As I’ve said, I’ve been on a goal kick lately. I’ve been making some massive changes in my life and it’s exciting and I want to share what I’ve learned with all of you. So, with that…
Lofty Goals Spawn Creativity
It’s true. But only when you’re absolutely, 100% committed.
I learned this as a young missionary. My companion and I were sitting down prepping for the day and decided to make a goal. I don’t recall what inspired said goal, but we were 100% committed. We were going to teach 10 lessons to non-Mormon-folk in one day.
It was ambitious. We’d never done even half that. But, for some reason or another, we decided we were going to make it happen.
Except, here’s the thing–we didn’t have any lessons scheduled.
Well darn. That puts a damper on things. Read more »
I guess you could say I’m on a “goal-setting” kick. Over New Year’s, I expressed my disdain for annual resolutions, then subsequently set a non-New Year’s resolution. (By the way, I’m 100% so far in my calorie tracking. Thanks to those who’ve checked in on me).
And it seems I’ve got more to say.
One thing we Mormons are supposed to do is home teach. The basic idea is that each dude is assigned 2-5 families that they’re supposed to minister to–give a lesson, assess needs, be a friend, that sort of thing. Problem is, most don’t like to do it. Many loathe it. Said individuals would rather sit comfortably at home and say a prayer for said families and hope the families never bother them for help.
As a native introvert, I’ve had my own ups and downs as a home teacher. Read more »
I’m not at all a fan of New Year’s resolutions. People buying gym memberships, cleaning out their cupboards of junk food, buying bookshelves of self-help books.
In a few weeks, it all fails.
I’ve never had a New Years resolution fail. (Then again, I don’t recall ever making one.)
But, I’ve also rarely had any resolution fail.
It all begins with a story. Read more »
I almost healed a man once. Of Parkinsons. But it never happened. I never got the chance.
I was serving as a missionary in Kalamazoo Michigan. We were knocking on doors, soliciting converts and all that and stumbled upon a man. Let’s call him Rob. He was a short-ish man in his forties with bright red hair, a lean physique, and a crass sense of humor well-befitted to two emissaries of Christ.
Problem was, the guy had Parkinsons. Like, really bad. Every muscle in his body seemed to twitch when we spoke. He could hardly walk and when he did it was with an awkward shuffle. In order to listen to him, I had to place my ear within a foot of him. And even then, as deaf as I was (and still am), I struggled to understand him. Read more »
I really wish I was better. I watch certain people who serve others joyfully–always volunteering to help somebody move, or feed the homeless, or open their home to the unloved.
I’m not one of those. I want to be. I try to be. Perhaps it’s my native introversion, but I’d just rather stay at home with the family.
Yet as I try, I can’t help but think about Jim… Read more »