That Funny Thing Called Fame

I unexpectedly found myself attending a concert last week given by a talented performer. Her prowess was exquisite, her repertoire ranging from musical theater to jazz to folk and back again to rock, and I thoroughly enjoyed every number. After the concert, a line quickly formed to meet and have autographs of this famous, talented singer. I debated whether I should take the time. While I was truly captivated by her performance, I did have a tired husband at home, and sleeping babies I felt the call of duty to be near. But this was my one chance to meet this star. Maybe I might even be able to say something to impress her. My husband is, after all, a pseudo-star himself. I happened to be wearing my Chinese blouse, which is not a particularly common wardrobe piece. What if she complimented it? That would give me the chance to say, "Why, thank you! I actually got this while I was in China with my husband. He was there performing with the National Tour of Les Miserablés." It would be a perfect segue into the fact that I am special too, at least by association.

Yes, I am embarrassed to admit, that was my train of thought. I can't believe I'm confessing this, but now you know the petty workings of my feeble mind. Gordon B. Hinckley once said "Adulation is poison." I guess it just goes to show how potent a poison it can be when even the wife of one frequently inundated with praise for his incredible talent is in serious need of a de-tox. Thankfully, I was spared the chance to make a fool of myself that evening. As I neared the end of that hour-long line, I was informed that the artist was only signing purchased merchandise, not the concert programs. Baffled and without my carefully planned conversation to lean on, I stepped out of line and stood there flabbergasted while the last die-hard fans slipped their new CD's and 8x10 glossies under her flourishing Sharpie. Then the security men shooed us off, announcing that the star had had a very long and exhausting day.

In my humiliation, I had some time to reflect on just what it was that had driven me to act like a little groupie. It made me wonder about this funny thing we call fame, and why it is so addictive and attractive. There is something about being known. We want to be known. We love people who are known. We are even more eager to be known by people who are known. That artist had seen hundreds of fans that day, thousands in her lifetime, perhaps millions, many adoring, many showering praise, many seeking their 15 seconds of fame with a famous person. She would not remember my carefully planned, brilliant conversation starter from the next person to shove a CD under her nose. So why was I so anxious for her to know something about me? Why did I want her to think I was special? Why would I seek validation from a celebrity?

I thought of my babies sleeping at home, of my sweet husband who should have had the ticket to that concert but who graciously let me go instead. They knew me. They loved me. I am special to them, and always will be. What more did I need? And then I thought of God, the creator of the universe and my very own Father. He knows me. No celebrity on earth comes close to his importance, prominence, accomplishment, or even his "fame." And he knows me and cares about me every moment of my life. I have far more than 15 seconds of his attention. I have a lifetime of his attention. There is no facade he wears for me, and I can't possibly wear one for him. I don't have to impress him. He loves me, regardless.

In the end, it occurred to me that I should have been more interested in thanking that good woman for taking the time to share so much with us. I had no need to be flowery or impressive. A simple thank you would have expressed everything I needed to say. And my thank you did not have to stand out above the millions of others she has heard. This moment should not have been about me and making an impression. It should have been a chance to express gratitude. Regret? Yes, I have it. But I also take away a lesson which I hope I will be able to apply the next time I am tempted to be star-struck.

Shock Value and Relative Goodness

It's been about 5 years since we had regular TV service in our home. At first it was a financial decision, but by the time we could have fit it into our budget again, we never wanted to go back. Occasionally, when we have stayed in hotels and had the opportunity to watch TV, we always felt it was such a waste of our time, and that it brought an icky feeling into the room that we certainly didn't want in our home. We have also been shocked by the kind of things that have become so common place, which just 5 short years ago were still pushing the boundaries of acceptable programming.

Our media has relied on "shock value" to entice its audience for decades. The problem with this is, the method is self-defeating. Eventually, the thing that was shocking becomes common, and they have to come back with something even more shocking to achieve the same result. Where will this downward spiral take us? How numb can we make ourselves before the whole system implodes?

As a designer, when looking at color swatches, I have noticed that it's really difficult to accurately tell what percentage of gray you have unless you compare it to a scale of white to black. Gray is just gray. You can discern a really light gray or a really dark gray pretty easily, but there is a wide range of middle gray that is very hard to place on the percentage scale. Without something to compare it to, 30% looks very much like 60%. Not having TV in our home for so many years made it really easy to discern the contrast of quality and morality that existed when we turned it on again. On the other hand, I have been surprised by what my friends, whom I know honor the same values as me, consider "clean family programming." After so many of my friends had raved about a certain popular show, I decided to watch an episode of it online. I was surprised at all the subtle, and even not so subtle sexual references, and the destructive worldly philosophies presented in such a favorable light. Okay, so maybe no one was getting shot, or hopping into bed together, but the doctrines being preached were not something I wanted for my family. Setting my children down in front of the TV and turning on a program for them as good as says, "This is what we believe, what I want you to believe." And I don't want to forever be adding in my own disclaimers, like, "That thing you just saw? We don't do that." Or, "We don't say words like that, okay, kids?" Are they more likely to listen to their mom in sweats lounging on the couch, or the perfectly coiffed, stylishly wardrobed, gorgeously lit teenage actress with a catchy soundtrack and well-scripted wittiness?

Relative goodness is a precarious measuring stick. When we look around at all the evil in the world, and use that as our gage to determine how good the things we surround ourselves with are, we can easily be deceived. If we find ourselves saying, "At least it's not as bad as..." then we are probably treading on dangerous ground. The gospel must always be our source of judgement. It's our white swatch at the edge of the gradient. When we start playing with shades of gray, we may not know how dark things are getting until we've gotten into the 80% or darker range.

Lessons From the Garden: Bothersome Pests and Welcome Guests

Sometimes while I'm turning the earth in my garden, I suddenly see a glossy pinkish thread slipping for his life away from the danger of my trowel. It always makes me smile to know my garden is patrolled by earthworms. I know the soil is being enriched by their presence, quietly and secretly under the ground. Grubs and slugs are no uglier than earthworms, but I have a very different reaction when I find them in my garden. My nose reflexively wrinkles up, and I squeamishly remove or mercilessly destroy the invaders.

In the realm of lovelier species, I have long regarded ladybugs as a sign of good luck. As a long-time rose gardener, I have come to appreciate the assistance they render in removing pesky aphids from the tender forming buds. Bees are welcome with their fuzzy little bodies that aid in pollination. Butterflies and moths, though often just as beautiful, are a mixed blessing and curse, as they both help with pollination, but bring with them their voracious young, who can lay waste to even the healthiest plant.

So obviously, you can't judge a bug by it's cover. Nor can we judge the people we let into our lives simply based upon their appearance. We have to know a little more about their character, what they stand for, and what they do before we decide whether we can safely welcome them into our lives, or cautiously guard ourselves from their influence. Likewise, we should not turn someone out of our life's garden just because they are less stylish or attractive by the world's standards. Quiet, consistent friends, like the humble earthworm, labor faithfully beneath the surface and enrich our lives so the seeds of our faith have a fertile place to grow.

Lessons From the Garden: Seeds & Soil

If you stop to think about it, seeds are such a miraculous little package! You stick it in dirt, and it grows things like grain and flowers and fruit trees! How amazing is that?

The scriptures are replete with stories about seeds. When I was young, my dad had me and my siblings memorize large sections of Alma chapter 32, specifically the part that compares trying out the gospel message to planting a seed. The Savior also taught several allegories that used the idea of seeds to teach about faith. He talked about faith as a grain of mustard seed, told the parable of the sower, and that of the tares. There's really too many parallels to cover them all, but I'd like to talk a little about my favorite lessons about seeds.

First of all, choosing seeds. Not all seeds are worth planting. In similar fashion, not all things we hear about are good for us to take into our lives. If we chase after every fad and craze sweeping the nation, we will find our garden full of useless and sometimes even dangerous plants, occupying ground better spent on nourishment or beauty. Every seed planted will require an investment of time, space, and water. So choose wisely what you bring into your life.

Sometimes, though, we aren't certain whether a seed is good or not. In Alma 32, the prophet talks about conducting an experiment to see if the gospel is true. He compares it to planting a seed and seeing if it will grow. There are two reasons the experiment will fail: one is if the seed just isn't good--if the gospel, or whatever we are testing, just isn't true. But the other reason he gives is that the ground is barren, and not receptive to the seeds. The Savior gives a similar allegory when he talks about the seeds cast on stony ground, or among the weeds. They don't have a chance to grow. So if we are to rule out the possibility that lack of germination and growth is our own fault rather than that of the seed, we must be fully responsible for the quality of our spiritual soil. In other words, our hearts must be soft, free of the stones of anger, sin or pride, well watered by the time we take to study God's word, and well lit by the light of the spirit. If we do not take care that our garden is an appropriate growing environment, then how can we ever make accurate judgements about the quality of the seeds we may plant?

Lessons from the Garden: Weeds

For the past month, I have loved getting up early every morning and working in the garden that I've longed to have for years. I have even abandoned my usual morning workout routine in favor of weeding, pruning and dreaming of all the things I intend to plant and cultivate. It feeds my soul to work out there in the dirt, and I easily see how Mary Lennox was able to heal not only herself, but all of Misselthwaite Manor through the simple act of gardening.

As I've worked, I've thought over the countless analogies that abound in gardens. I could probably write a whole series of blogs about them, but we'll start with one and see where it takes us.

Since I've spent so much time weeding lately, we'll start with that. Weeds make an obvious symbol of our flaws, our bad habits, our sins, and the things that distract us from our highest goals and purposes. Obviously, we don't want them in our garden, and it seems the gardener's work is never really done when it comes to weeding. As I've mentioned, in the month we have lived here, most of my gardening time has been spent pulling out the jungle of weeds that had grown in the time this house has been left vacant. Now that I finally feel like I have a grip on the situation, I also have some thoughts about weeds and the act of weeding:

You've got to get it by the root. It's no good just plucking the leaves above the surface, the ones everyone can see. The first thing I learned as a kid working in the yard with my dad was, you've got to dig deeper and get the root, or that baby will just keep popping back up. Morning glory is my particular enemy right now because it tenaciously grows deep and long, and it seems like no matter how deep you try to dig, there's more root down there. It's no good just trying to cover up our personal flaws, bad habits and sins by trying to keep the public from ever seeing them, or try to overcome them by a superficial edit. We have to dig deep, sometimes where it really hurts and get to the root of the problem. I love the part of C S Lewis' "The Dawn Treader" where the boy, Eustace, has been turned into a dragon and desperately wants to be a boy again. Aslan tells him to take a bath, but first he must "undress". As much as the dragon-boy tries on his own, he can't remove the dragon skin. He always finds another layer of skin underneath. Aslan finally offers to assist him, and he cuts deep to remove it. The process is painful, but vastly relieving, like the liberating pain of picking off an old scab. We have to dig deep to get out the weeds.

In a similar vein, it's best to get the weed as soon as it pops up. The longer you wait, the more a weed can get out of control. The root goes deeper, and the leaves have more chance to nourish and strengthen it. If you wait too long, it might also go to seed, and spread its posterity all over your garden, making your job tens or hundreds of times harder. Catch it early. As soon as we recognize a flaw is the time to do something about it. We shouldn't just close our eyes to it, or make excuses for it, or heaven forbid, flaunt it. "That's just the way I am" is never a good excuse.

Lastly, I heard someone say once that even a rose planted in the wrong place is nothing more than a weed. Sometimes we need to root out things that might seem pretty or enjoyable, but they don't belong there. Our lives can be filled up with good things that are a distraction from the best things. For instance, we might spend too much time working on a good project at the expense of our families. Taking care of these kinds of "weeds" requires a little extra planning. If your garden has no real "plan" then you will never recognize these kinds of weeds. But when we take time to look at the big picture, make a plan, and realize something needs to move to make room for something better, then we can start to do the kind of landscaping that will make our gardens the most beautiful and pleasing.

Happy weeding!

Tornadoes and a Voice of Warning

Last week week we moved our family across the country. It was a long, though mostly pleasant journey for our little family of 6, full of expectations for this new chapter in our lives.

As we were about half way across Missouri, on a very rainy day, we decided to pull over at a rest stop to have our lunch. Even though there was a light rain falling, there were covered picnic tables so we figured we would have a quick meal, stretch our legs, and be on our way in a short time. As I was pulling out paper plates and taking orders for PBJ or turkey sandwiches, a very excited man came over to say that there was a tornado watch going on in our location and we probably shouldn't get to comfortable. With some degree of cockiness I smirked and thought to myself, this is nothing. I grew up in North Texas and had been through many a storm. I had watched the tornado safety video every spring in our public schools, and been through countless tornado drills. Dramatic storms were a regular occurrence every spring and fall, and thunder and lightning were as comfortable and familiar to me as the roll of the ocean to islanders. So complacent had we become as children that we often quoted the safety video in heavy Texan accents, with our own sarcastic variations such as, "When a tornadey is approachin' go tuh the nearest window. Run around and flail ya'll's arms in the air." Obviously I had little reverence for this powerful menace of nature.

So here I was, poised with paper plates still in hand, the safety of my family in the balance. Skeptically, I looked at the darkening sky. It did have that tinge of green which I had come to recognize as the harbinger of the tornado. The air pressure change in that violent of a storm actually changes the color of the air to a murky green. When a second man came over with the same warning, and we could hear the sirens sounding in the distance, we decided to take this seriously and take shelter.

Before ducking into a large storage closet between the public restrooms along with a score of other travelers, we spotted a dark triangular shape in the near distance, just below the base of the clouds. A long, white, fast moving wall cloud began to surge towards us, and as soon as it passed overhead, we were engulfed in torrential wind and rain. Several of us kept in touch with outsiders using our cell phones, tracking the storm and waiting for the reprieve. We learned later that there was definitely a tornado in our area, but thankfully we were not in its path. Had we continued along the road, we very well could have been. In a short while, the worst of it was past, and we were able to return to our car and continue our journey, taking our lunch in the car as we went because not only was it still raining, but the temperature had dropped a full 20 degrees!

I learned two things from this experience: first of all, I learned that God is mindful of us. We didn't know that stopping for lunch would protect us from danger, but we felt like stopping and we did so. We counted it a great blessing that God prompted us to do that.

Secondly, I learned how important it is to follow the warning voices. We had two of them, and a third if you count the sirens. Even more if you take in all the signs in the weather. In my cockiness, and what I supposed was "educated experience," I could have ignored the warnings and put my family in great danger. Just because I had been through hundreds of storms with no actual tornado threat didn't ensure that this storm would be as safe. I truly feel that the time is already upon us when we can no longer ignore the warning voice of our modern prophets, even if we have been able to do so in the past without detriment.

If You Want Something, Let It Go

My 1-year-old LOVES his yogurt. Sometimes I let him grab one out of the fridge. I get him all set up in his highchair while he happily turns the little plastic cup of goodness over and over in his hands, anticipating that creamy euphoria to come. But he has a hard time handing it over to me so I can open it and feed it to him. He pulls it away from me, hides it under the tray, and then gets mad at me because he wants it so badly. "Just hand it over! I'll open it and feed it to you! Look, here's the spoon!" Still, he holds onto it fiercely.

Sometimes I think Heavenly Father has that problem with us. There are things in our lives that we want so desperately, but unless we hand it over to God and let him be the one to administer the blessings, we just can't get anything out of it. Sometimes we get mad at him and blame him for things not working out, when in reality, we are the ones holding ourselves back by not surrendering our will to a higher, wiser power.