The blessings of discipleship

I've been to a lot of YSA events—both spiritual and not, but I'm talking about the spiritual ones at the moment—and you can almost always count on the M word coming up at some point. For a church that focuses so much on marriage and family, there sure are a lot of us who can't figure out how to get one of our own.

The advice from bishops, stake presidents, and other church leaders is always the same: live a righteous life, and the blessings will come. Be the kind of person you want to marry.

For most of my single years, I've used that promise as motivation to incorporate the Sunday school answers into my life (you know what they are—scripture study, church/temple attendance, etc.). Aside from being social, being a "good Mormon" was the only way I knew of to boost my chances of getting married.

At the face-to-face event for Young Single Adults Jeffrey R. Holland spoke at a few weeks ago, we all waited with bated breath to hear his answer to the question all YSAs struggle with at some point: Why am I not married yet? What am I doing wrong? I'm doing all the things I've been taught to do—why haven't you fulfilled your end of the bargain, God?

I know I wasn't the only one who half expected Elder Holland to give new revelation on the subject. Surely he knows some trick the rest of us haven't figured out yet. But his answer, along with that of Elder Hallstrom's and Sister Stephens', was the same one we've always gotten, one that seems too simple to be of use all the time.

Just be a disciple of Christ, and stop worrying.

Maybe it's because of Elder Holland's eloquence as a speaker and powerful testimony of the gospel, but I started to think about that counsel a little differently. Being a disciple of Christ isn't like buying groceries. You can't just pick the blessings you want and ring them up at the cash register. You can't hand over your credit card, knowing exactly what you'll get out of the transaction. Discipleship requires a lot of faith, and the "exchange" doesn't always feel like it goes in your favor.

Which can really be a bummer, to put it lightly.

Until you remember one thing: being a disciple of Christ is in and of itself a blessing, one that is almost always immediate. If I didn't put forth the effort to study the scriptures, I wouldn't get my daily dose of peace. If I hadn't made an effort to be a regular temple goer, I never would have come to understand the atonement the way I do now. If I didn't pray, I wouldn't be able to feel God's love and assurance. If I didn't walk this path of discipleship, I don't think I would have progressed in any way that's meaningful.

Growth, peace, and happiness—that's all any of us wants, right? Maybe they're not the specific things we asked for, but God finds a way to sneak in extra blessings, even when we're focused on something else.

On being single

*Sometimes I start posts, but don't publish them. Then I forget about them. I wrote this post over a year ago, and I always planned to publish it, but I . . . didn't. Until now, that is.* 

I seriously doubt there is anyone out there whose life turned out exactly as they planned. And even if things turned out hunky-dory, there were probably detours and setbacks along the way to hunky-dory land.

I certainly didn't plan on working at a software company and living alone at this stage in my life, for example. I was raised to expect to have a husband and a kid or two at this point, and while self-sufficiency was taught in my home, during my teen years I figured that the main purpose for any skills I acquired was to ensure that I had a Plan C (Plan B was to go on a mission in the unlikely event that I was still single at the ancient age of 21) just in case my perfect plans were disrupted.

Little did I know that the Plan C I put very little thought into would become my Plan; not just a temporary setback, but an entirely different road.

For a while, I resented it. All I wanted from life was a temple marriage, but instead I got a salary and independence. Being single is hard enough with the stalkers and awkward dates, but when your whole world centers on beliefs that center on marriage and family, being single is so much harder. Not only is it your lot to be alone but you're also almost second-class, someone who has yet to reach her full potential until she finds a man to elevate her.

I was never one of those girls who felt worthless because she didn't have a boyfriend; until I was about 20 I frowned upon having a boyfriend at all. I only relented then because my 21st birthday was coming up, and I had a deadline to meet.

But if there's anything I've learned over the past two years, it's that I don't need a man in order to become the person I want to be. I don't have to sit around, bored, waiting for my other half to come along while I squander my youth waiting for a guy to come along with the key to unlock the potential inside me.

Another awesome realization I've had is that being young and single doesn't mean you aren't a real person. It's not the limbo mode you have to go through before "real life" starts. Just look at Alma, Moroni, Mormon, the stripling warriors, and Joseph Smith--they were all young and single (and large of stature, incidentally) when they started doing great things, and they changed the world.

Just like many others whose plans didn't work out as expected, I am happy with my "lot in life." In fact, a very wise Someone knew that this road would be better for me than the one I had picked out, though I would not have agreed with Him a year ago.

Being alone on Valentine's Day

I know, I know. I said I wasn't going to rant about the insane stupidness of Valentine's Day this year. But there are a few things that really bother me, and those annoyances are just simmering inside me, setting my blood a'boiling, and pretty soon steam is going to start coming out of my ears. So, I think you'll agree with me when I say that spouting out my thoughts on my blog is a much less messy way to cleanse my system.

Understandably, the topic of choice at work yesterday was what everyone's plans were for Valentine's Day. Most of the guys were totally on top of things and had plans for flowers and romantic dinners. A few of the girls agreed to buy chocolates for each other because they had no one to buy chocolates for them. When people asked me what my plans were, I would just shrug and say, "Homework, probably." About halfway through the day, though, I got tired of the pitying and/or understanding looks people gave me, so I started telling them I would order pizza, too (which I did), in an attempt to convince people that my homework excuse wasn't just cover-up for "I'm going to go home and mope." For some reason, it worked.

Later that night I went to institute. We were operating on Mormon Standard Time, so it started almost 15 minutes late. As is one of my favorite hobbies, I sat there and listened to the conversations going on around me. One guy told his friends in an ashamed voice, "I only came today so I wouldn't have to be alone on Valentine's Day for the third year in a row." A girl later sat by me and said, in a false cheery voice, "So, how was your Valentine's Day?" the tones of bitterness literally oozing from her fake smile. I figured it wouldn't be nice to say "Who cares if you're single on Valentine's Day?" so I lied and pretended to commiserate with her instead.

I guess I should consider myself lucky, because I've never really been bothered by the fact that I've been single all 25 Valentine's Days of my life. When I reached dating age, I was determined to prove to the world that I didn't need a boy, so my lack of boyfriend on Valentine's Day was a triumph in my eyes. In college, my view was much the same, though as I slowly warmed up to the idea that boyfriends aren't all pariahs, I contented myself with thinking that next year I might have a pretty cool guy and made some pretty great memories with my roommates and sisters in the mean time. Even after spending the last two Valentine's Day without either a boy of my own or lots of spontaneous girl support, the tears, hurt, and bitterness never came, at least not on a day when America is particularly obsessed with relationship statuses.

I think most of the depression of this day stems from the fact that no one likes to be reminded that they're alone. It's perfectly normal to not want to be alone--even those of us who need copious amounts of alone time are still biologically engineered to crave human companionship at times.

But the thing is, being alone and being lonely are not the same thing. The night before I moved into my own apartment, I celebrated my new independence (and my last day of having cable) by watching One Day, a movie I thought would be a sweet love story but ended up being really depressing. However, there is one line that Anne Hathaway says that really struck me: "I'm alone, but I'm not lonely." It reassured me that I would be okay living alone, and over time it became one of my mini life mottos.

Most people never learn the difference between "alone" and "lonely." Even Merriam-Webster's Dictionary has a hard time distinguishing between the two: one means "separated from others" while the other means "cut off from others." In fact, I only learned the difference because I spent a lot of my life dealing with one or the other.

Once I figured out that it's loneliness I want to avoid, not aloneness, I began to see real power in being alone. And I'm not just talking about having sole power over the remote, noise level, temperature, and how much milk is in the fridge at my apartment, as nice as that is. No, I'm talking about the power that comes from discovering who you are, the clarity that comes when you take some time for yourself to stop and think. It is not appropriate for every aspect of life to be a group activity. Even if you love being around people, alone time is crucial to a healthy and well balanced life.

I wish more people knew this. I think Valentine's Day would be a much nicer holiday if they did.

Two-week crushes

I recognized early on in life that life, in general, is more exciting when you have a crush on someone. It means you'll always have someone to sigh over when girl talk is going on and that you'll always have something to make your heart flutter a bit, whether it be from daydreaming for hours on end or seeing the person in the actual flesh. Even if nothing real materializes out of your little crush, at least you had something fun to think about every day.

So I've made it an effort throughout my life to make sure that there was always a guy to plant my thoughts on. I've had crushes that have spanned years, and I've had crushes that took me by surprise, consumed my thoughts for two weeks nonstop, and then evaporated without warning. And I have to say, those two-week crushes are the most fun. They allow you to indulge yourself in ridiculous fantasies for a few days without the risk of being disappointed or getting hurt.

Of course, two-week crushes are good, innocent fun if you're single, but I don't imagine they are particularly healthy when you're already in a real relationship.

However, we're all human, and I highly doubt that even those with strong marriages don't stop to admire a delicious human specimen every now and then. Or even to casually stalk their celebrity crushes on the internet (that's how I found out that Chris Pine was an English major and has the same birthdate as Harry Potter).

This crush-seeking habit I've got is probably going to be a hard one to break once I find my ultimate crush, but you can't make me stop having fun with it while I'm still wild and free.

A life of contentment vs. a life of risk

A while back, during my usual morning healthcare/EHR reading, I came across a blog article that argued that a life without risks is no life at all. The author was talking about marriage specifically (I'm not sure how that made it through my "electronic health record" and "meaningful use" Google alerts, but I read it anyway), but he also talked about doing crazy things like cliff diving and bunji jumping. In short, he argued that the value of life is at its highest when risks are involved.

I've thought about this a lot over the past few months. I do have an adventurous side that prompts me to ride the scary roller coasters, test out the water skis, outperform my competitors, and eat giant hamburgers. I drive a stick, stick to a tight budget, read really long books, and try to figure out the intricacies of modern healthcare because I enjoy a good challenge. But I don't think that I'm a risk taker.

I first realized this when I spent 4 months without a steady job and spent a lot of time trying to build up some sort of freelance reputation. I wasn't very successful. I think the reason for this is that I don't like to invest in anything when I can't see the final outcome. It was extremely difficult putting myself out there and making myself "stand out" when deep down I knew it wasn't going to make any difference.

I've also noticed that when I wrote papers for school, my first thought would be, "How can I implement my teacher's opinions into this?" rather than "What is my stance on this issue?" I soon discovered that my best grades came about when I sucked up to the teacher rather than went out on a limb and defended my own radical stance. It was safer to just go with what the teacher wanted to see.

And as for as jumping off of stuff, I know I won't be hanging out with my grandkids a million years from now thinking, "Gee, I sure wish I had jumped off of something really far away from the ground when I was your age." I don't live for that kind of thrill.

My philosophy has always been to do what needed to be done--and nothing more. I worked my butt off through college because, honestly, that was easier and less stressful than applying for every scholarship I could find. I applied myself in the classes I thought were relevant for a future career, and didn't concentrate too much on the irrelevant ones (such as that stupid, hair-pulling foreign language requirement. Yes, I see the value in learning a foreign language, but if I want to be ignorant in that area I think I should be allowed to be so). I cared more about learning than I did about achieving a perfect GPA. I completed 2 BYU internships because I hoped that it would give potential employers a legitimate excuse to give me a second glance.

Even in a non-academic/professional setting, I abided by the same basic precepts. I didn't show off my piano abilities unless I had to. I rarely spoke up because I knew that eventually someone would say what I was thinking.

In short, I am content with a contented life.

However, it is still important to take risks, to jump out into the dark and float around for awhile before something catches you. The risks we take add a lot of color to our lives. So, my contentness with life has hurt me in some areas.

Particularly the dating area.

I've always known that I would marry an awesome guy some day, so I haven't worried about my single situation that much. I never saw the point in dating if it wasn't going to go anywhere, which is probably why I've never had a real relationship; I haven't ever been willing to go out on a limb with someone I was unsure about. So I stay contentedly single. I can say this now because I am graduated from BYU--I enjoy being single. I like that I don't have to plan my life around someone else and share all of my stuff. I have developed relationships with my family and friends that I never would have developed if I always had my boy to hang out with. Yes, marriage is my highest goal in life, and I do wish that I had that special someone who knew everything about me and who made me smile for no reason, but to get that I would have to learn how to flirt or something. I don't like making a fool out of myself, so I have never mastered that particular ability. Thus, I stay in the safe, yet frustrating, single environment.

On the other hand, being a risk taker can also leave you with nothing. For example, when I was offered a job at ChartLogic, I was still waiting to hear back from two other job prospects that I felt much more qualified for and that fit my particular interests better. However, I took the first job that was offered anyway, rather than hoping I got my "dream job" somewhere else. I don't know what would have happened if I had not accepted this job, but I have no regrets. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I love my job, not just that I like my job and am content with the way things are going. I trained myself up for a desk job rather than a saving-the-world type job, and that's where I am happiest.

So my grand conclusion comes down to this: moderation. It is good, healthy, to take risks in life, especially when it comes to major, life-changing decisions. None of us get a guarantee when we enter a marriage contract or start a new career--we just have to do our part and hope things work out. Risks have a way of reminding you what is really important in life and helping you stick to your goals. And, they add a lot of crucial flavor. Life is meant to be enjoyed, after all.

However, it is just as important to be content with what you have. Constantly taking risks just to give you a thrill or new challenge isn't going to keep you happy--sometimes what we have is all we're going to get, so we might as well be happy about it. I have never had everything I wanted at once, and I'm pretty sure I never will. Life is meant to be enjoyed, but we can't enjoy it if we don't know how to find joy in the journey.