What Hath Russell Wrought?

This is one Ray family tradition I plan on keeping. 

How Far is Heaven?

“Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”
--1 Corinthians 2:9


One of the things I like to think about the most is, what is heaven like? What will we do there? How will we act?

When I was a kid, I thought heaven would be like it is portrayed in Saturday's Warrior: people walking around on a cloud wearing scrubs, occasionally breaking into choreographed song-and-dance numbers. Not very interesting, in my childlike opinion... I hoped heaven would get better by the time I got back there.


Since then I have become somewhat wiser (I hope). Here is what I think heaven will be like.


Family. Last summer was the Watson family beach reunion. One duplex beach house, 20 aunts and uncles, about a million cousins. I spent the week with the three of my cousins who are closest to me in age. We went on random shopping adventures; we stayed up way too late watching movies and goofing off; we talked about the gospel while floating in the waves. When we came inside, we played games with aunts and uncles or chased around energetic little cousins.
Through the week, I began to realize why it is so important that our families be with us in heaven. I played peek a boo, watched Phineas and Ferb, joked, laughed, played, splashed, and decided I wanted my life to be like this forever. And that is the promise of the gospel—forever!


Music. A few minutes ago, I went tunnel singing. Tunnel singing is a BYU freshman tradition in which musically inclined people go to an acoustically excellent tunnel by the Marriot center on Sunday nights to sing hymns. The spirit I feel there... I usually show up five to ten minutes late. As I walk up to the tunnel, I can hear the people who are already there singing, singing praises, lifting up their voices high to heaven. I am able to blend my voices with theirs, and without a conductor, without any coercion or any reason to be there other than our own desires, we sing!
When heaven wanted to announce that most magnificent event, the birth of the Savior, they didn't set up a pyrotechnics show or a circus. They sent a choir.


Learning. “And that is how the properties of super-fluid helium strengthen my testimony!” So said my chemistry teacher this semester, Dr. Woodfield. The weird thing is... he was right. You see, helium does not become liquid until extremely low temperatures, about -269 degrees Celsius. Most things become solid a little bit past that point, and we then say that they are perfectly ordered. Helium doesn't. Instead of becoming a solid, it becomes super-fluid, like a liquid only liquid-er. Anything the water in your glass does, this super-fluid helium does even more. Interestingly, we also say that this super-fluid helium is perfectly ordered.
How does that work? I can get a solid crystal being ordered, but not a liquid! I just don't see how that happens!
Here's another analogy. Think of a beautiful waltz; the dancers have practiced and prepared to dance this number for years and years, perfecting their technique. They move with grace, with strength, they move perfectly. Now imagine you are down on the dance floor instead of watching from the stands. Dancers whirl around you in a confusing whirl, twirling and stepping and seeming but a breath away from collision. From your spot on the dance floor, you cannot see the perfect order of the dance—you only see chaos.
Such is life. We don't always understand what's going on or how it fits into God's plan, but that's because we are down on the dance floor. We don't really get super-fluid helium. We are but mortals.
Don't you feel great that you know that now? Heaven will be a place of ceaseless learning.


Friendship. I have been blessed with so many amazing friends I sometimes wonder if some saint accidentally gave a messenger angel my name instead of his, because there is no way I have done enough to deserve all these blessings. Friends who are my age, friends who are older or younger, friends back home, friends at BYU. Friends who I talk to for hours at a time, friends who are willing to do crazy stuff with me for no particular reason.
I have a ton of great friends. I am 18 years old.
How many friends will I have once I re-realize my true age?


Food. Every year, my family goes to Lyon Farms and picks box upon box of strawberries. Every year I hear someone say something along the lines of, “If heaven doesn't have strawberries, I'm not going.”
But come on—it's heaven. There's gotta be strawberries! And southwest eggrolls. And cookout milkshakes. And enchiladas.


Beauty. Every time I am walking around campus and glance up at Mount Timpanogos, it takes my breath away. I live in such a beautiful place, surrounded by glorious mountains, with an open, varied, gorgeous sky (I'm big on sky). And lets not forget where I came from, North Carolina, the land of trees and flowers and sandy beaches.
I no longer think we will be walking around on clouds in heaven, but I could imagine walking around on sandy beaches.


Every day of my life I realize how great this plan is. Me, little old Jason Ray, can grow up and live in a place so amazing I can't even comprehend it? Wow. That kinda rocks. A lot.

Adventures in Stowe-land

This weekend I got my wisdom teeth out. I absolutely abhorred the idea of getting them out away from the safety and comfort of home –abhorred the idea enough to schedule the extraction for the last few days of Christmas break, just when I was supposed to be enjoying myself the most. However, my mom (inspired by the vast difference in oral surgery prices between North Carolina and Utah) had other ideas. Luckily for both of us—but mostly me—my wonderful Aunt Andra lives in Genola, which is but 25 minutes from BYU campus, and was able and willing to nurse me back to health post-surgery. Also, the title of this blog post was her idea.

And so getting my wisdom teeth out became a not-too-traumatic experience. Highlights.

I don't get loopy on drugs. It's quite sad, actually—though I have now had two opportunities to be hilariously intoxicated, I tend to, instead, become stupid and slow. As I apparently said soon after surgery, though I'm taking this on faith since I don't remember it at all, “I'm like me. Only retarded.”

However, I do become incredibly forgetful. I call it anesthesia amnesia. Yesterday while leafing through my wallet to pay for groceries, I found that my drivers license was missing. Frantically I searched my pockets, wracked my memory, and texted my mother, praying for the best and dreading the worst. I turned to my Aunt Andra with a feeble hope, asking, “Do you think any of the little kids could have grabbed something out of my wallet? I'm missing my license!” To my utter perplexion, she laughed. Then she pulled it out of her purse and handed it back to me. “You gave it to me a few days ago so that I could fill a prescription. You don't remember that???”

Nuh-uh. Not at all.

(On an unrelated note, dictionary.com says that 'perplexion' isn't a word. But I like it. So I'm keeping it.)

After we got home from the oral surgeon—more accurately, after I woke up from a four hour semi-coma—my life gained a kind of routine. For 2-3 days, I

-watched movies

-did crossword puzzles

-ate ice cream

-periodically retied ice-filled socks to my face

-told the mirror that “I just look chubby, not swollen!”

The aforementioned amazing Aunt Andra assisted in the sock-tying and self-image-reaffirming when needed.

Every Word, Every Line, Everything

1/8/11

I am amazed, awed, thrilled, surprised, fascinated, overjoyed—I really can't describe the feeling.

I am amazed by life.

I couldn't tell you what inspired me to say this. Actually, yes, I can. It's everything.

This morning I made waffles. They were delicious.

An hour ago I got to see my friend from China get baptized. The spirit I felt there was so pure, so sweet, so real that it almost brought tears to my eyes.

I just finished eating dinner. It wasn't anything special, but while I ate I drank hot chocolate, read “The Fellowship of the Ring,” and swayed in time to my Michael Buble station on Pandora.

Does life get any better than this?

Added on 1/10/11

I believe it does! Yesterday was Sunday. The Sabbath at BYU is one of my favorite things, ever. Church was fantastic—and it made me excited to prepare for going on a mission.

Elder Christofferson gave an excellent devotional on taking it one day at a time. I definitely needed it.

Tunnel singing probably got close to 0 degrees (that's Fahrenheit, not Celsius), but it was so amazing I really didn't mind.

Life. Is. Awesome.  

Tales of a Locker Owner

This semester I got a locker.

There were some days last semester when I would come in at the end of a long day, throw my backpack on the floor, and curse chemistry and math for being complicated enough to merit 10 pound textbooks. I'm fairly sure I had headaches during finals week because my backpack was so heavy.

So yeah, my textbooks were literally a headache.

A friend gave me the solution one day when I was complaining about my plight. “Jason, get a locker or I'll buy one for you!” So I did. And my back has been loving it. I now have to haul around campus only a teeny tiny little computer, a few notebooks, a calculator, an iClicker, and a few other incidentals. My backpack is so light I can almost forget it's there!

Now my textbooks are all in a locker in the library (it's number 5NW26 for anyone who wants to slip in death threats, love notes, or gift certificates). Since I usually spend 3+ hours in the library every day, this is a great setup! Except for right now, during a 1 hour break between classes (American Heritage and Chem 112). These classes are in buildings that are right next to each other, on the other side of campus from the library. Really, it seems kind of foolish to go all the way to the library, get my books out of my locker, study for 10 minutes, put my books back in my locker, then trek back across campus for chem.

So here I am. Blogging. At 9:30 on a Friday morning.

Not that I'm complaining. I haven't blogged in about a week, so it's about time I started writing something again.

Related news: I'm pretty psyched for my classes this semester. Some quotes from some of my teachers to give you a taste of what I've got coming.

“If you get to the pearly gates and find yourself a little short on worthiness, you might try trivia. Just don't give them my name.” -Brother Livingstone.

“I'm like the Jimmer of American Heritage!” -Dallin Henrie. (For those of you who don't go to BYU, Jimmer is the star of the BYU basketball team. He is also universally hated by Maeser Hall, but that's a different story).

“I DARE you to get more excited than I am!!!” -Professor Woodfield. I think he had just been talking about single component phase equillibrium.

Live. Gotta love it.  

Snapshots of December

“Hey Jason, lets play a game!” Jared says to me with an enthusiastic smile. I agree; three hours later we have battled through Age of Mythology: The Board Game and moved on to Tally Ho! Up next, we want to play Grinder (thanks to a nifty little travel-size version I acquired at a white elephant party) and maybe Monopoly. I love these games. I love this kid.

“Jason, mom wants you to go take a shower and then take something to the post office!” Rachel hurries back out of the room as I roll over and see the clock. 11 already, and I had wanted to be up by 10. I spring out of bed and jump into the shower. “Maybe I can swing by the library on my way back from the post office, I bet that new Brandon Sanderson is in!” I think as I towel dry. Pulling on a shirt and singing Les Miserables, I hurry downstairs. I pause in my journey to see that someone has already been to the library: my book (all 500+ pages of it; this excites me way more than it probably should) is sitting on the island. “I wonder why they didn't go by the post office while they were at the library, it's two seconds away?” I think, just as someone jumps out, pulls a scarf around my eyes, and ties my hands with a jump rope.

Several minutes later, I am trying to guess where I am being taken. “We took a right—we must be on Guess! Wait, why a left? There's nothing to the left...” My unseen assailants snicker at my confusion. I got back at them by 'accidentally' leaning into the people sitting on either side of me whenever we go around a corner.

I kind of liked being kidnapped. Probably not something I should make a habit of.

“Hey Jason, guess what!” I lean in close to hear what Jenna has to say, and she pulls on my shoulder to hasten my descent. “Poke!” She pokes me in the cheek, then jumps out of reach before I can 'poke' her back.

Several hours later, Rachel summons me as I start to walk downstairs. “You forgot to say goodnight!” I reach up toward the top bunk to give her a hug; “Poke!” She retreats to the safety of the middle of her bed, and I laugh as I wish her a good night.

I love my life. I love these girls.

“Baby, it's cold outside,” Barry Manilow's voice croons over the kitchen stereo. I lean lazily against the counter, talking to my mom about friendship and beach trips. I grew up on Barry Manilow (along with The Beach Boys and Les Miserables); listening to his Christmas album is like a nostalgia buffet. My mom waves me over to help chop some broccoli, and I sing along to the music as I work.

Christmas is coming.

“Aren't these socks awesome?!?” My brother Josh holds the socks in question high in the air so that I can admire them. Somewhat bemusedly, I agree. I have never claimed to have any sort of fashion sense, in fact I believe that in heaven, my brother and I made a trade: he would take my sense of style, and I would get his love of reading. Thus, I really don't know if the socks are cool or not, but they look comfortable so I nod and smile.

Somehow, he convinced my parents that they should get an X-Box for Christmas. We've already decided we'll need to devote a somewhat ridiculous amount of time to pwning noobs next week. Having not touched a video game all semester long, I'm kind of looking forward to it.

My dad waves me over with a wooden spatula: “Jason, come stir these vegetables real quick while I check the steaks!” I put down my book and take his place, enjoying the pleasant aroma of summer squash. My dad is an excellent cook; he can make up a recipe for something after eating it at a restaurant and, nine times out of ten, end up with something better than what the restaurant had to offer. If I inherited half of his cooking genius, I think I'll be pretty much set.

Tonight's meal: filet mignon with mashed potatoes and summer squash. Aside from being incredibly delicious, this is the first time in months that I've had two great meals in a row, without several intervening nights of leftovers or macaroni.

It's good to be home.  

So... I'm home.

Here's what my family thought of my arrival.

http://crayzdaze.blogspot.com/2010/12/hes-back.html