Light It Up

Previously on Paco Nation, I've written some of my thoughts on the mid-singles fireside message delivered by Elder Dallin H. and Sister Kristen Oaks back in August. Though this was four months ago, I am still reflecting on both things I learned and things I've pondered about from time to time.

One item I do not I believe I addressed fully at the time of my initial blog post on this talk was the topic of fear. At that time, Elder Oaks spoke of a conversation he had with someone who had fulfilled a Church calling to minister to the inmates at one of the LDS branches at a local correctional facility (AKA "jail"). The lesson that he taught us from this experience, as I recall, was: "There are more shackles on singles in the Church than there are on these prisoners, all because of fear." (Those were my notes from that night, so I may be paraphrasing the exact quote.)

The question that I am then led to, and which I put to my fellow mid-singles is: What, exactly, are you afraid of?

Certainly, many of us fear being vulnerable and putting ourselves "out there" in pursuit of a relationship only to fall flat on our faces yet again. For some of us mid-singles, this might feel like it has happened not only hundreds but instead thousands of times by this point. This feeling of frustration creates a term I call Rejection Burnout. (Don't worry, single friends in your teens and/or early twenties; you still have plenty of chances for heartbreak ahead of you.)

I'm only kidding about that last comment. Partly.

Others, I believe, fear not rejection but actually fear being successful. In other words, they've become used to being independent rather than what would be a better option: becoming "interdependent" with another.

"Interdependence is the kind of life the Lord desires for us," Elder Oaks taught.

Further, he added: "We have to be careful when we are single and we don't have a spouse to steady us, that we are not unduly influenced by worldly messages. For example, the world seeks and honors the accumulation of money, property, car, home travel, graduation before marriage, etc."

If I understood the message correctly, being successful, then, might put a damper on some of these pursuits.

In my own brainstorming, I've come up with a few other possible fears, and they include: social anxiety; self-esteem challenges; and health or financial difficulties.

If there are other fears I've failed to include here, well, please include them in the comments. I'd love to hear your point-of-view. Or talk to me about them in person over a froyo (your treat, of course!).

In addition, we singles, at this time of year, are bombarded with messages about how wonderful and great it is to be in love, and it comes in many forms. It's the songs about riding in one-horse open sleighs, letting it snow outside while staying indoors to cuddle, or going outdoors in the cold and getting married by snowmen acting as wedding officiators (which is, apparently, a thing). It's the countless Hallmark movies (which, admittedly, are one of my guilty pleasures) about people finding that special someone at long last under the mistletoe or in some other filmed-in-Canada location made to look like a setting somewhere in the United States. It's also possibly in the form of seeing others who have already been granted the blessing we desire to have, who get to enjoy it with their spouses, children, pets, etc. All of these can lead to some sort of envy.

In the movie Roxanne (which is not a Christmas movie, though I think the sentiment is applicable), C.D. Bales, he of the big nose, portrayed by Steve Martin, laments:

"Sometimes I take a walk at night, and I see couples walking, holding hands, and I look at them, and I think: 'Why not me?' Then I catch my shadow on the wall."

Maybe it's not a "shadow on the wall" that causes you and me this grief but (X) worry or concern, (Y) health or financial challenge, or (Z) other issue entirely out of our control.

What I'm getting at with this, and why I bring it up during the Christmas season, to boot, is that the angels who visited the shepherds and other witnesses of the birth of the Christ child began their proclamations with two simple but powerful words:

"Fear not."

"I don't have the answers," types a single guy wondering about these very things in his own life. But, as for myself, I've committed this holiday season to focusing on controlling some of the things I do have control over, and one of them is to do my level best to follow the Church's "Light the World" campaign, which is a wonderful initiative. It encourages us to perform one act of service or kindness every day in December. (But, if you can, why limit it to just one?) I've already tried a few things that were out of my comfort zone, and I'm looking to try a few others in the days ahead, including anonymously done deeds for family, friends, and neighbors.

If you're feeling down and out this Christmas season, whatever the reason(s), I invite you to join in on the fun and to see what miracles, small or large, occur in your life as a result.

I don't understand many of the reasons behind my own challenges right now, and I surely don't understand yours (although I'm willing to try), but I join with the prophet Nephi in proclaiming that "I know (Heavenly Father) loveth his children" (1 Nephi 11:17). And as Tiny Tim observed, I believe He does and will "bless us, every one" in ways we may not now expect as we strive to serve His children in whichever way His Spirit prompts us to do so.

Like My Father before Me

May 25, 1983, was hands-down one of the best days of my childhood. I was seven years old, and I was in the second grade. I don't have too many memories of this year of school other than the recollection that my second-grade teacher terrified me.

On this particular day, my dad woke up my older brother and me at 5 in the morning, but I didn't mind because he got us both out of school for the day and drove us to downtown Salt Lake City to line up for tickets for the first showing of Episode VI, Return of the Jedi, in Utah.

Back in the day, this was how things were done for movie premieres.

As much as my second-grade teacher terrified me, Jabba the Hutt and many of the slimy creatures who inhabited his palace frightened me even more. Nevertheless, I was on the edge of my seat throughout the entire film, and I rejoiced as Luke, Han Solo, Princess Leia, Lando Calrissian, and their Rebel friends, with aid from the cute and loveable Ewok teddy bears, took down the evil Empire.

The experience of my dad actually excusing me from school for the day to share this moment along with my older brother and me was as important to my childhood as was the experience of seeing the movie itself and the bragging rights of doing so before any of my friends and classmates were able to.

Thirty-two years and seven months to the day later, I finally had the opportunity to return the favor for Dad. Due to circumstances beyond his or ours or anyone else's control, he's in a place right now where I had to check him out for the day, just as he had gotten me out of my second-grade classroom. The irony was not lost on me.

We spared no expense on concessions as together we enjoyed a Christmas Day viewing of Episode VII, The Force Awakens, the long-awaited sequel to that movie indelibly engraven as an important part of my growing-up years.

Star Wars: It's a father-son, ruling-the-galaxy thing.

Fight like a Brave

Everybody's been there, everybody's been stared down
By the enemy
Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing
Bow down to the mighty
Don't run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is
 -Sara Bareilles, "Brave"

Last Sunday night, on the eve of the first anniversary of the formation of the Island of Misfit Toys (a whole year . . . wow), I attended a very thought-provoking fireside. And no, I'm not going to go into details here about the oddly titled book many of you have already seen a photo of me posing with on Facebook, something that was used as a prop by one of the speakers in this fireside.

One of the more-interesting points, at least to yours truly, was a brief discussion about the word: brave. And, in this context, I do not refer to my high school mascot, the Bountiful Brave.

Being brave and dating? They really go hand in hand?

Certainly they do, according to the speaker. You have to be brave to approach new people, strike up a conversation of some sort, and get to know them, something to precedes dating. And you have to be brave to call (not text) them on the phone to ask for a date in the first place.

But you also need to be brave when overcoming and bouncing back from fear and rejection. It's a sign of bravery to face rejection time and time again, to feel discouraged with the whole rotten process, like we all do now and then, and then to dust yourself off, to pick yourself up, and to keep on trying in the dating scene.

Cowardice never won over anyone else. Faint heart never won fair lady, according to the saying. Further, said the speaker, acting cowardly is not attractive, either. Being brave doesn't entail the absence of fear but, rather, acting and moving forward in spite of the fear that nags and pesters.

A Merry Little Christmas, Now

We all have our favorite Christmas tunes—that is, of course, unless you're an Ebenezer Scrooge about Christmas, in which case Jacob Marley is already on his way to visit you tonight, followed later on by three spirits who will get medieval on your hiney and show you the error of your ways.

I divide up Christmas songs into two categories: "happy holidays," which are the ditties about Santa Claus and Rudolph and Frosty and caroling and walking outside in (or staying inside from) the winter cold, and the "true meaning" songs, which are songs that are actually about Christmas—"Silent Night," "The First Noel," "O Little Town of Bethlehem," etc.

Of the "happy holiday" songs, the one that continues to grow on me each year is "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Its message is a simple but powerful, beautiful one.

Until recently, I didn't know that the song originated in the 1944 film Meet Me in St. Louis. (Musical nerds already knew that, I'm sure.)

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on
Our troubles will be out of sight . . .

"Through the years
We all will be together
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star
Upon the highest bough
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas now"

To me, the most important lyric in the song is the word now.

Students of history are well aware that the year 1944 wasn't exactly the brightest or most optimistic time to be alive. Here in the United States, as well as in other Allied lands, many people lived in fear of the very real possibility that they would have to live out the remainder of their lives under the Nazi or Japanese flag if World War II were lost. They also sent their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons off to fight in the war, not knowing when or if they'd see them ever again. It was a time of uncertainty, of walking by faith day by day, of sacrificing, and of doing what was necessary in order to confront and destroy evil, both on the homefront and abroad.

In other words, it was a time of "troubles." But even in the Christmas season, at least for a little while, those "troubles" could "be out of sight"—at least for a few days, or on Christmas Day itself. In the moment called now. People would all "be together, if the fates allow" in some future day, but even while families and friends were separated, they could still set those worries and cares aside, for a brief time, to celebrate the holiday and to have a measure of joy in it. In fact, I believe the original lyrics were, "Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow."

Muddle, they did. And they persevered.

So it goes for us. Whatever worries or cares are on your mind this holiday season; whatever problems, heartache, pain, uncertainty, or grief you're dealing with, set them aside at least a day to celebrate the season. To enjoy one another's company. To both reflect on the year that will soon end, and also to look forward with optimism to the possibilities of the future. Above all, to celebrate the reason for it all: the Redeemer of the world, Jesus the Christ.

I recently finished re-reading Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's book Shepherds, Why This Jubilee? If you don't have a copy, I would recommend that you get one. Or you can borrow mine. It has become required holiday reading for me each year.

In that wonderful (and short!) read, he teaches:

"You can't separate Bethlehem from Gethsemane or the hasty flight into Egypt from the slow journey to the summit of Calvary. It's of one piece. It is a single plan. . . . Christmas is joyful not because it is a season or decade of lifetime without pain or privation, but precisely because life does hold those moments for us. . . . In the end it is all right. It is okay. (Trials and sorrow) are sad experiences, terribly wrenching experiences, with difficult moments for years and years to come. But because of the birth in Bethlehem and what it led to they are not tragic experiences. They have a happy ending. There is a rising after the falling."