The Day After the Story Ends

There’s something in us that always wants to jump to the end of the story.

I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise if you really think about it. After all, there’s also something in us that always wants to know that things will work out in the end.

In the midst of pain, discouragement, fear, anxiety, and sorrow, we especially want to know that dark storms will give way to bright mornings.

Deep down, don’t we really know that the sun – literally and figuratively – always rises after the night? Sure, some metaphorical nights may last for many years before dissipating. But don’t we really know that they will eventually end?

I think we do. But how easy it is to forget.

I’ve always liked the phrase “happily ever after.” It harmonizes beautifully with our innate desire to resolve our own problems and to always be happy. It reminds us that all of the bad parts of life will one day be gone.  We will have our storybook ride into the sunset.

But what about the next day?

What happens when the sunset fully descends behind the singing hills and then rises again the next day? What does the first day of “ever after” look like?

I suppose that libraries would only begin to form the introduction to such an answer. But I offer one thought here.

It seems to me that living “happily ever after” does not mean that life’s troubles are gone. Ask any college graduate, newlywed, or hired executive and I have a feeling (because I am 0/3 in these areas) that they would give a similar answer.

Until this life is over, there will always be difficult days and worrisome nights. So is there even a “happily ever after” at all?

I believe that there really is such a thing. But I don’t believe there is such a thing as being happy every single moment on this earthly journey. The difference, I suggest, is in knowing that happiness will always follow sadness.

Even though days after the ride into the joyous sunset may seem unbearable, there will always be the memory of what led to that joyous ride.

The prince and princess of a fairytale will have their happily ever after because they learned that happiness waited for them after the witch was slain.

The new graduate will have her happily ever after because she remembers that happiness waited for her after her years of dedicated study.

Brand new parents will have their happily ever after because they remember that happiness waited for them after their financial struggles and intense labor.

What awaits you in the next chapter of life? What lessons will you look back on to help you through it?

Everyone has moments to look back on with gratitude and moments to look forward to with hope. Perhaps the great secret of fairytale endings is not that there is no sunset to ride into.

It’s that there is more than one.

Behind the Unattractive Door

The story I want to share this week is intended to (in the vernacular of the dance hall) "slow things down a little bit." This is a sad but heart-warming tale of a very small six-year boy with a heart big enough for each of us to learn from. It's a story about a boy I have come to love - even though I've never met him. And I suppose I never will in this life.

And I almost missed it. 

For as long as I can remember - and even before that - I've been a baseball guy. I stopped playing a long time ago but somehow love it more and more every year. As if this year's San Francisco Giants World Series win wasn't enough, a series of fortunate events led me to the 11th row of the second round of the Major League Baseball playoffs.

Giants and Phillies in the heart of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Being a San Francisco fan in that stadium is asking for trouble. We won that night, and it was one of the most fun nights I've had all year. But I sat through some pretty bad insults and contentious glares from the fans around me. And that stressful environment had some consequences.

For the next few weeks as the playoffs endured, I had very bad feelings towards the Philadelphia team and its fans. Looking back, it's embarrassing to say, but I guess that's what the competition in sports can do.

A few days later, I was reading on ESPN.com and saw a link to a story about a boy who was a Phillies fan. I knew it would be a nice story, because past features have been excellent. But this one was about the Phillies, so I wasn't interested.

Well shame on me. Shame on me for not opening a door I knew I would be a good one - because of my pride.

But we've all been there, right?

I eventually got over my childish feelings changed my attitude. As luck would have it, I happened to be watching TV a couple weeks later and the same story about the same little Phillies fan - the one whom I've come to love - came on the screen.

Because my words can't tell it as well as they can, please take a few minutes to see the story of my friend Josiah Viera (the first clip on the page).

What can I say after that?

This little boy has been such a wonderful example to me of enjoying this life as much as possible. It's taught me to laugh and to do what I love to do. It's motivated me to enjoy many of the little pleasures of life that I guess I'd taken for granted.

And the sad thing is - I almost missed it.

All too often for us, petty cares and temporary frustrations get in the way of life-improving stories. What are we missing right now because of pride, fear, or frustration?

I almost missed the story of little Josiah because I refused to open an unattractive door. There was no way I was going to support the Phillies. How grateful I am for my second chance to change and to learn.

If I had the chance to meet little Josiah, I think I would say thanks for teaching me about baseball and having a little fun in life.

And for so joyfully enduring a place in life where none of us will ever be.

Of Introductions and Invisible Mailbags

I had to explain to her that guys don't have them.

After all, this was a long time ago and she probably didn't understand. But she seemed like a nice person and I had a minute, so of course I would stop and explain. Based on the fact that we stood about ten feet away from the Brimhall Building on BYU campus and that she had a notepad in her hand, I could tell she was a student reporter and was working on a story.

Looking back, I suppose I came across as a little naïve as I told her about how guys don't have blogs. I don't remember all the details, but to save some embarrassment I'll just say it was something along those lines. Looking back, I suppose she knew that one day I'd discard my prideful paradigm. It certainly seems that way. Because as she asked me her last question she seemed to have a "You'll Understand When You Grow Up" kind of smile when she asked, "So . . . do you think you'll ever have a blog?"

"I don't know. Maybe one day." I lied.

Well here we are. Post 1 of an 8-Post series. My name is Robby and I'll be your guide through this two-month journey of "We've All Been There, Right?" So welcome.

I just want you to remember that this is supposed to be fun. Fun for me as the guide and fun for you as the reader. This isn't about me at all, actually. It's about a dad and his son at an ice cream shop in Washington, DC. It's about guys watching a basketball game and girls at a mall on Saturday night whose minds are somewhere else because the people they really want to be with are somewhere else. It's about seeing a girl worry because she's in a new place away from home and has no work yet. No, it's not really about me. It's about everyone.

Let's start out with a little Q and A. To kick-off "We've All Been There, Right?" I've decided to grab some mail out of my mailbag and take questions from the fans. I mean what better way to introduce the site than by answering questions from the people? Let's begin:

"Robby - I'm so stoked for the new blog, man. I've been waiting for something like this for a while. I just wanna know about the cost and everything. I mean I'm only working 12 hours a week and can't afford to pay or anything."

-Pablo Sanchez (Bogota, Colombia)

First of all Pablo, thanks for the support. I didn't even realize that people knew about this down in South America. I'm proud to say that "We've All Been There, Right?" is brought to you at no cost. 

"Robby, I'm a working parent and, as much as I'd love to read your posts every day, I simply can't do that. If I can only get on my computer a few times a week, which days do you recommend I choose?"

-Sarah Goldman (Cincinnati, Ohio)

Well I'm humbled that people actually want to read my blog so often. But you don't have to worry about missing anything because I will only be adding posts on Fridays. Beginning next week, Fridays will be Post Day for the next two months. 

"I know that you were a missionary for the Mormons in Russia for two years. Is this just some way to convert everyone to your Mormon ways?"

-Igor Sergeevich (Donetsk, Ukraine)

(Do people really read this in Europe, too? I mean South America is one thing, but seriously?) Igor to answer your question - of course not. Religion is as much a part of my life as is sunlight, but I don't intend to preach right here. Good principles are universal and so are good people. If you have particular questions about any topic brought up as it pertains to Mormonism, I invite you to visit www.mormon.org.

"I know that you were in Philadelphia cheering for the San Francisco Giants during Game 1 of the National League Championship Series. Is this just some way to convert everyone to your Giants ways?

-Thomas Jackson (Los Angeles, California)

Ummm.......

"Robby what makes you so qualified to write about people so freely? You want to talk about principles and making people happier and better? How do we know you do everything you say we should do?"

-Katherine Mossman (Houston, Texas)

Katherine I'm glad you brought this up. The answer is that I don't. I don't even come close to doing everything I should do or say others should do. Living all of the principles I'll mention is worth a lifetime of effort. I try. I set goals. I fail sometimes. And then I try again to do at least a little good in the world. Because we've all seen the frustration of trials and the joy of improvement. We've all felt that desire to do better.

We've all been there, right?