FAIR's Rising Generation

Archive for July 6th, 2009

Last night (Sunday) my family decided to pull out the Rook deck. Rook is a card game but instead of normal face cards, has cards with 4 colors and numbers going from 1 to 14 along with a horrid looking crow-like-bird called the Rook. The game is fairly complicated and is played in teams; my dad and I against my sister and mom.

It started out fairly rough. They were all using strange Rook terms like trumps, tricks, set up, taking the bet, the nest, kitty, and counters. My dad was trying to explain how to play to me while my mom kept trying to make me put down a bad card. I got angry, did everything but yelled at people, and told them they had no skill at explaining things simply. Someone said, “this is why our family can’t play competitive games.” This is true. In games where we can either build ourselves up or ruin someone else’s chance to win we always attack, most of us cheat when we can, and the standing house rule of revenge is winner cleans up. None of these mattered in Rook, but we did notice that the losing team every round was always in a fowl mood.

Eventually my dad and I were handily beaten. What did we do about it? Nothing. We sat as a family and laughed and told stories. The winners got to lecture the losers on why they were superior (another key part of our family games), but we endured the punishment and moved on. Why? Because its just a game, and a game isn’t worth hurt feelings. But that has been the price it demanded in the past. Elder Uchtdorf shared a story about just how terrible this sort of thing can be:

On a dark December night 36 years ago, a Lockheed 1011 jumbo jet crashed into the Florida Everglades, killing over 100 people. This terrible accident was one of the deadliest crashes in the history of the United States. A curious thing about this accident is that all vital parts and systems of the airplane were functioning perfectly—the plane could have easily landed safely at its destination in Miami, only 20 miles (32km) away. During the final approach, however, the crew noticed that one green light had failed to illuminate—a light that indicates whether or not the nose landing gear has extended successfully. The pilots discontinued the approach, set the aircraft into a circling holding pattern over the pitch-black Everglades, and turned their attention toward investigating the problem.

They became so preoccupied with their search that they failed to realize the plane was gradually descending closer and closer toward the dark swamp below. By the time someone noticed what was happening, it was too late to avoid the disaster. After the accident, investigators tried to determine the cause. The landing gear had indeed lowered properly. The plane was in perfect mechanical condition. Everything was working properly—all except one thing: a single burned-out lightbulb. That tiny bulb—worth about 20 cents—started the chain of events that ultimately led to the tragic death of over 100 people. Of course, the malfunctioning lightbulb didn’t cause the accident; it happened because the crew placed its focus on something that seemed to matter at the moment while losing sight of what mattered most.

Often we get caught up in the, “It’s the principle of the thing!” or the, “If I’m going down, I’m taking her with me!” or whatever. When I was in my junior and senior years, the school’s magnificent choir teacher was replaced by a man who didn’t rise up to peoples’ expectations. A lot of my classmates hated the teacher because he ruined their great chance to be a part of an amazing choir. A handful started a petition to get him fired. Fire a family man! Over what? Because a year or two of high school choir isn’t as cool as we hoped for? Looking back, I can’t think of anything more ridiculous in the world.

If we focus on the small, the immediate, our convenience, comfort, and wishes, our minds and actions will focus on the petty, frivolous, limited, and inessential at the expense of the significant, meaningful, and crucial. The way to a happy life is not by getting angry over a game, ignoring what is going on around us, or taking offense because life isn’t handed to us the way we want; it’s by remembering what really matters most: the Gospel, family, and building others up. With those in mind, no matter what pile of dirt life hands us, we can make flowers grow from it.

—References—
Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “We Are Doing a Great Work and Cannot Come Down,” Liahona, May 2009, 59–62

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