What I Know Now If We Were Sitting on the Porch
What I Know Now
If We Were Sitting on the Porch
Introduction
If We Were Sitting on the Porch
If you and I were sitting together on a porch this evening, watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon, and you asked me what life has taught me, I think my answer would be much simpler than it once was.
When I was younger, I thought life was about finding answers.
The older I get, the more I think it is about learning lessons.
Some of those lessons came through marriage.
Some came through children and grandchildren.
Some came through mistakes.
Some came through health challenges I never expected.
And a few came in ways I never would have imagined.
There was a season in my life when I was searching for answers about many things. During that time, the Lord taught me something that would change the direction of my life.
One night, He spoke to me in a dream.
The message was simple.
"Be the patient."
At the time, I didn't understand what it meant.
I would spend years learning.
Looking back now, I realize that many of life's greatest lessons are learned that way—not all at once, but one experience at a time.
The pages that follow are not theories.
They are lessons.
Lessons learned through family.
Through faith.
Through setbacks.
Through service.
Through laughter.
Through love.
If something here helps you on your own journey, then these porch lessons will have served their purpose.
So pull up a chair.
Let's talk for a while.
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Chapter 1
Marriage Is Not About Winning
One of the greatest blessings of my life has been my wife.
If you met us, you would quickly discover that we come from very different worlds.
I grew up in rural Idaho.
She grew up in Japan.
Different cultures.
Different experiences.
Different ways of looking at life.
Over the years, we have had our share of disagreements, just like every married couple.
There was a period when I was studying things deeply and asking questions about subjects that were very important to me.
I wanted answers.
I wanted understanding.
Sometimes I probably wanted everyone else to see things exactly the way I saw them.
My wife saw things differently.
At times, those conversations became difficult.
Then one day she told me her story.
Not the story I thought I was discussing.
Her story.
Years earlier, she had gone through a divorce.
She was left raising four children, all under the age of six.
Think about that for a moment.
Four little children.
Trying to survive.
Trying to provide.
Trying to keep going.
And during that difficult time, people stepped into her life and helped.
They brought meals.
They gave support.
They offered friendship.
They carried burdens she could not carry alone.
Those experiences shaped her in ways I had never fully understood.
As I listened, something changed inside me.
I began to realize that what she saw wasn't just an organization.
She saw people who had loved her when she needed it most.
She saw kindness.
She saw service.
She saw sacrifice.
And suddenly, I wasn't looking at an issue anymore.
I was looking at the woman I loved.
Around that same time, I had a dream.
In the dream, I saw my wife, myself, and the Savior together.
It was one of those experiences that stays with you.
The details matter less than the feeling.
The feeling was love.
The feeling was peace.
The feeling was understanding.
And when I woke up, I felt impressed with a simple message:
Love her.
Not fix her.
Not convince her.
Not win an argument.
Love her.
That lesson changed me.
I began seeing people differently.
I began listening more carefully.
I began realizing that every person carries experiences that shape the way they see the world.
The truth is, most people are not looking for someone to defeat them in an argument.
They are looking for someone to understand them.
Marriage taught me that.
My wife taught me that.
And the Savior taught me that.
The older I get, the less interested I am in winning.
The more interested I am in loving.
Because in the end, love builds things that arguments never can.
And if a marriage is going to last, love must always be more important than being right.
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Chapter 2
Children Learn What We Live
One of the greatest joys of growing older is watching your children become adults and your grandchildren begin writing stories of their own.
When I was younger, I thought the most important things I would teach my children would come through words.
The older I get, the more I realize that children learn far more from what they see than from what they hear.
They watch.
They notice.
They pay attention to things we don't even realize they are seeing.
I was reminded of that lesson during a visit with one of my granddaughters.
It was a cold, rainy day, and we happened to have some extra umbrellas with us.
As we watched people hurrying through the rain, she noticed some young athletes getting soaked.
Without hesitation, she said we should give them some umbrellas.
So that's exactly what we did.
To her, it wasn't a grand act of service.
It was simply helping somebody who needed help.
Later that same day, we noticed three young boys standing alone in a parking lot.
The rain continued to fall, and they were still waiting for their ride.
One minute turned into ten.
Ten turned into thirty.
Eventually it became obvious they were going to be there for quite a while.
My granddaughter looked at the situation and immediately saw what I should have seen sooner.
They needed help.
So we picked them up and took them to get something warm to drink while they waited.
What struck me wasn't what we did.
What struck me was how naturally compassion came to her.
She wasn't trying to impress anyone.
She wasn't trying to earn recognition.
She simply saw people who needed kindness.
And she responded.
As I thought about that experience later, I realized she had learned something far more important than any lecture I could have given.
She had learned to notice people.
Children are always learning.
Not just from what we teach.
From how we live.
From what we value.
From how we treat strangers.
From how we respond when someone needs help.
I have come to believe that one of the greatest gifts we can give our children and grandchildren is an example worth following.
Not perfection.
Just an example.
An example of kindness.
An example of service.
An example of faith.
An example of love.
Years from now, they probably won't remember most of our advice.
But they will remember how we lived.
They will remember how we treated people.
And if we're fortunate, they will pass those lessons on to the next generation.
Looking back, I think that's how the best lessons travel.
Not through speeches.
Not through lectures.
But through lives.
Children watch long before they listen.
And sometimes, if we're paying attention, they end up teaching us too.
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Chapter 3
Be the Patient
One of the most important lessons of my life came during a season I never would have chosen.
For years, I was active and busy. I loved being outdoors. I loved projects. I loved building things. I loved spending time with family. And if you had asked me back then, I probably would have told you I was doing just fine.
Then life changed.
My back began to fail.
One day I was playing golf five days a week. Before long, I was struggling to do things I had always taken for granted. Walking became harder. Standing became harder. Everything seemed to take more effort than it used to.
Like most men, my first instinct was to fix it.
Find a doctor.
Find a solution.
Make a plan.
Get moving again.
What followed was a long journey filled with uncertainty, appointments, tests, opinions, and more waiting than I ever wanted.
Some of the best doctors I could find weren't even in my state. The whole process became frustrating at times. It felt like every answer led to another question.
I wanted certainty.
The Lord seemed to be teaching patience.
During that same period, I was also going through a different kind of journey.
I was asking questions.
Deep questions.
Questions about faith.
Questions about life.
Questions about things I had always assumed I understood.
One night, during all of that searching, I had a dream.
In the dream, the message was simple.
"Be the patient."
That was it.
Be the patient.
When I woke up, I wasn't entirely sure what it meant.
Part of me didn't even like it.
I didn't want to be the patient.
I wanted to be the problem solver.
The helper.
The fixer.
The one moving forward.
But the message stayed with me.
Then something interesting happened.
The very next night I had another dream.
This one was about something sacred.
At the time, I didn't fully understand it.
In fact, I didn't even know where the dream was leading me.
But looking back now, I can see that those two dreams marked a turning point in my life.
The Lord was beginning to teach me something.
He wasn't merely trying to fix my back.
He was trying to teach my heart.
For most of my life, I thought growth came from doing.
The Lord showed me that some growth comes from waiting.
Some growth comes from trusting.
Some growth comes from surrendering.
Some growth comes while sitting quietly in a waiting room wondering what comes next.
The strange thing is that my physical challenges ended up opening doors I never expected.
I began learning things I had never considered before.
I began paying closer attention to spiritual impressions.
I began noticing how the Lord teaches in everyday life.
Not always through dramatic miracles.
Often through small moments.
A dream.
A thought.
A feeling.
A gentle nudge in the right direction.
I still don't enjoy waiting.
I still prefer solutions.
But I understand something now that I didn't understand then.
The Lord is rarely in a hurry.
He works one lesson at a time.
One day at a time.
One step at a time.
Looking back, I can honestly say that some of the greatest blessings in my life came disguised as interruptions.
Things I would never have chosen.
Things I tried to avoid.
Things I wanted fixed immediately.
Yet those very things became some of my greatest teachers.
If you're walking through a difficult season right now, I can't promise you'll understand it immediately.
I certainly didn't.
But I can tell you what I learned.
Keep going.
Keep trusting.
Keep listening.
The Lord knows how to find us.
Sometimes He even speaks through a dream.
And sometimes the lesson we need most is surprisingly simple:
Be the patient.
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Chapter 4
Sometimes the Lesson Backfires
One of the funniest things about being a parent is discovering that lessons don't always turn out the way you planned.
Years ago, while living in Nevada, I decided it was time to teach my family an important lesson about gambling.
In my mind, it was going to be simple.
I would take a dollar.
Put it into a slot machine.
Lose it immediately.
Then I would turn to the family and explain how quickly money can disappear.
A perfect lesson.
At least that was the plan.
I gathered everyone around and proudly announced that I was going to demonstrate why gambling wasn't such a great idea.
I put the dollar into the machine.
Pulled the handle.
And immediately won a jackpot.
Not a huge one.
But enough to completely ruin my lesson.
The machine paid out around one hundred and fifty dollars.
I remember standing there staring at the machine while my family stared at me.
Nobody said a word.
They were all waiting to see what I would do next.
The lesson had officially gone off the rails.
Finally, I looked at everyone and said,
"Well, I guess we've got enough money for dessert."
So we headed back to the restaurant and enjoyed a pretty good dessert.
The truth is, life is a lot like that.
Things don't always go according to plan.
Sometimes our carefully prepared lessons take unexpected turns.
Sometimes the things we think will teach one lesson end up teaching another.
Looking back, the part I remember most isn't the jackpot.
It's the laughter.
It's the family standing there together.
It's the memory we still talk about years later.
The older I get, the more I realize that some of the best family moments happen when things don't go according to plan.
The boat stuck on the sand bar becomes the family story.
The wrong turn becomes the adventure.
The failed lesson becomes the funny memory everyone remembers.
Life is full of unexpected surprises.
Most of them won't make sense at the time.
But years later, they often become some of our favorite stories.
And if you're lucky, they might even buy dessert.
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Chapter 5
Produce More Than You Consume
A few years ago, I bought a piece of property out in the country.
When I first stood on that land, there wasn't much there.
No house.
No gardens.
No workshop.
No family gatherings.
Just open ground and a dream.
But in my mind, I could already see what it might become.
I could picture a home.
I could picture grandchildren running around.
I could picture family sitting together on a porch, watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon.
I could see gardens growing.
Friends visiting.
Memories being made.
The dream came easily.
Building it was another matter.
If I wanted water, I needed a well.
If I wanted electricity, I needed power.
If I wanted a home, I needed a plan.
Little by little, the project began to take shape.
We drilled a well.
Installed a solar pump.
Brought in a home.
Added solar panels and a generator.
Built a large shed.
Every step required work.
Every step required patience.
And every step reminded me of an important truth.
Nothing valuable appears by accident.
Somebody has to build it.
Somebody has to plant it.
Somebody has to create it.
The same principle applies to life.
Strong marriages are built.
Strong families are built.
Strong friendships are built.
Strong communities are built.
They don't happen because we wish for them.
They happen because someone invests time, effort, and love.
As I worked on the ranch, I found myself thinking about another lesson.
There are two kinds of people in the world.
People who consume.
And people who contribute.
Most of us do a little of both.
But the happiest people I know are usually contributors.
They build.
They encourage.
They help.
They create.
They leave things better than they found them.
The older I get, the less impressed I am by what people own.
I am much more impressed by what they give.
A kind word.
A helping hand.
A listening ear.
A useful skill.
A good example.
Those things often have more value than money.
One of the unexpected blessings that came during this same season of life was writing.
My daughter once suggested preserving my stories and experiences.
Around that same time, my son introduced me to artificial intelligence.
I became curious.
Then fascinated.
Before long, I found myself writing blogs and sharing thoughts with people I had never met.
I discovered that even while facing health challenges, I could still contribute.
I could still encourage.
I could still share.
I could still build something.
Maybe that's one of the reasons I enjoy writing so much.
It's another way of planting seeds.
Some will grow.
Some won't.
But that's not really my job.
My job is simply to plant them.
Looking back, I realize the ranch taught me much more than how to build a place to live.
It taught me how to build a life.
One project at a time.
One lesson at a time.
One seed at a time.
If there is one thing I hope my grandchildren learn, it is this:
Try to leave things better than you found them.
Build something.
Help someone.
Create something good.
The world already has enough critics.
It can always use another builder.
And at the end of the day, the greatest satisfaction comes not from what we consumed.
It comes from what we contributed.
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Chapter 6
The Power of Showing Up
The older I get, the more I realize that some of the most important people in my life were not necessarily the smartest, richest, or most successful.
They were the people who showed up.
When life was difficult.
When things fell apart.
When help was needed.
They were there.
One of those people was my sister.
Years ago, during a difficult season in my life, I was going through a divorce.
It was one of the hardest periods I had ever faced.
There were questions.
Uncertainty.
Pain.
And a future that looked very different than I had imagined.
During that time, my sister opened her home to me.
She didn't have to.
She wasn't trying to solve every problem.
She wasn't trying to fix everything.
She simply showed up.
She treated me with kindness.
She gave me a place to land while I figured out what came next.
Looking back, I don't remember every conversation we had.
I don't remember every detail.
What I remember is how she made me feel.
Loved.
Accepted.
Safe.
And that taught me something.
People often don't need perfect answers.
They need to know they aren't alone.
Another friend taught me the same lesson.
Today he is in his nineties.
Most people would never know the remarkable things he accomplished during his life.
He played a role in helping millions of people during a difficult period of world history.
He worked around leaders and events most of us only read about in books.
Yet what I admire most about him isn't what he accomplished.
It's who he became.
He has been a friend.
A mentor.
Someone who genuinely cares about people.
Someone who shows up.
The older I get, the more I realize that showing up is one of the purest forms of love.
It doesn't require special talents.
It doesn't require wealth.
It doesn't require fame.
It simply requires a willing heart.
A phone call.
A visit.
A prayer.
A helping hand.
A listening ear.
Those small acts often matter more than we realize.
When I think about the Savior, that is what I see over and over again.
He showed up.
For the lonely.
For the sick.
For the discouraged.
For the forgotten.
Sometimes He taught.
Sometimes He healed.
Sometimes He simply sat with people and let them know they mattered.
That may be one of the greatest gifts we can offer another person.
To help them know they are seen.
To help them know they are loved.
To help them know they are not walking alone.
As I look back over my life, I find myself deeply grateful for the people who showed up when I needed them.
And I hope I have done the same for a few others along the way.
Because years from now, people may forget what we said.
They may forget what we owned.
They may even forget what we accomplished.
But they rarely forget who was there when they needed a friend.
Show up.
Love people.
The rest will usually take care of itself.
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Chapter 7
What I Know Now
If you and I were sitting together on a porch this evening, watching the sun slowly disappear beyond the horizon, and you asked me what I know after all these years, I think my answer would be much simpler than it once was.
When I was young, I thought knowledge was the goal.
I thought if I could learn enough, study enough, and understand enough, I would finally arrive at the place where all the pieces fit together.
Life has been a wonderful teacher.
And life has taught me that some of the most important truths are also the simplest.
Love people.
Be kind.
Forgive quickly.
Help when you can.
Listen more than you speak.
Trust God.
Walk with Christ.
Those lessons sound simple.
But they take a lifetime to learn.
Many years ago, as a young missionary in Korea, I had an experience that changed my life forever.
I had been studying the scriptures and marking them with different colors according to different themes.
One of those colors represented the Savior and His atonement.
Then I learned about chiasmus and began studying it.
To my amazement, I discovered that the very theme I had marked for Christ and His atonement often appeared at the center.
It was as if the Lord was quietly teaching me something He had known all along.
Everything points to Him.
Everything.
Not organizations.
Not movements.
Not personalities.
Not arguments.
Him.
That witness became an anchor in my life.
Over the years, I have questioned many things.
Studied many things.
Changed my mind about many things.
But that witness has never left me.
It has guided me through difficult seasons.
Through disappointments.
Through health challenges.
Through family struggles.
Through moments when I wasn't sure what came next.
One of the greatest discoveries of my life has been learning that the Savior is not distant.
He is near.
Much nearer than most people realize.
He is willing to guide us.
Teach us.
Comfort us.
Even walk beside us through life's challenges.
I believe He speaks to His children.
Sometimes through scripture.
Sometimes through impressions.
Sometimes through dreams.
Sometimes through other people.
And sometimes through the quiet whisperings of the heart.
If I could leave one message for my children and grandchildren, it would be this:
Never forget who you are.
We may come from different families.
Different backgrounds.
Different experiences.
But we all have the same Heavenly Father and the same Savior.
And if we will let Him, Christ can become the closest companion we ever have.
He is not merely a figure in a painting.
He is not merely a story in a book.
He lives.
And He cares about you personally.
More than you can imagine.
As I sit here in the evening of my life, I find myself filled with gratitude.
Gratitude for family.
Gratitude for friends.
Gratitude for lessons learned.
Gratitude for the struggles that taught me things success never could.
And gratitude for a Savior who never gave up on me, even when I was still trying to figure things out.
So if we really were sitting together on this porch tonight, and you asked me what matters most, I would simply say this:
Love your family.
Serve other people.
Keep your sense of humor.
Enjoy the journey.
And walk with Christ.
Because in the end, the things that matter most are not nearly as complicated as we often make them.
They have been right in front of us all along.
And the sunset is a lot more beautiful when you have someone to share it with.
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🌿 Continue the Journey
Thank you for spending a little time with me on the porch.
If you've enjoyed these stories and lessons, you might enjoy exploring some of the other things I've written over the years.
Life has a way of teaching us one lesson at a time, and many of those lessons have found their way into the pages of my blog.
🔍 At the top of the blog, you'll find a search box (the magnifying glass).
If a particular topic speaks to your heart, simply type in a word or phrase and see where the journey takes you.
You can also browse through the topics on the main page.
Some readers enjoy the personal stories.
Others enjoy posts about hearing the Savior's voice.
Some are interested in faith, scripture, family, Zion, church history, or the unexpected lessons life teaches along the way.
There is no right place to begin.
Just follow what interests you.
You may discover a story that feels a lot like your own.
My hope has never been to tell people what to think.
My hope is simply to share experiences, ask questions, and encourage people to walk a little closer with the Savior.
If something I've written helps you find a little more peace, a little more hope, or a little more light, then every hour spent writing has been worth it.
Thank you for visiting.
Thank you for reading.
And thank you for allowing me to share a few porch lessons from my journey.
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Until next time...
Pull up a chair.
Watch the sunset.
Listen for His voice.
And enjoy the journey.
— The True Remnant
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