This week I visited a neighbor at a local care facility.  She had a stroke.  Strokes are no fun.  Recovering from a stroke is a lot of hard, painful work.  My neighbor mentioned that she wouldn’t wish this experience on a worst enemy.  I believe her.  But I responded with as many sunny things to say as I could think of.  “Oh, this is such a nice facility–brand new–you are so lucky! “Oh, it sounds like you have a great physical therapist!”  “You have wonderful daughters, don’t you?”

Suddenly, I remembered the Barbara Ehrenreich interview I had listened to on NPR that morning.  She talked about her experience with breast cancer. As Ehrenreich tried to talk about her suffering with friends and acquaintances she found they all told her to look on the bright side. One person said she should consider the cancer experience “a gift.”  She found these reactions incredibly frustrating.  She wanted (needed?) others to acknowledge how scary her cancer was, how terrible it was that this was happening to her, and to agree with her about the barbarity of the treatments.  Instead she got saccharine chin-up exercises.

Ehrenreich is highly secular.  But my religious beliefs counsel sharing suffering with others as well.  A Book of Mormon prophet named Alma asks his people if they are ready to enter the fold of God and be called his people.  He further asks if they are “willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things” (Mosiah 18:9)  He suggests that if they are ready to do these things (in addition to a few others), they are ready for baptism.

As a Christian, I want to mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who need comfort.  If I visit a sick person, a friend who has just divorced, or an unemployed relative, and offer nothing but happy-think, am I failing at the empathy the Gospel demands?  Am I failing the requirements of friendship?  Am I failing as a sister?

Perhaps the answer is situational.  Sometimes you need someone to listen to your tale of woe.  Other times you need someone who cares about you enough to tell you to stop wallowing.  What do you think?

One of the callers on the radio program pointed out that while both Ehrenreich and a cancer victim who embraced happy-think might have recovered, the other victim is now enjoying life while Ehrenreich is still angry.  If happy-think ultimately leaves someone better off (happier or more productive or better able to move on with life), is it always best to be the friend that encourages happy-think or does compassion sometimes demand otherwise?

Let’s table the friend conundrum.  Is being sad and angry okay?  Should we always be trying to get ourselves to a happier, more cheery mindset?  Is it appropriate and proper to acknowledge that suffering hurts, that some things just suck?  Christ teaches us in the New Testament that “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)  To “be of good cheer” is a common scriptural imperative.  Christ says it to his disciples on the stormy sea.  Paul is counseled thus on his way to Rome.  Some of the most beautiful cheer imperatives are found in the Doctrine and Covenants [LDS Scripture]:

Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you; and ye shall bear record of me, even Jesus Christ, that I am the Son of the living God, that I was, that I am, and that I am to come.  D&C 68:6

Ye cannot bear all things now; nevertheless, be of good cheer, for I will lead you along.  D&C 78:18
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 the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed.  D&C 123:17

These verses seem to suggest that faith brings cheer. Doubtless that is so. But is there room there for the experience of suffering? How does it work?

35 For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

My blog used to be more anonymous.  Other than Pdad, no one but strangers read it because I didn’t tell anyone where to find it.  In its most recent incarnation, it’s been anonymous in that I don’t use any of our actual names.  However, almost everyone who reads it with any regularity knows me personally (although some of you are getting pretty fuzzy on what my children’s real names are), so it is not very anonymous in that sense.

On my about me page, I wrote about my religious beliefs, which were never meant to be hidden.  However, because I have many friends who are not Latter-day Saints (Mormon), I ended up leaving out some of the specifics of my life because I didn’t want this to be one of those blogs written by Latter-day Saints for Latter-day Saints.  I was hoping to write something more widely accessible and interesting.

However, I find that this is not working for me.  In hoping not to be too narrow, I seem to end up not writing about things that are an important part of my life.  So, I’m thinking I’m going to go local.  I am going to write more from my perspective as a Latter-day Saint, because it’s a truer view of where I am.  This is my blog and it’s about me, as embarrassing as that sometimes is.  Also, even though it challenges my desired anonymity a bit more, I am going to write more specifically about living in the Provo/Orem/Salt Lake City Utah area.  It’s where I live and it’s what I know about.  (And for those of you who live here too, I have a really wonderful restaurant to recommend!)

I was astonished. If I want to review conference, I usually read the talks online or listen on the internet, but if I had been reading the Conference issue of the Ensign, I think I would have flipped right past that picture without even noticing it. So, anyway, for those of you who have the November issue, see page 101. Unfortunately, the picture doesn’t appear in the online version as far as I can tell, so I can’t post it here.

Read about our General Conference experience.

Nonetheless, attending in person is something every Latter-day Saint should do given the opportunity. It is neat to have that feeling of gathering with brothers and sisters from so many different places with one purpose. The grounds at Temple Square are beautiful and impressive. Since we didn’t have tickets, Amelia and I ended up sitting outside in light rain on a cold granite bench for a couple of hours. The missionaries urged us to go inside to the warm overflow hall, but we were intent on getting seats inside the actual Conference Center itself, so we stayed in line (it was the right choice!). Our little sacrifice to hear the prophet speak and see him in person gave us just the teeny-tiniest taste of what Saints in other times and other places have sacrificed to live their religion and hear the word of God. That was very neat. It was just sadly ironic that we then had trouble staying awake when we finally got inside!

[Added later: We got our picture taken]