Day 153: The Atteys Unite

A long-hoped-for goal of Mom's was achieved earlier tonight when the temple work for her immediate family was completed at the Bountiful temple, with Dad, their children (my siblings and me) and spouses acting as proxy for those who have departed from this life. Mom represented herself in being sealed to her deceased parents, George and Kathleen Attey, and then, one by one, her kids stood in for her siblings, and the same ordinances were performed.

It was a very emotional evening for us as a family, and we are grateful that we were able to help out Mom in this momentous occasion. I'm still trying to fully understand the Savior's Atonement, and yet one thing that is crystal-clear to me and one of my favorite parts of it is that it provides for the linking of generations of families together for eternity.

Afterward, we assembled at the parents' new pad at The Village for cheesecake - another favorite family tradition:

Day 60: "The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close"

In a change of pace from the way this winter has gone, we're getting a pretty good snowstorm out there tonight. I just took a gander outside, and it looks something like this:


It's the kind of sight that reminds me of one of my favorite and also one of the most underrated hymns, "The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close." Written a long time ago by Elder Orson F. Whitney of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, the first verse recounts his experience looking out his window at the end of a winter's day and his reflections on the snow. Like the Atonement, he says, the snow is pure and white, and it covers everything.

Happy Leap Day, folks.

"Keep Moving Forward"

As I watched a new favorite, Disney's Meet the Robinsons, last night, something stood out to me that I I hadn't necessarily noticed before: the phrase "Keep Moving Forward."

In the film, "Keep Moving Forward" is the main character Cornelius's/Lewis's personal motto. In real life, however, it was first uttered by Walt Disney himself. He said: "We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths."

When he said this, Mr. Disney was talking about the creative process. I feel that the "keep moving forward" part can be applied to our personal lives, as well.


We are a people who believe in eternal progression, with the ultimate goal that if we are faithful and strive earnestly to attain it, someday, somewhere down the line - definitely not in this lifetime - we can become like our Creator. Nevertheless, even though that ultimate goal is still a long way off, one of the reasons we're here on Earth is to progress as much as we can and to overcome our challenges.

I bring this up because I know more than a few people who have suffered terrible things such as the death of a loved one; a prolonged illness, be it mental, physical, or spiritual; the end of a romantic relationship; money problems; and other challenges and, as a result, have just stopped living. I can understand having difficulty with these things when it's been a few weeks or months, but when those months turn into years, it can be a real hindrance to our progression. And I honestly believe that one of the tests in this life is how we will respond to those blows and then choosing to move on with our lives, in spite of our sorrow. The Atonement was provided for us, in part, to help us do so.

As a wise person once said, "He who is obsessed with the past will wake up one day and find that he has a thousand yesterdays and no tomorrow."

Lehi also taught that we are here "to act for (ourselves) and not to be acted upon" (2 Nephi 2:26).

To my friends and acquaintances who are struggling, I say, don't give up! Keep moving forward. If you take two steps forward and one step backward today, you're still moving forward.

Also, I have a big head but small hands.

It's Electric!

For most of the afternoon, I've been thinking about electricity.

I began pondering on the matter at another session of physical therapy - a place I just can't seem to stay away from, for one reason or another - when I was hooked up to an eStem machine, as is often the case when I am there for my appointments.

eStem, for those not familiar with it, is the thing that makes going to physical therapy completely worthwhile. It comes once you've finished biking and lifting weights and doing push-ups and stretching and sweating and grunting and groaning, much like the pumpkin cheesecake dessert after a meal filled with broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and carrot juice (it's good for you, but it doesn't taste too pleasant while you're ingesting it). Electrical pads are attached to your sore spot(s), sending warming electrical vibes and causing increased blood flow, which aids and enhances the process of healing.

Today, in fact, I broke a new personal record on the eStem machine, taking in electricity at the highest possible setting the machine could reach. For 20 minutes per session, you get to sit like this, reading a magazine or (mainly) relaxing, letting the electricity do its thing.

On my way home, though the eStem had been disconnected, the electricity still felt like it was pulsing through me for an additional half-hour. I felt a bit like the Six-Million Dollar Man, or Thor, or at least a toad when it gets struck by lightning.

My pondering evolved into this: The Atonement is a lot like the soothing electricity from an eStem machine. It often doesn't take full effect on us until after we've been through a certain degree of suffering, be it spiritual, physical, mental, or otherwise. But it heals us and remains with us. And, yes, we have to keep going back to it to continue to benefit from it.

Or, as a famous person once said: I don't fully understand God, and I don't fully understand electricity, but I refuse to sit in the dark.

In Memoriam

I don't have any smarmy comments today; I won't even post a picture. I just want to write a few words about a good friend of mine who died unexpectedly this past Sunday night.

On Sunday, I saw him at church. My brother sat next to him during elders quorum. He even passed the sacrament to the members of the congregation. And within just a few hours after that, he was gone.

At Monday night's FHE, the bishop broke the news to us. It hit me like a ton of bricks, for lack of a better term, and I have been trying to make sense of it throughout the week. I have asked myself the question "What could I have done to help my friend?" numerous times.

Depression is a dark, difficult, scary, painful, and bewildering thing. It's one of those things some people have to struggle with that, I think, will never be fully understood in this life. It affects not only those who suffer from it but their loved ones, as well. You can know how hard it is only if you or someone close to you goes through it personally, and I speak from experience. My friend fought this battle his entire life, which came to a close in this mortal sphere at the much-too-young age of (I believe) only 29.

My own struggle with depression has taught me some valuable lessons about life, and a few of these have resurfaced the past few days as I have reflected on the loss of my friend. Among them: Forget even the slightest inclination to judge, and leave it in the hands of God; He will make all things right in the end. Simply love others. Always give others the benefit of the doubt, for you've no idea what demons they fight against. The Atonement is available not just to sinners but to heal all of our wounds, no matter the size or the scope.

We miss you, Joe.