Not Quite Ultra Super Cool Deluxe

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2010Leave a comment

Dear Will:

Some time before the Christmas holiday Costco started selling this K’NEX contraption called the “Hornet Swarm Dueling Coaster.” Now if you’re unfamiliar with K’NEX, they’re sort of like the Tinker Toys I had as a kid only updated significantly for the 21st century. But you don’t even have to know about Tinker Toys to understand some simple calculations: The Hornet Swarm Dueling Coaster comes with 1,116 separate pieces and requires 104 steps to assemble. Once completed the HSDC stands 3 ½ feet tall.

As a rational adult, you could look at those numbers and come to the clear-headed conclusion that what your eleven-year-old really needs for Christmas is a good book to read. Unfortunately, I did not marry such a person. In fact, the Other Santa in our house thought that what our family wouldn’t be complete without a Dueling Coaster of its own. (“Motor! Sound! 4 cars!”)

What I’m trying to say is that last week Seth and I finally finished assembling the Hornet Swarm. It wasn’t even somewhat kind of slightly easy. (“For ages 9 and up”? I don’t think so.) But we “got ‘er done,” as they say. And even though it does indeed stand nearly four feet tall and now occupies a prominent position in our still-unfurnished dining room, I have to admit: It’s pretty cool.

But still. We fired that sucker up a few times and enjoyed it, but since then if there isn’t some new audience to dazzle with it, it sits unused. Or did. Until yesterday.

You see, yesterday someone’s dad decided that it would be a good idea to reengineer the Hornet Swarm. You know what’s cooler than a Dueling Coaster, don’t you? A Single Coaster with Dueling Tracks, of course! And someone’s dad decided that he could easily enough cross the tracks and thus transform the Hornet Swarm from pretty cool to ultra super cool deluxe.

It seemed so simple. It took a little ingenuity inasmuch as the new design required a few pieces that were not included with the original 1,116. But hey, the box did say “Imagine • Build • Play,” didn’t it? When faced with such a challenge, you find a way is what you do. Because “our” idea was even better than the original.

The trouble was that although we got the tracks to go in the right places, and we only broke one piece in so doing, for some reason the chain that pulls the cars to the top of the coaster was no longer pulling. All we got was a click-click-click that told us the chain was stuck and the motor was straining to pull it along. Pieces started detaching themselves, leaving our enterprising engineers with only one thought: “She’s gonna blow!”

Nuts. It really did seem like a good idea. But ultimately someone’s dad had to admit that there was probably a good reason why the good folks at K’NEX didn’t draw up the HSDC his way. Maybe, he had to admit, the people who designed the thing really knew what they were doing all along.

And so, the lesson: The tragic tale of the Hornet Swarm Single Coaster with Dueling Tracks reminds us that the best way to stay on track is to stick with the plan—or should I say, the Plan—set out by the Master Builder responsible for the design itself. It is, after all, with good reason that God encourages us to “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). Or as the prophet Isaiah once taught: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8-9).

To which I might add: As you face the dips and turns and loop-the-loops of life, may you always put your trust in the Master Builder. And when you think you have a better idea, think again.

PW

Bright Lights in the Early Morning

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2010Leave a comment

Dear Will:

As you may recall, I teach early morning Seminary five days a week. My class this year is made up of high-schoolers from 9th grade to 12th. Although I have 30 kids officially on my rolls, on a typical day I get no more than 20.

Even so: Twenty kids. Every morning—throughout the school year. (And mine is only one of hundreds of such classes that are meeting each day around the world.) Think about the sacrifice and dedication required for a 16-year-old to drag himself out of bed before the sun comes up, grab a Pop-Tart and slide into a chair by 6:45 a.m. (give or take). And then (poor souls), they have to put up with me for 45 minutes every day. It’s remarkable.

So let me make a few remarks about these extraordinary kids. There are plenty of mumbling sleepy ones, to be sure, but the vast majority of them are bright-eyed and enthusiastic. They smile more than they scowl and generally participate willingly in whatever I may have cooked up for that day. And if you ask me, even the unenthusiastic separate themselves from typical teenagers simply by virtue of the fact that they are there.

The contrast between these kids and the teenagers you too often read about in the papers (or see depicted on TV) is striking. Their goodness is apparent, and at this point, I know them well enough to know that they are generally trying hard to do what’s right—in spite of the pressures and distractions that make it so hard for anyone these days—let alone those as susceptible to outside influence as teenagers—to hold fast to that which is good. But because they do seek after that which is virtuous, lovely, of good report and praiseworthy, they have the added benefit of the active support of the Holy Spirit in their daily lives.

And it’s apparent. I wish you could see what I see each morning. There is a brightness in their faces that signals how extraordinary they are. The scriptures say that when we are spiritually born of God it is as if we had His image in our countenances. I think that these kids are evidence that that really happens.

I have a friend who sometimes says that a room full of these valiant youths is a sort of light show. Some shine brighter than others, to be sure, but it’s true that they do give off light. They remind me (often) of those familiar verses from the Sermon on the Mount:

     Ye are the light of the world.  A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.
     Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.
     Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works,
and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
(Matthew 5:14-16)

I’m not exactly sure why I’m telling you all of this. Perhaps it’s because I have seen their good works and feel compelled to glorify my Father which is in heaven. Or perhaps I’m just feeling lucky to have the privilege of starting each day with these bright souls and I felt like sharing. Whatever the case, I wanted you to know about them. If you ever get the chance, swing by the building on Yorba some morning and sit in the back of the room (I’ll save you a seat). You’ll be glad you did.

PW

What You Really Should Do

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20101 Comment

Dear Will:

The guidebook said to follow the deeply-rutted, Old Quarry Road down to the tide-pools. It was a longer walk than we anticipated, and there were at least three rusted-out, abandoned old jalopies along the way to persuade us that it was a good thing that we decided to hike rather than attempt to navigate the “road” in our rented Grand Marquis.

About halfway down the road we met one of the locals coming up the other way. He asked us where we were from and what led us to Old Quarry Road on the northeast edge of Kauai. After giving us some great advice about the tide-pools, he smiled and changed the subject. “What you really should do,” he said, “is follow that road for about a half-hour. It will take you to the most amazing waterfall you’ve ever seen. Just climb through the gate and follow the path. Can’t miss it.” He gestured to an apparently private, grass-covered road. He assured us that the owners didn’t mind, and the way he described the pool at the base of the falls sounded glorious.

We stuck to the plan instead and had a marvelous time at the tide-pools. But when we returned to the car, we got out the guidebook to see what it might tell us about the secret falls. There was hardly a mention, just a passing reference to something that might have been the place. It gave us pause that our guidebook, which made a big point of trying to get us to discover Kauai’s hidden treasures, made no attempt to encourage us to discover this one.

Still, we were so intrigued we decided to go back the next day and follow the guy’s advice. We arrived at the gate at the same time as another pair of apprehensive out-of-towners. We climbed through the gate together.

Just a few minutes into our hike, the road forked: to the left the road extended maybe 20 or 30 feet before becoming completely overgrown with grass; to the right, the road veered sharply uphill in what felt like the wrong direction. We all paused to consider our options. My wife and kids and I decided to venture onward while the other couple lost their nerve and decided to turn back.

It’s a good thing we persevered. The road continued to undulate up and down and around, but eventually we could hear the sound of rushing water. When at last we came around the final bend in the path, this is what we found:

(That’s my daughter there in the middle.) Since visiting this slice of paradise, we can’t stop talking about the secret falls.  We talk about it to anyone who will listen (witness this letter). For me, it was the highlight of our ten days on the island.

Subsequently, it has occurred to me that my experience was somewhat akin to the scene described as Lehi’s dream in the opening chapters of the Book of Mormon (see 1 Nephi 8). You may recall that in that dream, Lehi follows a path that eventually leads to a tree whose fruit “filled [his] soul with exceedingly great joy,” to which he adds: “I began to be desirous that my family should partake of it also.” With some trepidation (“they knew not whither they should go”) some of his family members made their way along the path to the tree, while others were lured away by their peers who encouraged them to go a different way instead.

Later, we are told that the tree in the allegory represents “the love of God, which sheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore it is the most desirable above all things” (1 Nephi 11:22). For those who find their way to the path and stay on it even when they are fearful or uncertain, the reward is “the most joyous to the soul.” But for those who choose a different route, no such reward is forthcoming.

We commented that very day in Kauai that the couple who turned back had missed a great opportunity they might never get again. If only we had known, we could have encouraged them to keep going, sharing with them our knowledge of the delightful, glorious reward that awaited. Perhaps we could have strengthened their resolve to carry on even in spite of their doubts.

Which is, I suppose, one of the reasons I write these letters. . . .

PW