Catherine and I have not posted since our mission to France and Greece. We have completed our new house in Garden City, Utah and are in the final throes of making it our home. As was our goal, we have had a continual stream of family and friends come to visit, and help move a box or two.
Now that we are settling into a routine, the keyboard is beckoning. After a mission hiatus, I am continuing my efforts on writing about our infinite God, expanding my essay into a book. I would like input from you.
What does it mean for God to be infinite, and how would you describe our infinite God?
How do you describe the infinity of God’s creations?
Don’t spend time doing research. Give me your thoughts from the heart. My goal is to start with our common conceptions about God, his nature and power, and then explore, from a mathematical perspective, what it means for Him to be infinite
Let me know your thoughts in a comment to this post.
In a bid to give my fiance a chance to get to know me even better, I let her take a peak at my file of Christmas letters. I write a two page letter every year (yes, I can hear the groans of boredom already) which I continued to write as there were some who claimed it was a highlight of their Christmas season. I hesitated showing her the letter from 2017, three years after my wife passed away.
Catherine and Tim Frodsham
I decided that year that it was time for me to move forward, and in doing so, I wrote a tribute to LaNae. I decided to share the letter with her because learning how to love LaNae ultimately taught me how to love again. I am not sure why it took another 5 years for me to find Catherine, the Lord’s timing is his own, but she is certainly worth the wait.
Excerpt from the 2017 letter
LaNae and Tim Frodsham
This year for me was a time for reflection. LaNae passed away three years ago this August, and we as a family have had time for healing. After LaNae’s death, events would race through my mind; things that I did wrong, things that I could have done better while caring for her. Always the ‘what if’. Through time, prayer and contemplation, I have come to realize that what the Lord God omnipotent gave me through all of this experience was His trust. He trusted me to care for His most precious of daughters. A woman of near infinite capacity to love, a woman of uncompromising faith. He trusted me to watch over her, to tend to her and to comfort her at a time when she was the most weak and vulnerable. I have learned that the Lord did not want my perfection, He simply wanted my all, He simply wanted me. I miss her. I miss her more than I can ever express. I miss her faith that grounded me, her compassion that inspired me, her friendship that lifted me and her forgiveness that softened me. I miss too that stubborn red head that confused my soul and tried my patience. I miss her feminine logic that bewildered me to the core. I ache when I hold my grandchildren, knowing how much she wants to hold them; when I dance, knowing how much she wants to be in my arms. I marvel at the happiness we have as a family. We laugh together, cry together, celebrate life’s events and hold fast to all that is good and true. I rejoice, knowing that we are sealed together for all eternity.
Please Lord, bless our families this Christmas season. Bless the healing to continue, faith to flourish and joy to abound. We celebrate Your birth, Your life and Your atonement that makes possible such hope.
It is a little late, but Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hold the Savior close in you lives, and your families even closer.
I just spent a week cooped up in a small cabin with six adults and 15 children from two to fifteen years old, tripping over mattresses strewn across the floor and waiting in line at one of the two small bathrooms. There were mounds of dishes to clean, meals to prepare, sunburns to treat and teary eyes to dry. Just getting this crew out of the cabin for an outing was akin to a major military operation. Yes, it sounds like some not so subtle form of torture. It was however as close to heaven as I can come in this world. I was with my children and grandchildren at the family cabin on the lake. We were making memories and rebuilding eternal bonds, but it was worth every exhausted moment, every frustration, every setback.
In the pool
It takes a lot of work to keep a family together, even more to keep them close. It doesn’t just happen. We need to go out of our way to plan events together, burn vacation time on family gatherings and visiting relatives. And yes, go to that dreaded family reunion. It is especially important to do this for our children. If they don’t get to know their aunts, uncles and cousins when they are young, they never will. For them to get to know their relatives, they have to visit and be with them. For those of us considered ancient by our young grandchildren, it is those very grandchildren we to need spend time with, work on, focus on. Spend the time, do it now.
Image from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
For 30 years I have raised my family in the same home. It was once a home filled with laughter, tears and all the other side effects of six children, two parents, two cats and the coming and going of friends, all under one roof. It is quiet now, the children have left the nest, my wife deceased and the cats have gone to ‘a better place’. The last of my children recently moved from the area, which leaves me with some significant decisions to make. Do I stay in the area and manage a long-distance relationship with my children, or do I relocate in order to be closer? If I do relocate, to the vicinity of which child, and will that child end up relocating as well? In considering this decision, I pondered a while the impact I am having, now that I am single and an empty-Nester. Am I really having an impact in the lives of my neighbors? Am I making a difference in the lives and testimonies of my fellow church members? Sometimes it feels like I do not. Even my church calling to the single adults in my stake seems to isolate me from the usual ward auxiliaries and functions. No, I am not wallowing in some pool of self-pity or the like, I am simply tabulating the pros and cons of leaving my home of 30 years.
Photo by Leanna Davidson, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
Recently, I received a graduation announcement from the daughter of a family I have ministered to for several years. At the time I was assigned this family, the father was given only months to live. The assignment came not long after I lost my own wife, so the trial they were facing was a familiar one. I was uncomfortable in being the ministering brother whose spouse had fought a similar battle with cancer and lost. I have watched the father survive from year to year and the family grow and flourish in spite, and in many ways, because of the tremendous loss looming over their heads. The graduation announcement was from their third child, an incredible young woman who brightens a room the moment she enters. With that announcement she included the following note:
Thank you for always being there for my family. When you first became our minister, I didn’t give you enough credit. But as time went on I grew to love and appreciate you to the point where it felt like if my dad did end up leaving us it’d be OK because you were there. Thank you for always showing us kindness. 🙂
Will this profoundly touching note impact my decision? Well, it certainly reminded me that as I try to stay close to the Savior and follow the promptings of His spirit, my impact is far more than I realize. I never know when I have touched a heart and made a difference in someone’s life. By simply living by the spirit from day to day, He uses my feeble efforts and my testimony in unfathomable ways. In other ways it has reminded me that it really doesn’t matter where I am. As long as I am trying my best to serve Him and follow His direction, He will use me where ever I stand.
There is a controversy concerning the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and the amount of money and other resources it holds in reserve. Many people are questioning why the church is holding such wealth and not giving it to the poor. Rather than continue to pay a tithe, or 10% to the church, these naysayers are donating those funds to other organizations they deem more relevant and helpful in today’s uncertain times. Sounds logical right? Their ‘tithing’ money is going to a good cause and they are still ‘obeying the voice of the Lord’. Our ‘Trendy Tithers’ know better than God and his prophets where these sacred funds should be allocated.
There is one fundamental flaw in this logic. All of this belongs to God to begin with. If money really did solve all the world’s problems, then the Salvation Army, or any other worthy organization would be simply given the money by God to fulfill their purposes. He knows where the gold is, he knows where all the riches are because he created and owns them all. God is not interested in riches, he is interested in trust and obedience. Like the widow and her two mites, he is interested in those who tithe because of a willing and loving heart, sacrificing to the point that it changes their lifestyles, and therefore changes their lives. Don’t get me wrong, I feel it is important to support worthy causes in our communities and around the world; people and organizations who are working hard to do good. We should all be giving until it forces a change in our lifestyle. My first priority, however, is to follow the Lord’s law of tithing.
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
Last week’s reading for Come Follow Me, the Sunday school curriculum for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints reminded me that the tools of deception used by the adversary are not new, but have been in play since the beginning of time. All scripture references are in 1 Samuel 15 ESV. The story begins with Saul and his battle with the people of Amalek. He was ordered to destroy everything, down to the last of the cattle and sheep, but Saul saved “the best of the sheep and of the oxen and of the fattened calves and the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly destroy them. All that was despised and worthless they devoted to destruction” (9). When the prophet Samuel confronted Saul, his response was ““Blessed be you to the Lord. I have performed the commandment of the Lord.” (13). When Samuel pointed out that He had not obeyed the voice of the Lord, Saul reminded him that though they had kept the best of the possessions of the Amalekites, they had offered them in Sacrifice to the Lord. A good cause, right? It was Samuel’s response that reminded me of this recent trend. ““Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord?” (22)
Saul was unwilling to destroy all, and instead saved it as sacrifice to the Lord, at least he sacrificed the animals, the scriptures do not say what he did with the rest of the good stuff. His plan was better, his plan made more sense. Our Trendy Tithers are assuming that the Lord’s prophets are mistaken in their handling of tithing funds, and that they know better how to allocate those resources. Such an attitude is short sighted, looking only at the here and now. God, through his prophets is looking at the decades and centuries to come. According to the prophet Samuel, “Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams” (22). The tools of the adversary have not changed in thousands of years, and neither have the promises of the Lord.
We have all had times in our lives when stress has driven us to exhaustion, and at night, anything standing in the way of collapsing into bed seems daunting. Many times at family prayer, my children and wife would get up and tip toe quietly away, leaving me sleeping at the bedside on my knees. At times I was the one offering the prayer! I would wake up hours later and wearily climb into bed, sore knees and all.
Kneeling at the bedside in prayer is a traditional and accepted way of submitting ourselves to God and His will for us. I have difficulty kneeling at the bedside for prayer without remembering those hard times, and my inability to offer or even conduct a simple nightly prayer with my family. Rather than dredge up those memories on a nightly basis, I have taken to prayer at different times during the day: when on a walk, cooking a simple meal, working in the garden or performing some other household task. At times, it seems that the Lord is the silent partner in the conversation, but it is a conversation.
From time to time I look not just what I am praying, but how I am praying, and how effective those prayers seem to be. Not in the sense that I see immediate results, but effective in how my prayers are changing my heart and bringing me closer to Him.
My daughter in Sacramento, (California, USA for my far flung foreign followers) has four off the wall nuclear powered dynamos of the male persuasion who define the term intensity. They range from 7 to 2 years old, with a set of twins lodged somewhere in the middle. When they take the time to drop below the sound barrier, I get a video call from one or more of them, missing their papa and wondering when I am coming to visit. More often than not, these calls come at bed time. It’s hard to go from 0 to 600 miles per hour in the length of a twin bed, though for them, not for lack of effort and I have the tiniest of suspicions that these calls are a subtle attempt to delay bringing it all in for a landing.
I visit my children and grandchildren as often as practical, and with airline rates today, it’s far cheaper for me to fly. My daughter brought these four little dynamos to the airport, with strict instructions to stay in the car when they picked me up at the terminal as there were lots of cars around and it would be dangerous. It must have been all the years of supersonic wind blowing past their ears because in spite of her caution, the moment the car stopped, and perhaps a few fractions of second before that, two doors blasted open and the twins broke the sound barrier (again) before latching on to my airline damaged knee caps. Popping open the rear hatch was a sign for the two in the back to vault over the seat in stunning Olympic fashion to complete the tackle. Sorry Super Bowl fans, no instant replay.
I adore these amazing progeny, their love is as intense as the velocity of their lives. I could go on with a lecture on how important it is for us grandparents to assist in molding and directing their lives, but if you have read this far, I think you get that. Besides, I covered that topic in one of my essays. To me, it is just as important to simply love them. Make them a part of our lives. They should feel comfortable around us, comfortable with us, and comfortable following us from project to project as we move through the day. St Francis of Assisi is attributed the quote “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” Love your children and grandchildren, teach them to live, love and worship Him, and use words only when necessary.
Yesterday was Saturday morning and time for my weekly engineering shift. I arrive before dawn, change into my whites and walk the temple, waking up and checking the various systems behind the scenes. Not being an ordinance worker, I don’t attend the morning prayer meeting and devotional and usually time my rounds to avoid the chapels during these meetings. I decide then, however, to follow though on a new commitment to be more social and sociable, and take the time. Besides, it has been a difficult weekend and I need the spiritual quiet and reflection.
The topic is the the baptismal font, and how we (yes I know I’m not an ordinance worker, but I’m feeling very inclusive) ordinance workers can make the temple a more positive and inviting experience for the patrons. As we discuss the temple encounter and follow the experience of a special needs child through the proxy baptism ceremony, I reflected on my own grandchildren. The thought came to me softly and sweetly that a crucial way to help my grandchildren cling to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is to bring them to the temple.
There is power in the temple. We can testify to our children and grandchildren; teach, lead, expound, cajole, discipline and instruct. Our goal is to help them feel and follow the spirit. The most effective way I know to do that is to bring them to the temple. This does not replace the a fore mentioned strategies, but culminates them. When it comes to feeling the spirit, I am probably one of the most hard-hearted people ever to infest this planet. A room can be filled with the spirit and I am clueless. The one place I can go, however, to feel His presence is the temple. I have written about temple experiences in other essays here, and this Saturday adds to the repertoire. As I sat in the calm of that prayer meeting, I felt His plea, to help His children, my grandchildren, feel his spirit by bringing them to His house. The home court advantage is overwhelming.
The full time missionaries for our church stopped by for a visit this week. They are both new to the area and are introducing themselves to each family in our church congregation. One of the missionaries is waiting for his visa to France, where he was originally called to serve. We chatted for a few minutes in French, and he has done surprisingly well in learning the language, and in keeping it for the months he has been assigned to Portland, Oregon, a bastion of “Le monde francophone”.
As part of their visit, they asked me about my most influential scripture in the Book of Mormon. That of course changes for me depending on need and circumstance: King Benjamin, stories of the 2000 stripling warriors, the conversion of Alma the Younger, the Christ visiting the Nephites; and numerous other accounts in the Book of Mormon vie for my favorite. For the last few months, I have been contemplating the story of the Ammonites, or the people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi who laid down their swords in advance of their fellow Lamanites bent on their utter destruction. They were cut down in the very act of supplicating the God who created them, and from Whom they were granted forgiveness and peace. They had no idea that their sacrifice would inspire thousands of their brethren to lay down their swords, and that their story would reverberate through the ages.
Whether scriptural, historical or personal accounts, we have all been touched by such stories. I am sure that the surviving members of the Willie and Martin hand cart companies were wondering why the Lord would require such sacrifice of them and were not thinking of the hundreds of thousands who would retrace their steps and emulate their faithfulness in the decades and centuries to come. The personal suffering and examples set during my wife’s passing have and continue to inspire her descendants, her relations and numerous friends and acquaintances.
In the years to come, we will face unprecedented persecution and hardship. The years leading up to His first coming as described in the Book of Mormon are but a type of the events that precede His second. The Lord, in His perfect wisdom and power, will transform each of the tragedies we suffer in His name to triumph. Not all however, will be suffering. As described in Alma 50, “But behold, there never was a happier time among the people of Nephi, since the days of Nephi, than in the days of Moroni”. This was the same Moroni who organized the people in a prolonged war for their very existence.
World events now transpiring will test the hearts and strength of even the very elect. The joy we feel personally depends solely on how we rejoice in Christ.
Portland Temple, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
For members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the temple is the most sacred of edifices. It is a place of ordinance, covenant, learning. Some years ago, after loosing my wife, I considered serving in the temple as an ordinance worker, but felt uncomfortable. At the time, single men, divorced or never married, were barred from serving in the temple. The only exceptions were widowers like me who were single, but sealed in the temple.
I wanted to serve in the temple, but it did not feel right to serve when men, more worthy and righteous than I, were barred from temple service simply because they were single. After considerable thought and prayer, I requested and accepted a calling as a temple engineer. I arrive early Saturday mornings, wake up the audiovisual equipment, then check out and log the boilers, chillers, air handlers, fonts and fountains. It takes about two hours for this process, then I wait in the engineering office for calls or wander the temple for the rest of my shift. While sitting by the phone, I tally a lot of indexing.
During my shift, I trouble shoot audiovisual problems, change light bulbs, plunge toilets (yum) and provide backup for security during emergencies. When the temple is shut down for periodic maintenance, I rewire fixtures for LED bulbs, and anything else the full time engineers need. This last shutdown, I worked in the ordinance rooms, pulling apart chairs to reupholster. The fabric used was a bit thicker than the original, and it took some gentle persuasion with a large mallet to convince the newly upholstered chair backs to slip into position. I stopped to ponder the incongruity of this situation. Here I was in one of the most sacred rooms of the temple, wailing on the back of a chair with a mallet. I apologized for the noise, then sat quietly and took the time to listen.
Under normal circumstance, the noise and tumult I was causing in the temple would be inexcusable, but there is a time and place for everything. Even His house needs maintenance, and at times, it is appropriate for bedlam to reign. I gathered my thoughts for a few moments. Here I was, in the holiest of rooms, white clothes smudged with dirt and grease, dripping sweat and pounding on a chair that would soon sit people experiencing the most sacred of His ceremonies. I felt the spirit and power of that room. His house. I was filled with the need to clean and repair my own life. A little chaos and commotion was appropriate, and even necessary to right so many wrongs in who I am and things I have done.
As imperfect and out of place as I was, hammering on those chairs, I was welcome in His house. I need to make Him welcome in the chaos of mine.
Latter-Day Saints 