White Flag

When the Island of Misfit Toys came into existence more than two years ago, finally giving mid-singles in Davis County a ward that they wouldn't have to make a round trip of 80 or 90 miles to get to (uphill both ways, of course!), I was one of those who began attending and who helped to get the word out to friends whom I thought would enjoy taking part.

From that first meeting, when the bishop asked me to offer the very first prayer given in this new ward, we grew not unlike Gremlins who go snorkeling. Elders quorums and Relief Societies were formed, and they have since split three times each. We soared to more than 600 people, with many more visitors and guests joining us. Membership dipped some when a similar ward was created in Riverdale last year, but according to the latest figures, we are over 600 strong again.

Not every friend I spoke to was enthusiastic about this new opportunity. One friend in particular surprised me a great deal when I told her about the ward, responding, "Oh, I don't do that stuff anymore."

And that was the end of that conversation. You could have knocked me over with a feather. And then, my emotions changed from shock to sadness. I was sad that my friend had either had her heart broken so many times, or she was exhausted with trying to meet people and dating, or Darth Vader had come down from the planet Vulcan and told her to stop or he'd melt her brain, or she had just stopped caring altogether that she no longer considered singles activities worthwhile. Perhaps it was some or all of these reasons that had brought her to this conclusion.

I don't presume to know anyone else's motivations, and I don't blame people who have become utterly frustrated with the whole dating scene that they raise the white flag for the last time and surrender. Because I've been there. I know that it sucks. I've been dating for more than half of my life now, and it often seems like the more I try, the less I understand, the less success I seem to have, and the more I sour on the tiresome process. I hear my single friends' stories and complaints, and hardly a week goes by that I don't talk to someone who is ready to give up and retire to their own planet to live like a hermit, not unlike Luke Skywalker in Star Wars: The Force Awakens.

I wish it were that simple. Back here on Earth, C.S. Lewis wrote:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

There are always statistics being floated around by pessimists that you're more likely to die by shark attack, be struck by lightning, or be eaten by a shark being struck by lightning than to get married after age 30. Or some such. But at the same time, I also understand that if I give up altogether, my chances fall to zero. My chances may be one in a million now, but at least I have a chance if I keep trying. And yes, I realize I'm letting myself be vulnerable while also paraphrasing Dumb & Dumber to make my point, but I think it's a valid one.

Recently, I've come to think of a well-known scripture in a different light, as it pertains to my efforts at dating:

"Let no man count them as small things; for there is much which lieth in futurity, pertaining to the saints, which depends upon these things. . . . Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed" (D&C 123:15, 17).

To do anything less than all things that lie in my power is not good enough.

For me, that also includes continuing to invite my single friends and associates to try out the Island of Misfit Toys, if you are over age 30 and live within our very, very large boundaries. If you don't know anyone else there, then come and sit by me, and I'll introduce you to some of the very best people I've ever met. If Misfit Toys aren't your thing, then join a singles Web site, or have a trusted family member or friend set you up, or hit me up for a double date, or any number of other activities.

Together, we'll be vulnerable. We'll get our hearts pureed in a blender sometimes. But who knows? We just might also find something well worth waiting for. Any day now.