Uncategorized – Mikey He Writes It

“The Man Who Saw Heaven”- Portraying Joseph Smith

Me singing as Joseph Smith in “The Man Who Saw Heaven,” or possibly yelling, or belching, November 2025

Nearly 22 years ago, my senior year in high school, I fell into a unique and life enhancing opportunity.

The Anchorage Alaska temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was being re-dedicated. This meant that there was a desire for the local members of the church to put on some kind of cultural production in celebration. The prophet at the time, Gordon B. Hinckley, would be attending this cultural production before the re-dedication ceremony.

An amazingly talented local church member had started writing a musical about the 1890’s Alaska gold rush, and it was decided that this musical would be adapted into the cultural celebration for the temple. Members of the church at that time were asked to come and participate in this musical and begin rehearsals.

At the same time this was happening, I was actively in rehearsals for my high school musical, playing the character of Rolf in “The Sound of Music” (a very fun part to play!). I decided to audition for this temple musical as well and was offered the lead role. Unable to rehearse two musicals at the same time, I ended up quitting The Sound of Music and committed to the temple musical which was called “In the Shadow of the Mountain.”

Every single one of my Mormon friends also participated in this musical, and I made so many new friends because of this musical. It was so much fun and an incredible bonding experience that fostered and produced lifelong friendships. After a few months of rehearsals, it all came together and we performed in front of the prophet. I even kissed a girl in front of the prophet! The characters we played were fictional, but the stories we shared were real. It an was emotional, impactful, joyful and incredible experience. As a young man about to graduate, attend BYU in the fall, and serve a 2-year mission for the church, it fueled me and kept me focused and driven. It inspired me to be a better person. It was what I needed at that time in my life to get me through the challenges I was about to face.

Ending pose of “In the Shadow of the Mountain,” February 2004. I’m second from the right.

Fast forward 2 decades and interestingly enough I found myself in a very similar situation, playing the lead role in an original musical production. Only this time, the character I was playing was a real person.

Joseph Smith Jr.

The musical was called “The Man Who Saw Heaven.” We just wrapped our last show this past weekend. Original music, inspiring messages, and a story based on the life of the first prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As soon as we started recording music and rehearsing, I turned back into that 18-year old boy. That boy had no idea that over the next 20 years of his life he would have some amazing opportunities to perform. Many of those opportunities came from his time attending BYU as he traveled abroad with the International Folk Dance Ensemble, and sang in front of TV cameras with BYU Vocal Point.

Performing a clogging dance number in Beijing, China with the BYU Folk Dance Ensemble, May 2009. That guy in the center of the photo, skinny skeleton neck, that’s me.

Performing with BYU Vocal Point on NBC’s “The Sing-Off,” September 2011. I’m on the far right.

He would also have 20 years of life experience, some of it joyous and happy as he would marry and start a family, raise children, and find different career opportunities, some of it painful and heartbreaking as he would… marry and start a family, raise children, and find different career opportunities…

Family photos, July 2024. Yes we always walk in the middle of the road holding hands, smiling and happy.

The point is that the (recently) 40 year old man I am today is a much different person than that 18 year old boy. VERY different. But those feelings, those emotional, impactful, joyful and incredible feelings I felt back then, while they’re the same feelings, it’s like they’ve been bitten by a radioactive sentimental super spider and enhanced to meta-human emotional capacities.

It doesn’t take much these days for my emotions to pop out of my eyes and nose in the form of tears and snot, whether it’s uncontrollable laughter from a hilarious cast constantly cracking jokes, or channeling the painful thoughts of recently turning 40 years old in an intense emotional scene on stage as snot droops uncontrollably all over my hands and face.

Who knew that performing on a stage at a church building in my own backyard could be a more emotionally impactful experience than performing for foreign audiences and on reality TV shows.

Since I came in on this project, I’ve been considering how to portray, and how I feel about portraying Joseph Smith Jr. Before I do I think it’s important to note that I do not know everything about Joseph Smith or church history. But I have read, and studied, quite a bit about him. Over the years I’ve read about his life from many different sources, some very faithful, and some not so much. I’ve read Rough Stone Rolling, No Man Knows My History, Remembering Joseph, The CES Letter, and many more. I’ve listened to countless podcasts of people talking about him, again from all different perspectives. My focus here is not to dive into either side of any debate about who Joseph Smith was or was not. I simply want to share what my experience was portraying this man on stage as part of a theatrical musical production.

How do I portray him?

I decided I would take my cues from the inspiring music, the script, and the message of the show. Joseph Smith, the prophet of God, and a man, called to restore Christ’s church back to the earth. That’s the character I tried to portray. He shared his experiences with the world, and I wanted to help share his story from his faithful perspective. Say what you will about him, but he was earnest, sincere, and did everything he could to fulfill the calling he felt that God placed upon him. I hope I did that justice.

How do I feel about portraying him?

This was a little more complex for me. On one end, it’s just a character that I’m playing. The joy of being a nobody amateur actor is I don’t have to agree or disagree with the character I’m playing. I just get to play a role. I did a lot of plays back in high school and I played good guys and bad guys. Bad guys were often more fun to play. Not because I personally agreed with my character, but because it was fun to play someone so different than myself. How I feel about a character should be irrelevant.

But on the other end, especially in this case, the character of Joseph Smith, a real person who actually lived, and a person that is so engrained in my own religious upbringing, it was impossible for me to not have complex feelings about it. I understand the issues people have with him. I do. I get it. I also understand the faith people have in him as God’s prophet. I can see both sides and everywhere in between, and this effects me personally. How could it not?

But herein lies the message of the show. And for me, this was extremely helpful. It comes in the last two songs of the musical.

The first isn’t actually a song, but a speech entitled “The Living Christ,” delivered passionately by the actor playing the character of Brigham Young. In his speech, he asks:

“If there is something in your life that shakes your faith, then what? Do you look up to heaven and curse God? Do you throw away all the light that has ever illuminated your life? Or do you hold even faster to the little that you do know?”

The second and very last song of the musical is called “This I know.” The message of the song is that there are so many questions surrounding the life of Joseph Smith, and some of those questions might not ever be answered, even today, but despite those questions, the people that knew him and were next to him, felt heaven in his presence.

There is a lot that I don’t know. And my faith has definitely been shaken many times over the years for a variety of reasons. I have no intention of throwing away any light that has illuminated my life, even though it has often felt quite dark. I hope to take as many opportunities as possible to enhance light in my life. No matter what I believe or don’t believe, know or don’t know.

For me, this musical was an opportunity to enhance light in my life. I wasn’t alive back then. I can’t know for sure what happened or didn’t happen. I was never physically next to Joseph Smith. I can’t declare that I felt heaven in his presence. But if I’m lucky enough to get a chance to portray him, share his story, and the stories of those that did live back then and were in his presence, then that sounds like an opportunity to share some light.

And that light that those people felt, and shared, has to count for something.

Me portraying Joseph singing with Emma and some members of “The Man Who Saw Heaven” cast staring at us, November 2025

The Strength of Compassion

What exactly is compassion? And how can I show more of it?

I often find myself writing down thoughts of things I need to work on. Lately those thoughts have revolved around how I can be a more compassionate human.

Overall, I think I’m generally a decent person with an ability to feel love and show compassion to anyone around me. I’ve never doubted for one second the love I feel for other humans in my life, especially my wife and children. That love is unconditional, of course it will always be there, no matter what. But the older my children get, and the more strenuous the turmoil they tend to put me through, I often find myself realizing that I need to work on my own compassion.

If love is a deep and lasting feeling, compassion is how that feeling is expressed.

There have been moments when a child of mine has expressed that they don’t feel loved by me. This causes me enormous pain and confusion because it’s so ridiculously untrue. I can’t believe my child could actually feel that way. And it’s in these moments that I have to evaluate how I show love to each of my children, my wife, and other humans in my life.

I know that I love my family, and I try to express that to them verbally and daily. Verbal expressions of love are the low hanging fruit on the tree of compassion. But how do those verbal expressions of love stack up against the many other memorable and/or unfortunate expressions throughout the day? Expressions of frustration, annoyance, impatience, intolerance, and even anger. If I do an honest intake of my interactions with my children at the end of a difficult and stressful day, from the perspective of my child, it doesn’t take long for me to start to feel guilt for the many mistakes I often make as a parent.

To a child, verbal expressions of love are slippery, they might go in one ear and out the other, like most words a parent speaks to a child. However, visual and tonal expressions of anger are sticky. They don’t go anywhere for a while. There have been several times when my young children have reminded me of some mistake I’d made in the past that still sits with them. It breaks my heart. But it also provides me an opportunity.

I can’t go back and change any mistakes I’ve made. But maybe I can create new memories of sticky compassion.

“Your compassion is a weakness your enemies will not share.” -Ra’s al Ghul

“That’s why it’s so important. It separates us from them.” -Bruce Wayne/Batman

It’s a classic quote from a fantastic movie. And 100% true. Compassion is not weakness. It’s strength. Strength to not react to the anger of the moment. Strength to take a step back and consider the effects of my actions on others. Strength to hold my mortal tongue from speaking words I will regret, and may remain imprinted on the minds and hearts of someone I love.

Of course that’s not to say that we should never feel or express those feelings of anger, frustration, or pain. Holding in frustration and anger creates longer lasting damage within ourselves and likely those around us at some point when we inevitably explode.

But the few times in my life that I have been able to temper my emotions in the moment and allow myself to feel love and express compassion to that person I love, that’s a moment that sticks with me. Whether it’s acknowledged or not by the person to be loved, I can feel the strength of the moment. The strength of compassion.

Like a muscle, I feel it get stronger every time I’m able to do it. It gets easier the next time I feel the weight of the moment. Sometimes it’s too much for me to bear, and I give up and don’t push through the pain. And that’s ok, life is just plain unbearable sometimes. The weight is too heavy. And in those moments, I have to remember to be compassionate with myself. I’m often too hard on myself, or get in my own head with the woulda coulda shoulda’s.

In those moments, I look to others. Who seems to show this strength of compassion better than me?

Sometimes it’s the very people I’m struggling to show compassion for, like my wife and children. For me, a gentle hug from a child instantly kills any and all feelings of frustration. It invites forgiveness and magnifies compassion. I’m grateful for amazing children who’ve given me this gift many times.

Of course one of the greatest examples of compassion is Jesus Christ. He is not remembered for his wielding of earthly positions of power, political prowess, or unmatched strength of legions and armies, besting his foes and parading about as a man of great pride with important possessions. He’s remembered for his compassion. For his humility. For his ability to feel love for his fellow man, and express that love with a perfect strength of compassion. And he taught us how to do it.

I’m a witness that it’s easier said than done, and that I’m far from perfect at it.

But there is strength in compassion. It may not be flashy or bold. It might seem quiet and content. And some might even call it weak. The loud voices of arrogance tend to drown out the whispers of compassion. So often humility is a hard pill to swallow, but it’s the fuel that keeps the strength of compassion burning.

I will never understand someone else’s life experience. I’ll never be able to feel everything they feel, or know why they make the choices they make. And I can (and have) easily sit back and judge people from a distance. From my limited world view and understanding. And unfortunately we live in a world today that not only praises that kind of behavior, but encourages it, and even claims it as necessary righteous dominion. Holds it up as a thriving and positive way of life. Something to be exonerated and worshipped.

But it’s dispassionate, unkind, and causes tremendous pain.

I firmly believe there is a whole world, an entire life experience, that we have just barely scratched the surface of. There’s a power that’s waiting to be tapped into. And the only way to tap in is to access our own internal sticky strength of compassion. It means letting go of judgement. It means finding some common ground. It means learning from someone different than you.

I hope that, especially as a husband and a father, I can increase my own strength of compassion. As I get older, I’m learning that the main purpose of me being alive is to show love and compassion to everyone around me.

That’s it. Anything else is secondary.

If I can do that better, maybe it will stick, and others can do it with me.

The You You Are

Me, at the beginning of my innie work day at the office, wearing my leather jacket I found at Goodwill.

“What indeed is YOU? How can you mean different things to millions of readers around a vast earth? And perhaps most importantly, who are YOU?” -Dr. Ricken Lazlo Hale, PhD

If you’ve read the ridiculous and presumptuously profound book by Dr. Ricken Lazlo Hale, PhD, you may know what I’m talking about. Or you may not, as the book makes almost no sense.

If you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend it. It’s a real treat (and it’s free right now on the Apple Books app!). From odd bee metaphors, to weird film analysis of the movie Sister Act, to hilarious commentary on sex, witless self encouraging poetry, and much more, it’s absolutely worth the read. I smiled the whole time.

One of the reasons I find this short read so delightful is because I’ve gotten to know the author, the character of Dr. Ricken Lazlo Hale, PhD, from Apple TV’s hit show Severance. If you’ve watched Severance, there’s just no way not to love Ricken. He is unassumingly odd, obliviously self-aware, graciously gentle, and modestly self-deprecating.

The book serves as a companion piece to the show so if you read this book and haven’t watched the show to familiarize yourself with Ricken’s personality quirks, you’ll undoubtably be very confused. Hell, even if you’ve watched the show, you’ll still be confused, but readers everywhere will at the very least be illuminated and amused. Especially if you listen to the audiobook, read by none other than Dr. Ricken Lazlo Hale, PhD himself.

I have a lot to say about Severance, but I’m saving that for another post at another time. For now, I simply want to bask in the enlightenment channeled by Dr. Hale and provide my own take on the me I am.

Who am I?

The book is all about YOU and diagnosing who YOU are and what that means. For a long time I pondered daily who I was. The simple answer was something engrained in me since I was a child, singing in primary: “I am a child of God.” And while that provided some peace and comfort to the extent that my adolescent self could comprehend my own existence, 39 years of life have taught me that there is much more to me than that. After all, my own children are not just children of me, they are their own little people with personalities, talents, brains, hearts, words, thoughts, ideas, and feelings. I don’t want them to just be a product of their parents, I want them to be who they are. And I hope that that person is very different from me.

But as for me, who am I?

Michael

Who is Michael? A name my mother only called me when I was in trouble, which if you’ve read any of my posts about my childhood you would know, that hardly ever happened… 🙂 It’s a proper name, reserved for legends with last names like Jackson or Jordan. It was also #1 name on the list of most popular baby boy names the year of my birth, 1985. I guess my parents were goin’ with the flow that year. Michael also is of Hebrew origin and means “who is like God” or “gift from God.” But I don’t aspire much individual connection to that as I’ve already stated we are all children of God and all children are truly gifts from God. Also, people at work sometimes call me Michael as that’s the name I put on my resume, and sometimes it just sticks.

Mikey

Who is Mikey? For my family and friends that grew up with me, I’m commonly known as Mikey. A name I enjoy still to this day (hence the title of my blog- a play on words from a long running popular 1970’s Life cereal commercial) and has always been more acceptable by those who know me on a personal level. To this day, if I run into anyone I’ve known since elementary school, they’ll still call me Mikey and it’s totally fine. There have also been friends I’ve met as an adult, and since my wife calls me Mikey, she will introduce me as Mikey to her friends, her friends become my friends, and voilà, I’m almost a 40 year old grown ass man people still call Mikey. Sounds strange, I know, but it works.

Mike

Who is Mike? At some point during my teenage years, I started to go by Mike. It felt weird to make friends and introduce myself as “Mikey.” So for as long as I can remember, when I make new friends, meet new people, or talk to others in a professional environment, I introduce myself as Mike. Short, sweet, simple.

The only times this presents a problem is when people from these different areas of my life collide, and they all know me by their version of my name. It doesn’t happen often, and it’s sometimes entertaining to watch people all of a sudden question themselves in regards to my name.

In reality, I don’t really care what people call me because when it comes to who I am, I’m more than just my name.

Somebody That I Used To Know

Last year was my 20 year high school reunion. 20 YEARS! Yikes. Well, I wasn’t able to make it. But I messaged a few old friends, and saw the Facebook photos, and it was fun to remotely reminisce about those days and the people I knew.

KNEW. I intentionally say that in past tense because, since I haven’t kept in touch real well over the years, I really don’t know them anymore at all. My version of who they are more than likely no longer exists.

Hopefully, they’ve changed.

Think about someone you know, but haven’t seen or talked to in a while. What are they like? Who are they? You really have no idea. They are just somebody that you used to know. Have your friends collect your records and then change your number.

Change

We live in a world where we can often digitally observe other people’s changes. Physical changes, political changes, spiritual changes, or whatever people are willing to share over the internet.

Like a picture of themselves (above) that clearly shows a wrinkled face, emerging grey hairs, and one eyeball that refuses to open as much as the other. The moles look questionable, the eyebrows like furry caterpillars, and Indiana Jones called, he wants his jacket back. That right there is a different looking person than the awkward, nerdy, skeleton of a boy that graduated high school over 20 years ago.

But more than that, the man pictured up above thinks different. Has different habits. Has a changed perspective of priorities and goals. Has new responsibilities and challenges thrust upon him. He has 20 years of experiences. He may not believe all the things he believed 20 years ago. Or even 10 or 5 years ago. He’s probably changed his mind on all kinds of social, political, or religious points of view. If you sat down and had a conversation with him today, you might be surprised at something he says, believes, or does today. He might not fit the past version of him that you may have had in your mind.

Acceptance

This is what acceptance is. Accepting and loving someone as they are, not as they were, or who you’d like them to be. As they are, right now, in front of you.

It’s human nature to put people into boxes and label them. It simple, easy, and doesn’t require much effort on our part. It streamlines our worldview. Especially if we think we know everything about someone after a brief conversation, or worse, a social media post of some kind. Social media is the epitome of a floating iceberg. What we think we know about someone just barely scratches the surface. I know I do this. I’ve got someone neatly tucked away in my brain as a specific kind of thing and label, and then, all of a sudden, they go changin’ on me and I weirdly act surprised by this?! How could they! I maybe even get a little judgy in my mind. Wow, that person did that? Said that? I never would have thought! They pulled out my neat little box, ripped off the label, and emptied it all over the floor. Then lit it on fire.

It’s hard to accept things we might not understand, even though we actually do it all the time. I don’t understand how cell phones work, I just know how to use one. I don’t understand how gigantic metal shafts full of people are able to fly in the air at crazy fast speeds, but I’ll watch a movie and sleep soundly in my barely reclined chair as I gaze down upon mountains below, like a mythical Greek god. I’ll never understand how a woman’s brain operates (and I’ve been married to one for over 16 years!) but I accept that somehow the female species can manage to think, speak, listen, and act simultaneously on a regular basis and still function. Not only function, but thrive.

Accepting people, not what they do or say, but who they are, may or may not help us understand them, but it will increase our love for them.

Beeeeee Yourself

So who am I? No idea. I don’t ponder this question daily anymore. The less time I spend worrying about who I am, and the more time I spend just being myself, the happier I realize I become. I like myself. Whoever that is. You can put me in your box and label me, stick me up on your shelf. You can judge me all you want or think you’re better or worse than me, whatever that means. We all do it, myself included.

It’s simple and perhaps cliché, but just beeeeee yourself. Whoever that is. Roll with the punches. Change. Accept. Love. Look forward to a time where you can look back and be proud of how much you’ve changed.

If you can do that with yourself, I think you’ll find you can do it with other people around you. Let others beeeeee themselves. Whoever that is. Roll with their punches. Their changes. Accept and love them. Be proud of how much they’ve changed.

The more you allow them to be themselves, they’ll allow you to be yourself, back and forth like a symbiotic dance where change, acceptance, and love deepens. You care less and less about The You You Are, and more and more about the love you have.

For others and for yourself.

So I’m Sorry Dr. Ricken Lazlo Hale, PhD, as much as I absolutely love you and your fictional self, and as fantastic as your book is, I don’t want to spend any more time thinking about the me I am.

I just want to be it.

Learning To Be A Peacemaker

Are you a peacemaker?

What does it mean to be a peacemaker?

In preparation for a talk I recently gave in church, I thought a lot about this. There have been several instances in my life that have taught me what it means to be a peacemaker. Here is what I’ve learned.

My Family

I’m all about family. I always have been. As number 5 of 8 children, I come from a big one. Too big, I’ll say, yes too big. Don’t get me wrong, as a kid I loved it. I was smack dab in the middle and always had someone to play with. But as a parent now, with my own children, the idea of having 8 children puts me into a coma. For us, three is good. Three is the number and the number shall be three.

There was something about being in the middle of all of my siblings that had a profound effect on my life and personality. I observed silently as my older siblings would summon conflict with my parents and each other, and I learned how to avoid said conflict. I watched my older siblings get in trouble, get grounded, and receive a wide variety of creative punishments my parents were quite expert in crafting. I, of course, never got in trouble… And since they aren’t likely to contradict on a blog post you’ll just have to take my word for it that my parents would wholeheartedly agree I was a perfect child.

Not because I actually was, but because I was a certified expert in avoiding conflict. Something that would later come back to haunt me in my first few years of marriage. But that’s a story for another time.

I guess as a result, I was told multiple times by my siblings that I was a peacemaker. I rarely ever got contentious, angry, or visibly upset. I developed a very passive and easy going personality. I thought I had it all figured out. Was this really all there was to being a peacemaker?

Missionary Companionship Inventory

The first time I ever had to forcibly deal with real conflict resolution was as a missionary serving in the Ecuador Guayaquil South mission. For those of you that have served, you know what I’m talking about. It’s called companionship inventory, and we scheduled it every Wednesday. It was your time to sit down with your companion, someone you did not choose to spend 100% of your time with, begin with a prayer, and then proceed to tell each other that they walk too slow, chew too obnoxiously, snore too loud, or talk too much. As much as I tried, I could not avoid the conflict of having another human around me 24/7, especially one I didn’t get along with. Luckily not every companion was like this, and for the ones that were, there was an end date in sight you could look forward to.

In the mean time, however, I tried as hard as I could to remember the words from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”

This attitude was also encouraged from my mission president, who must have intentionally stuck me with certain companions to provide me this conflict learning opportunity. What this meant as a missionary was, if you aren’t getting along with your companion, go make their bed. Fix them some breakfast. Offer to do something kind, in spite of whatever conflict there might be. I wasn’t always great at this, but the few times I did do it, the tension in the room would cease, tempers dampened, and love increased for that companion.

It’s amazing how quickly service brings love and peace.

Among the many things I learned as a missionary, I learned that being a peacemaker was more than just avoiding conflict, but putting forth some conscious effort, in spite of that conflict, to choose to love that person with acts of service.

BYU Folk Dance Performance in Belarus

After my mission I went back to BYU provo, where I was immediately placed on to a folk dance team that would, unknowingly at the time, determine my future in more ways than I knew, despite my lack of dance experience. I entered the rehearsal room and introduced myself to the team, my awkward posture, perfectly parted hair and thin frame glasses speaking louder than any words I may have said about how recently I had just returned from my mission (it had been 1 week). Nobody on the team knew me and many faces stared back at the skeletal figure before them with wonder, possibly fear, at the idea that it seemed nobody had fed me the entirety of my mission. But there was one freckled face that saw past the gangly body and instead saw a future husband, father, and friend. Her name was Amanda and it was everything I could do to keep her off of me, to give me some space and not smother me as she relentlessly pursued me for a year and a half until I finally gave in and agreed to marry her.

Ok, Amanda’s version of those events might be slightly different, but since I have a blog and she doesn’t, you have no choice but to believe everything I say.

While attending BYU, Amanda and I both had the amazing opportunity to perform internationally with BYU’s Folk Dance Ensemble. Now before you get overly impressed, please understand that while all of the amazing women, including Amanda, were incredible dancers who had trained and prepared themselves most of their lives up to that point to be on a team like this, it was always difficult to fill up these teams with men, so for most of the men, including myself, if you could walk and chew gum you were on the team. Regardless, I began to grow an immense appreciation for the power and emotion that dance could bring to everyone we performed for.

While Amanda and I were dating we got to go to many eastern European countries with folk dance. One of those countries was Belarus. As we entered the country by bus and prepared for our show, we were instructed several times from our leaders that we were not to talk to people on the street or even smile too much, so as not to be accused of proselytizing in any way. We were even given expectations that many people might not come to the performance, and those that did might not give us a warm welcome and response that we were accustomed to. We barely knew anything about the people of Belarus or the politics at the time, just that we should put on a good show regardless of the response. So we did.

Halfway through the show, we could see ushers lining the aisles with additional chairs. The venue was at capacity and they were trying to make more room. It would have been a full on fire hazard. But not just that, out of all the crowds we performed for spanning across 6 different countries, they were the loudest, most energetic of all of them. They were on their feet, clapping, dancing, and fully enjoying the show. We couldn’t believe it.

I share this story because I learned another way to be a peacemaker. I didn’t know these people. I didn’t know their struggles or lives or conflicts they were going through. But somehow, through music and dance, peace was made all the same.

Construction Conflict

In a previous career, I spent 8 years as a construction superintendent and construction manager building new houses in the Seattle area. I learned everything I could about construction, safety, building codes, homeownership, but most importantly, I learned another lesson in how to be a peacemaker. You see, a construction manager is really a glorified babysitter of adults. From the foundation guy, to the framer, the plumber, the electrician, the drywaller, on and on, you have different companies, cultures, and people from all walks of life, stepping foot inside your house being built, and you are in charge of making sure they do their job. The environment is just ripe for conflict. Everybody is mad at each other, or mad at me, or the customers, or mad at the weather, or whatever else is preventing them from doing their job that day, and since I was the man in charge, it all came down on my shoulders. In the construction world, there are very aggressive personalities. People with short tempers. People that seem to enjoy yelling, arguing, and threatening. People that were so different than me in almost every way that it was difficult not to get pushed around for my first few years on the job.

I had to learn to be a peacemaker. And what that meant in this environment, was learn how to be a good listener. I’ll never forget one time in particular being yelled at several inches from my face by the drywall supervisor about some kind of scheduling mistake for his drywall guys to install. He seemed to have a lot to unload as he went on for about 20 minutes straight barely taking a breath. I stood, silent and didn’t say a word. Over the course of those 20 minutes, he began to slowly back away, almost looking exhausted. After a long pause, once he was all done and got it all out, I asked, in a sincere tone, if there was anything else. He waved his hand, slumped over on a bucket now, signaling for me to go away, which I did. About an hour later, he gave me a phone call, and calmly apologized for his behavior. Strangely, from then on, we got along pretty well. Any future conflicts or issues were handled with much more respect and mitigated tempers. I learned from this experience that most of the time when people got upset, they just needed someone to listen to them. I realized that I could be that person.

I ventured from the world of passive easy going nature, into one of assertiveness. It was uncomfortable. I wasn’t perfect at it and I’m still not. But it allowed me to better communicate and listen to everyone, and more effectively do my job.

In The Home

The most important example, however, of being a peacemaker, is within the walls of my own home. Some days start with “Love at Home” and end with “Master The Tempest Is Raging” (just a little hymnbook joke there, can’t remember where I first heard it).

I often worry about the example I set for my children. Am I a peacemaker in the home? I sometimes get upset when children don’t listen, or argue, or fight, or wipe their boogers in their sisters hair, or spew mouthwash all over the floor after being tickled by that same sister. I often have to ask myself if I can put forth the same effort, like I did with the drywall supervisor, or the crowd in Belarus, or that annoying missionary companion, to serve, to show love, and listen to my wife and children in times of conflict.

My children will be the first to tell you that dad can frequently get upset, and they enjoy mocking my authoritative voice every now and then, in a loving way of course. Now, as a father and husband, learning to be a peacemaker is a daily challenge. Nearly every day there is something that puts me on edge, tests my patience, or causes me to loose my cool. And that’s okay, that’s kind of the definition of parenting and marriage. It’s all a bunch of hard work. Peacemaking ain’t easy!

There’s a trick to getting through each day, despite those tough moments. And it’s actually quite simple, if you make time for it…

Find time for daily personal peace.

For me, it’s in the morning. Before the kids are awake. While the house is still silent. I know what time the kids wake up, so I get up before they do. I give myself whatever time I need to get ready, eat some breakfast, and spend some time alone. Meditate? Sure. Pray? Of course. Read? On occasion. Maybe even just pulling out my calendar and going through in my head what I have going on that day. It varies from day to day. But the point is, it’s my time. It’s my few minutes of peace. Like the calm before the storm. Like taking a breath before jumping into the deep end of the pool. Like the hushed silence from a crowd when the announcer yells “On your mark” moments before the race.

Although I think it’s ideal, it doesn’t have to be the morning. It can be whatever time works for you. I personally can’t stand waking up to the sound of screaming children. It makes me feel like I’m starting my day already underwater.

Also, daily personal peace doesn’t solve all your problems. But it does help you to feel some of that peace and remind you that you can offer some of that same peace to somebody else that day. Maybe a spouse, a child, a co-worker, or a friend. I believe that maintaining some semblance of inner peace, even just for a few minutes each day, and help you contribute immensely to the world around you, a world in desperate need of the peace you have to offer.

I don’t have teenagers yet, but those days are just around the corner and I’m sure my peacemaking abilities will be tried, scrutinized, and challenged in ways I don’t even understand yet. But I know that with acts of service, love, listening, and finding time for daily personal peace, I’ll hopefully be able to navigate those days ahead as I continue to learn how to be a better peacemaker.

The Most Important Step A Man Can Take

“I have found, through painful experience, that the most important step a person can take is always the next one.” -Dalinar Kholin, Oathbringer

If you’ve read Brandon Sanderson’s third installment of “The Stormlight Archives,” those words are not only familiar, but memorable. Impactful. Inspiring.

Especially for me.

Oathbringer

In 2024, I ventured for the first time into the Cosmere- the high fantasy universe of Brandon Sanderson. I started with the “Mistborn” trilogy and now I’m halfway through the five-book series of “The Stormlight Archives.”

It’s possible I’m a little late to the party, but I have never read anything like it. The world building is intense and incomparable. The magic systems are fascinating and original. But most of all, the characters and their journeys are powerful and relatable. Brandon Sanderson knows how to tell a hell of a story.

I’ll admit I was hesitant to rove into these books initially because I had been warned of their intensity and vastness. But I’m a reader, I enjoy a good story, and I was sure I could handle it. Or so I said to myself. And more than anything I trusted my Sanderson advisor and navigator and took her at her word that the experience, the commitment, and the journey would be worth it.

After all, journey before destination, right?

Without spoiling any plot points, I’ll simply state that one of the titular characters of “Oathbringer,” Dalinar Kholin, is struggling with a lot of pain from his past. Pain that he caused from difficult choices he made and has been tormented with for years. This pain seems to be more than he can bear, and he is not sure he can live with it. To dull the pain, he looses himself in the thrill of war and the drink.

He’s a soldier, a warrior, a leader. He’s a friend, a husband, a father. He bears an enormous responsibility for uniting the world in which he lives. And he is haunted and tortured by his past. He believes that his past, his pain, will always get in the way of who he is and what he is meant to accomplish.

So at one pivotal point in the story, he is offered an opportunity to have his pain removed. To have someone else bear the thing that is holding him back. To allow him to become who he is destined to become. All he has to do is succumb to the offer to give that pain to someone else, and it will all go away. He’ll be free of it.

He courageously refuses. He declares that his pain is his, and nobody else can have it.

This is I believe the culminating statement statement and message of the book:

“A journey will have pain and failure. It is not only the steps forward that we must accept. It is the stumbles. The trials. The knowledge that we will fail. That we will hurt those around us. But if we stop, if we accept the person we are when we fall, the journey ends. That failure becomes our destination. To love the journey is to accept no such end. I have found, through painful experience, that the most important step a person can take is always the next one.”

It’s difficult to put into words the effect that this statement, and this story, has had on me. But here I am giving it a try.

Unemployment

2024 was a tough year for me. While I’m always someone who tends to look on the bright side and squint my eyes through the mists of pain around me in search of a silver lining, I’ll admit that last year, perhaps more than I ever have before, my squinted eyes closed on more than one occasion and those silver linings just weren’t bright enough to see.

The resulting inner turmoil and pain, while not literally relatable to Dalinar Khonlin’s experience of war and nobility, was enough for me to also question my own purpose, fulfillment, and sense of accomplishment.

At the beginning of 2024, we decided to move. There were certain needs and struggles we were experiencing as a family, and we felt impressed, inspired even, to pick up, move, and settle in a new place. Up until then, I had a great job and career path that was very promising, exciting, and fulfilling. I may not have always loved my job, but I felt valued, needed, and more importantly I felt I was fulfilling my duty as a father to provide for my family, something that has always brought me great happiness. Caring for my family is and has always been my number one priority.

Not long after we moved to a new area, we bought a house, we got settled, and we were feeling pretty good about things, aaaaand… then I found myself for the first time in my life…

…unemployed.

One of my greatest fears was realized. My principal role of being able to provide for my family was now in jeopardy.

I spent a lot of last year unemployed, and it was not a good feeling. Now I’ll be the first to tell anyone that there are more important things than money, and it’s true, but when you suddenly have zero income, money all of a sudden becomes extremely important. It becomes what you think about constantly. You start dreaming up creative ways to earn money. You start wondering why you ever spent any money ever on anything. And you start worrying as you watch your savings account start to dwindle and die an unexpected and pitiful quick death.

Loss of Purpose

But more important than the money, I felt I had lost my purpose. I am the provider. I have a family to care for. They depend on me, and all of a sudden I was undependable. Who was I as a father and a husband if I wasn’t taking care of the essential needs of my family? I had hung so much weight of my self-worth on being able to provide them, and now that worth was financially and figuratively, less.

I know there are many out there who have suffered through unemployment longer that I have, and perhaps on multiple occasions. For me, this was my first time. It was a new experience. And for a while, I was at a loss. I was naive and thought I would snag another job easily in a few weeks time. I took a lot of first steps, mainly hundreds of job applications. However, one month and a few interviews later, nothing came of it. It was very discouraging. I was dedicating nearly all of my time to job hunting. And I hated being home in the middle of the day on a weekday. There was just something off about that. I didn’t belong there, like a puzzle piece in the wrong box.

But I wasn’t going to just sit around. I couldn’t. I had to continue to take the next steps. More job applications, working on my side business, working temp jobs here and there, and even Door Dash. We entered what many have called, survivor mode.

Journey Before Destination

Now I’d love to say that after so much time, after all those next steps, it all worked out, I’ve got a great job now and everything’s great! But this isn’t that kind of story. And it’s also kind of the point.

Perhaps I used to have the mindset that if I could just accomplish X or achieve Y, that I’d reach this euphoric landing place in life where pain subdues, failure doesn’t exist, feelings of worthlessness would be gone, and happiness glows in abundance. That this seemingly miserable journey would be over and I could enjoy the carefree bliss of this distant bright destination. And once I got there, I could ultimately, finally, enjoy life.

It’s a lie. It’s always been a lie. No such place exists, at least not in this life, and I suspect as well in the life to come.

Journey before destination. There’s an eternal principle in there.

I have felt like a failure on so many levels over the past year. That failure has brought pain and a lot of it. But it’s my pain. Nobody can have it. I need it. It’s my fuel to keep going. I take great comfort in the worlds of Dalinar Kholin: “But if we stop, if we accept the person we are when we fall, the journey ends. That failure becomes our destination.”

I don’t accept that. I CAN’T accept that. I may not have the weight of an entire kingdom on my shoulders, but I’ve got something better, something more motivating for me: A family who means everything in the world to me.

I’m still in the thick of it. It’s still painful. It’s not over. But it will never be over. One year from now, five years from now, or twenty years from now, there will be different painful experiences and always a next step to take.

And the most important step I can take is always the next one.