My Lifelong Wrestle With Mormonism

My sister, Shantel Bugby, just shared this with me. I feel the feeling behind this blog post is what most people try to communicate with their neighbors when they talk about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Mostly what people think about Mormonism is the don’ts that we avoid. The heart of my beliefs are in the second list of this intuitive blogger.

I challenge anyone within the scope and influence of my writing to try and live, to the best of their ability, these simple truths.

Oh yeah, I plan to have “kids are gross 2” coming out soon.

Source: My Lifelong Wrestle With Mormonism

Remembering Close Encounters

rexburg-mormon-temple18While attending a professional development training  by Steve Peha a couple of weeks ago, I was encouraged to reminisce about a time when I encountered someone famous.  I’m really not that interested in celebrity status so this request was a bit difficult for me, but then I remembered a time when…

For homecoming at BYU-Idaho in Rexburg, Idaho, I decided to run the celebratory 5K. I had just come home from my mission in Brazil which sits at about 200 feet above sea level. Rexburg sits at about 4,865 feet. I was not physically able to run that distance. (O2 intake is a gift at sea level, an effort that costs with every breath at higher elevations)

With the encouragement of my roommate, I decided to run.

Looking back on this, I now realize that Rexburg sits upon the roots of the mountains, like the seven fabled hills of antiquity, with the Idahoan Tiber, the Snake River scintillating in the distance. Picturesque from a car, hellish on foot.

By the time I came to the second hill, I couldn’t breathe, the third, my feet detached themselves from my ankles, the fourth, my gorge began to rise. Hill after hill after hill after hill. My sides were full of stitches, my bowel felt like they’d been punched, and I couldn’t find locate certain other parts of my body, like my but or the back of my neck. A general numbness had crept in; I felt like a raggedy man running in the fall of that year, up and down hills in the coolness of that September night.  But my stomach was in the middle of my chest and my throat felt like the second place winner of a jalapeño eating contest.

With my body’s boiler about to go, I sprinted into the finish line, a chute roped off like a funnel. My body was volatile. I felt no relief at the end. Some men were shaking hands with the runners who had come in just before me. I travelled down the chute in desperation to get clear of people. Sweaty and tired bodies everywhere and two men in suits were in front of me.

What was taking so long? My mind reeled, and I became panicky. The deep, dark matter of the inside was going to come up. Something was rotten in the state of Kyle. I shook hands with the first suit, and I vaguely recognized his face. I don’t remember Elder Bednar‘s words to me. I must have passed for very rude or a simple fellow like Forest Gump. I moved on to the second suit and recognized with horror the man with whom I was shaking hands as President Eyring of the First Presidency. He smiled at me (he was surprisingly tall) and I looked back at him in silence. I could not speak. I was going to puke all over this man. That dark angry sea within me was erupting.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“I’m gonna puke” I spluttered out.

“Just step right around here,” Eyring said in a compassionate and hurried manner.

Next thing I knew, I was about 5 or 6 feet away from these two great religious men with my hands on my knees worshiping at the altar of a different God altogether.