A Weekend in Pictures

   

amen

I’m in a Hurry….

I'm in a hurry to get get things done,

I’m in a Hurry…

I’m in a hurry to get things done. Oh I rush and rush until life’s no fun All I really got to do is live and die But I'm in a hurry and don't know why.

Guilty

   I get so sick and tired of hearing people say, “uhhh, treat me special because my life is so hard and I just want to hurry up and get this day over because its been so hard on poor little me!”  And I think to myself, " ‘What? like tomorrow is going to be any better for you? or are you really thinking that just because its named ‘Saturday’ your day is going to magically better?’ Why rush through a day pretending like life is miserable just to get to another one?

Now here is the sad part. I’m guilty. I’ve done it. I look forward to hitting that bed and knocking out for the night. I look forward to the weekends. But I wonder how much I pass up during the day?

I’m a dude. And as such, at times I have a very one-tracked mind. When there is work to do or something going on, I’m very good at digging through the fluff and getting to the root. Focused and determined. All-important (at the time) and all-inclusive. Like I said though, I gotta look up.

Look Up

In an interview with my mission president, he said something that really stuck with me.

“Elder Ferguson, I’m going to tell you something that you aren’t going to understand until your probably 30 years old. You have to pick your head up. You think your on a treadmill and your not. When you pick your head up, your going to realize your on a highway, with lots of lanes, all going to the right place, and the scenery is amazing. And the best part is, your not in a race like your think either. So enjoy it. Life is beautiful.”

 

 

 

 

 

Live life so that when your feet hit the ground in the morning, the Devil says, “Oh crap, you got up….”

-Dale Out-

Monday

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post called Sunday… I thought it only appropriate that i move on to Monday.

Monday

This weekend was spring forward for daylight savings. If I only had to observe half of this ‘holiday’, I would pick the “fall back” half. Either way it is 6:30 AM and my alarm clock is singing “Its a Party in the USA” (don't ask.). Rolling out of bed, all I can think is ‘It is way to early and way to dark for Miley Cirus or a party’. I turn off the alarm clock ( aka – my phone) and roll right back in to bed thinking “just 5 more min.” One of the proud accomplishments of my significant life is knowing when I’m lying to myself and Monday morning’s are a time to lie to yourself.

That being said, I figured I had better get out of bed again before the sleep set back in.

The good news is that, Its 6:30 and I am up and ready to hit the week full on. Today is as follows.

• 6:30 – wake up breakfast, scripture study, and blog
• 7:45 – head to the gym
• 9:00 – Grocery shopping
• 10:00 – Laundry/Homework/Work
• 4:30 – Snowboarding
• 10:00 – Reading
• 10:30 – Go to bed so i can start it all over.

I know, I know, its pretty impressive;) j/k. Looking at it, makes it look really tedious and boring but to be honest, in a weird little way, I’m excited about it. Its a lot to get done. So wish me luck on a Monday

-Dale out-

A Steel Magnolia…

Warning – This might be a long one;) 

     Have you ever heard the term? A Steel Magnolia? (Besides being an 1989 Comedy-Drama Film) The order of the words are just a matter of language so lets start with the Magnolia part first.

     When I was a kid, there were two weapons that could be found in the yard for battles. 1) rotten figs picked from the curiously shaped fig tree in between my house and my Grandma’s house. 2) Magnolia Grenades. There were the magnolia blooms that we would pick before they had bloomed. Perfect for throwing as a grenade and equipped with a brittle end perfect for breaking off right before yelling “GRENADE!!” made them the weapon of choice to play with for a bunch of kids.

     However, after blooming , they become one of the most beautiful flowers in the south. While the boys are throwing magnolias, the girls let the bloomed ones fill their nose with their sweet delicate smell.

     A steel magnolia, at least in the south, refers to a woman who, though beautiful and graceful, are also firm in their resolution of who and what they are. They keep the boys and girls alike, entertained, but more importantly, they keep them honest. For all know that one step out of line and the steel part of that magnolia will come flying out.

     A steel magnolia once asked me, “What are your dreams?” I don’t remember what I answered. I am sure however,  it was, “be a millionaire” or something similar. Back then, life was motivated by just that, dreams. The world was limitless and it was yours. Anything could happen. The possibilities tickled your imagination to fantasize about what could happen over the next few years.

     Last night, however, I was asked the same question. “What are your dreams?” I realized that things had changed. No longer am i motivated by dreams. Unfortunately, I have been motivated lately by fear.  I fear not having money, so I work. I fear getting fat, so work out. I fear rejection, so i don't try. The question shouldn't be “Who is going to let you?" but,

“Who is going to stop    you?”

     Suze Orman talks about this fear. She relates the following story.

When I was very young, I had already learned that the reason my parents seemed so unhappy wasn’t that they didn’t love each other; it was that they never had quite enough money even to pay the bills. in our house money meant tension, worry, and sorrow. When i was about thirteen my dad owned his own business, a tiny chicken shack where he sold take-out chicken, ribs, hamburgers, hot dogs, and fries. One day the oil that the chicken was fried in caught fire. In a few minutes the whole place exploded in flames. My dad bolted from the store before the flames could engulf him. This was when my mom and i happened to arrive on the scene, and we all stood outside watching the burn away my dad’s business. All of a sudden my dad realized that he had left his money in the metal cash register inside the building, and i watched in disbelief as he ran back in the inferno, in the split second before anyone could stop him. He tried and tried to open the metal register, but eh intense heat had already sealed the drawer shut. Knowing that every penny had had was locked in front of him, about to go up in flames, he literally picked up the scalding metal box and carried it outside. When he threw the register on the ground, the skin on his arms and chest came with it. He had escaped the fire safely once, untouched. Then he voluntarily risked this life and was severely injured. the money was that important. That was when i learned that money is obviously more important than life itself. From that point on, earning money, lots of money, not only became what drove me professionally, but also became my emotional priority. Money became, for me, not the means to a life rich in all kinds of ways; money became my singular goal.

Fear can not drive us if we are to live healthy, successful lifestyles. I will not let fear drive me. I will drive my life and i will fill it with the things that make me happy. Including Steel Magnolias.