Ode to Joy

Eight years ago, a man with a good life was carrying a load of uniforms from one room to another, misstepped, fell, and broke his hip. The doctors took extra care setting the femur—so his legs would be the exact same length and allow him to continue teaching athletics at a collegiate level—but the precision caused the surgery to go an extra three hours. A bit of tissue snuck through his heart and caused a stroke three hours after he awoke. Another stroke days later. A third stroke weeks later. At this time, his wife of 34 years left him, he lost his job, and was forced to move into his own basement and rent the upstairs to keep the bills paid. Eventually he got in his car, drove West, and audibly asked, "Carest thou not that I perish?", as he traversed the country.

Today he is an employed sportsman at a different university, speaking and moving beautifully, happily remarried “to the woman of his dreams”, and building a new home. This is the point I met him at, as “the man who had it all”.

Well, my Bishop asked Mr. Perfect to speak to our congregation about FEELING JOY DURING ADVERSITY. His qualifications for addressing such a topic floored me. I had no idea his not-too-distant past was a total nightmare.

Two things he said that really stuck with me:

1. Jobless and hopeless, he first moved in with a sibling in Utah. The therapies that helped him best recover physically and verbally from his strokes were doing odd handyman jobs for his new neighbors and playing guitar while serenading his nieces and nephews. Small, outward acts of love are what pulled him out of the hole.
2. Regarding the topic of his talk—FEELING JOY DURING ADVERSITY—he honestly admitted that he didn't feel joy during that time, or at least the joy that is synonymous with “great happiness, glee, elation, bliss”. However, he found an unexpected definition of joy waaaaaaay down the list that mattered to him: “TRIUMPH”. He survived. He fought multiple fights against trials, troubles, and afflictions but ultimately was the last man standing (on equally long legs, I might add). Because of that one little meaning he could look us all in the eye and testify joy really can exist during adversity.

As someone who has raised an eyebrow to joy during adversity, to the alleged downpour of confetti during storms of trial, this made sense to me. It quelled my deep stirrings about “men are that they might have joy” while these men are also required to have "opposition in all things". It can cause confusion to expect joy’s colorful carnival of connotations to be present in a righteous life. I feel a sense of relief—and a greater understanding of the Savior’s Atonement as the precursor to my endurance—to know that joy, at times, simply means outlasting the pitfalls.

Photo of some seriously joyful 60s art. Photo quote from this talk.

New JOY scripture I love: John 16:22 "And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you."

Last, but not least, don’t we all love to blast “Ode To Joy”? It’s everywhere: commercials, concerts, movies. I crank the volume at the chorus and speed up, fist pump, or dance around feeling all the more invigorated, empowered, and satisfied—even though I have no clue what is actually being said. (To be fair, it’s in German.) I recently read the translation of the text, written by Friedrich Schiller and gift-wrapped by Beethoven, and it’s no wonder my spirit soars when it hears such power. This song is about joy, defined as “the spark of God”, and about that spark igniting human unity under God’s kind and watchful eye. Also, “halidom” means “holy place, sanctuary”. Had to look that one up. Yay for new words!

GERMAN

Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

Deine Zauber binden wieder
Was die Mode streng geteilt*;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder*
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.

Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt!
Brüder, über'm Sternenzelt
Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen.

ENGLISH

Joy, thou spark of God so radiant,

Daughter of Elysium!

Teemed with fire, divine immortal,

We invade thy halidom!

Let thy magic bring together

All whom earthborn laws divide;

All mankind shall be as brothers,

‘Neath thy tender wings and wide.

Love t’ward countless millions swelling,

Wafts a kiss to all the world!

Brothers! O’er you stars unfurled,

Some kind Father has his dwelling!

Learning Curve

My kids love to watch the How Things are Made videos on YouTube. We’ve watched how cake sprinkles, peanut butter, jars of honey, and more all came to be. Recently, we watched how candy canes are made. I’m not going to lie; I was unprepared for the drama.

1. Boil sugar, water, and corn syrup in a giant kettle until you have a huge, sticky blob.
2. Throw blob on a big slab. Fold peppermint-flavored starch in evenly with a mechanical plunger and mechanical shovels. (Did you know there are mechanical plungers and shovels? I didn’t. They look like torture devices used to seduce spies into giving up their secrets.)
3. Transfer minty blob to the automated pullers, where it will be repeatedly stretched around a metal post until it is properly aerated. (Actually, the automated pullers make the mechanical plungers look like child’s play.)
4. Roll the candy into a 100-lb log and heat until pliable. (Now, a log as big as a small human is going to have to endure some major force to become as skinny as a pencil.)
5. Wrap sheets of red candy around the log. (This is the only nice thing the sugar blob ever experiences, in my opinion. One crimson hug before we get down to business.)
6. Simultaneously roll/torch the log until it is candy cane width. (Trial by fire. Fire necessary for pliability.)
7. Shove the thin candy rope through a series of wheels and two angled belts to twist it, and then chop it to candy cane size with a chain of knives. (Mylanta! A “chain of knives”? Was Willy Wonka a confectioner or a psychopath? Give me the mechanical plunger after all!)
8. Gift wrap. A roll of cellophane unwinds and a device wraps it around the sticks. One final blast of hot air shrinks the cellophane on the end of the sticks.

At this point the narrator of the video says, "This production has been perfectly choreographed."

You might be thinking the same thing I was thinking: “PERFECTLY CHOREOGRAPHED? For the love! When do these sweet and weary travelers become actual curved candy canes? How much more can they endure?”

Never fear. They have arrived. A machine called a crooker neck quickly bends the ends before they cool off. Complete with their signature look, they are laid to rest on a conveyor belt. An overhead mechanical arm grabs and lifts the canes, cradles them (and hopefully sings a lullaby to erase their memory about the chain of knives), and delivers them to the safety of a cardboard box. Heavens to Betsy. All this for a ten-cent breath mint.

I had one singular takeaway from this educational video. I couldn’t help but think of the scripture in the Book of Mormon that talks about faith:

And now, I, Moroni, would speak somewhat concerning these things; I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith. (Ether 12:6)

Or, if you are a candy stick on a long, mortal, candy cane journey: dispute not because ye bend not, for ye receive no crook until after the trial of your faith.

Don't we all, in the midst of difficulty, want to ask, "Lord, please just let this end and make me a candy cane now." But He's trying to tell us, "If I bend you now, without fire, you'll snap and it will all be for naught. Just trust me on this one. It's going to be worth it."

I believe we will end up becoming what the Lord promises we can be. I believe our individual journeys are perfectly choreographed. I also know the choreography is often uncomfortable. From my own past I've learned the pain of being mechanically plunged, torched, or twisted is a sign of progress—each transformative step is critical in approaching the faith trial finish line. Just keep sticking it out! The Lord's outstretched arm will stay you.

I heard someone ask, “What does your faith look like when life is hard? And what does it look like when life is convenient?” I’m still processing those questions, but, for me, faith-building seems easier when life is hard.

Photo quote from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, "What I Wish Every New Member Knew", October 2006 General Conference

Fabric candy cane sewed for me by Pam Cardwell. In fact, she sewed a whole bouquet of them. One of my treasured neighbor gifts!

Fun fact: No one in our family likes to eat candy canes (even the cherry ones) but this is our family's favorite Christmas song and we watch this video at least five times a day. We also bought light-up candy canes to make our own Candy Cane Lane leading to our front door. Also, Sia and I are the same age and both have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, so I feel a kinship with her.

Video of how candy canes are made here.

Dark Threads

The two bits of decorating advice I’ve put most heavily to use (and therefore know to be effective) are:

1. Hang your curtain rods halfway between the ceiling and the top of the window
2. Every room needs a little black

In college, nobody loved black more than we graphic designers did—and that’s saying a lot considering 1)it was the 90s, and 2)we were competing with film majors.

Focusing on number two, black really is essential to a balanced space. It’s an easy-sell classic for good reason: black cooperates with every style of home and sophisticates every color palette. Black is grounding, but too much black can feel heavy and overwhelming. Still, a good designer can make even excess black work. My sister has a black wall in her modern farmhouse living room and I scarcely notice it. It’s beautiful because of all the light that surrounds it, as well as the way she has dressed it.

I recently read this section from “Wounded” and, oddly enough, the black decorating tip was the first thing that came to mind:

Although the details will differ, the tragedies, the unanticipated tests and trials, both physical and spiritual, come to each of us because this is mortality…

We search for happiness. We long for peace. We hope for love. And the Lord showers us with an amazing abundance of blessings. But intermingled with the joy and happiness, one thing is certain: there will be moments, hours, days, sometimes years when your soul will be wounded.

The scriptures teach that we will taste the bitter and the sweet and that there will be “opposition in all things.” Jesus said, “[Your Father] maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.”

Wounds of the soul are not unique to the rich or the poor, to one culture, one nation, or one generation. They come to all and are part of the learning we receive from this mortal experience.

Our wounds may come from a natural disaster or an unfortunate accident. They may come from an unfaithful husband or wife, turning life upside down for a righteous spouse and children. The wounds may come from the darkness and gloom of depression, from an unanticipated illness, from the suffering or premature death of someone we love, from the sadness of a family member dismissing his or her faith, from the loneliness when circumstances do not bring an eternal companion, or from a hundred other heart-wrenching, painful “[sorrows] that the eye can’t see.”

We each understand that difficulties are part of life, but when they come to us personally, they can take our breath away. Without being alarmed, we need to be ready. The Apostle Peter said, “Think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you.” Along with the bright colors of happiness and joy, the darker-colored threads of trial and tragedy are woven deeply into the fabric of our Father’s plan. These struggles, although difficult, often become our greatest teachers. (Andersen, Neil L., “Wounded”, October 2018)

I am thankful for the reminder that dark threads of adversity are not oxygen-robbing strange things; they are Heavenly Father’s essential decorating trick for a beautiful life. If every room needs a little black, and every life tapestry needs a little black, we better make sure black doesn’t turn us bitter. I love black, but I want to be punched in the face with it as much as the next person—and that's sometimes how life feels. I am certain black has been purposely placed, here and there, in each age and season of my life to make my tale timeless and universal, to give it depth and heft. When life has seemed overwhelmingly dark, the Lord has helped me confront it creatively. Together we’ve achieved a deliberate and beautiful balance. It is so very important to seek for extra light when there is too much black. 

"The works, and the designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to naught" (Doctrine and Covenants 3:1). I mean this in the most reverent and respectful tone: God is a designer, and good designers use black. If we are to become like Him, we must also learn to deal with doses of dark.

We must learn to decorate with black.

Lichen

If you walk out of our Wyoming cabin door it looks like this right now.

Bland. Monotone. Super pokey. Kind of ugly. (Unless you’re into natural neutrals, which I SO am!) Wheatville. And yes, I know it’s not really wheat, I just call it that.

But after walking ten minutes uphill to secure one bar of reception you would find a break in the wheat. You would spy this completely fetching rock.

And then, because the glorious rock is displaying all your favorite colors to wear, you might crouch down to examine it even closer. Look at that texture. Look at that detail. Look at those color schemes. 

And a few minutes from that rock, there’s another one, with a lichen heart plastered on it. And on, and on.

It seems that while you could safely and accurately assess you are surrounded by wheat there are actually splashes and dashes of color here, there, and every which where. Isaiah said it best:

For the Lord shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody.

I’m going to lichen the scriptures to life. Ba dum dum. But really:

If your life feels desaturated,

and your past, present, and future look like builder’s beige,

and spring seems forever away,

and you feel a bit faithless concerning the joy everyone is talking about,

and you can’t even muster the oomph to look up,

take comfort.

Heavenly Father has scattered love notes, and hope hints, and angels all over that wheat. And you’ll find them. Just keep moving.

Isaiah 51:3

"The universe was designed to testify of Christ." -Todd B. Parker

All of this really reminds me of S.H.—my gorgeous rock hound friend who wears the same colors I do. She suddenly lost her mom last month and is finding beauty in the beigey span of loss. To me, the real treasure is she has no regrets about their earthly relationship.

Seed

Free record-holding seeds. I was given a packet of potential at the Harvest Festival at Thanksgiving Point by a nice man who has devoted his life, weekends, and email handle to growing giant tomatoes. I saw a tomato the size of a cantaloupe, a cantaloupe the size of a pumpkin, and pumpkins the size of smart cars. Gourds resembling eight-foot baguettes were taped to 2x4s so they wouldn’t snap before judging and ribbon-pinning. I strolled past palettes of giant produce—some weighing over 500 pounds—like I was spending an afternoon at The Met. The boys collected bouquets of maple leaves, Greg took all the scrapbook photo ops I requested, and I bought a polished ammonite fossil from the rock booth.

Yesterday I kept thinking about the free seeds and how willingly the man handed them out. Would you like some prize-winning tomato seeds? he said as he stretched over the table and leaned into every passerby. His eagerness stopped me; he held a glassine envelope and a funnel so I could watch the seeds drop into my possession. Then serious instructions, because these were no ordinary seeds, and his info in case of emergency as he tucked the seed pouch into a coin envelope for safer keeping. You can do it, you can grow legendary tomatoes! was his last cheer as he gift wrapped the envelope with an Avery label of printed care instructions.

It’s a dog eat dog world. (Although I just read Archer a book about snakes and grossly discovered that most snakes eat other snakes. I’m so bothered by this. So maybe it’s a snake eat snake world…) Nowadays if someone has the best of something, they protect it. A patent, a copyright, a trademark. If it’s our personal best, we protect it with our pride. We seem to hold winning hands close to our chests—protecting ourselves from all the rubberneckers and swindlers running amuck. Proprietary prowess just ain’t handed out for free, no sir.

The seed man was, however, godly in his generosity.

His approach reminded me of Heavenly Father, who in his perfection offers seeds of perfection to anyone who will take them. Didn't He master plan a garden of success and happiness? He wants us to become like Him and promises we can do so. We are his seed. Isn’t that all the guarantee we need?

As the literal father of our spirits, didn’t he tuck deity inside every child born on earth? Didn’t he carefully wrap each beloved spirit offspring with a fleshy tabernacle, a mortal opportunity, and a direct, 24/7 helpline? Didn’t he give us serious instructions and good cheer through living prophets and apostles, scriptures, missionaries, temples, and the gift of the Holy Ghost? And didn’t He protect His work and His glory with the extra layer safety wrap of a Savior who could handle any of our growing concerns?

Heavenly Father wants every single one of us to become extraordinary. He wants us to become our own “Best in Show” against older versions of ourselves. Not only does He willingly offer his help, He consistently offers His all to all. Relationships that endure beyond the grave, creative license to form worlds without end, everlasting warmth and unbreakable love—no one need be exempt. None are forbidden, he hath given it free for all men.*

A divine paragon who offers His best—perfection and exaltation—to anyone who is willing to work for it must not be a God concerned about competition, but a Father who craves company.

*2 Nephi 26:24-28, Genesis 28:10-22

It's true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow in you

-lyric from "These Are Days" by 10,000 Maniacs (one of my top ten favorite lifetime songs for sure)