The Sublime Roundabout

He cries in the corner where nobody sees He’s the kid with the story no one would believe He prays every night “Dear God won’t you please... Could you send someone here who will love me?” Who will love me for me? Not for what I have done or what I will become Who will love me for me? ‘Cause nobody has shown me what love What love really means, what love really means Her office is shrinking a little each day She’s the woman whose husband has run away She’ll go to the gym after working today Maybe if she was thinner then he would’ve stayed And she says… Who'll love me for me? Not for what I have done or what I will become Who will love me for me? ‘Cause nobody has shown me what love What love really means what love really means He’s waiting to die as he sits all alone He’s a man in a cell who regrets what he’s done He utters a cry from the depths of his soul “Oh Lord, forgive me. I wanna go home” Then he heard a voice

The shipwrecked man Stood on the beach Watching the waves roll in His ship was gone He was alone There was no one to guide him He searched the island From east to west, north to south Looking for another person But utterly alone He soon realized That this island would be his home So he started to work He formed a plan To solve some basic needs He gathered some food And set it aside Against an hour of want The food was not the gourmet style They eat in Tokyo or France But it would get him through The sun was hot And the rains often soaked him So he decided to make a shelter He gathered long straight poles Lashing them together And formed a crude hut Soon he noticed that ants would come And crawl on him while he slept So he devised a way to elevate his floor Using only what the island could provide He worked on this shelter Slowly, patiently he worked After several years A ship appeared And the sailors marveled at the man How could he have

I sat in the temple this morning, thinking about the way things work out... My mind went back to all of the events that have transpired for me to be sitting in that chair this morning, having the awesome experience that I was... ...hundreds of millions of years ago, plants and animals died. Their fossilized remains provided the electricity for the building I was in, as well as the gas for the car I drove to get to the temple. ...much more recently, the gentleman for whom I was doing the work passed on without having a chance to obtain the necessary ordinances. He and I are now eternally and intrinsically linked. Kind of cool. ...in 2000, the Houston Temple was dedicated, the culmination of many prayers, tithing dollars, hours of labor/service, design and construction, and a dedication ceremony. All so that I could be there this morning. ...even more recently, someone in Louisiana came across this guy's information and submitted it to the temple for work to be done. Now sh

I've been thinking a lot. I know - big surprise. But I think I'm starting to understand something. God is good. No brainer, right? Well, hang with me a moment: There is a quandary that some philosophical types like to engage in regarding the nature of God. they start out with the following premise: 1. God exists. 2. God is all-powerful. 3. God is good. Seems OK so far, right? Well, the problem comes in the following: 1. Evil exists. 2. God is opposed to evil. 3. Yet evil persists. 4. Therefore, either God is not all-powerful, or God is not good. 5. Therefore, there is no God (God is not God). This line of thinking is fairly ancient. Epicurus was perhaps the first to widely articulate/promulgate the paradox which currently bears his name. It's disappointing that something so inane and simplistic could come from an otherwise fairly good mind... I think that many people have had similar problems with evil. So I would (humbly) suggest the following:

Watch you when you say what you are  And when you blame everyone, you broke again Watch you change the frame or watch you when you  Take your aim at the sum of everything  But you and your heart Shouldn't feel so far apart You can choose what you take Why you gotta break and make it feel so hard  You lay there in the street Like broken glass reflecting pieces of the sun But you're not the flame You cut the people passing by Because you know what you don't like It's just so easy, it's just so easy  But you and your heart Shouldn't feel so far apart You can choose what you take Why you gotta break and make it feel so hard  Oh and you and your heart Shouldn't feel so far apart You can choose what you take Why you gotta break and make it feel so hard You draw so many lines in the sand Lost the fingernails on your hands How you're gonna scratch any backs? Better hope that the tide will take our lines away Take all our

To have continually at one's side a woman, a daughter, a sister, a charming being, who is there because you need her and because she cannot do without you; to know that we are indispensable to a person who is necessary to us; to be able to incessantly measure one's affection by the amount of her presence which she bestows on us, and to say to ourselves, "Since she consecrates the whole of her time to me, it is because I possess the whole of her heart"; to behold her thought in lieu of her face; to be able to verify the fidelity of one being amid the eclipse of the world; to regard the rustle of a gown as the sound of wings; to hear her come and go, retire, speak, return, sing, and to think that one is the centre of these steps, of this speech; to manifest at each instant one's personal attraction; to feel one's self all the more powerful because of one's infirmity; to become in one's obscurity, and through one's obscurity, the star around which thi

My brother's boss came into my house. Literally walked right into my house that morning, just like he owned the place. It was fairly early for such an intrusion, and not at all the usual. It was abrupt and abrasive, but he had his reason... Turn on the TV! What?!? He didn't even slow down on his way to the TV, barely glancing in my direction. Just who's house was this, I paused to reflect, as I saw him turn on the tube. I followed him down to the TV, down the five green-carpeted steps that led to our half basement. With the still-early light filtering in from the north-facing windows, set right at ground level and reflecting some of the green light back into our home, I stood riveted to what I was seeing. The iconic twin towers were on fire. The announcer was saying that someone had flown a plane into the building, still unsure if there was some mistake or some kind of wanton act of destruction. I was stunned. Stunned. It's the only word for it. Jeff (my