Words Matter (And Feathers Are Messy)

There are many critics in today’s world. Some even hold the esteemed position of being a professional reviewer. These people let us know what is or isn’t acceptable, delicious, or appealing, whether it’s art, movies, books, food, etc. 

And in this day and age of social media, most of us at one time or another have posted a viewpoint concerning something we feel strongly about. I do this quite often in the form of a blog post. I begin pondering something that is bothering me, or items on the other end of the scale that I consider important or worth touting, and before long, I’m typing away, expressing my opinion.

Bottom line, that’s all any critic is doing: expressing their opinion. I may or may not agree with what is being raked over the coals, that is my choice. Their opinions are based on their experience or lack thereof, and so are mine. 

Here’s what I don’t like: the tendency to believe whatever is shared, whether it’s a critique of a fancy restaurant, a movie or book review, or local gossip. What if the restaurant in question is having a bad day when the critic arrives to sample? What if normally, that restaurant serves amazing food, but the critic arrives the one time the soup is scorched, or a waitress trips after working a double-shift and happens to spill everything on a tray that is in reality, much too heavy for one person to carry. The headlines the next day read: “Terrible food and service. Avoid this eatery!” And the damage is done. Because of what one person has said, others believe the review, and suddenly, a really good restaurant is going out of business because of an opinion.

We’ve all heard the analogy of the blind men who are all trying to describe an elephant. Every person comes up with a different description, based on the limited experience they have had with the subject matter. To my way of thinking, this applies to life in general. We all bring differing opinions and experiences to the table, and then insist that everyone else needs to believe what we have to say about things. Perhaps instead, we need to refrain from judging, and look for the good in each situation.

When my mother was a young teen, she was asked to prepare a talk for church based on the negative effects of gossip. She was quite close to her father, and one day while they were outside doing chores (she grew up on a Wyoming ranch) she spoke with him about this talk she had to give in church that Sunday. He gave her an idea to use as an object lesson, and she eagerly agreed.

The day for the talk finally arrived. Clutching a paper bag, my mother stood at the pulpit and declared how harmful gossip could be. She then opened the paper bag, and shook it out into the chapel. It was full of the feathers she had gathered that week, and they went everywhere throughout the large room. She then made a profound analogy, declaring that sharing gossip was like emptying a bag of feathers into a room—there was no way you could possibly gather up what had been scattered in all directions. 

It was a very effective object lesson, but my grandmother was appalled. And my mother spent the rest of the day cleaning up the feather mess, aided by her father.

I’ve reflected on that story quite often. It usually makes me smile—my grandfather possessed a great sense of humor, and I’ll bet he absolutely loved it when my mother released the contents of her paper bag. Even though it proved to be a messy adventure, an important point was made: when we share a juicy tidbit that we’ve learned, overheard, misinterpreted, etc. with someone else, we have no control over how far or wide that tidbit will travel. And details are usually added along the way that make it even more interesting. It’s called human nature.

How wonderful it would be if we refrained from sharing negative items. There is an argument that criticism makes us strive for perfection. To my way of thinking, most of the time, criticism actually has the opposite effect. How many times have we been personally deflated by a negative opinion? 

Years ago, I was asked to perform on a talent show that featured teens from the area. The problem was, it was to take place the same night as a high school girls’ basketball game. Since I was a member of said team, my attendance was mandatory at that event. I figured I could still make it on time to perform at the talent show, and I agreed to try. 

It ended up being a very intense game and I played during a goodly portion of it. I quickly showered, changed, and my parents drove me across town for the talent show. I arrived minutes before I was supposed to perform. I had been asked to do a song that I had written, and I accompanied myself on the guitar. The problem was, I was exhausted, out of breath, and hadn’t had a chance to warm up my vocal chords. I may have also been a little hoarse from cheering for our team here and there. Just sayin’. Anyway, when it was time for my number, I walked out onto the stage and did the best that I could under the circumstances. I knew it wasn’t my finest performance, but I really tried. 

When the show was over and I picked up my guitar case to leave, someone I considered to be a good friend marched up to me and said: “I don’t know why you think you can sing! That was awful!” Then she whirled around and left. I was crushed. In that moment, I silently vowed that I would never sing again.

Fortunately, one of my YW leaders had also been the crowd that night. She had overheard the snide remark that had been made, and she led me to a private corner of the room where we had a little chat. Her soothing words more than made up for the caustic criticism that had been cast my way. She made me promise that I would not turn my back on a talent she encouraged me to pursue, and she pointed out that my so-called friend, was being critical because of jealousy. This girl also did a bit of singing, and she had not been asked to perform on that particular show. 

I’ve pondered that experience quite often. The criticism, which may or may not have been deserved, was so devastating—it nearly discouraged me from ever trying something like that again. It was only because of the positive comments from my YW leader that I pushed past that very bad night. And a couple of years later, I was asked to write and perform a song the night of our high school graduation. During my college years, I was asked to write and perform songs for various occasions, including the theme song for a formal dance, a song for the opening assembly that welcomed incoming freshmen, etc. In short, positive feedback encouraged me to continue forward, developing a talent that was almost stifled. 

Moral of the story: words matter. Use them carefully. I truly think it’s the bridge builders who make the most difference in a world that is focused on tearing things down.

Building Blocks

It has been my observation that things of worth begin with a solid foundation. The great structures of the world demonstrate the importance of this truth. If the foundation is rock solid, then no matter what storm may erupt to batter and pummel, this structure remains standing, firm, solid, undefeated. 

As a child, I quickly caught on while playing with blocks, plastic bricks, etc. that the foundation was the most important part of whatever it was I was trying to construct. And sometimes, when what I was building didn’t turn out as planned, it was sometimes necessary to tear things back down to that foundation and start again.

You can probably guess where this particular blog post is going. Constructing a solid foundation is crucial in this life. It is necessary to have a strong sense of who we are, why we’re here, and where we’re going to survive when the storms of life come crashing down upon us. 

“What storms?” some of you may ask. Trust me, they come. They sometimes come in the form of physical health problems. At times they surface with the loss of a loved one. Other sources: financial difficulties, emotional and mental challenges, and in many instances, they appear at the hands of someone else.

Regardless of how they arrive in our lives, at one time or another, we will all face trials of some nature. As I’ve mentioned before in other blog posts, that is part of why we’re here. Tribulations often reveal what we’re made of. However, it can be a difficult thing to remember that we each possess a spark of divinity when our hearts are shattered and all seems lost. 

For the record, we are indeed the spirit sons and daughters of a loving Heavenly Father who wants us to succeed in this mortal life. He wants us to learn and grow and to appreciate the importance of faith, hope, and charity. Both He and our Elder Brother, Jesus Christ, understand how difficult life can be. Both are there for us if we will only trust in Them and ask Them for help.

I began that arduous journey at the age of 15. At that time in my life I was questioning everything. Life wasn’t great at home, compliments of my dad’s deteriorating physical and mental health. It was often a great challenge for me to attend church meetings because of this. My biggest arguments with my father were over whether or not I was going to attend church on Sunday, or mutual on Tuesday nights. Though it wasn’t always easy for me to be there, I knew I was learning important doctrine that would affect me the rest of my life. I didn’t realize it at the time, but these teachings became crucial building blocks for the testimony I would strive to gain later that same year.

Maybe because I had to fight so hard to secure the testimony that I desired, I have always treasured it. It came during a time when everything around me seemed to crumble in a painful fashion. 

One example: for the first time ever, my father gathered my siblings and I together for a unique family prayer. My maternal grandmother was fighting for her life in a far away hospital and things weren’t looking good. So we knelt together in prayer and my father begged for her life to be spared. When it wasn’t, he told me that prayers weren’t answered. It was a painful, confusing time. 

Shortly after this event, I began my spiritual quest in earnest. I needed to know for myself what was true, and what was not. I remember attending a testimony meeting one night (back then, Sacrament meeting was held on Sunday night) and feeling like my heart was on fire when a girl in our ward who was a few years older than me, bravely shared her testimony. Her words ignited a burning desire within me to know for myself the truth of what she had shared. 

It would take months for me to gain this knowledge. And it required a tremendous effort on my part. When I asked a close friend how to begin this process, she assured that I would receive the answers I was seeking if I would sincerely read and study the Book of Mormon, and then pray about it. I remember thinking, “Could it be that simple?” It wasn’t.

As I have shared before, that year became a year of challenges. Trials rose before me that threatened my tender heart and physical well-being. I will just state for the record that the adversary will not stand idly by when good things are about to take place. He hits below the belt whenever possible to discourage us and to fill us with doubt and despair.

What I learned through that painful process was that if we will persevere, and rise above whatever obstacles may come our way, we can secure the knowledge that we desire.

I will never forget the strong witness that burned inside my heart the night my testimony finally surfaced. It took place at a testimony meeting held at a special youth conference in West Yellowstone. The youth of three stakes had been gathered together for this event. And after my year of trials that had nearly torn me apart, it provided the healing balm I desperately needed. A calming peace filled me as I stood and for the first time in my life, shared what was in my heart. I felt the truthfulness of every word as I stated that I knew I was a daughter of God, that the gospel of Jesus Christ was true, that the LDS Church was true, and the Book of Mormon was true. These items burned within, and later that same night, I was filled with a sense of supreme joy that I had never experienced before. 

Those were my building blocks. I used them to construct a sense of who I was, why I was here, and where I was going. They have influenced my life repeatedly and given me hope when all seemed lost.

The trials in my life didn’t stop after I gained that all-important testimony. They have continued in a myriad of different ways. I call them character-building moments. When they arrive, I still sometimes throw myself, but when the dust settles, I reflect upon what I know to be true, and strive to conduct myself accordingly. It isn’t always easy—again, things of worth never are. But I can testify that it is possible to find peace, hope, and joy when we push past the pain and allow ourselves to feel what is true.