When I was probably 8 years old, I started taking piano lessons. Not because I wanted to though. I was forced to take them by my mother.
I hated piano lessons. I thought my piano teacher was mean. And I hated practicing. I must have had some talent though because I would literally go to my piano lesson, get my assignments for the week, never practice, then go back to my lesson the next week and be able to pass them off. I'm sure my piano teacher was pretty frustrated with me.
The highlight of my piano-playing experience was learning how to play "The Funeral March of A Marionette" (the Alfred Hitchcock Theme Song) from memory. Ok, I admit that I had to practice a little on that one! =o)
Despite my pleas to quit, my mom would not let me. There was quite a lot of bargaining and negotiation but both of us held firm. Eventually, I grew to resent piano because I felt like it was keeping me from my first love--basketball. It sounds a bit silly now--I'm sure that at 10 years old, I had plenty of time to play basketball and the piano, but that's not how I saw it at the time. Eventually, my persistence paid off at about age 12 or 13. I got to stop taking lessons. (I hate using the "Q" word.)
The "Official" Piano of the D.R.
My mom guaranteed that if I stopped piano, I would regret not being able to play when I was on my mission. I said I wouldn't and I never did. Only once was I ever asked to play the piano on my mission. It wasn't even a real piano. Think Casio keyboard that no one could hear. And even if I could have played, no one would have heard it and it wouldn't have mattered. The congregation in the little branch was that loud (and not really on key).
But I didn't regret not being able to play the piano on my mission and I haven't regretted it a day since.
Until tonight.
Tonight, we had the Young Men practicing to sing "Con Valor Marchemos" (Onward Christian Soldiers) for Sacrament Meeting on Sunday. The first few go-rounds were a little rough, to say the least. I was looking at the notes in the hymnal and didn't think that it looked all that difficult so I volunteered to jump on the piano and try to play at least one hand (is that the melody?).
I think I didn't do that bad for not having touched a piano in over 20 years, but I was still a little disappointed that I couldn't sight read it better. Still I think it helped and by the end of practice, I thought that we sounded pretty good.
Of course, that was probably due to the fact that we drafted someone from the Relief Society in the other ward who happened to be in the building to play a little for us. And I had to admit...it made a big difference.
Not Exactly the San Juan YM Choir--At Least Not Yet
But for the first time, I actually did regret--just a little--that I couldn't play to help our Priesthood Choir practice tonight.
So Mom, thought it pains me to say this, you were right!
Confronting one's mortality is not an easy task. I still like to think of myself as being fairly young. Heaven knows that I have a lot that I yet want to accomplish in life. But sometimes I think about whether I'm prepared or ready to "move on"...I can't be the only one, can I?
I remember one year when I had to renew my driver's license agonizing over whether or not to check the organ donor's box. Ultimately I didn't because I couldn't bring myself to think that I would ever "be" an organ donor. But I felt ashamed for not checking it and I told my brother that I definitely did want to be an organ donor if I ever had the "opportunity." (And now the blogosphere is also witness to my organ donor wishes...)
But sometimes I do think about what would happen if I had to check out unexpectedly. In college, I would have to drive a lot between school (in Utah) and home (in California). The drive was long. It could be treacherous. I often made it by myself, which can be boring, which can lead to potential disaster. I heard enough stories of tragic mishaps to know that the drive could be dangerous.
The Famous Zzyzx Road...
This sign comes in really handy for those spirited "License Plate Games" on family trips
One time, before I was married and had kids, I had to drive from Arizona to Utah for some reason. I remember thinking that I was worried about something happening, so I actually took the time to write out a handwritten will before I left. I never told anyone about it (until now) and I have no idea where it is today. It was a little silly because I really didn't have much in the way of earthly possessions to bequeath, but I felt like I should think about it anyway.
A few years ago, my brother wrote out some instructions, sealed it in an envelope, and gave it to me to hold--"just in case." He asked me not to open it or read it. I haven't. But I still have it in my file. S., I don't think you read my blog, but I hope I never have to open that letter.
While I should have a will (I don't) or better yet, a trust, I've thought about letters of my own that I should probably leave behind. I definitely would leave a letter for each of my kids telling them what I love about them, what I hope they will accomplish, and letting them know what is important to me and my beliefs about the purpose of our life on earth.
Remember that annoying, yet addictive AOL message?
There are other letters that I think I would regret NOT writing to friends, other family, and acquaintances. I believe that it is important to let people know how you feel about them and I try and do that on a regular basis.
But what do you do when you can't tell them for various reasons? And don't give me any of this "carpe diem" crap. I know what that phrase means. There are legitimate reasons for NOT saying things to people. And there are some things that may be better left unsaid, even if true. An example would be where such things, even if true, would hurt people. And I'm not just talking about hurting people's feelings.
For example, there is someone I knew that I never really got along with when I was younger. There was no reason for it and I wish I hadn't acted the way that I did. But would making an apology years later really do any good? Or would it only bring back bad feelings from the past that this person had long put behind him or her.
Another reason for not saying things to people is where telling somebody something or some piece of information would unfairly burden them. We all have problems in our life. Our problems are kind of like bags of trash that we have to carry around with us and it's not always that polite to go dump your trash all over someone else's porch where they have to deal with, clean it up, or otherwise be bothered with it. Most people have enough trash/problems of their own to deal with.
"O Captain, My Captain..."
I have another letter that I've thought about writing for a while. In my mind's eye, it is very articulate and probably too long. But I know that it would feel good to write it. Cathartic. But even if I wrote it, I don't know if I could ever send it. At least in this lifetime.
I think it might be possible to summarize the letter in a single sentence. Coded, of course, because sometimes less is more and I think that the intended recipient would be able to figure it out. And coded stuff is cool. (think The Da Vinci Code or the 39 Clues series--a hit with my kids...)
Maybe I should at least get it started:
"Dear ____, I'll be..."
Anyway, let's hope that I never have worry about having it sent in the first place. That way I won't have to regret the fact that I never finished it. =o)
One of my pet peeves is when people proudly declare that they have "no regrets." I had a friend once who had made some poor choices. She was suffering the natural consequences of those choices and it was painful. And hard. She knew it. It was a difficult time for her as she struggled to process and adapt to the unhappy changes that those choices had brought to her life.
And yet she proudly told me that she did not regret any of her choices. She told me that she needed to have made those choices and suffered what she was suffering to become the person she was. I told her she was crazy. And she was. She would have been happier if she had made different choices. And yet she clung stubbornly to her lack of expressed regret.
(I know it is trite to define a term and then give a discourse on it. We've all done it for a Sacrament talk. Probably when we had to speak in church as youth. So with apologies...)
Regret is a feeling of sorrow or remorse for an action. We should not allow ourselves to wallow in regret every time we make a mistake. If we did this, we would quickly become depressed and lose all hope. Not an "optimal outcome."
President Benson elaborated: "Godly sorrow is a gift of the Spirit. It is a deep realization that our actions have offended our Father and our God. It is the sharp and keen awareness that our behavior caused the Savior, He who knew no sin, even the greatest of all, to endure agony and suffering. Our sins caused Him to bleed at every pore. This very real mental and spiritual anguish is what the scriptures refer to as having “a broken heart and a contrite spirit.” (See 3 Ne. 9:20; Moro. 6:2; D&C 20:37, 59:8; Ps. 34:18;Ps. 51:17; Isa. 57:15.) Such a spirit is the absolute prerequisite for true repentance." ("A Mighty Change of Heart", First Presidency Message, Ensign, October 1989.)
I think what bugged me most about my friend's lack of regret was that it seemed like her attitude was preventing her from feeling godly sorrow and experiencing "this cool little thing called repentance."
I try to make decisions so that I can minimize any regrets in my life. But I have plenty. I regret certain choices that I have made, though I won't share them here. These include regrets for things that I have done and things that I failed to do. I am not a perfect person, but I'd like to think that I am trying. And I am grateful for the gift of repentance to help me when I do make a mistake.
I haven't seen or talked to my friend for many years. I hope she has overcome the consequences of the poor choices that she made. I wonder if she still prides herself on having no regrets about any of her choices. My sense is that if she truly has overcome those poor choices, it is because she has come to regret them.
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