Door Number 3

With a nod to Alanis, ironic, isn’t it, that we seem to face our particular fears at some point? The woman whose dread is loneliness finds herself alone; the woman who confides to her sister that her deepest fear is that something would happen to her husband, learns shortly thereafter of his diagnosis with terminal leukemia; the woman who so yearns to be a mother finds she is unable to conceive.

A friend at work recently asked where God was in all this. Is he the fulfiller of fears? Is he the dicing God playing with our lives to relish the irony from afar or testing us with tailor-made trials which dare us to deny his love? Or is God the absentee landlord leaving us to chance and happenstance?

The questions are not new. Thomas Hardy’s Hap comes immediately to mind, asking, "how is it joy lies slain/And why unblooms the best hope ever sewn?"

Hap

If but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
That thy love's loss is my hate's profiting!"

Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.

But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
— Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . .
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

More recently, there is a Joni Mitchell song, The Sire of Sorrow, which asks the questions from an embittered Job’s point of view: "Why have you soured and curdled me?/What have I done to you/That you make everything I dread and everything I fear come true? . . . And you let the wicked prosper/You let their children frisk like deer."

In fact, Job faced the loss of everything, including his children, his health, his wealth, his friends, all with his faith in the kindness and perfect goodness of God in tact. He would not, as his wife urged him to do, curse God and die. What did Job understand about God that Joni may not?

Faith answers the questions by turning to the fundamental tenet that God is perfect: perfectly loving, perfectly kind, perfectly merciful, perfectly just, and perfectly benevolent. It is there that faith turns as a starting point to answer any question concerning God’s nature or actions or interactions with His children. Postmodern man says, "If God is just, he wouldn't allow the good to suffer, therefore, God doesn't satisfy my idea of justice, therefore, God isn't just, or, therefore there is none." But the logic fails, in my view.

God cannot be a just God and spare us the vicissitudes of life, thereby depriving us of the very experiences we are alive to have. Life is for learning faith and trust. Therefore, God supports His children in their trials. Sometimes, it seems, He whispers of coming trials to help us get ready. If we are willing to learn, He makes them all those experiences work together for our good. One of many seeming paradoxes of Christianity is that in promising us joy, He does not chart us a course devoid of pain.

I have come to believe that those of us who have realized our great fears were given those fears as preparation for what God knew would come to us in our journeys through life. In this light, those fears are a kind of merciful forewarning, according to the foreknowledge of God, to allow us to develop responses and tools for the coming trials in advance.

We find that we can lift more weight than we thought we could when more weight is placed on the bar. Was it cruelty to teach us that lesson? Or was it responsible parenting that picks us up when we stumble and sets us right, warns of coming dangers, with hands outstretched to cushion the inevitable stumbles to follow as we learn to walk in the Way, the Truth, and the Light.

A Fairer Substance

"Botanists tell us that the blossom is an evolution of the leaf - but they cannot say just why that particular bud should take from the same air and sunshine a fairer substance, a deeper color, a more permanent existence, and become something at which each passerby pauses, and goes on his way happier for the sight."

--Augusta Hudson writing about her friend Susan for the Booklover in Wallace Stegner's Angle of Repose

I spoke in my last post about paradise being a landscape made beautiful by relationships. I have been most fortunate that my life has been populated with friends of stunning warmth and beauty. I have watched friends respond to life's challenges, both internal and external, with grace, and have learned faith. I have watched friends struggle to find their angle of repose, even as they have altered my own by challenging deeply ingrained ideas about myself.

And I know the particular buds that have taken from the same air and sunshine a fairer substance and a deeper color, and have felt humbled to count these as friends.

If, as I believe, one purpose of life is to learn to love our fellow (imperfect) beings, and another is to learn to accept and nurture love from others as we make our imperfect way through life, then certainly I have been especially blessed in the particular set of beings with whom I get to learn and practice these lessons.

Have you ever seen a person's soul shining? I have. C.S. Lewis posited that "it is with awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal."

I am grateful for friends whose divinity shines like diamonds, and who make it easier to see in others, and even in myself.

Another Day in Paradise

I went into what looked to be a perfectly ordinary bakery a few months ago, and asked the guy behind the counter for some recommendations. He responded with tremendous enthusiasm about the virtues of each of his artesanal breads and the craft and care with which the breads were made. I confess he whipped me into a frenzy of sympathetic enthusiasm both for the products and processes of the bakery. I made my purchases vowing to return soon to sample other offerings.

As I was leaving, some other customers were entering and one politely asked the keeper how he was doing. "Another day in paradise!" he shouted with a mixture of sincerity and playful sarcasm.

The guy loves his job.

I don't tend to label many of my days at work as days in "paradise." In fact, I can think of many days that felt like purgatory or worse. But from time to time, the big picture is clear, and I am pleased to have interesting and challenging opportunities that make me stretch beyond what I thought I could do--or would want to do. For me, a day in paradise at work or anywhere, has little to do with the "what" and much to do with the "who."

Pardise for me is a landscape made beautiful by relationships. Paradise is people I love. Some of whom are kindred spirits, some of whom should be strangers by any measure of geography, culture, religion, politics, or age, but instead are friends.

I also really like it when the good guys win. I am celebrating one of those rare glimpses of justice that reminds me that for most people, passing through a lot of sub-paradisiacal days, every once in a while a really good one comes around.

Expensive Plastic Novelties

My 8-year old nephew Max has an incisive way of phrasing things. We spent the last week exploring Disneyworld and found ourselves in a Star Wars memorabilia shop. I had walked right past it without seeing it and asked Max how in the world he knew it was even there in the crowds and chaos.

"I can smell expensive plastic novelties from a mile away," he said.

***

Griffin, 6, was eager to get back to his strawberry mousse after an urgent potty-break. "Let's run, Grandma!" he said to my Mom. They grabbed hands and started running back toward the French Patisserie. "Gee, Grandma, you're the fastest old lady I know!"

***

At the beginning of the week, Georgia, 2, was terrified by the characters, even Minnie Mouse. She would wave politely from across the table, but didn't want to be close enough to be caught in the same camera frame with any. On our last day, she had warmed up to them and was even on a whimsical first-name basis with them. "Hi Mick!" she called out casually to Mickey Mouse, and even obliged with a "cheeeese" while posing for pictures with the whole lot.

***

P.S. They say the average person walks 13 miles a day visiting Disneyworld. I think we bested the average by a good bit and I have the blisters to prove it.

Christmas Gifts

A sweet little 3-year old asked me what I wanted for Christmas tonight. I couldn't come up with anything that can be wrapped in a box or placed under a tree. My life is blessed each day with the immeasurable gift of loving family and friends.

My nephew Griffin, who turns 6 years old today, was recently so swept up in the joy and glow of Christmas that he said his eyes were getting "watery." I feel like my eyes get watery too when I think about the kindnesses shown to me this year by so many. Chief among them is my Heavenly Father, who tailors blessings with so perfect a fit and so fine a cut.

I received a great gift of service from Griffin at Thanksgiving. After he and I had worked hard together to pass a challenging level on a computer game, we decided to take a break and celebrate. He asked if he could peel me a clementine. I knew it was a tender gesture of love as I watched him painstakingly peel the clementine so as to leave none of the undesirable pith. He handed me sections only after holding them to light to see if there were seeds so he could warn me. The clementine was a little salty, given the extra-special handling, but it was made delicious because it was tendered with such love.

I really like this thought from the late President Howard W. Hunter, a former leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints regarding those most precious gifts that can be given to one another:

"Never did the Savior give in expectation of receiving. He gave freely and lovingly, and His gifts were of inestimable value. He gave eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, and legs to the lame; cleanliness to the unclean, wholeness to the infirm, and breath to the lifeless. His gifts were opportunity to the downtrodden, freedom to the oppressed, forgiveness to the repentant, hope to the despairing, and light in the darkness. He gave us His love, His service, and His life. And most important, He gave us and all mortals resurrection, salvation, and eternal life.We should strive to give as He gave. To give of oneself is a holy gift. We give as a remembrance of all the Savior has given.

"This Christmas, mend a quarrel. Seek out a forgotten friend. Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust. Write a letter. Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. Manifest your loyalty in word and deed. Keep a promise. Forgo a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Apologize. Try to understand. Examine your demands on others. Think first of someone else. Be kind. Be gentle. Laugh a little more. Express your gratitude. Welcome a stranger. Gladden the heart of a child. Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth. Speak your love and then speak it again.

"Christmas is a celebration, and there is no celebration that compares with the realization of its true meaning—with the sudden stirring of the heart that has extended itself unselfishly in the things that matter most.

With love and thanks to all of you who make my life a pleasure. Merry Christmas!

Rosa Parks

Fitting that Rosa Parks should be given a place of highest honor, the Capitol Rotunda, to lie in state. She is the first woman to be accorded the tribute, though certainly not the first to deserve it.

Her legacy is that each person has moral claim to his or her rightful dignity: whether or not that dignity inherent in each person is recognized by law or custom or other individuals.

Rosa Parks visited Brigham Young University while I was a student there about 13 or 14 years ago. She was elderly, and was not able to speak on the occasion, but as I recall, a family member accompanied her and spoke about her life. I went to see her, to see history really, and was most impressed by the sense of reverence and the vivid dignity that surrounds her. Her brave act of civil disobedience stung the conscience of a guilty society and spurred an earthquake which is still reforming the social landscape for the better, bringing America closer to its promise that all are created equal, endowed with inalienable rights from the Creator, and are entitled to pursue life, liberty and happiness.

*****

I voted yesterday in Virginia's elections. It took me less than three minutes on a fancy-schmancy touch-screen voting machine, and the polling place was at an elementary school about two blocks from my house. I almost didn't go because I was afraid it might be a hassle. And what did it matter anyway? It was just an off-year election.

Last year at election time for the presidential election, my work took me to the Navajo Reservation near Holbrook, Arizona. I saw an elderly Navajo woman collapse after she had walked several miles through the desert to vote.

I also met a very petite white woman who was helping to coordinate the provision of Navajo interpreters. She has been a volunteer since the 60's. She told me about being attacked in Mississippi in clashes where locals violently resented the presence of outsiders seeking to ensure compliance with the Voting Rights Act.

I remember seeing images of black South Africans lined up, literally, for blocks, waiting for hours and hours to vote in the first elections after the collapse of apartheid. They elected Nelson Mandela.

And what about the bravery of the Iraqis who have cast a ballot for hope in defiance of tyranny and terror? Who wave ink-stained fingers with pride. Certainly, American soldiers have opened the door to the franchise not only for the Iraqi people, but have safeguarded it these many years for all Americans.

And I'm glad I too am a franchisee.

(cue music: Lee Greenwood, "cause I'm proud to be an American!")

*****

I was more than a little bewildered to hear Congressman Jesse Jackson, Jr. report recently that he asked President Bush a question about the future of the Voting Rights Act at a meeting of the Congressional Black Caucus with the White House. He reports that the President said he wasn't familiar with it, but would look into it.

Not familiar with it? Wasn't he in the National Guard in the south during that whole era? I mean no disrespect, but please, take--or at least feign--an interest if you are the President! A lot of people took a lot of nasty lumps, literally, to get the Civil Rights laws passed and to claim the franchise of equal justice under law. One might even say the Civil War was the launch of the effort.

*****

My job gives me an opportunity to see the fruits of the seeds planted by Lincoln, King and Parks. Sadly, it also gives me a chance to see how much ground is left to be cultivated.

Talent Time

I often joke that I was late when the talents were being dispersed and I got an odd collection of remnants from the remainder table that were marked down for clearance. I missed out on the singing and dancing--I'm sure they were snapped up right when the doors opened. Nor apparently did they have any left of the "tasteful dress" or "eye for decorating" which would have come in handy. Drawing was gone. Not even painting or decoupage left.

I did, somehow, apparently, pick up a talent for percussion. Not that I've found it particularly useful, although for a short time during junior high I thought maybe I just might join the Go-Go's. Years go by and I don't have an opportunity to touch the drums or a xylophone, but give me the sticks and stand back and prepare to be amazed. I'm not bragging, because it isn't anything that great, but rather, it is just odd.

I can smack a softball way into the outfield. That one has been fun because I don't look the atheletic part, so the opposing team steps forward to anticipate my at-bat and I rather enjoy watching it rip over their heads.

I can also shoot a gun with remarkable accuracy. Had I decided to go into law enforcement or crime, these may have been handy, but in the quiet life I've chosen, I really don't get much call for my uncanny aim.

I've been joking with a colleague at work who says I have a gift for "spin" that it is one of those powers that can be harnassed either for good or evil. Perhaps it is a good thing that I am at this point out of the political realm, although hey, at least this one did make me some nice money while I was a lobbyist.

Some of these remnant talents can be downright annoying. I can usually anticipate what someone is about to say as they are saying it and I have to really stifle myself not to compose the ending of their sentences or thoughts for them. No one enjoys that. It does make me good at the game Password though.

Is it a talent to see multiple points of view at once? Or does it make me unprincipled? I often wish I had a deeper passion for particular points of view and admire those whose fervor provides such clarity to their politics or experience of movies or art. Except as to matters of faith, I have to really work to settle on a single view and even then it is often with a nagging ambivalence. In matters of policy and political debate, I generally find that someone expressing one view simply serves to illuminate in high relief the alternative views for me. You should have seen me trying to fill out my absentee ballot in the last election! It took more than an hour and I found myself going around in mental circles and making phone calls to various friends for their points of view--which tended to drive me to the opposite view--and then back again.

In a related corrollary, I hate when someone asks me what my favorite "insert noun here" is. I don't have a "favorite" color. What on earth would make one color superior to another? I have no reference system of values to apply to colors--either subjective or objective. On movies, I might be able to name a few movies I really like (and some I hated), but to impose an order of rank, why that is impossible! The dialogue in one, the acting in another, the cinematography or plot or characters or combinations thereof...the things are too unlike to be held in the balance one against another.

On some things, like piano, I got a little smidge of talent, but a very limited quantity--perhaps the crumbs that fell from the prodigy table. I maxed out on that ability at about age 11 and I've been playing the same songs at the same level of proficiency in the (ahem! cough!) years since. My Dad likes to say some people have twenty years' of experience and some people have one year of experience twenty times. When it comes to piano, I'm the latter.

The odd collection of talents does make it fun to go to a batting cage. A date once took me target shooting, and because he was so confident in his superior skills, I was really torn about whether to shoot my best or flatter the male ego and miss on purpose. I figured he better know from the start who he is dealing with. Eventually, we were shooting the lid of a tin can. I guess he didn't really go for the Annie Oakley routine. We stayed friends but never went on another date after that.