big goals

Last January I was asked to give a talk in Sacrament meeting about BIG GOALS. Since it was the new year, I assumed that the bishopric councilor wanted me to give the token talk on goal setting. When I tried to confirm his intent for assigning the topic, he replied, "No, not just setting goals, but BIG GOALS. You are someone who takes on big things, and we want to learn more about how to do that."

One thing I have learned about playing big, is that the bigger the dream, the bigger the breakdown you will encounter on your way to achieving it–as evidenced by my personal set of plagues: the fire in Liberty and the flood in Ogden. Everyone up here in the valley is well aware of my bad luck/Charlie Brown syndrome. In my ward I am affectionately known as the "poster child for disasters".

Confident in my message, I stood at the pulpit and began to expound on the methods of successfully creating and achieving big goals. But just as I was starting to the make the point of "pushing through opposition," an unplanned object lesson presented itself. As if it had been perfectly choreographed, the emergency lights and sirens went off, as well as the serious automated voice telling everyone to evacuate the building. I immediately looked behind me to the Bishop, who said that it was most likely a false alarm and to keep going–he would send someone to turn off the alarm. So I continued, trying my best to keep my composure and preach the "good word" over the commotion. I must say that I was doing a pretty good job at keeping everyone's attention–that is until a lady on the back row stood up and said "Um, Bishop? There's kind of water coming in back here."

It had been so cold in the valley that week, that a pipe froze and then burst, causing the vestibule, hallway, gym and chapel to flood. The humor of it all–that the disaster occurred while I was speaking–was not lost on my ward.

I held up my hands in surrender, and said "You are all witnesses. I was up here the whole time and did not touch a thing." Honestly, the first thing that came to my mind was the motivational video my neighbor shared with me the previous night, called "The Secret." The message of the program was that we attract what we think about. So, while standing on the podium in front of 250 saints, I was convinced that surely I must have been channeling something about flooded churches.

Come to think of it, Noah was a man with big goals whose message also got "watered down."