Carol of the Drum

As an avid marching band and Drum Corps fan, any song that recognizes drums is bound to become of a favorite of mine. But one particular song, at this particular time of year, has really had an impact on me. The song is called Carol of the Drum.

Over the past few weeks I have heard different versions of that song played, over and over again, on the radio. It is more popularly known by a more familiar title, The Little Drummer Boy. The song and the story have become a holiday classic. Although not based on scripture, we can learn an important lesson from this story.

“He was a poor boy too . . . he had no gifts to bring”. In the story the wise men brought gold frankincense and myrrh, to the babe in Bethlehem, but the drummer boy had only his drum. “Shall I play for you?” he inquired of the Christ child.

Here is the lesson in that story: There is something else in life that beats like a drum. But it isn’t a musical instrument, it’s the human heart.

We don’t need fine gifts to bring to the Savior’s feet, what we really need to give Him is our hearts. The greatest gift we have to give we may not have even given yet. We can give our hearts to Heaven.

We can give our heart to God by giving our hearts to each other. Give up the bitterness, give up the hate.

We truly can mend the broken fences between brothers and sisters, fathers, mothers, neighbors friends, husbands and wives.

Recently, I shared the drummer boy story and the following poem in a Christmas program during sacrament meeting.

True Gift of Christmas

Christmas is lying awake at night
Wondering what will be found in the morning light.

Eyes are bright at the glow of the tree
How many presents are there for me?

I open them all and what do I find?
Something is missing in the pile of mine.

That wonderful feeling I had last night
Is gone, now I opened every present in sight.

Is this the way it was meant to be?
Or is it because I’m just thinking of me?

The Christmas season is for gifts and for sharing,
But the real joy comes from love and from caring.

I don’t need a Christmas tomorrow to bring
The true gift of Christmas the birth of a King!

It's never too early or too late to discover the true meaning of Christmas. What Christmas means to us is entirely determined upon what Christ means to us.

A Tribute to Kelly S.

What’s in a name? Do we bring honor to our name?

Yesterday I heard the terrible news that another Kelly S had died in an accident on Christmas Eve while vacationing with his family. Kelly Stoker was only 51.

Kelly was a graduate of the University of Utah Medical School and had been practicing medicine for seventeen years as an Ear, Nose, and Throat Specialist. We had been in his office many times. After months of terrible ear infections, Dr. Stoker operated on my oldest daughter McKenna. She was only 9 months old at the time.

Kelly left behind his eternal sweetheart and 8 children.

Kelly was a devoted member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It had barely been a year since he was released after serving 6 years as a Bishop.

His obituary said this “He loved to share the Gospel and truly embodied the concept of being a humble follower of Christ. There is no doubt that in his next life, he will join his earthly father in continuing to be a "fisher of men."

Towards the end of the obituary the family shared these final thoughts:

“ Every young girl dreams of marrying a man like Kelly. Kim feels blessed to have had 27 wonderful years on earth with him, and looks forward to their eternal relationship in their life to come. Dad, we love you, and already miss your presence in our lives. We know you continue to watch over us, and the gift we offer to you this Christmas is to live our lives by your example, in the hope that we will live with you again.”

His life was cut short, but in 51 years he did more with the name Kelly than most of us Kelly’s do in a lifetime.

Tragedy strikes good people too. But living life to its fullest is an exercise of quiet faith, not fear and foreboding. Even the least amount of faith that can be mustered can be form of "cautious
optimism" that everything is going to be ok.

And the “close calls” are more significant. Our name wasn’t called. It wasn’t our turn.

What a unique form of meekness: recognizing our own mortality!

Life is a gift, a Christmas bonus. Spend it wisely.

So here is a tribute from one Kelly S to another: You will be sadly missed, but the world has been a better place because Kelly Stoker was here.

"Priceless"

Here is a sad first: Christmas 2009 was the first Christmas I didn't take a single picture! With the seemingly unlimited supply of cell phone cameras and digital cameras, it seems easier than ever to take pictures, but I missed out this year on capturing the moments.

The need to no longer worry about film has made it possible to take far more pictures than ever before. Our pictures are never the play-by-play of the events in our lives, our photos are only of the highlights. These highlights we treasure and have captured in photos.

For me, ideas are like pictures. Capturing on paper my thoughts and feelings is just as important as taking photos. I don't have to write every word or idea down. Only the high points and the highlights. Just as scriptures, written by ancient prophets, provide truth and insight and wisdom for daily living, records and accounts of our own mortal sojourn on this earth may give us a better perspective and insight as to our place in the Universe and God's plan of happiness for each of us.

My writings are like photo albums of ideas. Recently I got a letter back from a publisher rejecting another one of my submissions. Someone asked me, "Was it worth the time spent writing it?"

I think the answer is in one of the poems I wrote. I wish I could have given the poem to my friend right then:

Priceless Gifts from the Sea

Some set sail on an ocean of words
And cast their nets to the sea.
But the soft soaked sand of a tide bound beach
Is the best searching place for me.
Some find success with their nets and their hooks
Along with their rig and their gear.
But I find truth from the simplest sounds
Of shells held close to my ear.
Although the size of their catch is great
And a fine purse they'll get for their trade.
The pile of mine wouldn't earn me a dime
But I'm not finding shells to get paid.
The worth of a truth isn't found in its price
Whatever the market may be
Truths are like treasures we find on a shore
They are as priceless as gifts from the sea.

Pictures are priceless. Truths are priceless. But if ever there was a definition for the word "priceless", it would be . . . my little family.

They are a priceless gift.

What does it mean to be a "deep thinker"?

Although I am just beginning my blogging quest, I spend a great deal of time writing down my thoughts. My thoughts may not reflect a high level of intelligence. I rarely read, don't know a whole lot of facts and figures, and my mathmatical and reasoning skills are fairly poor. But I ponder. I wonder as I wander. I think deeply about things.

My ideas and answers may be flawed. But they are all a work in progress, for I am merely a work in progress.

Here is a poem I wrote for my grandfather for his 80th Birthday. (I've changed the words slightly from the original text because my grandfather has since passed away).

A Beacon from the Shore

When life gets oh so busy that you don't have time to think
And life's demands so hectic that you'll either swim or sink

Stop and take a moment and assess the course you're on
And maybe then you'll realize where others have gone wrong.

Life's full of sea fairing sailors who set sail without a map
And rush about the ocean seeking whatever they can catch.

Oh some return successful with their vessels filled with gold
But most get lost and shipwrecked from the storms and wind and cold.

But there are lights that can be seen even in the darkest night
That keep a sailor safe and sure and provide a guidling light.

A lighthouse sends a warning of the dangers found below
But also gives the sailor a hopeful way back home.

See although it isn't flashy there's another light inside
At the center of the beacon that really is the guide.

And if the weary sailor keeps his eye upon that light
The light will never fail him and he'll make it back alright.

It doesn't take a lighthouse to be a shinning light
I know of one wise sailor who has guided all his life.

My grandpa was always by my side through all the thick and thin
He was a light, an anchor even when I didn't win.

And although he wasn't flashy his light was sure and true
And he'll always go on guiding until we make it through.

So when life gets oh so busy that you don't have time to think
And life's demand so hectic, you'll either swim or sink.

Stop and take a moment and find that light once more
For you'll never ever perish with a beacon from the shore.



My grandfather was born in December so I remember fondly celebrating his many birthdays. We miss him. Reading this poem reminds me of him and the importance of taking time to think.

So this is Christmas. . .

Welcome to my blog. It is Christmas day and I have been sick in bed with the flu. I just finished watching the movie Julie and Julia. It was inspiring for me because, as an uninspiring author, I enjoyed seeing a cheerful movie about the art of cooking and the art of making it through life.
It helped me make it through what was a miserable day and inspiried me to start blogging. This is my first post.

Merry Christmas!