The Epitome of Triumph: My Hero

You know, there a lot of different kinds of Triumph in the world. Successes in business, kids doing well in school, disabilities being overcome and challenges being challenged. We see examples every day: inspiring stories / people / programs and marriages that--despite the odds--keep surviving and even beating the odds. The list goes on and we've touched on many of these in The Triumph Times. We all have experienced, observed and likely participated in our own share.

What I've learned in my own life, especially this past few years, is that few Triumphs are cut-and-dried, black and white, simple or "cookie-cutter clean." Most are steeped in trial and pain, frustration and disappointment, struggles, set-backs and a large dose of growing and learning. That has certainly been the case for me. This past year has been one of the toughest and also one of the best in my 43 years. It's been a year of highest-highs and lowest-lows. It's been a period of heart-ache, heart-burn and many different happinesses blended into one. It's been a year of Triumph--a year of growth and reflection, adjustment and adaptation. In many respects, it's been a year of "reconnection" and, at the very least, a year I'll not soon be forgetting.

Speaking of reunions, I wanted to announce (if you haven't heard already) that I got remarried on March 17th of this year (2012)--Saint Patrick's Day! To make a long story short, my best friend from a decade ago, my former fiancé that "didn't work out" the first time around, came back into the picture and she and I reconnected late last fall and over the holidays (2012). We reignited the spark that first saw light many years ago. We "re-began" a journey we both have missed, even in silence, for a long time now.


Her name is Tessha, formerly Tessha THOMAS, and she'll tell you that ten years ago she thought we were just "postponing" our engagement--"putting it on hold," as it were, while she finished her last semester of college. I thought we were breaking up (I'm a little bit slow sometimes....). It was a pretty big breakdown in communication, to say the least. But, as a result, I went on to marry Emily, my former wife and the mother of my children, and stayed married for 9 years. I became a dad to five great kids, for which I'll always be grateful. When Emily and I divorced, Tessha and I reconnected. And now? We're married ... and we even got married on St. Patrick's Day (imagine that). :0) I guess what I'm saying is, the Lord works in mysterious ways. I never imagined us back together again--but here we are and we're very happy to be here. We're grateful to have finally "figured it out," even a little later than we originally planned.

As the old saying goes, "Better Late Than Never." It's very true in our case. All I know is, from the moment she came back into my life, it's felt like old times all over again, like we never went our separate ways. We've picked up where we left off; at least, it's certainly felt that way. And now, we're working out the kinks and curls that make up a new marriage, we're working on parenthood and step-parenthood, fatherhood and "bonus-mom-hood" to five teens and preteens ... and dealing with the complexities of making it all work. It's been an adventure thus far and it's just getting started. What can I say, it's a story of Triumph ... and Tessha is my Hero.

She is triumphing over 10 years of loneliness, confusion, and in many ways, regret. She's forgiving and forgetting and moving forward, in faith. She's getting to know my children and doing an amazing job serving them, figuring them out and trying to love them each in their own way for who they each are. She's Triumphing over the challenge of it all, and the complexities inherent therein. She triumphs, in my mind, every time she seeks to serve, work well with and get to know my ex wife. Their dynamics and relationship, like any blended family, are a work in progress and can be challenging at times. But, I'm impressed with both of them and especially Tessh and how she / they are learning to work together, compromise and communicate well.

Tessha's really great. She is the most loving, most selfless, kind and patient person I've known--and not just with me and the kids, but with everyone she meets. Every time I turn around, it seems, she's serving someone, thinking of them, helping others to Triumph over what they're going through. Whether it's a friend of ours with heart problems or another who just lost her husband; whether it's her dad and his health or her mom and her burdens ... or total strangers who just need a friend, a guide, a comforting word or a morsel of bread ... Tessha just serves them and reminds me of what true Triumph means--"Triumphing" over selfishness, pettiness--basically, anything that gets in the way of true, unconditional service. She's a great example to me, not only of Triumph, but also of Truth. She's as authentic, as genuine and as honest, as they get.

Okay ... so, I'm probably sounding too sappy, too personal, so I'll stop. I just wanted you to meet her. The eldest of 10 children ... my best friend ... a great "bonus mom" to my kids: she is the primary reason these last 12 months have had their share of "ups" along with the "downs." I really think she saved me this past year, in many respects. I just wanted her to know how much it's meant and how much she and all of it continues to mean.





Tessha ... I love you. I appreciate you very much. This tribute is for you, baby. I can't imagine going through the next ten years, not to mention the forty after them, without you by my side. I look forward to TRIUMPHING over whatever life throws at us, and doing so together. Thanks for believing in me.


Here's to you, Tessherina.

Here's to Triumph.

Patrick-Riv

Bill and Grace Laing ... A Quiet Legacy

Speaking of legacies, I wanted to give a quick tribute to my dad's parents, my Grandpa and Grandma Laing, and to the legacy they've built. I'm going to try to make this short--I'm starting to believe that less really is more, in blogs and in life. In fact, I heard a quote recently that said something like "Forgive me, I didn't have time to write you a shorter note," point being that it's often more powerful and more meaningful not when you wax eloquent and long-winded, but when you choose your words carefully and put more thought into actually saying LESS (I think it was by Tennyson or Emerson; I'll try to find the exact quote and author and share them with you later....). Me? I'm still working on brevity myself.

My paternal grandfather, though, William ("Bill") Charles Laing and his bride of 68 years, my grandmother, Grace Scott Laing, are two of my idols and with very good reason. Their legacy is one to be proud of, and they are. They raised 7 children (1 daughter and 6 boys; Grandpa Bill used to always say they had "one-and-a-half-dozen kids"), they have about 40 grandchildren or so and I lose track of how many great-grandchildren (several dozen). I mean, my parents only had 3 kids but they have 17 grandchildren between us, if you can imagine (my sister has 8 of her own)! With six more aunts and uncles and lots of married cousins, well ... you can probably do the math.

Grandpa has cancer now--he's riddled with tumors and Grandma can barely remember her name; she definitely does not remember yours when you go visit. It's actually kind of endearing at times (she's a lot sweeter these days). I went and visited them a couple weeks ago and she kept asking for pictures with names on them and telling us how they used to call her "Great Scott!" whenever they saw her back in school many years ago.

I mention them on this blog, and tell you they're my idols, because they have lived a life FULL of service and caring and unconditional love. When I was a senior in high school I remember many a basketball or soccer game where they were the only ones there cheering me on (my parents didn't even make it, usually). My granddad, especially, has been a pillar of honor, truth and service all his life.

Trust me, Grandma was not the easiest mother, wife or matriarch to grow up with, I'll freely admit. Passionate about her family, the gospel, and her nutrition and lingerie business (she sold "intimates" out of her home for a company, I forget the name), she was also pretty batty at times, pretty cranky at others and just not very healthy; she had blackouts about every 60 days or so, which were trying I know. But Grandpa Bill looked after her and looked AT her, and has for almost seven decades now, as the beautiful, perfect young woman he married. I've never once heard him complain, never once seen him lose his temper, never once even seen him roll his eyes over her frequent rants and ravings. No, he would just put his arms around her, compliment her cooking, help her up to bed and tuck her in for the night. He is and has been, for as long as I can remember, a SAINT--the most loving, faithful, and consistent person I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

He is the original "Deep River" and my inspiration to become that man. You would agree, if you knew him ... the epitome of Triumph. I personally believe that this is one of those key principles behind an inarguably Triumphant life: if you can't truly learn to serve ... if you can't truly be consistent ... if you tend to throw in the towel too easily, when things get tough or people aren't perfect around you ... if you can't overcome the hard things in life, even when they are closest to you? If you can't do these things, you can never expect to Triumph over life. And, not just this, but you will also never truly find the joy and satisfaction available to us all. Joy comes through endurance and patience and turning the other cheek, in my experience. It comes through loving those around us unconditionally (except in rare cases of abuse or neglect, of course; then we may love them but we may also exit for our sanity and safety and this is perfectly understood, and personal, of course).

I've watched my grandparents and I've see "Triumph" in their eyes. They have never been rich as to the things of this world, the material "needs" we all think we "need." But they are WEALTHY and they have been ... their entire lives. They may not have much, they may be running out of time--Grandpa is 96 and dying of cancer; Grandma is 90 and I can't imagine her hanging on long without him present in her life--but, they have lived their lives the way any of us would be proud to--FULLY. They have sucked the marrow out of life and built a legacy of which they can be proud. I know I am. I don't know anyone who knows them who isn't.

I appreciate you very much, you two. Don't know if you'll ever get on and read this post; probably not. But, that's okay. It's the thought that counts ... and I think you're both amazing.

Ever grateful,

Your eldest grandchild, John Patrick "River" Laing

A Nickname with History

I’m going to try to make these entries a little shorter as often as possible. I tend to wax long-winded at times and, I’m learning, you don’t need to be verbose to write something folks will enjoy reading. If I don’t keep them shorter, it's usually for a good reason, but these posts are going to show up few and far between. I don't want that. I’m going to do my best to be more succinct so you can see new updates more often. I have about a million topics I still would like to write on.

I thought I'd take a quick minute and explain why I've been called River or Riv, as a nickname, for the past decade or so. It all started after my unexpected divorce from my first wife, Asti. One minute I was married and working away at it (with all its ups and downs), the next minute I came home from a business trip to find my home gutted and my world torn in half. [In Asti's defense, she was very fair when she chose to skedaddle. She carefully divided our books, movies, and other belongings in half and left all the ones she knew I liked and took only the ones she preferred and knew I didn't care for; "gutted" probably isn't the most appropriate word]. I can remember clearly the dust outlines, though, around where pictures she’d taken had hung. It’s an image that stays with me and even haunts me at times today.  

Asti and I completed an amicable, though devastating (to me), dissolution of marriage ... mostly through email. I've only seen her once (on accident; at a concert in Utah; we didn't speak) since the day she made love to me the night before, kissed me goodbye and said she'd see me in a week. I came home expecting a wife who, though struggling, was hanging in there … but instead found a house and home that were suddenly empty of the best part.

Fast forward a year and I decided to relocate from Anchorage, Alaska to Vancouver, Washington to work for Dennis Burback and the Trendwest Resorts office there. My brother Adam and his wife Kimmy, together with my sister Chi and her little boy Mejai, all moved down together. We got three apartments in the same complex and Adam went to work for Trendwest too. I went to work on my new life and prospects, primarily on myself. 

You see, Asti's and my divorce was a sum result of several things, as most dissolutions are, I'm sure. She had an emergency surgery that wreaked havoc on her emotions, and our marriage. This is true. But we were already struggling ... mostly because of me, I hate to say—my issues with anger, my immaturity, my struggles with self esteem, and so forth. Long story short, even though we had been friends for years—ever since high school—our marriage was in turmoil, and I didn't really blame her. She was a great woman, doing the best she could, working with a guy who had a lot of baggage (as we all do, unfortunately). In the letter she left sitting on our kitchen counter, the one I found when I came home to our empty house, she said "I love you but I can't be with you. I need to work on my own issues and I'm not willing to do that and be married to you at the same time." Can I just say ... I read the letter, reeling, and spent the night in shock, lying on the linoleum floor in our kitchen. 

So ... I was now in Washington State, trying to sell timeshare for Trendwest and really questioning what had gone wrong. How did my marriage fail? Why did I feel angry so much of the time? How could I overcome it? What could I try to do differently in any future relationship...? (the irony of this statement is that I recently went through a second divorce; though I’ve learned a lot in the last ten years, and I really tried to be a good husband and father, I'm still learning and still trying to Triumph over myself; still not quite there quite yet, I guess; I think it will take a lifetime to fully get there).

I say all this just to make myself clear: I understand pain … I know what loss feels like … I’ve had my own share of challenges and hurts … and I continue to learn greater resiliency and stick-to-it-iveness, year in and year out. 

One day, there in Washington, I was reading a book about the life of Christ called Fishers of Men. While doing so I came across a quote by Alexander the Great: "The deepest rivers flow with the least sound." This quotation struck me with great force and I shared it with my parents in one of my emails home. It seemed to say to me that the deeper the PERSON, the less "SOUND" (i.e. grumbling, complaining, whining or yelling) they make. In other words, the deeper YOU are, the less you let things GET TO YOU. It's a great reminder, and it is so true. My parents agreed, adding their own insights to the analogy. 

Well, I'm not sure who started it—it was either my mom or my dad, or maybe both—but they started referring to me as Riv shortly thereafter and I guess it stuck. They said they did it because they thought I was really embodying the quote. They liked what they saw. I don’t know if that’s true, but I did like the nickname because it served as a reminder of who I WANTED to be. It helped me focus more on my goal to become that man ... more patient, more mature, the kind of person who is deeper than the trials he faces. This, in my mind, is one of the key characteristics of someone Triumphing over life. It's one of my goals, to embody the principle more. It's a lifetime process, as I mentioned.

There's a great quote by the founder of the LDS church, Joseph Smith, that also complements this principle well. He writes, "Deep water is what I am wont to swim in. It all has become a second nature to me; and I feel, like Paul, to glory in tribulation; for to this day has the God of my fathers delivered me out of them all…." (Doctrine & Covenants 127). It’s a good testament to resilience and faith, to "running deep" as it were ... a good reminder for us all, whether you're a Mormon, Christian, Atheist, what have you.

If you're familiar with his history, you know that Joseph Smith actually gave his life for what he believed. He hung in there in the  face of terrible persecution (he and his older brother Hyrum were both martyred in Carthage, Illinois on June 27, 1844). They sealed their testimony with their blood. That we might have the same conviction in whatever we set out to do, that we too might "Triumph" in our own ways, is my hope. 

Here's to hope, 

J. Patrick “River” Laing