Monday, September 12, 2011

Suspense Films and Not Missing the Dance

On Thursday, I had the opportunity to listen to Henry J. Eyring address new students and their parents at the opening devotional at Brigham Young University Idaho. His words were kind and reassuring, just what we anxious moms needed as we prepared to leave our precious children (young adults?) at college for the first time. As part of his remarks that day, he said,

"If the Lord were a movie maker, he would make suspense films."

He continued to explain that in our lives we can't always predict or plan for everything that will happen. For those of us who like to be in control of everything, this idea is a bit disconcerting. As a polarized "J" on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I DO NOT like surprises. I love to plan, and even more, I love to see my plans work out exactly the way I expect. But as Brother Eyring so eloquently reminded me, my life is not a "formula movie"; it is indeed a suspense film.

Pondering Brother Eyring's words the past few days, I was reminded of one of my favorite songs by country music singer Garth Brooks. In the final two lines from the chorus of his classic song "The Dance," he sings, "I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance." These lines are so perfect when we consider the ups and downs, the twists and turns of our lives. Heading up to BYU-Idaho with Eli, I really had no idea how painful it would be to leave him at college. He is my fourth child, after all. I have done this before. I did not intend to cry. Not at all. I really thought I could just hug him tight, tell him how much I love him and how proud I am, and joyously say goodbye.

Not so much.

I was a total mess. Like a sobbing mess. Not kidding. Fortunately, we were in the car, so only Eli had to witness this complete breakdown, and he was so sweet about it. He said something like "It's okay, Mom. It's okay if you cry. It will all be okay." And so it was. He walked off toward his dorm, and I drove the three miles to Lindsey's house, the perfect place to be that night with my dear friend. We laughed. We talked. We played Phase 10. I lost, just like I do every game I play. Thank you, Lindsey. And thanks for being in Rexburg right now, available to help Eli if he needs anything. It makes all this so much easier. I'll be there for you when the time comes to send Emma off to college, and if you think that's a long time away, think again. Just saying.

Brother Eyring said the Lord would make suspense films. Thank goodness! Because really, if we knew ahead of time exactly how everything would be, how many of us would be willing to choose the ride? If we knew about those screaming infants in the middle of the night and the utter sleep deprivation that goes along with that? Or if we knew about the setbacks, the failures, the disappointments, the sad times? Or if we knew how our hearts would feel as we wave goodbye to our beloved children? Would we do it? Are we that brave? I'm not sure.

But of this I am sure: With all its trials, struggles, heartache and seemingly insurmountable challenges, this suspense film we call "life" is undeniably a dance worth dancing.

2 comments:

  1. I LOVE this post. So beautiful and so true. I think it particularly appealed to me because you talked about dancing - I am a dancer, after all. And comparing life to dance makes complete sense in my mind. Thanks. It's always good to be reminded that I need to keep things in perspective.

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  2. Thanks, Rachael. I am a dancer myself, so the analogy works well for me too.

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