Lighting the World

At The Spherical Model we have an axiom that civilization requires certain principles, but it can start with an individual, or a single family, and spread from there.

So this Christmas season Mr. Spherical Model and I are joining in with an initiative called Light the World. It’s a countdown to Christmas, an advent calendar, of service. The idea is that small, individual acts of service add up, until each tiny spark of light, combined with those tiny sparks by many many others, lights the whole world.

The initiative comes from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You’ll understand the connection between Christ’s life and what we can do in our lives, from this beautiful little video:

This video comes in 33 languages, if you go find it at Mormon.org and look for the “Languages” drop down menu near the bottom.

There's a downloadable calendar, with a suggestion for each day, with a theme such as “Jesus Helped Others to See and So Can You,” followed by three suggestions of things you might do that day, in this case:

·         Find an eyeglasses collection box and donate an old pair.

·         Point out a virtue in someone they don’t see in themselves.

·         Promote a vision charity on social media. You could even use the eyeglasses emoji.

That’s for December 3. Here’s another, from December 8: “Jesus Prayed for Others and So Can You”:

·         Think about a friend that’s going through some rough challenges. Say a prayer for them.

·         Ask God how you can be an answer to someone else’s prayer.

·         When was the last time you prayed with your family? How about right now?

The ideas are mostly small, and doable without a lot of planning. And it’s up to you whether to choose these ideas, or something else—and whether to use the theme of the day or move them around to suit your life.

Some of them will be appropriate to post online, with the hashtag #LightTheWorld, so that others will be cheered and reminded, and share in the growing light. Other things might be private. You can decide.

You can print out the calendar and post it where you can see it every day. Or keep it available on your phone or other device: here.

There's a shorter version: here.

You can get a brief video related to the theme for each day: here.

Or there’s this list of random simple service ideas: here.

Research shows that if you want to develop a habit, somewhere around 14 days of daily practice is a minimum. A week ago we talked about a daily practice of giving thanks, to develop gratitude. If you add this 25-day practice of doing daily Christ-like service, you could have two life-enhancing habits by the end of the year.

While giving thanks and giving service both appear to be taking something out of you, it’s a truth about God that the most valuable things He gives us are infinite, like love; it doesn't diminish what you have when you give it to others. The more you give, the more flows into you. Your life will be more abundant when you do these giving things.

If you really want to have a happy Christmas, this daily giving of service with love is the way to get there. So this is for me—and for you. Let there be more light!

Customer Service Week

This is a decade-old story, part of family lore now. Finally getting written down.

Let me say first that I prefer the civilized society where we can have individual mailboxes, at the curb, or attached to the house. Without worry that someone will come along and steal the mail. Those were the good old days. They still exist here and there. But not here.

Here we walk down to the end of the street and around the corner to the collective set of boxes where our mail is delivered, when there is no error, in our own locked box. (Our neighborhood has parallel streets; there are seven houses on different streets with our house number, which makes it a bit challenging for the mail carrier.) It is out in the Houston rain and sun, including the occasional tropical storm. It gets weathered.

lovely neighborhood mailbox station

This was in the early 2000s; I can’t remember the year or date exactly. We were having trouble getting our mailbox open. The key would go in with difficulty, but it took a lot of muscle to turn it. I mostly gave up trying to get the mail and let the giant men in the family do it. It needed fixing. So one day when I was at the post office for another purpose, I asked if we could get repair done on the box. They said, “This isn’t your post office; you’ll have to go to the post office assigned to your zip code.” I thought that was the one I was at, a few minutes from my house through the neighborhoods. The postal worker didn’t know where the right place would be.

A few days later I set out on the mission of getting the mailbox repaired. I started by looking in the phone book—back in the day when that’s how we looked things up. The list of zip codes was there, but the instruction was to call a number to ask what post office was assigned to your zip code.

The phonecall started with a recorded message, using about two minutes of my time, telling me that it was customer service week, and they were glad they could be of service to me. Eventually I got to ask a person where the post office was for my zip code. It was about 11 miles from home. We are apparently at the edge of a zip code boundary, and the post office is shared by several zip codes.

I got the name of the street, which is one I recognized. But I couldn’t tell by the address where along that street the post office was. This was in the days before GPSes in the car. We had maps. And in Houston, the road map is a 280-page book. You get used to it. But sometimes it takes several turns of the page to see all the portions of the road you need. I knew I could start out on the road at the place where we had occasionally been to a branch of the city library. The map looked like the road was continuous through to where I would find the post office. The problem was, it dead-ended and re-continued further on. The dead end occurred at the edge of a page, so there was no way to tell that by looking at the map.

So I hit the dead end and then wandered in and out of neighborhoods, trying to find a route. It wasn’t easy. It took me nearly an hour that day to get to the post office. Then there was a line—a single line. No way to skip the line and get to someone who would just handle a question. So I waited in line 45 minutes.

When I got to the counter, a pleasant and sympathetic postal worker said, “Oh, no, this isn’t your post office. You got changed to the newer one, probably five years ago.” That would have been before we arrived in Houston. And yet the postal service themselves, after taking two minutes of recorded message time to tell me they were celebrating customer service week, had not known where my post office was. This pleasant worker gave me the address and drew a sort of map for me, to be helpful.

Have I mentioned Houston weather? Every time I get in the car, after leaving to stand in line for 45 minutes, the car heats up to well over 120 degrees, and it takes a while for the air conditioner to recover from that. It causes wilting.

I got back on the road. The post office I was now sent to was a bit closer to my house, but oddly placed. The entrance to the little street it’s on is approximately under the intersection of the Northwest Freeway and the Tollway. You have to be on the freeway feeder road to get to the street. (A feeder road is like a side road, parallel to the freeway, several lanes wide, so you can maneuver onto the freeway onramp or over to the sides after an exit. It’s a fast road, like a freeway with occasional traffic lights.) If you miss your street, you probably have to follow the feeder road to the next exit, do a U-turn under the freeway, come back and go beyond what you need, so you can do another U-turn and try again. It took me more than one try—because address numbers aren’t real common right under a freeway, so it’s hard to guess where you are. The first try I didn’t even notice it was a street and not a driveway.

Eventually I got to my actual post office—which I had never been aware of before. Again, there was a line. Multiple lines, but nothing just for answering questions. I just had to pick a line and wait and wait and wait. Forty-five minutes later I got to the counter and reported that I needed a repair on my mailbox.

“Give us your key, and we’ll get to it in a few days.”

“You want me to give you my key so I can’t get my mail for several days?”

“You said you couldn’t open it anyway.”

“I can’t. But my very strong son and husband can muscle it open. I didn’t bring the key with me.”

At this point, my face was getting red. I had been away from home for close to three hours. In my defense, let me say that I am not as calm as I ought to be when my blood sugar has dropped. I also have a difficult time standing in lines. I can walk relatively long distances, but standing makes me woozy. So I was good and woozy by this point. And I was more than a little put out—especially knowing that IT WAS CUSTOMER SERVICE WEEK.

I do not swear. I don’t even yell in situations like this. But I can and have raised my voice just enough, with enough intensity, that someone might worry that I am going to “go postal.” I’m sure I did not make their day more pleasant, and I hope no one I know witnessed it. (My kids missed this episode, fortunately, but heard enough about it that they go to lengths to help me avoid putting myself in similar circumstances.)

This exchange I had with the postal worker went on for some time. He offered no solution other than “Go home, get your key, drive back here, stand in line for another 45 minutes, and wait several days for us to get around to fixing your mailbox, during which time you will not have access to your mail.”

Vogon bureaucrat (from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy)

That was not acceptable to me after what I’d already been through. I asked to speak to a manager. They refused. I insisted.

Eventually the postal worker went to get a manager. Another postal worker stepped toward me and whispered, “Listen, just put some lubricant in the lock. That’s all they’re going to do anyway. It’ll probably fix it.”

At this point I was actually stunned to find someone offer a helpful solution. I thanked her and left—no manager was about to arrive anyway.

It worked, by the way. I wish I’d thought of it myself. (Or I wish the fix-it men in the family had thought of it.)

This is Houston where weather must cause this sort of problem with mailbox locks frequently. A worker at the first post office, near my house, could have said so—or at least could have said, “You’ll need to turn in the key to get the box fixed.” The person on the phone after the two-minute recorded message about how happy they were to serve me, especially during customer service week, could have told me about the lubricant—or at least have mentioned about the key. The sympathetic person at the post office I was wrongly directed to could have told me those details. The person I waited in line for at my actual post office could have offered the helpful advice about the lubricant—especially when told I didn’t have the key with me.

But only one person knew how to help—and only from experience, not from postal service training. And she only felt safe in offering me that help when the person failing to serve me walked away, so she could whisper it, because apparently giving actual help to customers—did I mention this was CUSTOMER SERVICE WEEK?—is against protocol.

What is to be learned from this? Avoid lines. Avoid low blood sugar. And especially avoid functionaries.

Functionaries—bureaucratic workers—do not think about solutions; they do not think of ways to help, or offer service. They think of procedures and protocols to cover themselves from blame, get required tasks done, and just get through their hours of work. Only occasionally among them do you find a human being willing to see you as another human being, and think about being of service.

That is why the important things—health care, educating our children, making personal financial decisions, and other things related to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness—should be kept as far away from bureaucratic hands as possible.

The Good Part

Motherhood is one of the key ingredients in civilization, so I’m spending another day on it prior to Mother’s Day.

I came across something yesterday about the sometimes painful time Mother’s Day is to some women. I’m linking it, because it’s worth reading. Early on I experienced some of the angst. I had lost a child (I told this story here). Then I went through some of the challenges of fertility treatments—not as long and difficult a journey as for some, but Mother’s Day was awkward a few times.  My mother had similar years. She also lost a child. Then she went through a long series of miscarriages—and during those years, women came to her accusing her of being selfishly unwilling to have a child. I have a hard time imagining such conversations between women, but that is how she remembers the pain.

Fortunately, in our church, when it’s time for mothers to stand and receive their flower gift on Mother’s Day, all women age 18 and up are asked to stand and receive the gift. The thinking is, all women are either currently mothers, or future mothers, or have been mothers, or do some mothering to those around them, or, at the very least will experience the gift of motherhood in the next life. So no one is allowed to be left out. I don’t know if that entirely does away with all pain and awkwardness, but it is an attempt to love and honor.

The author, Amy Young of The Messy Middle blog, has a portion where she suggests ways to respond to various women’s situations, which is quite lovely. One of the lines made me smile: “To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year—we grieve and rejoice with you.”

Now, for what I want to share today:

Many years ago, for a Mother’s Day, I wrote a poem comparing the scripture story about sisters Mary and Martha with the need, as a mother, to give time and not just dutiful service. It’s a challenge mothers continue to face in the effort to make a civilized home. May God bless all women in their moment-by-moment efforts to make the most joyful choices!

The scriptures I refer to in the poem can be found in Luke 10: 40-42 and Matthew 25: 35-40. I use the classically beautiful King James Version of the Bible. 

Minerva Teichert painting of Mary and Martha with Jesus

The Good Part 

Sweet, young, faithful Mary,

Attending undivided to her most Beloved guest;

Thinking of the moment as a present

To be unwrapped with wonderment. 

And Martha, good and sturdy Martha,

Cumbered about much serving

While the others carry on without her.

She aches to sit with them,

Yet works to give a worthy table. 

The aching must have pained a bit too much:

If Mary would please help a moment,

To hurry the everyday along,

Then both could sit with their dear guest. 

“Martha, Martha, thou art careful

And troubled about many things:

But one thing is needful:

And Mary hath chosen that good part,

Which shall not be taken away from her.” 

One needful thing:

That Martha had not chosen.

She could not spend time for Him,

Or time with Him would be lost. 

In my own small, learning home,

I am cumbered about much serving—

Washing and peeling and cooking, too,

For many of the least and most

Of these my brethren, children, husband. 

They get so hungry and dirty.

Yet, how unaware is the little child

Of his clean shirt and slow-cooked supper.

Rather a sandwich and a story for dessert. 

I am the needful thing!

Myself a gift to one of these—

The same as sitting at His feet.

And if I choose that good part,

Time with my Beloved guest shall not be lost. 

—Linda Nuttall

     May 8, 1984

Living Core Values

A new issue of my alumni magazine arrived a week or so ago, and I’ve been reading the articles. One featured piece is a reprint of a speech given there by Mitt Romney in April 1999, at the business school convocation. Brigham Young University is also my alma mater: Romney graduated with a BA in English in 1971; I graduated with a BA in English in 1980. English, at least back then, was a major often used as a base for going on to law school. It trained a student in thinking and communicating.

Romney family
photo from here

After BYU, Romney went on to earn law and MBA degrees from Harvard. By the time he gave this speech, he had experienced quite a lot of success in the business world—even though it was before he rescued the Winter Olympics, and rescued Massachusetts from overwhelming debt as their governor, and before either run for president.

For those who didn’t know who Romney was while he was running (or came to know him late in the process), I thought this was worth sharing. He talks about success in life, and how you measure it. I offer a few excerpts:

How will it seem to you 20 and 30 and 40 years on? What bases will you have chosen to conquer? What games will you have played? Will your life have been a success?

To be honest, these questions were very troubling to me as I sat where you are sitting today. Virtually every speaker said something to the effect that life’s success was in my control. They quoted authors like Napoleon Hill, who wrote Think and Grow Rich. Success, they said, was up to me—how I prepared and worked, how I thought, how I created and followed a mission statement, or how I put it all together would ensure the success they knew I wanted.

Now, 30 years on, I have come to a very different conclusion. The worldly success stories I have seen result from a blend of factors: yes, the choices you make and control but also the mental equipment you were born with, more than a fair measure of serendipity, and, where He does choose to intervene, the will of our loving Father. I am not convinced that it’s all up to you. Nor do I believe that if you live righteously, your stock will rise in value, you’ll get a promotion, you’ll win an election, or you’ll get your research published.

He tells the story of a cousin who trained for the Olympics but got the flu during the Olympic trials and thus failed to qualify. And another story is of a friend who bounced around from business to business and ended up at eBay with holdings over $1 Billion, which may, looking back, appear to be a planned path. He goes on to say,

There’s an element of unpredictability, of uncertainty, of lottery, if you will, in the world that has been created for us. If you judge your life’s success by the world’s standards, you may be elated or you may be gravely disappointed.

So what standards does this inarguably successful man use for his life? Love, family, service, and devotion. 

A consultant once helped Bain principals identify their core values. He asked them each to think of five or six people they most admired and respected, whether living or historical. Romney listed these:

I chose the Master, Joseph Smith [founder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1830, Romney’s religion, and mine], Abraham Lincoln, and my mother, father, and wife.

They then had to write down five or six attributes they thought of connected to each person. And the result was to show that, whatever they listed most frequently would identify their core values.

If they did not live in integrity with their core values, they would experience stress, ill health, and regret. But if they did live in harmony with these identified values, they would experience what they would eventually identify as success and fulfillment. The Bain leaders, it turned out, shared core values already, but had not all identified them. So they went from seeming to work at odds to working in a united direction—which incidentally led to company success.

But the good thing was that success in living according to these values did not depend on others—others’ opinions, others’ votes, others’ willingness to offer opportunities. Romney says it’s more about successful living, rather than financial or worldly determined success. Examples:

On my father’s 80^th birthday, I asked him what had brought him the most satisfaction in his life, what his greatest accomplishment was. He had been a three-term governor, United States Cabinet member, presidential candidate, CEO, multimillionaire, and prominent Church leader. His answer was immediate: “My relationship with your mother and with my children and grandchildren is my greatest accomplishment and satisfaction.”

Golda Meir, prime minister of Israel, voiced the same truth in an interview on the Today Show. She explained that being a mother was her life’s greatest accomplishment.

Both lived a life of fulfillment and success, not because of their worldly endeavors but in spite of them. They lived in harmony with values unaffected by the vagaries of markets or elections or praise.

He warns that living with integrity to your core values will be challenging. The world will seem at cross purposes.

Unless you purposefully hold fast to living first by your innermost values, … you will read too much into your worldly successes and, perhaps just as dangerously, read too much into your worldly setbacks.

Romney suggests that if you focus on the right things, you can actually control your success:

It is empowering, invigorating, and emancipating to live for the success you can control yourself, to live for your most deeply seated values and convictions.

This next anecdote about his father, told, remember, in 1999, is interesting to read at this point in history:

young Mitt Romney with his father, George Romney
photo from here

I remember my father’s reaction in 1964 when running for governor. [Romney didn’t actually run for President until 1968, briefly, but in 1964 he worked in the primaries against Goldwater, whose views on civil rights were a point of friction, among others.] President Johnson had swamped Goldwater, and my dad’s pollsters confidently predicted that he’d be pulled under [in his gubernatorial campaign] by the Democratic landslide. I was devastated. What would my friends at school think? My dad would be a loser. I looked at him. He looked calm—even relieved. Winning or losing wasn’t what was important, he told me. He had done what he felt was right by running in the first place and by speaking out on issues he cared about. The people’s votes didn’t affect that. [He was reelected as governor in a Democrat state, against the odds.]

If there is one thing verified by everyone who has known Mitt Romney over time, it is that he lives his values. He loves his wife and family. He serves whenever and wherever he sees the need—not just the easy way by donating money, but by giving his personal time and attention. And he seems to gain energy the more he serves. And tied with that is his devotion to God, which is evidenced in how he lives his religion.

The presidential run was not a personal failure. He did what he believed God was asking him to do; that was what he had control of. That was what he cared about. And what next? Enjoying his family. Serving where he sees the need. Offering help to our nation where it can be given.

It is my opinion that we have not had such a good man—brilliant, well prepared for the challenges we face, but also generous, giving, and devoted to God—run for US President since possibly George Washington.

Rush Limbaugh gave a similar opinion last week, and then pointed out that the media managed to take this sterling character and portray him as uncaring, out of touch with regular Americans, and lacking in the basic values most of us share. It took lies, repeated lies, and exclusion of truth to create that negative image. Discussion of this media malpractice can come another day, but let me repeat this verse:

Wo unto them that call evil good, and good evil, that put darkness for light, and light for darkness, that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!—Isaiah 5:20

And then let me point out that valuing love within family, generously offering service, and turning to God for direction are civilizing principles. We have very little control over what the world (or even other voters in our own nation) will do. But we can control what we personally do. As Joshua of old said, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).