I am a 30 year old (and 4 days), divorced dwarf. Now, that introduction signifies a whole heap of living since my remarks in a stake priesthood meeting on June 9, 1996! Ouch! There are three automatic strikes against me. The funny thing is that I had no control over any of those things. I did not then, and do not now, have fear of answering to any ecclesiastical body in or under the heavens for my part in that marriage, one which I still attempted to save though it could spell lifelong misery, a continuation of what I’d already tasted. All I need say is that even though I’ve lived "alone" for almost three years now, I was actually alone before reaching that point. I’m permanently, effectually cured of all desperation for companionship at the expense of other qualities. It’s a great reliever of guilt when one knows one fought to preserve a marriage over the insistence of another to end it, long after it had already dawned on one that the person was horribly unsuited for the relationship and it was a ghastly arrangement.
In an unusual departure, I made a very brief trial of LDS online dating quite some time ago—and never shall again. I made a point of identifying myself clearly as a divorced dwarf. Having gotten the worst out of the way, I promised it could only get better from there. It is not in my character to deceive. Furthermore, one skilled jurist taught that one may sweep public debate by conceding supposedly fatal weaknesses—before the enemy can exploit them with some sort of coup de grace—and then showing why one’s side is still superior. My experience was that the site was crowded with people at least as shallow as in real life. While possibly, theoretically, some were struggling with unfair stigmas similar to my own, by and large it appeared like a collection of people with something to hide. Essentially, that time made for jollies from perusing hundreds of profiles which still did not prove interesting. Here are a few samples I copied down of what certain members offer online as enticement:
"I usually describe myself as easily entertained."
"I LOVE BOXING!!! I watch as many fights as I can."
"I’m not prefect." [sic]
"I’m not so much religious as spiritual."
"I’m looking for a nice, honest, tall man who’s active in the Church." (I got the hint.)
Aye, the real problem in dating IS the height. I witness people surmounting the other two features (viz, divorced and/or 30) all the time, and I was dead in the dating water years before acquiring these other two. Dare I say it? Yes, I do. The 18 to 30 year olds, in such a vast percentage as to almost constitute the whole, do not know how to date because they are looking for all the wrong things, and in saying that I am not holding myself forth as what they ought to be seeking. Even many who manage to come together (and stay together) do so largely or solely by the grace of God.
2. Ascension
But this is a fragmentary preface, and not the text for the evening. What if our lives were lived so that our remaining mortality were ever present, countdown style? Would that finally teach us "to be sober and diligent and lay aside mirth, vanity and folly, and to be prepared to die tomorrow" (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, 176)? Elder Hales expands on this entry’s title for me:
Time stops for no man. . . . What we do with our time will determine the degree of lifelong learning and spiritual values we take to the eternities following our mortal test. . . . You will not be surprised to know that there is only one ultimate goal: living a faithful life and enduring to the end worthy of eternal salvation and glory. All other goals and achievements are corollary to faithfully enduring to the end. (Robert D. Hales, in Brigham Young University 2008-2009 Speeches, 178-179; also BYU Magazine, Winter 2009, 3)
A bygone general authority really set up the standard:
We are not doing all the things that the Lord has asked us to do—we are detouring, we are losing time, and that time can never be made up again. That time is lost. . . . Therefore, I would suggest to every member of the Church, that while we cannot change the length of time we live in mortality, we can change what we do with the time we have at our disposal. (Carl W. Buehner, Do Unto Others, 137-138)
Brigham Young: "There is no time allotted to us to use outside of the limits of duty" (JD, 5:1); "Of the time that is allotted to man here on the earth there is none to lose or to run to waste. After suitable rest and relaxation there is not a day, hour or minute that we should spend in idleness, but every minute of every day of our lives we should strive to improve our minds and to increase in the faith of the holy Gospel, in charity, patience, and good works . . ." (JD, 13:310).
In September 2007, I attempted to explain how an instructor of youth had gone far afield in theorizing with regard to the Second Coming. I remarked, "The official stance? Live every day as if He will come. Isn’t that the message to impart to the youth?" That effort failing, the Lord extended a near-immediate mercy of assigning me a priesthood lesson with the topic of my choosing. So I opened with Elder Talmage’s, "How would you feel if authoritative proclamation were made here today that on the literal morrow, when the sun shall rise again in the east, the Lord would appear in His glory to take vengeance upon the wicked, and to establish His Kingdom upon the earth?" (CR, Apr. 1916, 129). Examples of the next types of questions I then posed are, "Do any of us expect more advance warning than that? Is He going to come less speedily and stealthily than He has always assured the prophets He would? Why would we have to make adjustments? And what are we going to do about it? Isn’t the appropriately prepared life too busy coping with the signs of the times to be speculating on them?" As President Grant declared, "The scriptures tell us that no one knoweth. I am sure that some of the people who are wasting days, weeks and months of study trying to frighten themselves to death will not be successful" (CR, Apr. 1932, 99).
3. Aspiration
Seeking after signs is worse than ineffective; the Lord needs active labor. That is the message I hope to bear to my dying day: prepare for our returning King!!! Make His paths straight! One of my favorite quotations, by President George Albert Smith, was unfolded in my February 25, 2008 entry. It ties into a chain of prophetic reflection that I’m rather fond of linking together.
George Albert Smith (CR, Oct. 1917, 45): "Let us so live, that, by and by, when our work is done, it will be truthfully said of us that this world is better for our having lived in it."
David O. McKay (MS, 94:711): "Life is a mission in which it is the duty of every man to make the world better for his having been in it."
Ezra Taft Benson (TETB, 676-677): "We should be ‘anxiously engaged’ in good causes and leave the world a better place for having lived in it."
Gordon B. Hinckley (TGBH, 308): "You are good. But it is not enough just to be good. You must be good for something. You must contribute good to the world. The world must be a better place for your presence. And the good that is in you must be spread to others."
More pertinent for me than ever at age 30 are remarks I made at 20:
The story of mortality is not entirely about avoiding breakage, though. We must wage a war to bring our bodies into subjection to our spirit and to the Spirit of God. Occasionally our body will see that there’s little or no self-preservation in a certain course, and then our spirit ought to declare, "Never mind that. Wear out your life in service and you’ll get all the preservation you want hereafter." Yes, sometimes our bodies break. Our minds can even break. But our spirit never can unless we consent to it. I’ve been patched up in numerous ways. They put rods in my back several months ago just to keep my spine from sagging right into my heart and lungs. . . . This VW Bug may never make the 100,000-mile mark, but as long as I can start up in the morning I should be on the Lord’s errand.
In that same talk, to a Relief Society gathering, I relayed President Young’s advice:
Is there an individual sister in this Church out of the reach of doing good? Not one. "Why," exclaims a sister, "I am sick, weary, diseased; I cannot work—I cannot do anything." Is doing good beyond her reach? No; that sister who is sick and unable to cook her own food, wash her own clothing, or to knit or mend her stockings, can give good counsel to her brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, to the members of the family in which she lives, to her neighbors, and to all with whom she may associate. (JD, 11:350)
I have since learned that he likely made reference to his own mother, who died when he was 14. His brother Lorenzo recalled that when wasting away with tuberculosis, she remained a "praying, fervent" woman who "frequently called me to her bedside and counseled me to be a good man, that the Lord might bless my life" (S. Dilworth Young, Here is Brigham, 32).
4. Ancestral Dedication
In contemplation of passing mortality, I might say that death holds no terrors for those prepared to meet their Maker. I am incredibly thankful for a family notable for keeping their heads about them even as death dealt deterrence. Quite a bit has been outlined in past entries about those who met martyrs’ or soldiers’ deaths. Here is homage to a few who demonstrated contempt for the world in a more common fashion. My 3rd-great-grandfather, Wellington L. Mills (orphaned son of an English immigrant, hence from my only line not here in time to serve in the Revolution; he seriously had a brother named Prince Albert), graduate of the Medical College of Georgia just before the Civil War, died at age 32 after swimming across Blackshear’s Ferry during a storm in order to deliver a baby. (You can also click here.)
On June 11, 1738, Pastor Bolzius conducted a funeral at Ebenezer, Georgia for the child of my forebears, Hans and Anna Maria Floerel:
I had just come into their hut yesterday evening when the child was about to die, and the mother asked me to pray with her and those present. She said that she loved the child, to be sure, but she preferred for the dear Lord to take it to Him, for now she knows that it is dying a blessed death.
It was said of Herr Floerel that he was "a reasonable, intelligent, and careful Christian," "righteous and very industrious," "a pious, knowledgeable, and skillful man who knows how to deal with people in a true Christian manner and to make people accept his advice; and he wishes and is willing to give his time to the service of his neighbor and for the glory of the Lord, without any self-interest," that "he has a beautiful gift in getting on with children, is loved in the entire community, is content with little, and thus useful to God and man," and that he and his wife led a blessed marriage "as an example for all married people," and on another occasion that "Hanns Flerl and his wife are deeply devout people; and their blessed, quiet, and humble way of life is edifying for everybody in our community. I consider especially their frequent prayers and intercession a great benefaction for me and the entire community. But to them applies the saying: ‘Whom I love I chasten and scourge,’ etc."
They were "a godly couple," who "have God’s blessing, but also Christ’s cross; and they know how to find themselves in it." In 1747, he rushed to their home as "the child in her died and the mother was close to death. She had already taken leave of her dear husband and would gladly have passed on, since, filled with faith, she had recognized her Savior who blesses us all." She was the great woman of whom I proudly repeat, she "takes her Christianity very seriously." In pondering the type of future I’d like to have, I enjoy the phrase concerning those two: "our pious and dear mill manager Hans Flerl and his like-minded wife."
Hans’ brother, Carl, had no surviving children. In 1750, it was written:
Concerning Carl Flerl I was told that he praises God sincerely for the blessed departure of his little son from this world, by which good has been done not only to the child but also to its parents. The father recognizes that he loved this sensible child all too much and would have sought the world and temporal things to better its physical care. Now that it is with its Savior in heaven, his heart has been torn by the grace of God from all visible things, the child died an edifying death.
The tombstone of Walter Thomas Ferrell, my 3rd-great-uncle, who died at 8 months: "Sleep on sweet Walter and take your rest. God called thee home. He thought it best." A man being hanged later in Texas confessed to the most painful murder he’d ever committed, whereby he shot my relative, Nathaniel Stanley, from his horse to obtain his money. As Nathaniel’s life ebbed away, he did not quake or quail, but cantankerously demanded why the thief didn’t "come out like a man and kill him," whereupon the man hit him in the head to finish him off.
5. Epiphany
Finally, speaking of impending doom, that is curiously close to the type of personal feeling that has developed over the years in connection with dating. I quite literally have gotten this sense like ascending the gallows as the time drew near to go out. The process has been an unending stupor of thought, and I gradually came to realize that I dreaded it so much because there has never been an ounce of sustaining inspiration in the process for me. Because in other commonplace activities I had at least a shred more strength, I often came to wonder: "my dating life has been so strange, either God or Satan is intervening. If God, it’s odd that He’d tell me to persist while blockading; if Satan, again, why wouldn’t God remove the barrier?" (journal, 03/30/03). It was as though the Spirit, felt on every other occasion and in every other circumstance, drained away in punishment. This really wreaks havoc on the mind of one who wishes to do the right thing, which would seem to be persistence in duty.
I have long vented the frustration that in my life I could obtain with certainty the answer to anything through the gospel...except for this one matter. At times I’ve detected a tangible shade of a divine smile over the mystery. At long last, mercy prevailed after I turned 30. I have been desperately in need of reformulating my battle plan, and the problem persisted of silence in the heavens, so I turned to a priesthood leader for a blessing. The result was a crystal clear recapitulation of Elder Scott’s counsel on personal revelation. While many in my position—including myself, at one point—might have said, "Yeah, I know. That has yet to yield an answer. But shouldn’t something have given by now?", I felt it was a definite call to try again, to go to the Lord in private and seek Him earnestly. The heavens were opened on Sunday night, and I have been rejoicing in my newfound freedom ever since.
I submitted the question to the Lord, and was actually stunned that He approved of a determination of mine. Earlier this year, I vowed a vow . . . and I was almost afraid to run it by Him, though I knew it needed His approbation, modification, or elimination. You see, I grow weary of every variety of scheme to get me on dates. If simply going out brought joy, then, yes, I’d consent in a heartbeat. But what if it brings the opposite? What if it spells nothing but turmoil for an otherwise internally placid and hopeful life? What if I have actually been instructed to expect nothing but years of suffering on account of women? That alone would not obviate the burden for a single priesthood bearer to date. Without our Supreme Commander’s dismissal, though it be a suicide mission, ours should be like Colonel Magaw’s declaration to defend Fort Washington: "actuated by the most glorious cause that mankind ever fought in, I am determined to defend this post to the last extremity." There is General Wayne’s similarly devout dedication to Washington: "Give the order, sir, and I will lay siege to hell." In heaven’s unique testing of God’s children, the most glorious causes are often right up to the final hour those that are to all mortal appearances the most lost.
This brings me to the vow, which I carefully placed on the altar, framing it in a better spirit of humility than it was here formulated to a friend over a week ago: "I will never demean myself with dating again except on conditions that it is almost entirely under my control, at least initially, and in line with personal wishes, or I can tell that the Lord is definitely in it with me." And though mobs combine against me for it, I cannot mistake the fiery assertion from above that my underlying sentiment is, at least for the time being, correct.
Now, I’m not saying I haven’t gone out with some good girls over the years. But I am saying unequivocally that it’s been a demeaning time in the dating world. Overall, I’ve been treated very uncaringly, probably abominably—not that others don’t get this to some or just as full a degree. It tidily sums up the dating experience to report that one of the best and most complimentary girls in one ward, when I asked her out, unthinkingly replied, "Might as well." It’s too bad nothing better had come along for her sake, as my earlier belief that punishing a girl’s lack of honesty by taking her out against implied disinterest has been replaced by the knowledge that it punishes me at least doubly.
If this is what I’ve come to expect, and in some ways the best I've come to expect, from those who know something about me via ward dealings, why on earth would I ever agree to a blind date? I decided years ago, when it comes to being a man seeking dates, it is ironically better to be loved than respected. If one stands yea high and has just the right neolithic set of jaw and forehead, with proper cleft in his chin, it covereth a multitude of sins. ;-) Bonus points for biceps. (It’s pleasant to contemplate that one dentist, who had to perform an extraction due to overcrowding—still never had a cavity at 30!—informed me that I was tougher than the BYU football team. No, that wasn’t at the University of Utah. Again, I am not establishing a pedestal here; the Lord has affirmed that he will plead our cause. The whole point of this entry is that He has agreed to the performance of that promise on my behalf.)
So, while there’s a very real danger of people misinterpreting what may appear like personal revelation contrary to general counsel, I feel that my odds can’t possibly be any worse than they were before making this official. It is also contrary to my character to ask out women who don’t want to go, and heaven knows I’ve paid enough of a price that I shouldn’t have to go with those whom I don’t want to. There’s no longer any appreciable difference to me if some of my ex’s final words happened to be true: "Nobody will ever want you. Nobody wants you." (Thanks to my meekly bearing it, I can review the scene without any remorse.) What hurts is the haunting fear this might prove true, while forced to test the painful proposition constantly. I’m so much happier now that I can’t believe I spent more than a decade trying so hard to date, when it obviously wasn’t meant to be, so far. I seem to have acquired more potential phobias than skills in the duration. But I’ve done what I’ve done with real and pure intent, like that explained in my journal in August 2002: "The reason I worry so much is that something either affects my eternal salvation or it doesn’t concern me at all."
6. Personal Dedication
The sheer strength of the answer came in direct response to a certain volume of willingness. I have so far to go, so much to learn and do, but I want to fulfill to the utmost whatever Heavenly Father intended for my life here on earth. May not one whit fall undone. Even if it is the hardest road, I implored, that is how I want to serve His children. What I want, though it be twenty years distant, is the woman who will best help me to be that kind of servant. In saying this, I am not preaching the false "soulmate" doctrine, but I asked for not the second best, third best, or any manner of settling; I want the best spouse for me, to inspire me into accomplishing that, and God bless her soul for it.
Stake Conference this weekend both spurred me on to revisit how dating would apply in my life, and to derive comfort from the president’s admonition that we not let anyone make the choice for us of who to marry in the temple. Like I’ve said, the girl herself shouldn’t make that choice (been there, done that), her bishop shouldn’t (by implying that my valid concerns were too exacting of standards), and others shouldn’t (even by their antagonism, for the more her parents disliked me, the more determined I was to show that I’m capable of anything—what’s left to prove in life, after you’ve asked an "enemy" for their daughter’s hand?). This is why I’m especially grateful to have a witness of the Spirit to buttress my arguments against what others invariably tell me to do. The absence of such guidance led to a gradual decline in my judgment, a preparatory deconditioning.
A roommate once quite seriously lectured me about learning what my place and league were and not bothering to look outside of it. I also recall whispering to another roommate, concerning one of the choicest young women in the ward, "Did I just hear her take the Lord’s name in vain?" He actually called out, "Kris is too good for the girls!" in a mocking tone. I say this not to suggest I am without other vices, but to show that it is fully possible to do and plausible that it’s important to me: I have also gone 30 years without ever cursing. I was literally pained to hear that girl’s lips pronounce what they did. I wasn’t pronouncing return judgment upon her in my taking seriously what the Lord takes seriously, "for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain." Still another roommate stared blankly at me when I brushed off a suggested prospect as far too brazen and confused for me. He echoed, "But she’s short." I assure you, I have a very unusual personality, even among short people. Whether she comes that way or not is practically irrelevant to the real considerations. The Lord respects our wishes in ways that nobody else can, and there’s no better partner to have in tracking down an ideal companion.
Once more, as in my October 25, 2008 entry, I adopt Elder Talmage’s bachelorhood prayer: "Lord, Thou knowest that I have very few acquaintances among the young women of Zion, and Thou hast full knowledge of them all. Guide me to her who is meant to be my help-meet in life." The burning, absolutely confident reassurance bestowed upon me was that no one can choose her for me. He knows who she is and what we are each doing at this very moment. I can drive myself insane trying to force His hand, as I have through a defunct dating system, or I can rise to the measure of the quotations heretofore offered, hitting Satan’s kingdom hard for the sake of my fellow man, trusting that she’s not going to be hung up over my height when she meets me...that she won’t make a game out of the most important choice here in mortality after that of our spiritual loyalties, nor will she toy with my badly mauled feelings.
I find myself mentally replaying some contemporary lyrics, strangely enough. Of dubious application would be Bytheway’s ditty: "The wrong one/Is the right one/To lead you/To the best one" (What I Wish I’d Known When I was Single, 82). At any rate, I respectfully quit the field of this "fruitless experience . . . midway between undergoing a continuous root canal operation and an ongoing tedious job interview" (Kristen M. Oaks, A Single Voice, 82), refusing to any longer "dally along in a fruitless, frustrating, and frivolous dating game" (Teachings of Gordon B. Hinckley, 603). If ever I ride in again, it will either be purely as an exercise in relaxed amusement or in my full might, certainly not at the condescending sufferance of others. I won’t merely set my sights on what seems like it might possibly be pleasant, if only I could get close enough. I don’t ask brethren to accompany me in my symbolic departure—indeed, I discourage that.
Don’t fear for me. It is in the Lord’s hands, and this act might be termed assuming my place among the children of men without apology. I’ve certainly come of age! I have more important things to attend to in my life now than these paltry concerns that have consumed so much anxiety for so many years, though I’ll always welcome a partner to share my life’s journey: not to make me controller of her destiny, but to make our mutual interest easier for the both of us.
The stern warning, then, is that there are some fundamental things she must be very serious about, one of them being my dignity (you know, at the outset) and the others essentially being the gospel. By this, I do mean compatibility in gospel living, not like my ex’s response to my final feeble effort to break off engagement in saying that I didn’t think we were on the same page spiritually: "I want the same things you do." (Whether in time or eternity, I hope that some day she realizes that she did everything in her power, including a powerful dose of self-deception, to make me marry her.) Very few Latter-day Saints would say otherwise if confronted with the issue, but how honest are they with themselves? I ask, "In reading my blog, oozing with fearsomely vigorous individuality, do you truly get the sense you want all the same things I do?" There’s nothing excessive or needlessly exclusive about the only expectations I have in seeking a companion.
