"Men are, that they might have joy"

“Men are, that they might have joy”2 Nephi 2:25


Aside from posting for a humanities class my freshman year of college, I have never written a blog post, and I'm a bit nervous... Hello world, I guess... Frankly, after writing a dozen papers a semester for four years, I truly believed I would never want to write again. It’s not so much that I dislike writing, but I am a procrastinator and I certainly dislike writing at 5:00am, wondering if I am going to have time to finish my last two arguments and slap a conclusion on my rough, unedited, goobery, piece of a paper before I turn it in at 8:00am. This is just one example of how choices can make life harder than it has to be. To illustrate this idea more fully, I would like to tell you about Christmas Day 2015.

It was a dark and stormy night. It was 2:15am, so the dark was expected. The storm was also expected. I’d spent Christmas Eve alternating between crying pitifully and grousing that life simply wasn’t fair. The haunting melody of Padme and Anakin’s love song “Across the Stars” woke me (I say haunting, because it still haunts me whenever I hear it. Should’ve picked a song I didn’t like for my ringtone that day.) I slogged out of bed and got ready to head over to shovel snow. I work as a ¾ time employee at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, and according to all of the weather apps it was expected to snow most of Christmas Day. All of the other employees were out of town because it was Christmas Break at school. It was just my brother, my boss and I.

We got there, grabbed our tools and started out. My brother took the snow-blower and I the old-school shovel. We went around campus removing the first layer of snow, about 6 (billlion) inches (I’m probably going to get exaggerate-y here. I can’t help it, partly because it’s in my nature, and partly because it really was the worst…) By the time we had completed our first round, there were another 4 inches where we had begun, so there was nothing to be done but start all over. At this point my brother hopped on the ice-melt spreader so that he could follow our boss around and try to hold off the next snow assault.

Now it was just me trudging around to keep the snow from collecting around the doorways and on the stairs. I knew that we were the only grounds crew on the whole of Brigham Young University campus that had been called in that day. In fact, I just knew we were the only people in the whole world shoveling snow. As the weight of this fact and the realization that the snow wasn’t stopping anytime soon hit me, I went through all five stages of grief, denial (we’ll be going home soon. it’ll stop snowing even though the meteorologists predicted snow showers throughout the day. that’s a quack science anyway) anger (this is stupid. no one is going to break a hip. mutter, mutter. walk carefully you big weirdos. are you seriously kicking that tree on purpose so that snow will fall right where we just shoveled?! sputter, sputter. I’ll get you. And your little dog too) bargaining (if you make it stop snowing, I’ll be the best kid. I’ll even keep all of my new year’s resolutions this year) depression (we are never going home. it will never stop snowing. probably this year I’ll just have to eat worms for breakfast instead of eggs benedict. Christmas and family tradition are r-u-i-n-e-d. sniffle, sniffle) and acceptance (we did sign up for this. at least this’ll pay for the Christmas presents I bought this year). Unfortunately, the acceptance stage seemed to last for a relatively short time before I began the process all over again. This was our first Christmas together as a family since 2011. All of our coworkers were spending Christmas with their families. Life just wasn’t fair!!!

We did eventually go home that day. Around 3:30 the snow let up and we were allowed to go. A lot of our traditions really were messed up. The family was not very happy when we got home, and for a little while it looked like we were going to skip everything Christmas-y and just go to bed, because everybody was having a “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.” Grinchyyy. We pulled ourselves together eventually, were able to eat Christmas breakfast at 7:00pm and finished opening presents around midnight.

Okay, so where is the silver lining one might ask…? Sorry I took so much space to vent. Obviously I’m still not really in the acceptance stage yet, as I’m writing this two months later and I’m just as acerbic about the whole situation as ever. I still have flashbacks when I see the snow-blower at work… I promise there is a bright spot to this all. The week leading up to Christmas day I watched several “based on real events/true story” films. Among these were Heart of the Sea, Unbroken, and The Impossible. As I walked around the MTC I kept thinking about the characters in these films. There are tons of people who have way, way worse days than I did. The Impossible even follows a family who had a way worse Christmas time than I. A tsunami hits Thailand on the 26th of December 2004 and they, along with the rest of the population spend the next few weeks trying to survive. I don’t want to spoil the movie for anyone, so I will just leave it at that. Needless to say, shoveling snow is not the worst thing anyone has ever had to endure.

As I thought about all of the people who have way worse lives than I do, I felt pretty ashamed of myself. (I still do.) I thought about a bunch of quotes about positivity and endurance. One quote specifically came to mind “No misfortune is so bad that whining about it won’t make it worse,” (This quote comes specifically from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, but I’ve heard that similar sentiments have been expressed by others over the years). The last couple of months I have been extremely ungrateful for the things that I have. I keep pretty focused on the negative. I work a couple of jobs that I don’t love and I feel like life seems to be filled with a bunch of pretty blah, though not terrible, days. I know that part of the purpose of life is to experience joy, but I sometimes get so caught up in monotony (or in the trial and tribulation of early morning snow removal…) that I forget to seek for, and choose to feel that joy every day. I do believe that happiness is a choice and am embarrassed that I am sometimes too weak to make it.

Thinking back on Christmas, though it wasn’t the experience I wanted for that day, it began a process of thought that I am still trying to turn into life application. I won’t say that I was happy, as such terrible falsehood would certainly require repentance, but I can say that I thought more about the child whose birth the day celebrated, and what His coming means for me. The Savior, Jesus Christ loves us. I testify that not only is He the ultimate reason behind our joy, but He can even help us as we strive to overcome pessimistic weaknesses and choose to be happy.

Your Worth and Mine - What is it?

Have you every thought about the word "worth"?

How would you define it?

How about when it comes to an individual's worth?  And what about your worth?

My bet is you may have come up with a profound and insightful answer.  It's not too hard right?  Or is it?  Honestly, how can "worth" be defined?  And where does "worth " come from?  These things have been on my mind quite a bit lately.  Believe it or not, the worth of things and people play a huge role in my life and yours.

To questions like these I have found that knowing or even coming up with an answer may be hard.  To some it may be easy.   We might include, "A person's worth is infinite."  Some of us might recognize this one: "The worth of souls is great in the sight of God."  An online definition defines "worth" as, "the value equivalent to that of someone or something under consideration; the level at which someone or something deserves to be valued or rated."  There are many possible definitions!

I have settled on this one: "The worth of a person or object is what is given or given up to obtain it or on behalf of it."  Think about it.  How much are our phones worth to us - not the value, but their worth?  We might give a dollar amount because that's what we paid.  Take it a step further.  What would we be willing to give and give up to keep it?  That's how much it is actually worth to us.  How about our clothes, car, or house?  How about education?  Spirituality?  Health?  "Worth," in my opinion, comes down to a relationship between the object/person of worth and the entity to which it has worth.  Food to you and me may be worth a lot more to someone in Africa.  A snow shovel will not have as much worth to someone in Florida right now than someone in the northeast.  They will all be willing to give and give up different amounts.

Now I'm going to get a little personal so bear with me.  The reason I've been thinking about this so much is I have realized how easy it is myself to "pull" or get worth from many different things.  Over the years it has been grades, work performance, food, being "better" at something than someone else, and many others including watching and following sports.  That last one was a big one because I love sports, but I realized I was "getting" something out of my team winning.  It was as if someone else's success equated my success.  That is a little ridiculous though since I never attended practice or stepped foot on the court or field!  (Don't get me wrong I'll still be watching and following occasionally.)

What I'm getting at is I have realized that sometimes I can pull worth from external things.  The truth is no matter how high my grades are, how well I do at work, what food I eat, how much "better" I am than someone else, or how well the Utah Jazz or BYU does in sports my worth is not more or less.  That's a good thing as Jazz fan by the way, especially if you know how well they've done the past 10 years.  And if you follow BYU sports then you'd understand that would mean my worth would depend on the week and even the day.

Seriously though, it is the truth.  Of course, accomplishing goals and progressing brings a sense of fulfillment.  It does not increase or decrease worth though.  My worth and yours is infinite regardless of what we do.  There are some who want to say that it does, but that simply is not the case.

Based on the definition earlier we can think of it this way:

How much has been given and given up for us or on our behalf?

What have our parents or extended relatives given and given up for us or on our behalf?  Time is an obvious one.  9 months of our mothers' life.  Money.  Means.  Sleep.  A part of themselves.  And a lot more.

How about other family members?  Or teachers?  Or friends?  A lot has been given and given up for us and on our behalf!  With all of that, even more has been given and given up.  

The most important is what, I believe, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have given, give, and given up.  I believe Christ taught us how much we and His Father were "worth" to Him when He lived a perfect life, served, healed, taught truth, obeyed, suffered for us, and then, ultimately, gave His life.  And he still keeps on giving.

And what about Heavenly Father?  He is the one who sent His Son to do those things because He loves us and knows our worth.  He gave up His Son.  Because of that we can be sure of the infinite individual worth we have.  Think of it.  If he has been and is willing to do all that and still continues giving imagine how he must see us and what He sees in us.  Lasting worth cannot come from those external things or what the world has to tell us because it simply is not based on that.  This does not mean what we do is not important either.  As worth is understood more and more progress and works can be seen as products, not determinants of worth.  As we believe we have infinite and divine worth, I believe we will want to do the right thing and avoid other things based on what we know and what we are worth.

So during the times we might question or find our worth questioned by others we can think about all that is given and given up for you and me and on our behalf by many people.  You and I are worth it. 

Perseverance, Greatness & Roger Federer

I had a major epiphany a couple of weeks ago around 3:05 AM. It wasn’t what you might expect; I didn’t have any deep thoughts robbing me of my sleep, nor was I lying in bed contemplating the meaning of the universe. No, my circumstance was little less noble; I had woken up, wrapped myself in a couple blankets, and turned on the TV to watch Roger Federer play in Australia.

A little backstory for those unfamiliar with Roger: He was formerly the number one tennis player in the world, and in his prime, he made a very compelling case for the greatest tennis player of all time. He was an absolute juggernaut a couple of years ago, breaking records right and left as he made the outcome of every major tournament seem predictable. But then nature happened, and slowly his stranglehold of tennis dominance began to fade, as Federer’s athletic dominance started to decline, and younger players began to challenge him for dominance. Eventually a new star in the tennis world rose and wrested the top position in the world from Federer.

The incredible thing about this story though, is not the heights that Federer reached in his prime; it’s the way in which he has dealt with his aging. Professional tennis isn’t a sport meant for longevity, and Federer is well past the age when most players stop being able to compete. Roger shouldn’t be able to hold his own on the court, yet between every major tournament, he goes back to his practice courts and does a little tinkering. He comes up with a new move or trick or strategy, something just different enough that it might be able to allow him to win in a more energy-efficient way; just enough to give him a fighting shot at winning the tournament.

Cut back to me and my adventure at 3 AM. I, like a lot of the tennis world, held out hope that Federer would be able to turn back the clock and win one more major tournament. But he would face his toughest challenge, as he took on the current world number one in the semifinal. So I turned on the TV about 45 minutes after play started, and groaned aloud when I saw the score. Federer wasn’t just losing; he was getting hammered! He had fallen into an insurmountable hole, and the only thing left to determine was how big of a blow-out the match would end up being.

I nearly turned the TV off right then. Why waste my sleep if my hero was getting absolutely humiliated in front of the world? But I found myself riveted by the action on the screen. While I was watching, Federer hit some outrageously difficult shots and played tennis that can only be described as beautiful. I was instantly riveted. Logic said that Federer really wasn’t playing to win at that point—anybody familiar with the situation could have told you his loss was all but assured. Nobody falls that far behind the best player in the world in his prime and then comes back to win. But Federer sure could have fooled anybody; without a sense of panic or hopelessness, he simply raised his level of play and continued to fight on, ignoring the score.

Federer lost the match that day, but he re-defined greatness in my mind. And here’s where the parallel with life comes in. You see, nobody is perfect in this world. I’m not, and you’re not (no offense intended). I have lots of moments where I struggle with what seems to be an insurmountable difficulty. You know, those things we call bad habits, or character flaws, weaknesses, or what have you. And all too often, I fail at overcoming it. I lose a round. I eat the cookie, I sleep in too late, I keep quiet when I should’ve spoken up. And you know what? It hurts. I feel like a failure.

But what Federer taught me is that greatness isn’t only found in the successes in life. His play that day merits the term “great”—and he lost! Roger’s greatness came from the struggle, the effort, the intensity and the perseverance he showed. That’s greatness—to bounce back from difficulty and come back for another round. To lose and then to put in the time to get better and try again. Greatness means to tinker a little—to arm yourself with some new knowledge, technique, wisdom, or plan, and then head right back into the fray of overcoming weaknesses.

Heaven cannot be full of only perfect people; if so, there would only be one person there. What God expects of us is a real effort to change. The sacrifice performed by Jesus Christ takes care of all of the sins, mistakes, weaknesses, and shortcomings we have--he makes sure we win in the final score. Our part is simply to try. I’m reminded of a beautiful thought by an LDS leader, D. Todd Christofferson:

“It would mock the Savior’s suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross for us to expect that He should transform us into angelic beings with no real effort on our part. Rather, we seek His grace to complement and reward our most diligent efforts. Perhaps as much as praying for mercy, we should pray for time and opportunity to work and strive and overcome. Surely the Lord smiles upon one who desires to come to judgment worthily, who resolutely labors day by day to replace weakness with strength. Real repentance, real change may require repeated attempts, but there is something refining and holy in such striving.”   

Friends, if you ever feel like you’ve failed at life, remember Roger Federer. Remember that greatness isn’t always defined by the final score—it’s defined by the struggle during the game. No loss is permanent when you place yourself on the side of Jesus Christ. And one day, with divine help, you will succeed. Until that day comes, persevere. Fight on. Try, and then try again. And again.

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”

-Confucius 

The Uncomfortable Uphill Path to Growth

I’m sorta hoping my mom doesn’t read this post. Actually, I guess I don’t mind, but I will warn ya, Momma—I confess to some time-wasting and irresponsibility here.

One Friday evening not too long ago, I found myself in an unusual situation—my boyfriend had gone home for the weekend and all three of my roommates had plans. I was in my apartment, all by my lonesome. Strange. I was swimming in free time and didn’t know what to do with myself. At least, at first. Then it occurred to me that I hadn’t touched my violin that day (!!!) and should probably get on that.

Side note: I’m a recent college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in violin performance. I’m hoping to apply to grad schools to begin a master’s degree in the fall, and auditions are coming up in just a couple weeks. Basically, I need all the practice I can get right now.

So, with my newly developed plan in mind, I set out to… make dinner. I was hungry, okay? I can’t practice on an empty stomach. (At least, not well.) And when the leftover chicken fajitas weren’t enough, I needed something to satisfy my sugar craving. A stack of pancakes later, I was ready to walk up to the music building on campus and find a practice room.

But wait… It’s nighttime, in the middle of January, in Utah. I’m going to have to hike up the small mountain on the south end of campus in the dark and freezing cold, just to get to a private place to practice violin. And then I have the dangerous thought—my roommates are all gone! Why not practice in the apartment? (Deep down, I knew this wasn’t a very reliable plan. Traditionally, I’m much less effective when I stay home. But it was Friday night! If I couldn’t be spending time with my spunky sister, or my handsome man, or any of my friends, couldn’t I at least enjoy the luxury of wearing sweatpants while slogging through Mendelssohn??)

But then I saw the heap of dishes as I was cleaning up dinner. And smelled the sink after turning on the garbage disposal. (I won’t describe it to you. Let’s just say it was undesirable.) And I thought, how long has it been since someone cleaned the kitchen sink? Answer: too long. One little project led to another, and over an hour later, the kitchen was spotless and lemony-fresh.

After my cleaning escapades, it occurred to me that if I wanted to start recording the song I wrote (long story) like I’d planned to do later that night, then I’d better hurry! My roommates would be back soon from their group date, and I didn’t want extra noise showing up in the recording. Not to mention, I really had no desire for them to hear me singing. Unfortunately, I only had the guitar part recorded by the time they returned, but that was good enough for the time being. I sat down with the roomies and some popcorn and watched a bit of an NBA game before getting ready for bed.

And then I remembered. I hadn’t practiced violin. (Sorry, Mom.)

So why did I just recount to you in great detail what I did one mundane Friday night? (If you’ve made it this far without getting bored and quitting, congrats.) It’s because, since reflecting on that evening, I’ve realized something.

I’ve heard the phrase a thousand and one times: “I can do hard things.” It was printed in bold letters on those motivational posters on the walls of my fifth grade classroom. It’s been taught to me by church youth leaders through the years. I’ve repeated it over and over while wrestling with my biology textbook assignments and 15-page research papers. I can do hard things. Usually, I pull the phrase out of the recesses of my brain when I’m already in the middle of something hard, trying to succeed at something, or even just survive the thing. It’s my go-to when I need a little hope that I can make it to the end.

But I wonder if I should change the wording a little. Yes, I CAN do hard things, but “can” only implies an option. In instances like that one night, faced with violin practice, not only CAN I do hard things, I SHOULD do hard things.

Think about it! If I would have just put on my big girl pants and said, “Look, I know it might be unpleasant to walk up the hill to campus, but staying home isn’t an option tonight,” not only would I have guaranteed myself practice time, I would have accomplished SO much more. As soon as I rationalized and told myself that I could stay home to practice, the danger was that I wouldn’t practice at all. Which, I didn’t.

Not only can we do hard things; we should do hard things.

Taking the path of least resistance ends up getting us nowhere. The effort we exert when we put ourselves outside of our comfort zone stretches us and helps us grow.

The source I look to for help in all aspects of my life—for hope, for guidance, for strength—is my Savior, Jesus Christ. We can find His words and teachings in the scriptures whenever we need them. He has instructed us to “be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of [your] own free will” (Doctrine and Covenants 58:27) and to “neither be idle but labor with your might” (D&C 75:3). He knows perfectly well that we can’t grow and progress without effort, without work. We didn’t come to earth so we could sit back in our hammocks all day sipping lemonade. (Though I do have a firm belief that a little hammock-sitting and lemonade-sipping is good for the soul, so long as it’s occasional.)

A former president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and one of my favorite human beings ever, Gordon B. Hinckley, said this on the subject: “There is no substitute under the heavens for productive labor. It is the process by which dreams become realities. It is the process by which idle visions become dynamic achievements. Most of us are inherently lazy. We would rather play than work. We would rather loaf than work. A little play and a little loafing are good. But it is work that spells the difference in the life of a man or woman. It is stretching our minds and utilizing the skills of our hands that lift us from mediocrity.” (August 1992 Ensign)

Once we have chosen the more difficult way, the more productive option, the steeper trail, and we’re laboring and sweating and thinking to ourselves, “Why did I do this, again?” THEN we can hearken back to the phrase in its original context: “I can do hard things.” Meaning, “I can accomplish what I set out to do.” I think making a conscious decision to challenge ourselves often gives us the motivation we need to see the difficult task to the end.

But, for those very few times when the going is so rough it just seems impossible, I’d like to quote the apostle Paul:

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” (Phillipians 4:13, emphasis added)