making real churros seemed too complicated, so we improvised. Churro Roll-Ups are very yummy, though also rather messy.

Below is the recipe. And of course, every good recipe needs a photo, so Lizzy conducted a photo shoot. At the bottom is a slideshow of her churro photography.

Churro Roll-Ups

Ingredients:

Tortillas

Peanut butter

Honey

Melted butter

Cinnamon and sugar

Directions:

Spread a thin layer of peanut butter on an open tortilla; top with another thin layer of honey. Roll the tortilla so it looks like a roll of paper (approximately the shape of a churro). Cover the rolled-up tortilla in melted butter. Warm the tortilla in a microwave (half power for about 20 seconds), then roll the tortilla in cinnamon and sugar on a plate. Allow to cool (as long as you can wait). Eat, leaning over a plate to catch the dripping honey and with an ample supply of napkins nearby. Enjoy!

Triumphant Jubilation

One spring day, two men walked a dusty road near Jerusalem. As they traveled, they talked about recent events. Just one week earlier had been a glorious day. The Messiah had entered Jerusalem in triumph. A great multitude had greeted him, spreading palm fronds and clothes on the road before him. In that moment the long-promised deliverance of Israel seemed at hand.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of activity. The cleansing of the temple. Wonderful days of teaching—parables and prophecy and confounding the Pharisees. The Passover. Then the unimaginable: betrayal. Arresting officers in the night. A trial before the chief priests. Hearings before Pilate and Herod. And suddenly the throng that had joyfully welcomed the Savior on Sunday had vanished and the crowds before Pilate were not singing Jesus’ praise but chanting for his death. A murderer was released, a sentence decreed. Scourging, the cruel burden of the cross, the road to Calvary, the nails, the mocking of the soldiers, the taunting of the Jews. The vinegar, the spear, the earthquake, the veil of the temple. Death.

How had it happened? How had things turned so quickly from triumph and shouts of hosanna to death and shouts of derision? What had happened to the Deliverer? He was the One who was to give them liberty, but now He was in a tomb. Or at least He had been, but now some women had visited the tomb and found it empty.

As the two men walked, their heads swirled in confusion and wonder.

A stranger joined them. “What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another,” he asked, “as ye walk, and are sad?” (Luke 24:17).

Surprised that he could be unaware of the last week’s events, they recounted the reason for their melancholy bewilderment. In response, the stranger began to teach them from the scriptures, recounting prophecies of Moses and others. “Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?” he asked (Luke 24:26).

Soon they approached their destination. The stranger would not be stopping but would travel further. But the two invited him to stay with them, pointing out that the day was spent. He consented and joined them for their evening meal, and “he took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him” (Luke 24:30-31).

It was Him! They had been walking and talking with the risen Lord. He who was dead was alive again! Suddenly things fit. Confusion was gone. Despair was replaced with exultant jubilation. “Did not our heart burn within us,” they said to each other, “while he talked with us by the way?” (Luke 24:32).

The darkness of Friday, when the Savior hung upon the cross, was banished by the brilliant light of Sunday. The triumph returned. He was the Messiah. He had, indeed, come to deliver Israel—not from Roman bonds but from a servitude much more fearsome, the slavery of sin and death. And in one tumultuous, confusing week, while disciples watched the apparent unraveling of their fondest hopes, the Holy One of Israel carried out a plan of deliverance they could not see.

But now they saw, and illuminating joy filled their troubled souls. He who was dead was alive again. He was, indeed, triumphant. And because of Him, so are we.

Welcoming the Declining Years

I was greeted at my office this morning by the tones of a mournful dirge and a dozen black and green balloons. Touched at their thoughtfulness, I felt compelled to express gratitude to my coworkers:

To those who have so thoughtfully adorned my tomb:

Thank you for your kindness and sensitivity at this time of mourning. The knowledge that my grief is felt by others, that I am not alone in my heavy heart in these dark days, provides immeasurable solace to my weary limbs and aching bones. Your sympathy and compassion have lifted my retiring soul, and during my declining years, the memory of your sharing in my bereavement will continue to console my slumping frame and degenerating wits.

With Deepest Gratitude,

Jeff

Why I'm Looking Forward to My Birthday

40 is hip. 40 is cool. 40 is the prime of life. 40 is enough experience to be knowledgeable about things, to have some wisdom, to be able to make big decisions. 40 is to have a wonderful wife and great kids. 40 is doing entertaining, challenging, cool recreation with children and youth (camping, theme parks, the beach). 40 is to be tech-savvy. 40 is to be fit. 40 is doing fun home improvement projects. 40 is claiming 80s music as your music. 40 is to be smart. 40 is to have a cool job. 40 is being able to interact in fun, but authoritative, ways with teenagers. 40 is having friendships with a rich history. 40 is to have well-reasoned opinions informed by the perspective of experience. 40 is to have mature faith. 40 is... well... 40 is so much better than 25 was.

The Poetry of Redemption

We had a sweet experience tonight at family home evening. It was my turn for the lesson, and I decided to share what I had read in my gospel study this morning. So I taught about God's plan of redemption—about how the fall of Adam brought sin and death into the world; about how sin and death are obstacles to our returning to God's presence; about how Jesus Christ voluntarily gave his life and was resurrected so we could overcome death; about how He then suffered for our sins and offered us a way to conquer sin through repentance, faith, and baptism; about how, without the Savior, none of us would have any hope of salvation.

I concluded the lesson by sharing my feelings about the Savior's Atonement, and as I finished Lizzy gave me a big hug and then crossed the room to hug Christine and Caroline. It was such a sweet and spontaneous expression of love--at a time that did not rationally offer any prompting for it. We don't usually give hugs at the end of family home evening, and we hadn't been expressing love for each other.

But as I expressed my gratitude and love for Jesus Christ, my faith in his redemptive power, and my hope of salvation (both for me individually and for us as a family), the Spirit of the Lord touched Lizzy, filling her with its fruits--premier among them being love (see Galatians 5:22). After our closing prayer I asked Lizzy why she had given us hugs, and she said she had felt the Holy Ghost. I'm so grateful she recognizes that feeling already.

As our closing song, we sang a hymn that, to me, is among the most poetic descriptions of God's wonderful plan of redemption. Here are the words we sang (verses 1, 2, and 6 of "How Great the Wisdom and the Love," by Eliza R. Snow):

1. How great the wisdom and the love
That filled the courts on high
And sent the Savior from above
To suffer, bleed, and die!

2. His precious blood he freely spilt;
His life he freely gave,
A sinless sacrifice for guilt,
A dying world to save.

6. How great, how glorious, how complete
Redemption’s grand design,
Where justice, love, and mercy meet
In harmony divine!

During the lesson I referred repeatedly to a chapter of scripture that is reminiscent of this hymn—beautiful in its language and powerful in its meaning (I have bolded the particular phrases that make me think of this hymn; there's an interesting repetition of language here I hadn't noticed before):

6 For as death hath passed upon all men, to fulfil the merciful plan of the great Creator, there must needs be a power of resurrection, and the resurrection must needs come unto man by reason of the fall; and the fall came by reason of transgression; and because man became fallen they were cut off from the presence of the Lord.

7 Wherefore, it must needs be an infinite atonement—save it should be an infinite atonement this corruption could not put on incorruption. Wherefore, the first judgment which came upon man must needs have remained to an endless duration. And if so, this flesh must have laid down to rot and to crumble to its mother earth, to rise no more.

8 O the wisdom of God, his mercy and grace! For behold, if the flesh should rise no more our spirits must become subject to that angel who fell from before the presence of the Eternal God, and became the devil, to rise no more.

9 And our spirits must have become like unto him, and we become devils, angels to a devil, to be shut out from the presence of our God, and to remain with the father of lies, in misery, like unto himself. . . .

10 O how great the goodness of our God, who prepareth a way for our escape from the grasp of this awful monster; yea, that monster, death and hell, which I call the death of the body, and also the death of the spirit. . . .

13 O how great the plan of our God! For on the other hand, the paradise of God must deliver up the spirits of the righteous, and the grave deliver up the body of the righteous; and the spirit and the body is restored to itself again, and all men become incorruptible, and immortal, and they are living souls. . . .

15 And it shall come to pass that when all men shall have passed from this first death unto life, insomuch as they have become immortal, they must appear before the judgment-seat of the Holy One of Israel; and then cometh the judgment, and then must they be judged according to the holy judgment of God. . . .

17 O the greatness and the justice of our God! For he executeth all his words, and they have gone forth out of his mouth, and his law must be fulfilled.

18 But, behold, the righteous, the saints of the Holy One of Israel, they who have believed in the Holy One of Israel, they who have endured the crosses of the world, and despised the shame of it, they shall inherit the kingdom of God, which was prepared for them from the foundation of the world, and their joy shall be full forever.

19 O the greatness of the mercy of our God, the Holy One of Israel! For he delivereth his saints from that awful monster the devil, and death, and hell, and that lake of fire and brimstone, which is endless torment.

20 O how great the holiness of our God! For he knoweth all things, and there is not anything save he knows it.

21 And he cometh into the world that he may save all men if they will hearken unto his voice; for behold, he suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children, who belong to the family of Adam.

22 And he suffereth this that the resurrection might pass upon all men, that all might stand before him at the great and judgment day.

23 And he commandeth all men that they must repent, and be baptized in his name, having perfect faith in the Holy One of Israel, or they cannot be saved in the kingdom of God. [2 Ne. 9: 6-23]

I love those verses; they so well encapsulate my feelings regarding the plan of redemption. With Jacob (the prophet who wrote these words), I wish to declare, "O how great the mercy of our God, the Holy One of Israel!" With Eliza R. Snow, I wish to sing in praise and gratitude, "How great, how glorious, how complete redemption's grand design." With my family, I am grateful to be able to rejoice in the joy of redemption.

God Is a Great Shipbuilder

God is a great shipbuilder. At least three times he has directed major shipbuilding efforts. One of God’s ships carried Noah’s family through the flood and across the watery world until land was found again. A whole fleet of God’s ships protected Jared, his brother, and their family and friends as they crossed the ocean, driven before the wind for nearly a year. And another God-made ship, guided by a God-made compass, took Lehi’s family to the Promised Land.

In all of these cases, it doesn’t appear that God’s shipbuilding partners had significant maritime experience. They hadn’t been tutored by the great shipbuilders of the day. They hadn’t spent months at sea learning to manage rigging or repair leaks. They hadn’t studied physics or engineering. What they did know was how to trust God.

When Nephi began to build a ship, his brothers thought he was a fool. They had grown up with him. They knew he had never studied shipbuilding, and they weren’t very excited about trusting their lives to a boat built by their little brother.

But when God commanded Nephi to build a ship, his response was different. He didn’t say, “Who, me?” or “Ha, ha—good one.” or “Excuse me? I grew up in the desert, remember?” Rather, Nephi said, “Lord, whither shall I go that I may find ore to molten, that I may make tools to construct the ship?” (1 Ne. 17:9).

Nephi’s answer wasn’t prompted by confidence in his own shipbuilding abilities. Rather, like his brothers, Nephi knew he was clueless about ships. But that knowledge was Nephi’s strength. Knowing he knew nothing, Nephi knew he would have to rely on God. And Nephi knew God would guide the ship’s construction because God had previously guided Nephi’s steps when he did not know “beforehand the things which [he] should do” (1 Ne. 4:6). With that faith and trust, Nephi could answer as he did.

And Nephi’s faith was rewarded. As he (and his brothers) built the ship, Nephi took careful direction from God all along the way. “We did work timbers of curious workmanship,” he says. “And the Lord did show me from time to time after what manner I should work the timbers of the ship. . . . And I, Nephi, did go into the mount oft, and I did pray oft unto the Lord; wherefore the Lord showed unto me great things” (1 Ne. 18:1,3).

With that guidance from the Lord, Nephi was able to build a seaworthy vessel. It was like no other ship he or his brothers had seen before, for “it was not after the manner of men” (1 Ne. 18:2). No, it wasn’t a man-made ship; it was God-made, and it was “exceedingly fine” (1 Ne. 18:4).

We are not unlike Nephi. Like Nephi—and Noah and the brother of Jared—we have been commanded to do something we’ve never done before. But we are not commanded to build a ship, we are commanded to build a life, a God-like life. Like Nephi, we don’t know the first thing about what we’ve been asked to do. We haven’t experienced teenage years before we’re teenagers or parenthood before we’re parents or retirement before we retire. We constantly face new challenges in our lives. Sometimes it might be tempting to say to God, “What, me? You want me to do that? But I don’t have a clue!” But like Nephi, we need to respond with faith, telling God we will do it, with his guidance. And then we need to “go into the mount oft” and “pray oft unto the Lord” to learn how to build the timbers of our lives.

As we do this, we will notice that our lives take a different form than the lives of others, for our lives will not be built after the manner of men. Some might even say our lives are “curious.” But curious or not, they will be after the manner of God, and in the end, we will find that our lives have become “exceedingly fine,” for God is a great shipbuilder.

A Ring of Remembrance

About 10 miles from the epicenter of Haiti's recent earthquake there once stood a house with a large yard surrounded by a concrete wall. I don't know if it is still there, and I never understood why the people who lived there occupied such a comparatively large and well-protected property. They were not rich by any means--even by Haitian standards. And the group that inhabited the home and yard was a big, loosely connected assemblage of people: several women of varying ages, a couple of men, a bunch of young children, a grandmother or two. Some were, I think, cousins or aunts or uncles to each other. But some were just friends or cousins of friends or nieces of godmothers of friends. As thing go in Haiti, it's hard sometimes to understand how these living arrangements come to be and how traditional family units have disintegrated.

But however they came to be, these people were my friends. And one evening 20 years ago I came to say goodbye. It was January 1990, and after serving in Carrefour for six months, I was being moved to Petionville. I would miss these people, especially the children.



At this home in Carrefour were several small children--all girls--between the ages about 3 and maybe 6 or 7. I used to tease and joke around with these girls when we would visit. We would "fe grimas"--make faces--at each other and laugh (see above). I would scare them and they would squeal with delight.

So on this evening before I left, as the sky was moving through deeper shades of orange and red, I sat outside the wall with these girls and we made faces and laughed together one last time. One of them, a 3-year-old with the nickname of Bébé, picked up from the ground a small ring made of some sort of silver-colored metal. It looked as if it had been a link in a chain or a part to something mechanical. She gave it to me and I discovered it was the right size and shape for my smallest finger. I put it on and said, "Mesi pou la bag"--thank you for the ring.

She laughed and said it wasn't a ring. I insisted it was, and I teased her that she was my girlfriend and this ring would help me remember her. She giggled, others laughed, and we all joked together there in the twilight.

I kept the ring on my finger as I left that night, and I kept wearing it--because I told Bébé I would. As I wore it through the rest of my mission, it occasionally came up in conversation. I would tell Haitians that it was a gift from my girlfriend. When pressed--and Haitians always pressed--I would reveal that my girlfriend was a 3-year-old Haitian named Bébé. Again, the joke would generate good laughs. But I didn't wear it for laughs. I wore it more and more over time as a souvenir of Haiti and its people.

Soon after I returned home from my mission, I found a new girlfriend. Then another a couple of years later, and then another. Finally I found a girlfriend who became a fiancée who became a wife. And now I have young daughters of my own--sweet and beautiful and pure, like Bébé and her friends. But I still wear Bébé's ring

In recent years, the ring has taken on new and deeper meaning for me--meaning which I imagine was always there but which didn't take real shape until I articulated it to a class of university students two years ago.

I put on this ring initially because I joked with a small girl that I would use it to remember her by. I kept wearing it, I think, because I didn't want to forget her or the many other people I came to love in Haiti. But the ring reminds me now of more than just fond feelings for old friends.

Haiti has often been a sad place for me. The situation was never good there, and the often-depressing conditions juxtaposed against the purity and innocence and joy of childhood were troubling to me. I loved the children I met in Haiti, and I would laugh with them and tease them and play games with them, but the laughter, for me, was often tainted with a sense of tragedy as I thought of their difficult future.



I've often wondered--even before the earthquake--what came of the sweet, lovable children of 20 years ago. What happened to Bébé and her friends with whom we laughed on that warm January evening? Are they now mothers themselves? Have they, like so many Haitian women, become mothers without husbands, eking out a difficult living for their children in a troubled place? Are they some of the women I see on the news now, holding injured children or weeping for lost ones? Or have some of them escaped Haiti--perhaps on a less-than-seaworthy boat, across miles of threatening waves, sneaking into Florida in hopes of a better life? Are they even alive?

I don't know.

And I may never know. But I continue to wear this ring to remember the children I cannot forget. But more than to remember, I wear it to keep them in remembrance. The ring is, in a sense, a form of a prayer: I remember them, but not to myself; I remember them to God.