Best You Can Do Is Forgive

"Well it's all right, remember to live and let live;
Well it's all right, the best you can do is forgive."
 -The Traveling Wilburys, "End of the Line"

Currently, I travel up to Layton a couple of times a week. It's not personal; it's business.

While driving up there along I-15, I always pass under the Burton Lane Bridge in Kaysville. This is one landmark I always look forward to seeing in my travels because, much of the time, someone has spelled out a message with plastic cups in the holes of the chain-link fence.

It's a thing we do here in Utah, often to welcome home returning missionaries, to ask/answer requests for local high school dances, and such.

The Burton Lane Bridge reminds me a little bit of the movie L.A. Story, in which Steve Martin's character receives a number of messages with advice particular to his own life from a roadside sign on the L.A. Expressway. The sign ends up playing something of a major supporting role in the film.

Anyway, the message spelled out across the bridge last week consisted of only one word, but it is nevertheless a very important word:

"Forgive."

It would turn out that I would really need that specific message on this specific day. My family would, anyway.

At work, I received a phone call from Dad in which he informed me that Mom had, unfortunately, tripped over a piece of twine or string that was left hanging over the sidewalk at a neighbor's while out for a walk. She had been hurt very badly in the process. It turned out to be not one but two broken elbows, leaving Mom wearing a cast on each arm for the next several weeks. Said injury will also require her to be attended by someone else at nearly every waking hour, as she now needs help eating, scratching itches, and doing several other ordinary tasks that you and I often take for granted on a daily basis.

"Mommy is a mummy," Dad said.

This is the kind of accident that can turn some neighbors from friends into mortal enemies. Again, it was all a result of a neighbor carelessly leaving string or twine hanging over a public sidewalk.

Mom decided to take the high road. (Like moms do.) She visited this neighbor, a member of the parents' LDS ward, upon returning home from the hospital to let the neighbor know what had happened, one intent being to hopefully help prevent additional injury to other neighbors. Another intent was to forgive, to not hold any kind of a grudge. (Of course, it also doesn't mean said neighbor's insurance might not still have to cover some medical expenses.)

Neighbor lady's husband was away on a business trip, but neighbor lady took full responsibility, burst into tears, and apologized profusely. I think we may be able to save this friendship after all.

Forgiveness is always a good option. It's really the best one.

Shoulder to Cry On

This week on the Island of Misfit Toys, the Gospel Doctrine lesson was all about Job. It's too bad that we get to spend only one week, one too-brief 40-minute class period on Job and his eponymous book in the Old Testament, because there are so many lessons we can learn from both him and from the people who were close to him.

I had a boil once when I was a eight or nine years old, and it occurred "across the pond" when we were on one of my family's and my trips to England to visit my mom's family. I remember my Aunt Mary, one of the greatest, kindest souls ever to walk this Earth, applying a poultice for multiple nights to help treat it and to bring down the swelling. She always knew what to do.

I can't even imagine what it would have been like to be covered head to toe with boils. And yet, somehow, Job lived to tell the tale.

Specifically, however, tonight I'm not thinking of Job but of the three friends, Bildad, Eliphaz, and Zophar, who came to comfort him when he was in the middle of his afflictions. Upon arriving to visit their old friend, "they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great" (Job 2:13).

Later on, of course, as those who are familiar with the story will remember, they made the mistake of berating him for what they perceived to be his sins or errors, and they were chastised for it. Nevertheless, I try to give these three men the benefit of the doubt. They were human, as we all are, and I believe that the simple act of keeping him company for that entire week, just being there with their friend when he needed them, yet not saying a word, did far more good than anything else they could have done at any point during Job's misfortunes.

Thus it is when we mourn, too. A friend (#1) of mine who lost his father far too soon essentially said the same thing recently when he spoke of another friend (#2) of ours, who lost his mother to cancer. Friend #2 was there for Friend #1. He didn't try to console him or to say it would be all right; he was just there, spending time as a friend, to let him know someone cared.

Years ago, Angry White Mom witnessed the slow, painful death of a friend of hers to a debilitating illness, her body literally wasting away until she passed from this life. The night of the friend's funeral, AWM saw me in the kitchen and, needing the same comfort, I suppose, that Job and Friend #1 sought, she simultaneously burst into tears and hugged me tightly, not letting go for what seemed like at least 10 minutes.

Sometimes, you literally need a shoulder to cry on. I'm grateful to have shared that moment with you, Mom. Mainly, I realize I got to share it with her because I was there. It's something I'll never, ever forget, a memory I will always cherish.

Family and friends reading this, I hope you'll consider me "there" for you if you ever need it. That goes for both my recent post about those who struggle with depression, as well as with any other problem or worry under the sun.

I also don't get many hugs like that these days, but I'm willing to give if the need arises.

Ladies especially.

The Angry White Loner's High School Reunion

Last night, I attended my high school reunion, which was held at the Little America hotel in downtown Salt Lake City. As many high school reunions go, it was an event I both looked forward to and, at the same time, dreaded.

How many years has it been since you graduated from high school? you ask?

I can't make myself say how many years it has been, unbelievable as the number is to me. I just can't make myself type it. But we were the Bountiful High School class of 1993. I'll let you do the math.

In spite of my apprehension about attending, two main ideas stood out:

1) Being one of the few single people at my class reunion was not as bad as I feared it would be. I met some old friends right at the check-in desk, including Andy and Scott, and they agreed to let me sit at their table, get to know their spouses, and catch up with them and their families' lives. Many others also went out of their way to talk to me and to say "hello."

Included among that group of people was one of my seventh-grade tormentors, whom I referenced not long ago here on this blog in my review of the movie Bully. He was the one to approach my table and to initiate a conversation. Not only that, but he seemed genuinely interested in my life and spent 10 minutes chatting with me as if we were old friends.

I want to believe there is such a thing as water under the bridge. Perhaps the hatchet can finally be buried on that matter. I have hope that it was last night or soon will be.

I even had a good, long talk with someone who served as a studentbody officer during our senior year but whom I did not know very well back then. I have a knack for remembering faces and names, and recognizing that person and saying "hello" was all it took for us to become friends.

2) Some things remain exactly the same, while other things have changed.

By and large, people sat at tables and snapped photos with their old high school cliques and social groups. Some people have changed very little physically and were instantly recognizable. Old friends were the same good-natured people I have always known. The girl who (unbelievably) agreed to go with me to the senior prom is still drop-dead gorgeous.

The flip side of that thought is that time and experience seem to be the great equalizer. No matter how popular or important some people thought they were in high school - and that is one of the few unfortunate things about that time in our lives - things such as baldness, grey hair, *ahem* slowed metabolism, and other signs of getting older, as well as challenges and heartache, seem to have affected most everyone to one degree or another.

As the saying goes, into each life a little rain must fall.

Overall, it was a very positive experience. But I can wait for the next reunion.

Hope Springs Eternal

Recently, a couple of my friends got married. To each other.

What sets these friends apart from the many other friends of mine who get married - this is Utah, after all, so having friends get married is not that uncommon of an occurrence - is that each of them, on separate occasions and a number of years previously, sustained traumatic and life-altering brain injuries. One of them is also confined to a wheelchair.

Out of respect to my friends, and without going much more into the situation, suffice me to say that watching this couple's courtship progress and develop on a weekly basis (I know them both through a mid-singles institute class I attend Wednesday nights) over the course of the past couple of years has been, as I look back on it, a rather awe-inspiring thing. It's not the traditional, Taylor Swift-type love story, but it is a love story nonetheless. And it has led me to one bona fide conclusion:

Sometimes, God directly lends a hand.

"Soul mates are fiction and an illusion," taught President Spencer W. Kimball. Finding one's spouse is largely left up to us individually and as couples, despite our imperfect natures and the mistakes we all-too-frequently make. In my case, it's at least twice that often (making mistakes, I mean).

Nevertheless, on rare occasions, I believe, the Lord steps in does something to help a relationship move along to its goal. Adam and Eve, for example, were meant for each other - no questions about that. Isaac's servant was guided specifically to Rebekah to find a wife for his master. Nephi and his brothers were also commanded to return to Jerusalem to find wives and were led to Ishmael's family.

I believe that such was the case with my two friends who were recently united in wedded bliss. That's not gospel doctrine or fact here but just a page from the Epistle of Jon.

And so, the $64,000 question is: Why does he intervene on these rare occasions when so many of us are left to our own devices?

I believe that the answer, in each case, is to teach us something important. In the case of Adam and Eve, the lesson is kind of a no-brainer, involving such things as "multiplying and replenishing the Earth" and things of that nature. A book I'm reading now also raises the issue that one of the oft-forgotten commandments given to Adam and Eve is that they were to remain together, and once Eve had eaten of the forbidden fruit, Adam faced a choice: eat of the forbidden fruit, be cast out with Eve, and remain with her, or stay alone in Eden. (Many men in our time, the book points out, choose to separate from their Eves in favor of what they perceive to be an Eden - be it another person, a job, etc.) In the case of Isaac and Rebekah, as well as Nephi and his family, the lesson is about the importance of marriage in the covenant, assuming that Seminary video taught me right.

In the case of my friends, well, I believe the lesson is simply this: Whatever challenges life has thrown at you; whatever hell you've lived through, even when you thought you couldn't survive it; and even though you may feel like there's no hope left for you, be it due to health or age or job loss or shattered dreams or self-doubt or what the adversary is whispering to you or whatever it may be, there is always hope.

Always.

Smile, Darn Ya, Smile

Do you ever stop and take a look around and realize that there are plenty of miserable people out there? Judging by many people's facial expressions, you'd think that most folks are, indeed, very unhappy with their lives or their jobs or the stock market or any number of things that can cause a person stress or unhappiness.

From the point-of-view of someone who lives with depression, I sometimes feel like it is not possible for me to get as chemically depressed as some others choose to be emotionally.

As I was out running errands today, I couldn't help but notice the frowns or general lack of any kind of positive emotion or expression on the faces of many people I interacted with. Is it something in the water in my neighborhood or city? While that's a possibility, I tend to notice the same tendency among people most everywhere I go.

At the same time, those few with smiles on their faces were, not coincidentally, also those who seemed to be happiest doing whatever it was they were doing, be it drawing my blood (I donate plasma on a semi-regular basis) or pumping their gas or whatever their task may be. I would also argue that these people aren't necessarily devoid of trials or stress in their lives, but in spite of those things - because we all have them - they choose to remain as positive as they can and to pass that feeling along to everyone they meet.

Let's face it: Happy people are more fun to be around. Because they are happy and they know it, not only do they clap their hands, but they also draw others to them because of that happiness. Their smiles are not feigned or forced and come from their very souls. A smile makes an unattractive person attractive and an attractive person downright foxy.

One of my favorite Old Testament verses is Psalm 118:24, which reads: "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."

That's good advice. As someone else put it, "Any day above ground is a good day."