Vice and Virtue

A quote from Friedman essay about literature, but with much greater application:

"Its vices are the defects of its virtues"

This really resonated with me. Does it ring true for you?

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  The unmotivated/unambitious vices are usually paired with the virtue of being easy going and not a worry wart.


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  The vice of being high-strung, inflexible, rigid usually goes with the virtue of being organized, planning ahead, detail-oriented.


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  The vice of being sensitive, easily hurt, emotional goes with the virtue of being empathetic, caring deeply, feeling freely.


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  The vice of being hasty, blindly jumping into things, rash goes with the virtue of being a risk-taker, brave, fearless, spontaneous, eager to see an idea to fruition.


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  The vice of timidity, inaction, lost opportunities accompanies the virtue of caution, careful research, and logical analysis before decision-making.


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  The vice of shirking work, avoiding responsibility, being light-minded, shallow, cliqueish usually goes with the virtue of being social, fun, energetic, friendly, talkative.


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  The vice of eating too much with the virtue of appreciating delicious food, being able to create delicious food.


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  The vice of laziness with the virtue of restfulness or playfulness.


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  The vice of work-a-holic, busy, forget-the-real-meaning-of-things person with the virtue of hardworking provider, ambition.


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  The vice of pack rat with the virtue of valuing memories.

I am a planner, a culinary artist, empathetic, ambitious, memory lover. Now you know all my vices too. :)

I think that when the Savior promises all our weaknesses can become strengths through His Atonement, it does not mean he will root out of us those innate characteristics so that we can no longer recognize ourselves. He will simply help us to transform them over to the virtuous side of them. We will still be ourselves, but our best selves.

Among Life's Lesser Virtues: Put the Toilet Seat and Lid Down

One of life's virtues: putting the toilet seat and lid down after use. Perhaps this is something to which you can relate? Eric is very good about it, especially compared to other accounts I've heard. I've always been selfish in wanting this done to avoid personal misfortune, especially at night. Now I have an even better reason....

Ever get that sinking feeling in your gut when:

You're sitting in the living room while your baby explores around you and
the next thing you hear is

a "swish-swish-swish"

coming from the bathroom
and you realize:

the toilet seat lid is up.

quite possibly the best reason EVER to encourage the men of the household to put the seat and lid down.

Life's Lessons #4: Wait Your Turn

We all have pet peeves, right? I'm about to expound upon one of my big ones: when people don't wait their turn. When I originally composed this, I was quite scathing. I have since repented of my "venom" and decided I need to be more charitable. Either way, I must acknowledge that respectfully waiting in line is a dying "art" or "lesser virtue" in life that I think the world could use more of (that is poor grammar, but you know what I mean).

You've seen it happen. You're driving along and someone speeds ahead to slide right in front of you at the light. Woohoo. Good for you. You now have a 2 second head start on me. Good thing you managed to get in front.
Or here's another one: you wait patiently at the zoo to see "X" animal. Just before you get there, someone has to zip in front of you to plant themselves right in front of your view (small children I can tolerate doing this. But adults with strollers? Come on).
Or here's another one: you're waiting to pick up a prescription at Kroger's. The line is pretty non-descript. More of a huddle, actually, but everyone there knows who is next. You. Everyone knows, that is, except one guy. Right when it should be your turn, the pharmacist calls out "can I help who's next?", you lean forward on the balls of your feet to take a step to the counter, and some wise guy pops out from behind an aisle and speeds up to the counter with a desperate pharmacological need that somehow trumps yours.

Waiting to talk to the lady at the airport? Waiting for the hose at the community garden? No matter where you are, there's bound to be someone who doesn't think they need to wait their turn. Is it just me, or does the squeaky wheel REALLY need all that grease right now? Come on, why can't the patient person be rewarded for their patience every once and awhile? (this coming from someone-- me-- who is definitely NOT patient and therefore thinks that any excruciating efforts in that direction ought to be applauded, not walked on.)

You know what the pet peeve is really all about? People thinking they are the exception to the rule, that they don't need to wait in line like everybody else but can cut. People that think they are somehow special, above fences and sidewalks that think they can make their own path through a gap in the fence and go tromping around on the lawn as a short cut to beat the crowd to the park entrance rather than be put out to have to shuffle in line down the side walk like civilized human beings. Who do they think they are?

What do I think is the solution? Take a number, just like at the DMV and Joann's. and build better fences, I guess.

Or actually, what we could use is a little respect and consideration.

Life's Lessons #3: Food Does Not Have Feelings

I stare at the few lonely grains of rice on Eric's plate. Or the isolated bite of broccoli. Or the sad carrot left out from the salad. My own plate is invariably clean and spotless. And I squirm in my seat. Trying not to be concerned. It is, afterall, Eric's dinner. Not mine. But in the end I can't resist asking, "Are you going to eat that, Dear?" To which he replies, "No, I'm full."

Now, I don't want it. I'm actually quite full. Satisfied. Content. But what do I say?

"Well then, I'll take it."

Why? Because I don't want this poor bite of pizza or that sad spoonful of soup or that pathetic lump of couscous to be left out. Don't want it to feel rejected and abandoned as it is tossed thoughtlessly in the garbage! Ever eaten the last 1/2 cup of something because you knew it wasn't enough to save in a tupperware but didn't want it to go to waste? Because it might feel like it was being left out of the party. All its buddies got eaten and are together there in the incredible journey through your digestive system while this lonely morsel is about to be thrown away. No. I must eat it. It is the compassionate thing to do.

Okay, this is not a good way to feel about food. Especially considering the pending toddler years and vast amounts of uneaten food that will be pushed around on plates without entering a little mouth. I am trying to eat less, not consume everybody else's leftovers. Maybe it comes from my growing up years when there were food shortages. Or from the lavish compliments I received as a child for my healthy appetite and ability to eat EVERYTHING on my plate. (I always won the Daddy-cooked pancake eating competition with my siblings on Sunday mornings). Whatever the root cause, thinking more about the emotional health of a non-sentient item on my plate rather than about my own goals is not conducive to a healthy lifestyle. A rational approach to food, I think, is one of life's important lessons and perhaps even a lesser virtue. And so, Eric is trying to help me to learn:

Food Does Not Have Feelings!

Life's Lesson #2: Ask Forgiveness--Even If They Did Greater Injury

Second installment of the "lesser appreciated virtues".

#2 Ask Forgiveness- Even if They Did the Greater Injury to You

Young teenage girls have the ability to be more malicious and just plain mean than any other group of people (not counting criminals or terrorists, of course). Maybe you've been victim to the pack mentality before. I think most girls have been at one time. It is a vicious world in which you either perpetrate meanness or are the recipient of it. Unless of course you are more mature than the rest of the pack and can rise above all that. Unfortunately, I was not one of those amazing people.

I was the victim. All the time. From 5th grade to 7th grade, that was me. I don't need to tell you about the emotional damage these years wailed on my self esteem. I don't need to tell you about how little confidence I had or how I hid it with all my success in academics, music, and sports. By the time I had a group of friends in church who were so trendy and cool... and yet considered me part of the group, I was pretty much ready to follow their lead. Whatever it took to remain in good graces. Unfortunately, they chose another girl in our Young Women's class-- someone who just the year before had been 1 of 3 whom I invited to spend the night for my birthday-- to mercilessly mock. Not 'in-your-face' kind of teasing, but the oblique and yet oh-so-obvious whispering about her while she was in the same room with us, gossiping about her clothes or hair or whatever, and making snide remarks under our breaths whenever she answered a question. I joined in. Better her than me. That was my thinking. Where was loyalty? Where were courage and honor? Not anywhere to be found.

It wore on me. It did. But I kept at it. One night, after a particularly brutal mutual activity in which we sort of trailed her through the church (subtly, of course) snickering the whole time... I got an unexpected phone call. It was her.
I thought she was going to tell me off. I knew I had it coming. But I walled up my feelings and snuffed out my conscience by somehow convincing myself she deserved it and I was justified. I prepared myself for some snotty comebacks.

and I was completely caught off guard when she began to apologize.

She said she was sorry for whatever she had done to upset or hurt us, specifically me, and asked for forgiveness. You might think that I was woman enough to apologize back at this point. But to my everlasting shame, I added insult to injury by firing off those snotty comments and telling her she deserved every bit of it. I could tell she was crying, but that only made me feel worse so I had to act worse to bury those feelings. I kept up my haughtiness until she humbly apologized once more and our conversation ended. That was that. I was a monster.

But that humble request for forgiveness when absolutely none was merited snuck through my facade of sarcasm and pricked my numbed conscience back to life. I am glad to say I began to repent. It was my first real experience with godly sorrow and wading through the process to real forgiveness. I ended up having to break bonds with that group of girls... I did bear the consequences for that... but years later that humble girl would become my very best friend. Jennie Smith. Now a Hubbard. I respect her so much for the example she has always shown me. She's always been a cut above the rest of us, always already emulating the qualities to which I'm aspiring. And it all started when she was Christlike enough to ask my forgiveness... even when I had committed the injury.

Life's Lesson #1: Be Honest, But Not Rude

I thought I would do something fun for a couple of posts. I'm going to recount some experiences from my growing up years (and maybe some from more recently) that have taught me some of life's lesser discussed virtues. I hope that you will find yourself relating to these tales. Feel free to post similar experiences in the comments!

#1: Be Honest, But Not Rude.

When I was in Junior High, I kept a journal religiously. It was not about giving myself perspective, necessarily, or about discussing cute boys. It was really a chance for me to talk. I was very private growing up; always a great listener, but never feeling free to share my troubles or concerns with others. Maybe I didn't want to burden them, maybe I didn't quite trust them to understand, maybe I just didn't know how to share. One experience makes me think the last reason might have some hefty weight to it.

We had a new girl move into our ward. She was overweight, quiet, not very pretty. Nice, of course, but kind of dowdy or frumpy in both mannerisms and style. She just didn't strike me as all that "cool". Of course, I didn't write THAT in my journal. But I remember having a conversation with her one day that made me realize she was actually a VERY neat person, someone not only likable, but confident and trendy behind her initial quiet demeanor. She was really a blast to be around once she was comfortable around you! I did write about THAT in my journal.

So one day she spent the night. I remember being amazed again at how cool she was, and I was chagrined anew at my original prideful judgment. I wanted to tell her how much I esteemed her. But, since I was not very good at sharing my feelings, I decided the best way was to read her that journal entry. The one where I "discovered" how cool she was. I can remember how she picked at the fuzz on my blanket with an awkward look on her face when I read things like:

"I used to think 'Julie'* (all names have been changed) was fat and frumpy and weird, just a dumpy slob. But now I know she is fun!"
and
"Just goes to show that though the outward appearance might be fat and ugly, she's really great and I shouldn't have judged her"

Notice that these comments are really self-deprecating... but they also say some pretty mean and blunt things about her. And I READ that to her... What was I thinking?

She got really quiet around me after that. Our friendship never felt comfortable again. All because I was totally "honest" with her...but I was rude. Even when I was trying to explain how cool she was to me, I was insulting her. I always regretted that. Twice over. Once for misjudging her in the first place and Twice for telling her so bluntly about it.

Moral of the story: write a nice letter. Tell someone how much you like them, not how you 'got past' their flaws. Be honest, but not rude.