Dear Nestlings,
I’ve been thinking about feasting lately. About feasting and about reaching for good things as hard as you can. This is why.
First, I’ve been reading speeches/talks by women in our faith community through Conference Talks and BYU Speeches for a few years now. One address I read recently, given by a graduating senior at BYU, talked about how college years are often a time to “feast” on knowledge and experiences. I spent most of my college years worried about graduating with something useful in an efficient amount of time, so this stuck out to me as a new way to think about things. “Feasting on knowledge and experience” instead of just “getting things checked off the list for what might happen next”? Hmmm.
Second, I am at an interesting motherhood juncture. I still find quite a bit of my time necessarily used for other people’s tasks: meals, school functions, cleaning, driving, looking up random things on Amazon for birthdays or *cough, cough* Spencer. And lots of these things necessarily and acceptably trump tasks I have planned for myself: attending spelling bees, helping people get their baby teeth yanked out, keeping Stella from hiding her kittens around the house. This means that I’m not exactly time-equipped to go get a full-time job just now, but that I also have pockets of emptiness that I’d like to fill with something useful. . .
But wait! See that word there. It just slipped out into the paragraph, without me even noticing its appearance: USEFUL. Oh dear.
Pray tell, what exactly does the word “useful” mean???? Let’s query good ol’ Merriam-Webster and find out:
useful
adjective
1
: capable of being put to use
especially : serviceable for an end or purpose
useful tools
2
: of a valuable or productive kind
do something useful with your life
Just look at that sentence Merriam-Webster picked for “useful”: “do something useful with your life.” This concept is obviously lodged deep in the psyche of people who use dictionaries everywhere. But honestly, what does “doing something useful with your life” really mean? Is a life only useful if it provides a service for someone else? Is a life only useful if it produces money, or some other measurable or tangible product? How exactly is a person like me supposed to judge whether my life and the way I’m using it is useful or not? I mean, it was pretty obvious that it was useful to keep you alive and clothed during your childhood. But lots of the things I do for you now just annoy you, and picking what comes next has turned out to be quite tricky.
To be honest, I think I’m operating from a completely inaccurate paradigm acquired from my own misunderstandings and society at large. This whole “useful” paradigm might even be a bit of a con. Kind of like when governments say the women in their countries should have a million children while also working full-time so they can both contribute to the current GDP and the next generation of GDP earners? With that in mind, let’s ditch this word “useful.” Besides, I’m thinking “finding purpose in life” might actually be a whole “chicken-and-egg” sort of scenario. So, here’s a new question for you:
If I truly feast on things that bring me joy, is it likely I will end up being useful?
But wait. . . that still lets “useful” have the last word!!!! And we were going to get rid of “useful,” right?!?! At least, we were going to get rid of that word for this essay. I suppose I’ll let “useful” be a “useful” word somewhere else.
But for now, let’s try again, outside the paradigm:
If I truly feast on things that bring me joy, is it likely I will end up fulfilling the measure of my creation?
*A brief pause/footnote about “things that bring joy.” Hate to break it to you—and me!—but wandering around doing things only meant to please my inner monster isn’t actually joyful. Just ask ten-year-old me that ate an entire bag of BBQ chips and then threw them up. (So much less appetizing on their way out.) Things that bring JOY are actually often a lot of work/blood/sweat/tears and don’t usually seem happy all the time. Hiking a majestic mountain. Taking a difficult ballet class. Writing a book. Building a business. Weeding the yard. Raising children. Building relationships. Joyful things are difficult things that bring satisfaction, peace, and yes—happy moments.
*Another brief pause/footnote about “things that bring joy.” In my opinion, “things that bring joy” usually sort themselves into very specific sorts of categories for very specific sorts of individuals. “Things that bring me joy” call out to me in a way that they might not call out to you, and vice versa. We are individuals in every way. Also, these sorts of things do often involve serving others. Also, they do often involve making lists and goals. They just do it in a different way that speaks to our best selves rather than outside requirements by others. These inner selves and the ideas they have can often feel scary instead of joyful because, deep inside, they are actually super, duper hard and require a lot of us.
So what exactly am I trying to say?
Back to story time:
When I was in college, I had a scholarship and I needed it. There was no money from my family and I was scared of losing that funding. Also, I knew I needed to come out from college with a job that would never disappear in case all the worst things happened to me and I had to support 87 children on one dilapidated income. I loved English, but everyone—and their dog!—said that was the most pointless major ever. They had evidence, they had proof, and I was good at being logical. I took boring classes—to me!—in education. I graduated with a degree in teaching that I hoped I would never have to use. . . but could most definitely use until the end of time if necessary. I was useful. I was efficient.
And I did not feast.
I did not take a million creative writing classes, any art classes, or very many dance classes. In fact, I did not take any accidental or inefficient classes at all. (Except for Linguistics, my last semester, which was the only class that would fit in my schedule, and which I absolutely loved because it was about what: Words. Eyeroll. Eyeroll. Eyeroll.) Along the way, I missed out on college shows, and college clubs, and college activities. I was afraid of things that were hard or would take me out of my comfort zone because they might put in jeopardy my scholarship and my plans for graduation. It never occurred to me to ask someone with more experience about what was actually available. I had a thing to do, and I was there to do it as quickly and quietly as possible.
Then, after finishing college with my “very efficient degree,” I began busily doing the work of raising six children. Luckily, in this time I also began to desperately, and without really noticing, use every extra five minutes of my life to do those things that had actually and always brought me joy before. I taught ballet classes. I wrote things. I sewed my own sort of artwork. All my claims of “not knowing what I wanted to do” had apparently been an absolute lie. I had just been afraid that “what I wanted to do” was not “useful” enough for this world I was supposed to be living in. I apparently thought my joys could only be allowed into the corners of my life.
This, dear reader, was a stupid idea and it did not serve me well.
It meant I did not take advantage of the feast my college education had to offer me and that I still hadn’t properly learned to take advantage of the feast currently being offered me. I was living below my privileges in the same way that poor cruise passenger did in the terrible story by Elder Uchtdorf that always makes us wince.
Look, this essay has gone on a really long time, so let’s get on with it and get to the point. The thing is, this world is not about “just you” and you really shouldn’t hyper-fixate on what you want or what you’re trying to do. But also, this world and your experiences are about “just you.” This world is so concerned with your own joy and your own development.
You know me, it’s always both.
In the end, I believe that staring at yourself and only thinking about what you want to do will get you nowhere useful (ha!) but I also think that believing and trusting that the YOU that loves certain things for very specific reasons can bring good to the world with those things will get you everywhere.
I’m hitting a certain juncture in my life where I get to decide about how to use my time a little more. It’s really tempting to think about what other people would like me to do for them, or what sort of money I could earn for things/experiences for my family. It’s also really easy to think about what is expected of me and what the right thing is to do.
But I wonder? Is God waiting for me to not be so worried about keeping my supposed “scholarship for life” and failing classes that might be too hard for me? Is he waiting for me to try a million things joyfully? Is he waiting for me to feast? Does God think that if I would just trust those gut feelings about what is joyful—and pursue them in good and healthy ways—that it could all be used for the better of both me and the world I live in?
I think that might be the thing I need to do. I think God might be waiting for me to trust myself and get to feasting. I think that might be the thing I should have been doing all along. Being less afraid. Being more willing to jump in. So, lately, I’m trying to convince myself to feast. To sit on the porch and read in the sun that is actually here in Pocatello during January, even if there are tasks that could be done. To play with the kittens while they’re tiny and enjoy watching them think that when they hiss at me it’s actually scary. To try to edit and write books even if it doesn’t equate to dollar symbols in any reliable way. To go on adventures with our family while we have you with us in the here and now regardless of what future savings that might eat up.
It’s hard to be brave and do things when we don’t know how they’ll turn out or if they’ll be efficient or useful. But I’ve been trying. And I’m also trying to trust that God will do good things with those efforts. I’m trying to trust that he gave me those hopes, and dreams, and joys for a reason. It’s like jumping off a cliff to live that way. But I’m here to dare you to do it. You’ve always been stronger than me. I’m sure you’ll succeed.
And if you feel like you can’t do it, after ten at night, or when a day of rejections rolls through, just recite with me, from our *favorite* Hallmark movie, the following phrase:
“I’m not shooting for the stars. I AM a star! I have earned my place in the sky!”
Your place in the sky is lovely. I believe in you.
Love,
Mom
I love the way your mind works, Jamie. You are bringing a good legacy for your children into the world.
The concept of feasting on joyful tasks or doing routine things that in their accomplishment bring joy brings peace to my mind. Thank you for reminding me we are all useful. We are already stars. I needed that today. 🌸💕