Joy in Opposition

As I spoke with Allie Sunday night, I saw myself. The weight of the last few years of high school, coupled with the stresses of a global pandemic that has rocked every inch of her world, burst out like steam from a pressure cooker. All at once she was red in the face with tears in her eyes, her body tense, yelling about college and scholarships, and why she can’t be as perfect as all these other superstar students she hears about-- that she should be able to handle and excel at everything. Music, AP classes, sports, early morning seminary, church callings, a job (which she wants to get). She was angry because she has been so miserable living in comparison with a perfect person that doesn’t exist-- a person that tells her she is a loser who doesn’t have her act together. 

At that moment, I felt like I was looking at myself. 

Of course, she feels all of this much more intensely than I did at her age, and I don’t know how teenagers could cope with it when their brains aren’t even fully developed yet. The constant bombardment with images of perfection brought in instantly by social media would put any rational, intelligent human being into a downward spiral of hopelessness. 

I looked at Allie, who was so full of suppressed rage, and put my hand on her arm. With earnest tenderness, I quoted 2 Nephi 2:25 from The Book of Mormon. “‘Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.’ Joy, Allie. You are here to have joy!” The way she has been living has brought her anything but joy. Trying to be everything and do everything, leaves her always behind, always trying to catch-up. Yet when she stops to catch her breath, she falls further behind. She constantly feels defeated, at times wanting to give up, and at others using the false narrative of the plausibility of perfection to motivate her. 

As the years have gone by, I have tried to become more and more comfortable in my own imperfection. I still struggle, and the messages that I should be able to capably and competently “do it all” still eat at me, but I am continually learning that I have limits. There are some things I just can’t do yet, and that is okay. Actually, it’s more than okay. It’s good-- great, even! It means that I am blessed enough to be living the human experience, in all its messy, imperfect glory. It means that I am learning everyday, and coming to know my Father in Heaven. It means that I have to rely on the merits and mercy and grace of my Savior Jesus Christ, because He is the only one worthy to bear my burdens and weaknesses. 

Philippians 4:13 says “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” That absolutely does not mean that Jesus will magically turn us into Captain Marvel-- invincible and all-powerful. It does mean that because of the Atonement that He suffered, because of His infinite love for me, He can strengthen me through my trials, comfort me in my suffering, and fortify my faith to carry on with courage in the face of opposition. 

The beauty of Christ’s Atonement is that it not only cleanses and purifies us and makes our own resurrection possible so that we can one day stand in the presence of our glorified Father in Heaven, but it can work in us now, everyday. We can find strength in and through Christ, and this is what allows us to feel real joy, real hope. Right now.

Joy and hope are not found in seeking perfection here in mortality. They are found as we master the art of embracing our own imperfections and limitations as humans, while recognizing our eternal potential as eternal children of a loving God, and looking to Jesus to make up for everything that we lack. This is humility. 

The world wants us to believe we are all racing toward its own defined image of perfection, and the messages are coming from everywhere-- media, school, and (sadly) even church sometimes, from well-meaning but misguided brothers and sisters. It’s constant, unrelenting. But the race is really an illusion, as we find ourselves exhausted, spinning in a hamster wheel, going nowhere. 

Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy. That is why we are here. To experience joy, even in opposition. To feel peace, even amidst chaos. To see hope, even in despair. And to come to know God’s perfect love for us, in all our imperfections. 

And none of that is found in that ridiculous hamster wheel.

Sunset over the Indian River Lagoon

The Shame Train

I'll admit it, guys. I messed up. I sent Eve to school last Monday with just a little cough. A little cough. No fever or headache. No stomachache or diarrhea. I thought it was either mild allergies or a wimpy cold she had caught from Drew-- a cold for which he had test negative just a few days beforehand. Honestly, she felt fine. 

And Tuesday morning her COVID-19 test came back positive. I was floored.

Yes, I'm opening myself up for mom-shaming, so go ahead. Have at it. I have seen plenty of it going around. Fire away.

Of course, maybe that's a little harder to do when there is a face to go along with the shaming. Not just an email or notification, but a real face. A friend. A human. 

In perusing Facebook I have seen some really awful things aimed at people like me. I understand why people are angry. If a child is quarantined because someone else came to school sick, it's a pain. A working parent has to stay home. Or appointments have to be rescheduled. The list goes on, I know.

Truth is, we ALL make mistakes. And sometimes those mistakes impact others, and that bites. I feel awful that six of Eve's classmates had to be quarantined because I sent her to school. It's a huge inconvenience for every single family. That's on me. Eve cried when we got her test result Tuesday morning because she was worried she had made others really sick. 

Thankfully, I'm pretty sure that not a single person she has been around in the past two weeks has come down with COVID-19, including our own family.

Although, remember that story in the first chapter of the book of John about the woman taken in adultery? While Jesus sat in the temple, the scribes and Pharisees brought her to him, having taken her in the very act of committing adultery. They said that, according to "the law," she should be stoned. Then they asked him, "but what sayest thou?" 

After writing in the dirt with his finger, he responded, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." 

Many of you already know how many stones came flying. That's right, none.

If Jesus weren't so humble, he could have mic-dropped.

It's common for us humans to seek ways to make ourselves feel superior, to feel like we are the top dogs. It's in our nature. But given that our bodies and spirits must work together, it only makes sense that our spirits need to develop a command over the natural man-- the natural man that is prideful and lazy and selfish. Pride, laziness, and selfishness are normal, but that doesn't mean they are good. 

We can look at another's mistakes, another's weaknesses, and comparing them to our strengths makes us feel better about ourselves, right? We can see ourselves as so much more righteous and moral. It, however, is a short-lived boost to our self-worth, which is why we subconsciously have to keep doing it. Looking in everyone's darkest corner for anything we can point at to bring shame to another. Another human. Another brother or sister. 

Our shame culture, our cancel culture, is out of control, with social media being the catalyst in our day. Criticism has replaced correction. Differences of opinion no longer include discourse, but rather distain. Of course, given that human nature hasn't changed much over thousands, or millions, of years, perhaps I just wasn't paying much attention before.

Well, I'm paying attention now. 

I guess my question is, can we all just be a little more gentle? A little more forgiving? Rather than figuratively looking backwards and cursing the parent who brought their child to school sick, maybe look forward, "cowboy up" and get-'er-done. And maybe, just maybe, we can find our self-worth in our individuality, rather than in meaningless comparisons. Not to mention that God is our Father, and being a child of deity makes our existence pretty significant.

One thing I have noticed in the past week, however, has been the outpouring of love and concern for Eve and our family. Texts and comments and sweet gifts in the mail. I have been overwhelmed and humbled by the kindness of so many. In contrast to the ugliness of the natural man, it was the perfect illustration of the beauty and goodness of the human spirit. 

So let's all hop off the runaway "shame train." Dive, roll, whatever. Just get off. We'll pick each other up off the ground, dust ourselves off, and walk the rest of the way together.

Or we can hitch on ride on the Hogwarts Express. That would be cool, too.  

(Thanks, Natisse, for the books! She was super excited!)