"Waters of the Great Deep" (inspiring/spiritual)

Imagine you are treading water somewhere out in the middle of the ocean.  Your legs kick violently downwards into the cold, dark, and unknown waters in a desperate attempt to stay afloat.  You greatly fear what lies below.  The creatures that may be looking up; the ill intended monsters of the great deep stocking your every move, and waiting to strike when you least expect it.  The anxiousness and unrest is nearly unbearable.  Above the surface there is no refuge either.  A hostile wind occasionally sends waves to rush up and swallow you whole, but you fight back.  With focused eyes, you can see the waves coming in advance.  With very focused eyes, you can even spot the waves just as they are beginning to form.  This gives you plenty of time to prepare.  Right before a wave hits, you exert increased energy into your legs, while tilting your chin back as far as it will stretch, and push up your body high enough to clear the wave.  If your timing is perfect, you can even ride the wave with moderate ease, and discover an unprecedented sense of satisfaction at the accomplishment.  However, your watchful eye often becomes careless, and your strained mind zones out.  This allows a wave to blindside you, slapping the side of your head and engulfing your entire body.  Such is the case in this very moment.  You are temporarily submerged in defeat, but quickly rush up to the surface in renewed determination while spitting up as much of the intrusive water as possible.  The salt stings the tender, inner part of your nose.  Swelling eyes causes your vision to blur.  The back of your throat, mouth, and stomach also join in the boycott against your careless behavior.  But you do not have time to apologize, for you are now in a state of increased vulnerability to additional wave attacks due to the temporary blindness.  With a sense of urgency, you try to regain vision by rubbing your eyes with a free hand while the other continues to paddle, but you are too late.  SMACK!  Another wave mercilessly crashes into your face; this time from the front.  You begin to panic.  You have now swallowed a significant amount of salt water, and lost precious energy.  Fortunately, after emerging from the water a second time, your luck changes.  Before a third wave is able to hit, your vision returns and you successfully counter attack.  Control of the situation is regained, and for a brief moment, the water comes to an eerie calm.  You are grateful for the opportunity to rest your body, but your thoughts are at unrest in the anticipation of the next assault on your life.  You are exhausted.  The culmination of this recent event coupled with the hopeless perception of an endless journey has you mentally and physically drained.   The pains and hardships seem too great and too frequent.  You question your ability to endure.  Your strength wanes from the miles of water already covered; the countless battles already fought and won.  Yet, before you lie additional miles of water; additional battles.  This of course means that continued focus and endurance will be required or you will drown.  But again, you are unsure of your ability and desire to continue any further.  For, as far as your eye can discern, there is no land in any which direction and therefore no end to the struggle.  The once mild tempest of reasonable reservation within your mind has now evolved into a raging storm of immense fear and unto the convincing of certain failure.  You are faced with only two options: 1. Continue forward in the hope that refuge will eventually be found, or 2. Stop swimming and sink into the dark depths bellow, and allow the creatures to consume your flesh.  A laugh of insanity escapes your lips, followed by a solemn expression of sadness and hopelessness, as expressed by the free-fall of several tears.  You are in desperate need of outside help; and you know it.    

In life, we cannot make it alone.  We frequently face difficult challenges and greatly need outside assistance.  But true relief is not found in alcohol or drugs.  No.  Comfort will not come through sexual immorality.  Peace will not be found in a life of thrill seeking and constant movement.  Strength cannot be gained in the pursuit of power.  Self confidence and inner worth will not be acquired through fame, nor will the most crucial, life-saving treasures be received from green paper or a black number on a bank statement.  What we need is the reassurance and encouragement of a friend.  The love of a family member.  And ultimately, we need the salvation of God.  We need divine saving from not only our innocently suffered trials, but from self-inflicted sins as well.  With our creator’s help, we can gain an understanding of our purpose in this difficult journey; the journey in which we ALL find ourselves.  

I wish to end with the testimonial of an ancient American prophet named Nephi.  Interestingly enough, Nephi was commanded by God to literally cross a great and mysterious body of water.  This is what Nephi says about the journey,

“My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.  He hath filled me with his love even unto the consuming of my flesh…behold, he hath heard my cry…and by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him; yea, my voice have I sent up on high; and angels came down and ministered unto me.”  2 Nephi 4:20-24 (the Book of Mormon)    

Likewise, if you seek God through prayer, faith, and obedience; he will minister unto you.  He will send the tailored help you need, and fill you with love, peace, and happiness amidst the chaos.  He will assure the successful completion of your personal life journey unto the obtaining of that great and marvelous reward which he has promised to the faithful: eternal life.  In short, you will be preserved upon the waters of the great deep.      

   

"Freeway; Not Yourway" (educational)

The Drive

It is a beautiful summer day, and you are now driving down one of America’s greatest blessings: the freeway.  This amazing luxury connects city to city and state to state for endless miles across the country.  Your current objective is to meet up with an old friend, so you are in no particular hurry.  You have your cruise control set at a steady 70 MPH.  The posted speed limit is 65 MPH, but you fully trust and are confident in the “5 MPH-over-the-speed-limit cushion;” the generally consistent safeguard that a police officer will not ticket you unless you are speeding at least 6 MPH over the limit.  To fortify your confidence in this unwritten rule, you were once personally assured by a highway patrol officer that such is acceptable and safe; especially when driving on the freeway.  

So, there are no worries in your mind about being harassed by a police officer.  No sir, there is not a care in your world.  Nothing but a summer breeze blowing through your cracked window, your favorite beverage chilling in the center console, and your favorite music bumping out of the speakers.  Aw yes, life couldn’t get any better.  As you somewhat casually rest your palm on the center top of the steering wheel and gracefully steer your vehicle to and fro with careless ease, you begin to realize how grateful you are for the freeway.  What a fun privilege it is to drive on such a well conceived structure.  An organized structure that has clear rules and expectations regarding myself, fellow drivers, and police authorities.  As long as I am doing what I am supposed to do, there are never any surprises…     

But then suddenly, you notice a small spec in the rear view mirror that seems to be moving extremely fast.  The spec is in fact another vehicle driving in your lane several hundred yards back.  The spec dramatically increases in size as it quickly demolishes the distance between the two of you, and evolves into a large, souped-up truck; but is not a highway patrol man.  You breathe a sigh of relief knowing you are not being pulled over.  Regardless, your heart rate increases at this uniquely stressful and unprecedented situation.  Your rear view mirror is now completely consumed by the vehicle’s image as the driver insists to ride as close to your bumper as possible (also referred to as “tailgating”).  Your humble sedan holds its ground against the beefy truck.  The situation is indeed awkward and even dangerous.  You feel a leap in your chest as intense frustration and anxious discomfort replace your previous feelings of relaxed peace and joy.  Several thoughts race through your mind.  What is he doing?  Why is he driving so close to me?  Am I perhaps doing something wrong? You double and triple check your speedometer, which has not changed from 70 MPH.  You double check the posted speed limit which is an unchanged 65 MPH.  You think to yourself, not only am I driving the speed limit, but I am actually speeding myself. This guy obviously wants me to drive at his desired speed, but I do not want to risk a speeding ticket or the safety of others.  If this guy wants to drive faster, he should simply go around me.  You look to the lane next to you.  There is absolutely no one blocking the way.  The driver can easily get over, but chooses to remain on your tail, and is now flashing his brights at you.  You tense up even further and grip the steering wheel with both hands, instead of one.  You know you are doing nothing wrong, and refuse to increase your speed.  You also refuse to get over.  

After a long two minutes of stress, the rogue vehicle finally moves into the adjacent lane.  He then smashes down on the accelerator, and passes you with angry eyes and an angry finger.  With violent rage, the driver swerves and cuts you off just barely avoiding contact with the front of your car.  He now continues at the speed he originally wanted to go, which is about 15 MPH over the speed limit.  You lay down on your horn after the near accident experience, signaling your extreme disapproval and awareness of his reckless behavior.  He quickly disappears into the distance and once again becomes a spec.  But a twist of fate occurs.  He eventually approaches his next law abiding victim, who ironically happens to be an undercover cop, who then pulls him over and issues a huge ticket; not only for speeding, but for the traffic violation of following too closely behind another vehicle.  As you pass him up on the road a couple minutes later, a smile of satisfaction forms at the scene of justice.  

Stay Cool

All of us have experienced a similar situation.  Whether you were the law abiding driver or the rogue vehicle, we frequently feel the frustration of another person not driving exactly how we want them to.  But we must keep a cool head, take a step back, and ask ourselves: is what I am doing in accordance with the law?   When you are tempted to get angry about someone else’s driving, simply apply the same question to that driver: is the driving in accordance with the law?  If the answer is yes, then you have no right to get angry.  If the answer is no, then you certainly have the right to get frustrated, but should still never engage in illegal/reckless driving yourself to express that frustration.  Stay cool.

Unwritten and Perceived Traffic Rules 

Driving etiquette on the freeway is often interpreted and understood differently by passionate people with unique driving backgrounds.  We expect other people to do what we have been taught regarding unwritten, perceived traffic rules.  When they don’t, we feel the infamous effects of road rage.  We often take the terminology “my lane” too literally; believing that the lane in which we currently ride is in fact our property.  Everyone inside that lane is a lucky guest who must adhere to our expectations and to our way.  In the minds of many, the only alternative action for an insubordinate guest is described by a popular Ludacris rap song, “Move!  Get out the way!”  But like in most sensitive and controversial situations of life (including freeway conflicts and road rage), someone is in the right, and someone is in the wrong.  Both sides are passionate and very insisting, but only one is right.  The other either holds to inaccurate information, ignorance, sheer pride and selfishness, or simply listens to too much Ludacris rap.  Who is right in the above driving situation?  The truck or the sedan?      

If after reading this story, you realize you are typically the person who tailgates other drivers, then I am sorry to inform you of your wrong doing, but yes it is true; the guy in the truck is the wrong doer in this situation.  His defense argument would probably be centered around the widely adopted idea that the slower driver should always get over for the faster driver as a courtesy.  This is a perceived, unwritten rule, but is not supported by law.  Yes, it would certainly be a courtesy, or in other words, a selfless act of service for a slower vehicle to move over; however this course of action is, again, not required by law.  Furthermore, the same argument could be used by the slower driver by posing the question: is it not also a courtesy for fast drivers to take the initiative to move around me, instead of expecting me to move?   After all, the fast drivers are supposedly in a hurry so why waste precious time tailgating, when they can simply and quickly move over to the next lane? Sadly, the most frequent reality to this scenario is not an actual need to get somewhere quickly.  It is pride.  It is trying to be the king of the freeway.  The dominate vehicle.  Which is the reason why jacked-up truck owners are the dudes who most frequently bully the freeways.  It is an egocentric sizing-up mentality.  They believe they own the road, and that everyone should cower before them. 

Misconception About the “Fast Lane”  

Clearly, not every tailgater is a big truck or someone trying to be mean.  Some people are just ignorant to the actual laws of the road.  For example, some people believe that in the “fast” lane (far left lane) they have the right to drive however fast they want, and if the person in front of them is driving slower, they have the right to ride their bumper until they finally get the hint and move over.  Fortunately, this situation is not a matter of opinion.  The fast lane is there for drivers who are able to move at the posted speed limit.  It does not mean to say that you can literally drive however fast you want.  The “slow” lane (or far right lane) is the lane designated for people who must travel slower than the posted speed limit, for example, trailer rigs, semi trucks, old people, etc.  

What should you do if you find yourself driving behind a vehicle in the fast lane that is moving slower than the speed limit?  Well, the first thing to do is immediately panic.  Then vigorously grind your teeth together, and with the rage of a rhino, ram into the back of the vehicle.  Okay, I am just joking.  Please don’t do that.  Regardless of the situation, riding other cars is always dangerous and against the law.  So that is not the proper solution.  If someone is driving under the posted speed limit in the fast lane, you could send a friendly honk their way in hopes they get the message.  The most immediately effective option is to simply move around the vehicle or to another lane.  Whatever your course of action, I highly recommend you remain calm and chill.  You will live longer and enjoy a higher quality of life. 

In short, if you have an emergency or simply have the desire to drive fast, that is your prerogative and must be accomplished at your effort.  

Freeway; Not Yourway

It is wrong to demand others to inconvenience themselves and cater to yourway of driving.  Especially if yourway is illegal.  The freeway and the lanes contained within it are not yours.  The name “freeway” indicates your freedom to use the public service, not your freedom to use it how you desire.  We must drive on the freeway like mature, respectful adults who place importance on safety and the established laws.  So with this understanding in mind, let us always remember…freeway; not, yourway.            

                 

               

"The Ghost that Impersonated My Wife!" (scary/funny)

On November 19, 2012, a ghost impersonated my wife’s voice and haunted me in my own home.  Yes, it is true.  But let me give you the full story…

I was home alone on a Monday afternoon.  My wife Sarah was about twenty minutes away at her day job, while I was doing computer work for an apparel company I recently started.  I had just received new product samples, and needed to take pictures for the website.  However, I faced a problem.  I did not have a high quality camera to use, and needed one desperately.  Being religious, I offered a prayer and asked God to help me find access to a high quality camera.  About fifteen minutes later, my cousin Mark, who lives in the front part of my duplex, knocked on my door.  He wanted to show me his new, high quality camera!  As you can imagine, I was stunned and promptly rejoiced.  Together, we took the ten second walk to his side of the duplex where he showed me some of the awesome features of his new toy.  Because of his kind nature, I was not surprised when he said I could use the camera for my company needs.  I was so excited and grateful.  Don’t worry, this information is important to remember for later.    

After about ten minutes of talking with Mark, I left and walked back to my house.  I then realized it was time to go to the gym, but I needed some food-fuel first.  Time for a pre-workout PB & J!  With new life inside me, I briskly entered my living domain and headed straight for the kitchen.  I remember noticing how dark the house had gotten.  Crazy how quickly the sun goes down this time of the year.  Anyway, the house was absolutely dead quite, and I was still alone.  Or so I thought. 

Now in the kitchen, with my back facing the shadowed hallway, I started to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  The light from the kitchen seemed to make the strawberry jam sparkle with awesomeness.  What a beautiful sight to behold!  Okay, so maybe I was just hallucinating due to the giddy feelings of happiness and astonishment from the whole camera situation.  Regardless, the sandwich was looking super good to my hungry eyes.  I can still feel the saliva pooling up in my mouth.

   

Anyways, this part of the story now forces me to reveal a personal habit that some would consider to be embarrassing.  But it is a habit that becomes an important key to the haunting that will soon take place.  The habit is this: I often talk to myself out loud when I am alone.  Yes, that is correct.  No shame.  And like the ever wise Professor Dumbledore from Harry Potter once said regarding this very same habit, “I find it extraordinarily useful.”  Like good ol’ Dumby, I too find it useful to express my feelings through the spoken word, and I indeed had some powerful feelings of joy to express in that moment.  So, without surprise, I said to myself out loud while thinking about the camera, 

“What an answer to prayers.” 

 The words echoed throughout the lonely house for only me to hear.  But then suddenly, the voice of someone else floated into my ears from off in the distance.  A faint, high-pitched voice that seemed to repeat exactly what I had just said, but in question form,

 “What, is an answer to prayers?”  The voice asked.    

Confused and a bit startled, I tried to make sense of what I thought I just heard.  But I could not pin point from where the sound originated, nor was I certain as to what was actually said.  Even stranger still, was that the voice sounded very much like one of the many voices my wife does.  I looked around in confusion.  I found myself in unchanged solitude; totally alone.  No wife in sight.  Of course not.  Sarah was still at work, and would not get off until 5pm.  The microwave clock read 4:27pm.  Considering the drive through rush hour traffic, it would be at least another hour before she got home.  Ok, so it is obviously not Sarah.  I then thought it was the next door neighbor’s kids yelling like they always do when they play in their back yard.  That would explain the faintness of the voice and the high-pitch frequency.  Yes of course, I thought.  And, if it was the kids next door, then more yelling is a guarantee, and will be the supporting evidence I need to rest the case.  I paused to listen for the continuation of children’s voices; but nothing.  No yells.  No cries.  The neighbor’s kids were definitely not outside.  This realization ushered into my dazed mind a third possibility.  A scary thought that, at first, I only half-way took seriously.  A ghost could be impersonating my wife!  A couple hairs stood up on the back of my neck, but I chuckled out loud at the same time.  A ghost!  Haha.  What a joke.  I remember smiling as I spread another glob of strawberry jam onto my honey wheat bread.  In attempt to entertain the idea, I then humorously thought: okay, if it is a ghost playing around with me; trying to scare me by repeating the things I say, then it will surely do it again. Right?  Thinking I was being clever, and would outsmart the ghost or make it feel stupid, I then repeated the same words, in a louder tone than the first time, 

“What an answer to prayers!”  I loudly exclaimed. 

I then paused.  With a sarcastic smirk on my face and butter knife in hand hovering over the unfinished peanut butter sandwich, I waited for a response.  About three full seconds passed, and no voice sounded.  In that moment I was convinced that my ears simply misinterpreted an outside noise, causing my brain to temporarily freak out.  But life was good again, and everything made sense.  I then broke the silence by confidently and humorously mumbling under my breath, 

“That’s what I thought dumb spirit!” I finished.    

Literally right after I said these words, the unthinkable happened.  To my uttermost horror, the high-pitched voice came back!  And with a vengeance, it practically yelled, 

“WHAT is an answer to prayers?!!!!”      

I instantly jumped, my heart about stopped, and my hands clumsily smashed onto the tops of the two bread slices.  With peanut butter and strawberry jam on my shaking knuckles, I urgently turned my head to where the voice came from, which was definitely inside the house.  It was also clear that the voice was my wife’s.  No doubt about it.  But she is not home!  She can’t be!  I looked at the microwave clock again, which read 4:29pm.  She gets off work at 5pm!  And if she ever leaves early, she sends a notification text message.  These thoughts and more raced through my panicked brain.  I frantically searched my most recent memories, hoping to catch a glimpse of her gray, Chevy Malibu in the driveway; but nothing.  My car was the only one there when I walked back from Marc’s. 

My terrified eyes were now fixed on the black hallway, which led to the source of the voice: our bedroom.  Absolutely no lights were on at that end of the house.  And so the “pep talk” within my head began: Okay Kyle, there is very possibly a ghost in your house that is crudely impersonating your wife.  And it is in her bedroom.  Be brave…BE BRAVE!  Now, go investigate!

At that point, I was still only teasing the idea of a ghost actually impersonating my wife, but was also beginning to accept the possibility.  Still not convinced though.  With a quick effort to swallow my fear, I started down the long, dark hallway and towards our bedroom.  I passed the closet on the right, then the bathroom on the left.  Finally, I arrived at the closed bedroom door; exactly how I left it.  One last hopeful thought insisted that it could be my wife Sarah.  It is possible that, for some crazy reason, she is home.  A sense of comfort swept over me as I considered and hoped for this potential scenario.  But I was still cautious.  

In most scary movies I have seen, in this kind of situation the victims always open the squeaky door slowly, and force you to endure the painful anticipation.  No way was I about to do that.  Heck freaking no!  So, with a sweaty grip I clenched the door knob and about broke the door down with a quick burst.  What the…?!  All hope that Sarah was the source of the haunting was chased away by an empty, dark room!  I scanned the area for any signs of life…or…or for signs of death; you know, the potential ghost that was impersonating my wife.  Sarah was nowhere to be found.  My heart rate dramatically increased, and I was now truly on edge.  What is going on?! The prospect of an actual ghost in the house seemed more believable than ever.  I decided to investigate the remaining rooms.       

I turned around and started to tip toe back through the darkness of the hallway (still not sure why I didn’t turn on the lights).  Right as I walked in front of the bathroom door, the high-pitch voice thundered from the other side and unloaded a long string of words that I could not understand.  In that moment, I felt a powerful, Justin Bieber quality scream of sheer terror erupting from within me, but somehow I managed to suppress it.  I about completely fell over, and almost unloaded in my pants.  What followed was my wife’s hysterical laughter.    

The haunting nightmare was at an end.  Turns out that my dear, sweet, and harmless wife Sarah was, in fact, home and sitting on the toilet.  Yes, it was actually Sarah; not a ghost.  But how?  This is what happened: 

Sarah got off work early; forgot to text me; arrived home during the ten minute window when I was at Marc’s; zoomed to the bathroom, for obvious reasons, and did not bother to turn on the hallway light; and I did not notice her car in the driveway, because I was distracted by the excitement of the camera.  One would say it was the perfect storm.  

Of course, I was a little bit angry by the needless fear, but also extremely happy that there was not a ghost impersonating my wife after all.  My wife is very special to me, and if any ghost ever tried to disrespect her through impersonation, I would punch it in the face!  After I scream like a girl.