Category: 2024

A Little Perspective on Life

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20241 Comment

Dear Will:

For Christmas, my son Luke bought me a one-year “subscription” to StoryWorth. Every Monday, I get an email, prompting me to respond to a question about myself as a keepsake for my children and granddaughter. This week’s question: How has your faith influenced your perspective on life? Since you and I have become close over the years, I thought I would share my answer with you as well.

First, some context: Through my mother, I am a sixth- or seventh-generation Mormon (depending on which genealogical line you trace), a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For his part, my father claimed to be a member of the Church of England, which, he said, explained why he didn’t attend services (too far away). So as I was growing up, my mother would schlep me and my six siblings off to church services each Sunday while my dad stayed home tending the pot roast. Throughout my formative years, I remained an obedient but indifferent member of the Church, not thinking much about it or its teachings one way or the other. While other kids my age dutifully played along and parroted the standard professions of faith and belief that they were taught, I remained a detached observer—in the Church but never really of the Church, if you catch my meaning. As I observed my older siblings testing various types of rebellion and defiance, I assumed that one day that would also be me.

When I was 14 years old, my family moved from Redlands to Glendora, California—just as I was entering the ninth grade—and things changed for me dramatically. At a junior high school, the ninth-graders were the old kids, the cool kids, and without upperclassmen to put us in our places we worked hard to act more grown up than we really were. Because I was the new kid in town, I got invited to parties, offered weed, pulled this way and that by different social groups who were trying to figure out if I was one of them. I wondered if I might be as well. I recall being asked about my beliefs and personal practices (“So, do you drink?”) and always answering awkwardly, usually making up some excuse for being a straight arrow because I had not taken the time to decide for myself.

Meanwhile the kids in my church social group were tugging me in another direction altogether, and in time, without really making a conscious choice, I found myself pulled into their orbit. At some point, I couldn’t really tell you when exactly, I made the choice to lean in and truly become the thing I had spent 15 or 16 years merely observing. While I don’t recall the particulars, this much I remember distinctly: at 15 I didn’t really know what I believed; but by 18 I had decided to become a missionary. Those two years in Uruguay were life-altering, and I have remained actively involved in my church ever since.

But all of that is merely preamble—necessary backstory, I think, since so much of what I believe and how I live has been influenced by my association with the Church. But what of the question regarding my faith? Rather than delve into lots of religious doctrine, let’s just focus on those of my core beliefs that really get to the heart of the question:

All my life I have believed in God—that part has been easy for me. I tend to agree with the Book of Mormon prophet Alma who said that “all things denote there is a God.” As I observe the wonders of the world around me, it just seems obvious (concurrent evil and destruction notwithstanding). Beyond those observations, I have had moments of clarity when I have felt God’s presence and an assurance that He has touched my life in a number of significant ways. Along with that baseline belief, I have faith that there is more to life than what we can extract from our 90-or-so years of mortality—that I pre-existed and that I will continue living beyond the grave. I could say more on this—much more in fact—but rather than turn this into a sermon, let’s get to the point about how all of this has influenced my perspective on life.

Because of my faith, I believe that what I do in this life—or more to the point, what I become—really matters. I have spent most of my life striving to become a better version of myself—kinder, less selfish, more patient, more virtuous, more loving. The idea that we should love one another and treat one another as we wish to be treated is not unique to my Christian faith, but it certainly informs how I choose to live. It’s easy to imagine that I would be a very different sort of person if I thought that ultimately how I interact with others is just a choice that really doesn’t matter. You don’t have to be a person of faith to believe and to try to live by the Golden Rule, of course. But for me, it has helped me tremendously to be preached at regularly and to be surrounded by others who are striving imperfectly, just like me, to be better tomorrow than we are today. Not that I’m doing it for show, but I would hope that others could observe my life and see evidence of my faith in the choices that I have made. They will also see plenty of evidence of times and circumstances when I have fallen far short of my own aspirations (sorry), but in its totality, I hope the trend of my life is in the right direction—that I have made at least some progress since my days at Goddard Junior High.

Because of my faith, I tend to be more optimistic than pessimistic, a man more prone to hope than to despair. That hopeful perspective has been tested in recent years—by political and environmental issues, in particular—but I try to maintain an “eternal perspective” when I start to feel the negativity drag me down. Over the last few years, I find myself returning again and again to something the Apostle Paul said in his letter to the Romans: that “all things work together for good to them that love God.” That isn’t to say that it will be easy or even just easier for me because of my faith, but I do think my faith helps to carry me through the rough times. In 1999, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland gave a discourse that I love, a sermon that captures in better words than I could hope to compose the nature of my hopeful perspective in the face of adversity. I wholeheartedly recommend that address to anyone and everyone.

And finally, because of my faith, I have no fear of death. Rather I anticipate it with curiosity and wonder. It has been painful for me to lose loved ones—to be sure—but I have taken comfort in the surety that we may be reunited one day. I remember sitting with my mother during her final months on earth when her body was breaking down and she was ready to move on. She said: “I want to see what it’s like.” I have a few more years left in me (I hope), but I agree with her on the essential point: this life is great, but there are even better things to come.

Thanks for asking.

PW

Photo by Benjamin Davies on Unsplash

Gotta Get My Steps In

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20242 Comments

Dear Will:

One of the things I love about kids is that they seem to run pretty much everywhere. They don’t think twice about it. When they want to get to wherever-they-are-not-right-now—ZOOM, they’re off. One of the standard games that kids play when they get together seems to be called “Chase Each Other Around.” It’s so fun. Watch recess sometime and it’s like the playground is swarming with starlings.

But throw a few years and several extra pounds on them and everything changes. Those kids become grown-ups and pretty soon it’s asking too much for them to walk 15 extra steps (round trip) to put away their shopping carts—as if the check-out line took the last ounce of energy they had left. “Can’t. Go. On. Must. Find. Water.”

My personal favorite is the guy at the airport who stands and rides the moving walkway. “Barely moving walkway” they should call that thing. It’s humming along at around three feet per minute (conservative guesstimate), but no matter. Our hero must do whatever he can to save his strength because he has five long hours of sitting in one place ahead of him and can’t run the risk of bonking.

But who am I to talk? I am an adult male who hasn’t played Chase Each Other Around in years. So it’s no surprise that the know-it-alls in my personal space are doing all they can to keep me from turning into RidingTheMovingWalkwayGuy. Which is why I now wear a watch on my left wrist that keeps track of the number of steps I take each day. My life insurance provider gave it to me in a transparent effort to keep me from making a claim on my policy. We have a simple arrangement: If I log enough activity over the course of the year and don’t drop dead in the process, they will not raise my rates when I’m up for renewal. Not a bad deal, when you think about it. Plus I got this sweet base-model Fitbit!

(Real life irony: My watch just buzzed to remind me to get up out of this chair and walk around. Curse you, Nanny State!)

You don’t have to be a Google Wizard to find any number of articles extolling the virtues of ambling about. Talk to just about any medical professional and they’ll make it sound like some kind of magic elixir. Here are just a few benefits I found in the first thing I clicked:

  1. Counteracts the effects of weight-promoting genes. (Take that, Mom and Dad!)
  2. Helps tame a sweet tooth. (Not sure I want that, but OK.)
  3. Reduces the risk of developing breast cancer. (You can never be too safe, guys.)
  4. Eases joint pain. (Not in my personal experience, but I’ll trust the science.)
  5. Boosts immune function. (Yes, please.)

All of which is based on actual academic studies. Whatever. But there are additional positive side-effects that those smarty-pants at Harvard didn’t think to study. In my personal clinical trials (sample size = 1) I have identified these other compelling benefits of wandering around:

  1. Makes you eligible for valuable prizes. (Provided, that is, you work for Canvas Worldwide like I do and participate in the 2024 Canvas Worldwide Steps Challenge—which is an actual thing.)
  2. Provides a great excuse to get new shoes. (Confirmed through multiple trials, including this one.)
  3. Delights the dog every time (Note: Must take dog with you.)
  4. Gives you time to think. (Note: Must not take cellphone with you.)
  5. This.

I probably could go on, but another hour has passed and my watch is nagging me again. Probably ought to get up and move around. Maybe challenge Dana to a quick game of Chase Each Other Around. Gotta get my steps in, after all.

PW

Photo by Ghassan Al-Sibai

In Over Our Heads

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2024Leave a comment

Dear Will:

Over the course of my lifetime, I have been accused of many things, but I can unequivocally affirm that not once have I been accused of being a wiz with finances. That I have made it through this many years of life and still remain solvent is a mystery unlikely to be solved by dozens of forensic accountants working round the clock for years on end. And yet the fact remains: In spite of a long history of dubious choices over the course of many years, I have somehow, some way, managed to reach my 64th year debt-free. In December we even paid off our house.

That was no small feat considering that when we bought the place we had no clear understanding of how mortgages work. We refinanced this house a number of times, sometimes withdrawing some equity to pay off other things along the way, before fully realizing that we were dialing our 30-year mortgage back to the beginning each time—and meanwhile, what we owed was growing, not shrinking. (Seems obvious enough, but, well, see paragraph one.) Once we made the shocking discovery that we were kind of moving backwards, we were forced to convert to a 15-year loan in order to get ourselves more or less back on track. We were perhaps the only kids in the neighborhood who more than once managed to secure a lower interest rate and still end up with a higher monthly payment. Dumb. 

My latest genius move came a couple of years ago when we installed solar panels on top of a 35-year-old roof.  Any B-average fifth-grader could have anticipated the problem with that choice, but since I didn’t have one handy to advise me, I went on ahead with the plan. The panels have worked out great, but the atmospheric rivers of 2024 have revealed that our original-equipment roof is finally kaput. Which of course will require that the panels be removed ($) and then reinstalled ($) on top of an all-new rooftop ($$$$). Really dumb.

How is it, then, that my manifest incompetence notwithstanding, I own a reasonably nice home in a very nice neighborhood in Southern California? That I’m bumbling toward retirement with a decent balance in my 401(k) plan and some additional investments besides? How is that even possible? I was born with a tailwind, of course. Heritage and opportunity (and whole lot of dumb luck) have been major contributors, but there are a couple of other factors that I must acknowledge as well:

1) Dana and I have gotten some assistance from our parents from time to time along the way. They have helped bridge some tough circumstances in our early years (unemployment: not recommended, FYI) and in later years have bolstered our savings as well. We are quick to acknowledge that not everyone has that kind of generous, loving backup system.

2) We have always—even in the down times—faithfully paid tithes and offerings, gratefully giving while embracing with faith the promises laid out by both Isaiah and Malachi. Those promises do not give us any assurance of wealth, prosperity—or even solvency—but we have always believed that if we willingly give back, sharing whatever bounty we may have, everything is going to work out in the end. 

In the most recent General Conference for our church, Elder Gerrit W. Gong gave an address that captures what I’m feeling even as I await the roofer’s estimate. He shared a Chinese story about a man whose son finds a beautiful horse:

“How fortunate,” the neighbors say. “We’ll see,” says the man.

Then the son falls off the horse and is permanently injured. “How unfortunate,” the neighbors say. “We’ll see,” says the man.

A conscripting army comes but doesn’t take the injured son. “How fortunate,” the neighbors say. “We’ll see,” says the man.

Elder Gong then gave this important reminder: “This fickle world often feels tempest tossed, uncertain, sometimes fortunate, and—too often—unfortunate. Yet, in this world of tribulation, ‘we know that all things work together for good to them that love God’ (Romans 8:28).”

Our race is not yet run. Dana and I could live another 30 years, and who knows what potholes and pitfalls may await us in the road ahead? Will our savings be enough to get us from here to there? We shall see. But we have already been blessed far beyond our merits. And we live with the ongoing assurance that, come what may, all things will work together for our good.

Our leaky roof notwithstanding.

PW

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash