Reflections on Dad at Christmas Time

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

 

 

Dad has been gone 11 months now.  And as it's Christmas, his loss stings a bit more than it has for some time.  The sights and sounds remind me so much of him.  There are songs, for example, that I cannot hear without thinking he is just in the other room or within a phone call's reach. There are foods that I expect to evoke some kind of response from him.  And the flood of these sensory reminders makes him feel at once closer and yet more painfully distant.

 

So, while my memory is still relatively clear, let me briefly record here some of my memories of Dad and Christmas:

 

We Went to Get a Christmas Tree

 

My earliest Christmas memory with Dad  is likely when I was 2-3.  I had gone with him and my grandfather to get a Christmas tree.  It's a fuzzy memory, being as far back as it is, but I remember we parked Grandpa's truck in front of a big barn, and then Dad and Grandpa left me in the truck while they went to see about a tree.  Grandpa also happened to leave the keys in the ignition.  This was a new thing for me, and I thought it might be a good idea to turn the ignition and pull down on that lever I'd seen Grandpa pull.  Before I knew it, the truck started and rumbled forward -- helplessly toward that big barn (in my mind, the barn was red, but it could have been white).  I don't know how far away from the truck Dad had gotten, but near to when it looked like the truck would crash into the barn (and possibly go through it), Dad flung open the driver's side door, took control of the truck and brought it to a stop with feet to spare.  I remember nothing about the aftermath of that incident, but I don't think Grandpa ever left me in his vehicle unattended, or at least unattended with the keys in the ignition.

 

 [This may have been the tree that nearly cost Grandpa a truck (and a barn)]

 

Peeking Down the Stairs

When I was 4 or 5, there was a Christmas Eve  I remember peeking down from the top of the stairs at our home in Oswego, NY after I had been sent to bed for the evening. Mom and Dad were busily arranging presents under the Christmas tree, and, I think, listening to Christmas music.  It was quite a scene, and I think I wondered if I might catch a glimpse of Santa Claus if I could just wait it out.   But my surveillance operation didn't last long enough; Mom and Dad spotted me and sent me back to my bedroom.  And for some reason, I don't remember making a second effort.

 

It might have been part the same evening or the next Christmas Eve (it's curious how memories jumble), but I next remember Mom telling me in my room that I had to be absolutely still in my bed or Santa wouldn't come.  I remember looking for Santa out the window on the roof, but after those words from Mom, I froze in place.  Apparently I fell asleep rather quickly, too, because it seemed like only minutes had passed before Mom was back in my room telling me that Santa had come, and did I want to get up and open presents? This would be the last time my parents ever had to wake me on Christmas morning.

 

A Toy Truck for "A Relative"

 

I also remember one year finding my way into my parents' bedroom closest one evening at Christmas time and finding a wonderful Tonka truck.  I played with that truck there in my parents' bedroom until Mom came in to put a stop to things.  She then told me that truck was a Christmas present for "a relative", before putting it away and sending me off to bed.  I don't remember thinking anything more about that truck until I opened it up on Christmas morning.  At the time, I thought it was amazing that I had gotten the same truck that Mom was giving to our "relative."

 

Sitting in Front of the Fire

 

I have an image of Dad sitting in the living room some evenings, listening to Christmas music on the stereo, with all the lights off in the room except for those glowing from the Christmas tree.

 

[The Clarks (and Grandma Feickert) singing Christmas Carols, circa 1984]

 

 

All I Wanted Was a VCR For Christmas

 

It's been noted elsewhere, but I learned from Dad the hard way that Santa's existence was a little more complicated than I'd initially been lead to believe.  I think I might have been 11 when I'd schemed a way to get what I really wanted for Christmas -- a VCR. I decided to write Santa a polite but threatening letter that went something like this:

 

Dear Santa,

I would really like a VCR for Christmas.  If you don't get me one, I won't believe in you anymore. 

Sincerely,

Aaron 

 

That evening, Dad called me into the kitchen, where he sat at one end of the table with my opened letter in hand.  I was furious -- he had opened a letter meant for Santa Claus!  He then rather abruptly told me, "Aaron, there is no Santa Claus.  We are not getting a VCR [times were tough in the Clark home in those years].  And don't say a word of this to your brothers and sisters."  Given how earth shattering those revelations were, it surprises me that I don't remember harboring any ill will or suffering any significant trauma.

 

[circa 1988] 

 

Looking back now, it's ironic that the same man who crushed my dreams and couldn't afford a VCR would become known for extending himself so to get his kids all the presents and more on their Christmas list.

 

Nintendo Trauma

 

 

Of course, there was also the year Mom and Dad canceled Christmas (i.e., had Grandma take back the Nintendo that she'd apparently bought for us) after Nathan and I were caught sneaking into the Christmas fudge.  They swore in recent years that there was more to it than just the fudge debacle, but they've never been able to point to what, exactly, it was.  And Nathan and I can't remember being anything other than typical young boys -- heartbroken little boys.

Now that I'm a parent myself, I strongly suspect that Mom didn't really want me to have that Nintendo anyway.  But as she probably won't ever own to it, we'll likely have to wait until the next life to sort this one out.

 

 

The Degenshein International Cookie Party

 

Still in Ilion, I remember fondly Sunday afternoon drives each Christmas season (in that grey and red behemoth of a van of ours) to Frankfort, NY for Joyce Degenshein's International Cookie Party.  Joyce was a member of our church congregation, and would make a dozen or more different kinds of Christmas cookies to taste as we mingled with others and sipped hot chocolate or hot cider.  My favorites were always the Spritz cookies with their white frosting and sprinkles sandwiched between two butter cookies.  Joyce always had an enormous tree that seemed like it filled half her living room, and Dad was always sure to point out (loud enough for all in the apartment to hear it) the placement of her NY Mets ornament on that huge tree.

 

[circa 1989 -- I think I spy a VCR in the background!]

 

An Announcement  

 

One year, when I was 15, my parents announced during our Christmas Eve program (wherein we would sing songs and revisit some of the scriptures related to the Savior's birth) that Mom was pregnant with my youngest brother.  Grandma and Grandpa were there.  That night is one of my most cherished memories, and I remember a feeling of sacredness and reverence about the whole experience. 

 

Years later, it became something of a tradition for the kids to announce pregnancies on Christmas evening (if the secret could be kept until then).

 

Gifts and More Gifts

 

There was a Christmas Eve a year or two later when, having sent the rest of the kids to bed and filled the stockings, Dad took Nathan (my closest sibling in age) and I for a late night drive to his office, which was 20 miles or so away.  There he had us load the van with a cache of presents that he'd been hiding, perhaps even from my mother. 

 

From that point on, he seemed to become only more obsessed with squirreling away Christmas gifts for people starting very early in the year.  In fact, it became a running joke that Dad would start asking for Christmas Lists in July or August. 

 

Here's a sample of one such email from August 26, 2014:

 

Seeing Hobby Lobby is already advertising their Christmas deals, and Smith's has all of their Halloween Candy out for the season, it's probably time to get general Christmas wish lists for the season.  It helps to have a head's up.

Dad

 

And if we hadn't sent him that list by September, he started to get really anxious.  Another part of an email from September 20, 2014:  

 

Got Christmas wish list from Sarah this past week and something from Alisha, but I would appreciate hearing from others of you as well.

ALC

 

 [This bowling ball is now the stuff of legend in the Clark home, circa 2007]

 

Always Checking In

 

As the years passed and Dad became "Grandpa," we found ourselves routinely making the Christmas drive to Layton, UT from Southern California to spend the holidays there.  Dad's excitement manifest itself in many ways, including repeated telephone calls while we were en route.  He would check up on our progress, and always advise us to "drive safe."  An hour or two later, he'd call again.  I can't help but think of those calls now without smiling.

 

Last to Bed and First Up

 

Even in recent years, Dad always seemed to be one of the last ones to bed on Christmas Eve, and one of the first ones up on Christmas morning.  I can still see him tiptoeing around the house with excitement while having on the George C. Scott version of A Christmas Carol in the background (for Dad, that is the definitive movie version).

 [2014]

A Christmas Eve Testimony

This was from last Christmas Eve.  Most of us were huddled around the piano in the living room.  We knew Dad was sick then.  He'd been sick for a few years, but it wasn't until a week or so before last Christmas that anyone had been able to diagnose what had been happening to him.  At the time, he'd been told he may have another 18 months, but there were some treatment options that gave us hope it might be even longer.  Dad seemed at peace and as anxious as he had ever been to celebrate Christmas.

 

 

We had little notion at the time he shared this that he would only be with us a few weeks more.  Even if we had known, though, I'm not sure I would've done anything different in how I spent that last Christmas with him.

 

A Savior is Born

 

I do believe I will see Dad again.  In fact, I'd say I know it.  That it could be otherwise doesn't even seem possible.  But it still feels like such a long way away, and that distance makes me sad.

 

I believe that Jesus Christ made possible that eventual reunion and so much more.  He really is my Savior.  And there really is cause for celebration this season.  Dad knew that.  That has a lot to do with why he loved Christmas so much.  And that's part of why I feel a particular ache for his company right now.

 

This year, it has seemed remarkable to me that as often as Christmas season comes, there always seems to be a feeling of renewal in remembering Jesus Christ.  Those sacred hymns we sing year after year continue to evoke feelings of reverence and awe.  But this year, that reverence and awe mix with poignant feelings of celebration and loss.  At least for now, I hope that never changes.

 

Merry Christmas! 

Keep Trying (a Guest Post)

Remarks given by Michelle in our Sacrament meeting on November 22, 2015:

Two Truths and a Lie

I’d like to introduce myself by playing a little game with you. Some of you may be familiar with this game.  It’s called, “Two Truths and a Lie.”  For those of you who don’t know how to play, here’s how it works:  I’m going to make 3 statements about myself, 2 of which are true, and one of which is a lie.  It is then up to you to discern which of the 3 is the lie. 

Here we go:

1.      I once helped police solve a crime.

2.      I have never broken a bone.

3.      I have had the chicken pox 4 times.

Now, decide in your mind which is the lie.  Ready for the answer? 

If you thought that me helping police to solve a crime is the lie, you were wrong.  It is true, and yes, there is a story behind it, but, in the interest of time, I’m going to leave you in suspense on that one.  If you want to hear it, you’ll have to chat with me later.

If you thought that I was lying when I said I’ve never broken a bone, you were right.  It is a lie.  I broke my ankle when I was 17, which means, that yes, #3 is true. I DID have the chicken pox 4 times as a child. 

Now, I’m not the only one who likes to play “Two Truths and a Lie.”  In fact, I know someone who is an absolute master at it.  He is particularly adept at crafting the lie.  He’s so good, in fact, there is not a single person who plays with him, that does not, at one time or another, and to varying degrees, fall for his lies.  You may have guessed, I am referring to the Father of All Lies, our adversary, Satan.

A Different Perspective

The topic I was given is “The Softer Addiction in Habits that Prevent Progress.”  Now, if I had been given this topic even a couple of years ago, I think I would have, at least initially, reacted with some anxiety.  Words like “addiction,” “habits,” and “preventing progress,” carry a lot of weight, especially when applied to our behavior.  Indeed, I’m sure I would have approached the topic by ticking off a list my own shortcomings, lamenting not only their number, but how long, and how often I’d repeated some of them.  I’d think of areas in which I’d grown complacent, and in my soul searching would surely have been reminded of how very far from perfection I am, which recognition would have carried with it feelings of guilt and shame.  I would certainly have known that I was an inadequate speaker for the topic.

Now, as I mentioned before, Satan is expert at feeding us lies.  One of his favorite tactics, is planting in our minds thoughts of despair and discouragement, meant to halt our progress and create distance between us and our Heavenly Father.  And it works.  At least, it certainly has with me.

Perhaps some of you can relate.  I suspect as members of the church that most of us, are painfully aware of our weakness and how far from perfection we are.  Likely all of us can tick off a list of shortcomings that plague us, some of which we may have struggled with for a significant length of time, perhaps even all of our lives.  And, like me, many of you may also feel inadequate, or discouraged, or perhaps even unworthy.

But, over the last few years, the Lord has taught me a different perspective - one counter to Satan’s message of shame and despair - that has changed how I view my own habits, weaknesses, and struggles.  And it is through that lens that I would like to share with you today “Two Truths and a Lie” I’ve learned regarding “habits that prevent progression.” 

My message today is particularly intended for those of us who, like me, from time to time, when considering our weakness, find ourselves discouraged, disheartened, or even despairing.  I pray that it will be a message of hope, and through the Spirit, you might be able to see yourself through the Lord eyes.

Truth #1:  Habits and Weakness are a Part of God’s Plan for Our Spiritual Development. 

I think we can agree that our God is a God of high expectations.  In the gospel, we are taught the ideal.  Apart from a rather lengthy list of “thou shalts,” and “thou shalt nots,” the Lord further instructs us, “…what manner of men ought ye to be?  Verily I say unto you, even as I am” (3 Nephi 27:27), and even commands us to “Be ye therefore perfect…” (Matthew 5:48).

That is a daunting standard, and certainly one, that without clear perspective, could induce perpetual feelings of inadequacy.

In an October 1976 conference address entitled, “Notwithstanding My Weakness,” Elder Neal A. Maxwell explains:

Now may I speak, not to the slackers in the Kingdom, but to those who carry their own load and more; not to those lulled into false security, but to those buffeted by false insecurity, who, though laboring devotedly in the Kingdom, have recurring feelings of falling forever short.

Earlier disciples who heard Jesus preach some exacting doctrines were also anxious and said, “Who then can be saved?” (Mark 10:26.)

The first thing to be said of this feeling of inadequacy is that it is normal. There is no way the Church can honestly describe where we must yet go and what we must yet do without creating a sense of immense distance.

This distance is certainly not lost on the Lord, which is why the bulk of his teachings provide us with further perspective.

Basic gospel doctrine teaches us that we are immortal beings, and that our time on earth is meant to be a time of testing, and training.  Opposition is a necessary part of that training, which opposition includes challenges, temptations, and weakness.

We further understand that our God is a God of mercy, who has graven us upon His very palms (see 1 Nephi 21:16), that life’s challenges are not meant merely as punishment, but rather, function as essential tools to lead us to him, and shape us into glorious, perfect beings.  In the scriptures, He reminds us, “I give unto men weakness that they may be humble” (Ether 12:27), that in our weakness, “[we shall] be made strong” (Ether 12:37), indeed that the “very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after [us]…that all these things shall give [us] experience, and shall be for [our] good” (D&C 122:7). 

Have you ever seen those Iron Chef-style cooking shows, where the contestants are given an unknown ingredient, or combination of ingredients, and they have limited amount of time to create something spectacular to wow the often harsh and discerning judges?  I’m always amazed by what the top chefs are able to create under such pressure, especially given what seems, to me, like such an impossible combination of ingredients.  Perhaps even more impressive than their ability to concoct incredible dishes, is their flexibility.  So often, you watch and something goes wrong – something doesn’t set, or they drop a pan, or something burns, and you figure they’re out.  They’ve failed.  They won’t be able to recover from that.  Yet, the best chefs always adapt, and despite the opposition, still manage to create something wonderful.

I think the Lord is like that master chef when it comes to His involvement in our lives and habits.  It doesn’t matter what He’s given, He knows what to do with it.  Sometimes – MANY times – things go wrong; through our agency, or that of others, things don’t turn out like we’d planned, we make mistakes, or sometimes we even have to start over.  But like top chefs, the Lord doesn’t throw everything out and walk away, but, rather, He adapts, showing us, maybe, what to add and what to take away, what requires more, or less cooking time, etc. to the recipe just right. 

In that sense, I would submit that there is NO ingredient - no habit, no weakness, or no addiction that can truly keep us from progressing. There is nothing the Lord cannot use for our gain, to shape us and mold us, with one caveat:  we have to keep trying. 

The Lie: Trying Isn’t Enough 

And this is where the LIE comes in.

I may regret this, but I’m going to do something I swore I’d never do:  I’m going to reference Star Wars in a sacrament meeting talk.

You may remember the scene in the Empire Strikes Back, where Luke has met with Yoda to try and learn how to use the force, and it’s really hard.  At one point he’s trying to raise his sunken ship out of the swamp, but he isn’t having much luck.  He’s getting is frustrated, Yoda is frustrated.  Yoda gives Luke some sage advice, to which Luke responds, “Alright, I’ll give it a try.”  Yoda rather abruptly and sternly corrects him, saying, “No.  Try not. Do. Or do not.  There is no try.”

Now, I hate to say it, but Master Yoda got it wrong.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Yoda.  He’s just not very good at 2 Truths and a Lie, because the lie is that trying isn’t enough:  there is no try.

Satan would have us mistakenly believe that we are not good enough until we have become – until we have reached the goal, kicked the habit, or what have you.

But this is contrary to the nature of God, at least the God I know.

Remember, he reminds us, “I will be merciful unto your weakness” (D&C 38:14).  He requires us to forgive “…until 70 times 7” (D&C 98:40) because that’s what He would do, and that’s what He does do for us.  And He tells us repeatedly in the scriptures to keep going, to endure, to press forward (see 2 Nephi 31:20), to “continue as [we] commenced” (D&C 9:5), to remember, to “be not weary” (D&C 64:33).   To try.

I had an experience last week that reminded me of this.  In my home, I often struggle being patient with my children.  We’d had a few difficult days at home and one morning, as I was trying to get everyone out the door amid meltdowns and bickering, I was losing it.  Frustrated, I texted Aaron, “Dealing with the chaos day after day is exhausting!” 

I sent the text and I looked down at it, and immediately had the thought, “Heavenly Father never feels exhausted with you.”  That revelation stopped me in my tracks.  In that moment, I thought about how often I’ve repeated the same mistakes, how often I’ve gone to the Lord (or failed to go to Him) having a meltdown, and how child-like I was in my relationship with Him.  

It was a powerful teaching moment between me and Lord because, first of all, it was a wonderful, gentle reminder that perhaps I could be a little more patient with my kids.  But it was also confirmation of the very point I’m trying to make:  that with all of us God is infinitely patient; infinitely merciful.  He’s a God of chances.  He is a God of trying, because it is in the trying that we become. 

Truth #2: Heavenly Father is a God of Love

This experience also reminded me of one more lesson, which is my final truth in “Two Truths and a Lie”: That Heavenly Father is a God of love and He uses that love to motivate us.

In the past, I may have walked away from that experience the same as I would have in approaching this topic – with guilt, or shame, feeling like a failure.  But I didn’t.  I left feeling hope.

I recognized that although I feel like I struggle daily with being patient, I am trying.  And so are my kids.  We mess up a lot, but we do a lot of things right.  We haven’t given up and as long as we continue to try, we are right where the Lord wants us to be.

For me, that knowledge is incredibly motivating. 

Look How Far You’ve Come!

Let me share one final story.

I do a bit of running.  About a year and a half ago, I ran a marathon.  When I started training, the furthest I’d run was 6 miles, and at that particular time I could only do about 3.  But I had about 9 months to train, and it was on my bucket list, so I decided to go for it.

Training was challenging.  It required a great deal of time, pushing through occasional soreness, and even some injury. But it was also exciting, particularly when my weekly runs started to extend beyond my 6-mile record.  Every time I’d complete a new, longer distance, I had a ritual of congratulating myself, telling myself, sometimes out loud, “This is further than I’ve ever run before.”

The day I ran 10 miles for the first time, I had an interesting, and somewhat unexpected experience.  I was actually in Layton that day, visiting my in-laws for the holidays.  It was about this time of year, and it was cold and snowy.  Coming from balmy San Diego, I did NOT want to run that day, but I needed to get the miles in, so I did. 

About 2/3 of the way through my run, I was feeling really good and I started thinking about how amazing it was that I was really doing it – I was out in the cold, running TEN miles.  Double digits.  I remember thinking about how I’d started out only able to run 3 miles, and in my mind said, “Wow!  Look how far I’ve come!”

In that moment, God spoke to my heart in my own words.  In a split second, I thought about my life, and I thought about my challenges and my testimony, and how they had changed me, and it was as if He was saying to me, “Wow! Look how far you’ve come!  You’re doing it.  I’m so proud of you.  Keep going.”

As I reflected on that experience, I realized that God didn’t only want to tell me where I needed to improve, but that sometimes, he wanted to show me what I was doing right.

Since that time, I have asked Him many times, “Heavenly Father, please help me to see in myself what you see in me.  Please help me to know what I’m doing that pleases you.  Please show me what I am doing right.”  And He has because He loves me, and that love keeps me trusting and trying.

You Are Enough

Brothers and sisters, let me close with what I know to be true:  God has a plan for us, and that although that plan includes challenges and weaknesses, we need not despair.  Our Heavenly Father loves us, and can help us feel of that love, even as we try and fail, and try and fail again.

If you are not there, I urge you not to give up.  Don’t let your discouragement lull you into complacency and distance you from your Heavenly Father.  Keep pressing forward, even if you’re only taking baby steps, trusting that with each step, God is molding you into who He wants you to be – and that, for Him, is enough.  You are enough.

I love Him.  I know He loves me.  I am grateful for that love because it is through that love that He is shaping me into the best version of myself I can be.  I like the person I am today so much better than who I was because of my challenges - because those struggles have taught me to know Him, and trust in Him in ways I never had before.  I’m at that 10-mile mark in my life, knowing even though I have a long way to run, I have run farther than I ever have before because of Him, and I trust that He will continue to help me until I cross the finish line, as I know He will for all of us.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.