God Bless Update

31. 9:01 p.m. - Pedro Cortez, 25, an electrician, helped install the communications system used to talk back and forth with the surface. He lost a finger in an earlier mining accident. He and his wife are separated and have one daughter.

32. 9:28 p.m. - Ariel Ticona, 28, was still awaiting rescue when his wife gave birth to their second daughter. They named her "Hope." He worked with Cortez to install the underground communications system.

33. 9:55 p.m. - Luis Alberto Urzua, 54, shift foreman at the time of the collapse, is widely credited with helping the men survive by enforcing tight rations of their limited food, lights and other supplies. Speaking for the miners shortly after their discovery, he told Chilean President Sebastian Pinera: "We hope that all of Chile shows its strength to help us get out of this hell."

God Bless

Rescue order men pulled from Chilean mine
By The Associated Press (AP) – 33 minutes ago
In order, the men pulled from the San Jose mine in Chile, with some details on each:
1. 12:04 a.m. - Florencio Avalos, 31, the second-in-command of the miners, was chosen to be first because he was in the best condition, and best able to deal with any difficulties that might arise.
2. 1:10 a.m. - Mario Sepulveda Espina, 40, captivated Chileans with his engaging personality in videos sent up from underground.
3. 2:08 a.m. - Juan Illanes, 52, is a married former soldier who urged his fellow miners to be disciplined and organized while trapped.
4. 3:09 a.m. - Carlos Mamani, 24, the lone Bolivian, started at the mine five days before the collapse. One of 11 children who emigrated because he could not find work, he has been promised a house and a job by Bolivian President Evo Morales.
5. 4:10 a.m. - Jimmy Sanchez, at 19, is the youngest miner and father of a months-old baby.
6. 5:34 a.m. - Osman Isidro Araya, 30, a father of three, had planned to quit the mine at the end of August because of the risk.
7. 6:21 a.m. - Jose Ojeda, 47, is a widower with no children who has diabetes. Two of his nephews were at the site to greet him.
8. 7:02 a.m. - Claudio Yanez, 34, is a drill operator who requested cigarettes be sent down while awaiting rescue and expressed disgust at the nicotine patches he received instead.
9. 7:59 a.m. - Mario Gomez, at 63, is the oldest of the miners. He also is the most experienced, having first entered a mine shaft to work at age 12.
10. 8:52 a.m. - Alex Vega, 31, who is married with two children, had been saving to buy a house and move out of his parents' home. His father helped in rescue efforts - using a false name because officials prohibited relatives from doing the dangerous work.
11. 9:31 a.m. - Jorge Galleguillos, 55, was injured in at least two earlier mining accidents. He has 13 brothers and requires medication for hypertension. Officials have promised to help his son, who is a university student.
12. 10:11 a.m. - Edison Pena, who is 34 and married, was reportedly among the most depressed of the trapped men and asked rescuers to send down a photo of the sun. He tried to run every day for exercise, and is a fan of Elvis Presley.
13. 10:54 a.m. - Carlos Barrios, 27, is the father of a 5-year-old boy. He is separated from his wife.
14. 11:30 a.m. - Victor Zamora, 34, was an auto mechanic and laborer who has worked at the mine for five years. He sent up poems to his wife, who is pregnant, and is the father of a 4-year-old boy. While underground, he complained of tooth pain.
15. 12:07 p.m. - Victor Segovia, 48, kept a diary of life below, asking those above to send down more pencils and paper. He has five children, is an electrician and plays guitar.
16. 12:49 p.m. - Daniel Herrera, 37, was a truck driver and taxi driver. Herrera is single; his mother and sister have been waiting for him at "Camp Hope," the relatives' encampment outside the mine.
17. 1:38 p.m. - Omar Reygadas, 56, helped organize life below ground and reportedly survived other collapses in the mine. A widower, he has six children, 14 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, including one born while he was trapped.
18. 2:49 p.m. - Esteban Rojas, 44, proposed a church wedding "once and for all" in a message to the woman he married in a civil ceremony 25 years ago. They have three children.
19. 3:27 p.m. - Pablo Rojas, 45, reportedly went to work at the mine six months ago to help pay university fees for his son, who is studying medicine. He is married.
20. 3:59 p.m. - Dario Segovia, 48, is a lifelong miner whose father first took him underground at age 8. Twice married, he had three children from each marriage. He had worked at the mine for three months, drilling holes for dynamite. He has 12 brothers and sisters.
21. 4:31 p.m. - Johnny Barrios Rojas, 50, worked for 25 years at the mine and served as the medic for the group because he'd had first aid training. Awaiting above are relationships that need healing as well: his wife and his lover met at Camp Hope.
22. 5:04 p.m. - Samuel Avalos, 43, is married with three children, had been working as a street vendor and got a job at the mine for more money.
23. 5:32 p.m. - Carlos Bugueno, 26, found himself trapped alongside a childhood friend, Pedro Cortez. A passionate soccer fan, he asked to have game broadcasts piped below. Relatives said the former security guard went to work at the mine to earn money for a car and house.
24. 5:59 p.m. - Jose Henriquez, 55, formed and led a prayer group while trapped and had friends send 33 small Bibles down the tiny supply hole. Chilean reports say that in January he helped save several miners who had passed out in the mine, apparently due to gas, and had to be rescued himself when he was overcome returning for another miner. Married with twin daughters, he has spent 33 years in the mines and survived a landslide on the surface in 1986.
25. 6:24 p.m. - Renan Avalos, 29, is the brother of the first man out. He had worked at the mine five months.
26. 6:51 p.m. - Claudio Acuna, 35, proposed to his girlfriend Fabiola Araya from below ground. He has two children.
27. 7:18 p.m. - Franklin Lobos, 53, a former professional soccer player, drove the bus that carried the miners to work. Lobos was a midfielder on the Chilean teams La Serena, Iquique and Cobresal, and was on the national team that qualified for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. He has two daughters.
28. 7:44 p.m. - Richard Villaroel, 23, is returning to his wife, who is in the late stages of pregnancy.
29. 8:13 p.m. - Juan Carlos Aguilar, 46, has worked as a miner since he was 19. He is married with two children.
30. 8:37 p.m. - Raul Bustos, 40, a hydraulic engineer, was caught up in both of Chile's two recent tragedies. The tsunami caused by February's earthquake destroyed the shipyard where he worked. So he journeyed north to work in the mine — two months before he was trapped there. He would travel back 20 hours by bus to visit his wife and two children.

Tripping at the Finish Line

I am a horrible runner.

As a child, my aerobic activity of choice was always dance. I loved looking beautiful as the music pulsed through my blood. I loved having every part of my body in line, all the way down to my pinky finger, as I executed intricate combinations of coordinated head, arm, leg and foot movements. Every inch of flexibility gained became a battle won, and a huge source of pride and self-worth. To feel powerful and graceful simultaneously is a rush few people in this world experience.

So, what does this have to do with running? Well, I'm not dancing any more. I subbed dance at my old studio this past month while another teacher recovered from having a baby, but I have not personally felt the elating bath of precision, poise and passion through dance for some time now. Actually, it's been years. In the stead of this wonderful aerobic activity, I've tried to pick up running. I don't know a single dancer that runs--seriously. It's as though your body only knows how to do one or the other. But, alas, my life has moved me on to picking up "the other."

Last year, my friend and I set out to run a 5k at the end of the semester. We had one semester to work up to jogging 3.1 miles without slowing or stopping. I still remember our early days; it was a joke. We literally had to stop at the half way mark of each lap, not even half mile! Like I said, pathetic. I wanted to quit. I wish I had quit before I even started so I wouldn't have to be reminded of my achey body's weaknesses. But my friend was wonderfully supportive, and never a quitter.

So, I didn't quit. We ran almost daily together. I started loving it. I loved how I felt after I ran. I loved the sense of accomplishment I had each time I pushed myself a little bit farther and a little bit faster. I loved the effects it was having on my body.

Pretty soon, we were running our 5k at least 3 times a week. Success!

Then we stopped.

We got busy. Both of us understood finals were the priority. It was just easier to go "next time."

I've run off and on since that time, but it's been nothing like the drive and consistency I had before. Plus, I slide back in my abilities. ugh.

I'm trying to pick myself up again. I'm trying to go when I can. But I have a long way to go before I can again say, "success."

I feel like this sliding back happens in my life all the time. I set goals; I get excited about things; I work hard. But then life reminds me how difficult simply moving forward can be. Sometimes I believe I'd be more ahead if I'd just stop trying. With each effort to move forward one inch, I'm pushed back two. I know this isn't realistic, but the thought makes giving up look mighty good sometimes.

Lately I've wanted to do a lot of giving up. I find a lot to complain about, and a lot to be unhappy with.

I know giving up is rarely an acceptable answer (I should say never, but I'd like to reserve some loophole possibility to excuse myself on occasion...). I know it's not acceptable today. I just wish it were.

Sometimes I think I'm closer to a win than I realize, and I just need someone to pick me up and remind me I want to finish the race, to feel my pain and cheer me on.

Saving the World

I work at a school for children below the poverty line. Some of the families are just under the weather, some come from broken homes with broken hearts, some are creating bridges from unhappy homes to happy ones through foster care and adoption, and some have court orders to attend or they'll lose their children.

The foster father of a very cute and quite student at this school explained that one of the hardest things they faced when taking in this little boy and his two siblings, was teaching them that food did not come out of the garbage can. This 3-year-old boy was so afraid of being hungry, the father would find him shoving handfuls of flower and sugar in his mouth, and gnawing on cans of food.

Another young boy in the class is so scared of being left alone, he follows the teacher, holding the back of her shirt, around the room.

Some days, mothers come in crying.

I've seen bruises.

Some parents eat dried out school chicken nuggets by their children with a deeper look of hunger than even their 4-year-old shows.

I see their aching want as parents to give the world to their children, but not being able to give them food.

It hurts my heart. I want to make everything better.

In my dream, I changed my house into a very large and loving foster home.

I saved all of the kids from harm, and hugged them till the overflowing warmth of my soul covered them in a life-long protective blanket.

We ate, laughed, and lived without worry. I just wanted everyone to be happy.

Why can't I save the world?

Times with Tabitha

"What time is Granny's funeral on Saturday?"

"Tabitha, it's not her funeral! It's her 90th birthday party!"

"Oh, right. That's what I meant."

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha

Background: My boy works for Brigham Young University Broadcasting sports, and has expressed his opinion to my family many times about the BYU football team's recent, umm, shall we say.... shortcomings.

Well, my family is not a big sports family, but last night Tabitha expressed her deep concerns for sports because of it's importance to boy, who she considers to be one of her best friends.

Last night, Tabitha prayed quietly next to her bed: "....And please bless {boy} that he can let our football team win."

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

"Look at how big the Great Salt Lake is!"

"Mom! Mom! Is there pepper in there too????"

-Hyrum, my 5 year old cousin.

Times with Tabitha

"How do you spell 'haft'?"

"As in, 'I halved the apple'?"

"No, as in 'I haft oo do that.'"

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha

"Oh my goodness! Their steering wheel looks just like our steering wheel!"

- My 7 year old sister.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

My younger brother has a wonderful sense of humor. Everything is a joke to him. And often, regardless of whether or not something is truly funny on its own, somehow anything that bounces off Caleb becomes funny.

My family is full of laughter.

When I really get laughing, I have this horrible habit of flailing my arms in this fanning-like motion and hopping around demonstrating my newly intense need to pee. It's quite the scene--believe me. The flailing arms have been a joke in my family since I was little, and my mother often mocks this motion while I do it, which only increases the laughter and intensifies the need to pee.

Once you get us going, the picture is nothing short of this: My laugh dance, Mom's snorts, Grace and Tabitha's loud-mouth quacks, Josh's snickering convulsions, Dad's tears, Sarah's unbridled giggles, Caleb's half muffled chortle, and Camilla's bubbly teehee.

And some jokes never die in our house.

Years and years ago a young man began taking ballet at our local studio with us. His name is Noah, pronounced NO-ay. One of the first times we used his name at home, my mother thought we were saying "no way." Now nearly EVERY TIME someone says "no way," my mother quickly counters with, "Noah doesn't dance anymore!" And then she cracks up into a snorting laugh at her own joke.

But sometimes, humor can be inappropriate. As I said, my brother has a joke for everything, and this does not exclude off-color humor.

Sometimes cultural, stereotypical, and racial humor can be honestly funny, and I may even try to muffle my own chuckle. But that doesn't make them right.

James Willie Jones publicly apologized this week after his outburst earlier this month on a public school bus where he threatened children for bullying his cerebral palsy inflicted daughter. Bullying actions allegedly escalated to the point of hospitalizing the girl due to stress. Jones said the children even threw a condom at her head.


We may think something is funny in private, but the humor we allow to infiltrate our soul will undoubtably infiltrate our society.

Now, don't be too quick to judge me either. I'm not a straight arrow, and I do know how to "take a joke." But I also know how to recognize when something is not a joke.

I'm not trying to be prudish. I'm just asking for us to take a look at our culture, the way our society is slipping.

Mack Bawden, a senior at Copper Hills High School, was spotlighted in an article in today's Deseret News. He was spotlighted because he has done something unique.

Amy Donaldson began her article,

"Mack Bawden wants his best friend, Cameron Judd, to experience everything he does--dances, dates and even the pain of getting up early to train for the Copper Hills cross-country team.

"The problem is that Judd couldn't do any of those things without help.

"The 17-year-old West Jordan boy has cerebral palsy and, were it not for the help of his friends, he'd likely be stuck on the sidelines.

"But sometimes, the kindness of a single person changes everything."

Copper Hills senior Logan Anderson, left, and Mack Bawden push fellow senior Cameron Judd, who has cerebral palsy, in a cross-country meet in Herriman.

Pictures

Next time you begin "I shouldn't say this, but..." or "This is horrible, but..." or "This joke is just awful, but..." or any other sentence that leads into your lightly jesting about another's handicap, color, or way of living differently than you do, try to be the exception.

And while we're at it, if we're no longer judging by physical appearance, let's not judge based on what someone might wear over that physical appearance, or the car that might drive that physical body around, because in the end, we're all the same--each having a mother, each wanting to find love and acceptance, each making it through the ups and downs of life.

While the old adage, "Boys will be boys" may work for my younger brother, it doesn't work for the men who need to be men that lead in politics but lack in statesmanship, who represent our religious groups but not our religious ideals, and who have children but fail to understand the meaning of father.

Saturday evening, President Thomas S. Monson, the Prophet and authoritative leader of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, made a worldwide address asking us to see beyond the mortal casings of those we see every day.

And although I more than doubt that our future is one of loving deeds. And I doubt that kind and higher road wont always be so unique as to be make the front page of a newspaper.

But maybe, as the jokes fade and we laugh with people and not at them, we can reach beyond ourselves and touch the soul of another--we can be the "single person [who] changes everything."

Maybe we can make our own way of living "differently."

Maybe we can take the road less travelled by.