With recent old friend findings on Facebook (ooh, like that alliteration!), as mentioned recently below, my mind has reflected to ye old college days wondering what would have happened if... I'd married so and so, if I'd realized so and so was more interested earlier, I had lived in this apartment instead of that one, I'd moved out of the complex all together where I lived most of my college years...in short, if I had gotten married while I was in college.The results of this line of thinking can be interesting to ponder. They can lead to gratitude for things one has been able to do instead. But since I never had much ambition about getting a fancy job or great travels, etc. (still haven't even travelled all that much)--I instead tend toward the line of thinking--maybe I wouldn't have this huge debt I have now, or maybe I'd have my own kids, maybe I'd have someone to cuddle with... in short, maybe my life wouldn't be so hard.
But, as a friend once told me, (not directly to me--it was a testimony, but I felt it was to me) life is actually fair. He was quoting some general authority, dont' remember the specifics, except that it made sense. If life weren't fair then God would not be just and merciful and loving and perfect, to make life easier on some than on others. Knowing of the disasterous circumstances some people live in, the shortness of some lives compared to some, it's an odd thing to consider. But we really don't know all of the facts about these lives, particularly their pre-mortal and post mortal lives or what gifts and blessings the Lord has given them to help them endure. Certainly people don't "deserve" hard lives, but at the same time, I think they will be blessed above what we are able to understand. There's another quote about God's filling our voids with blessings equal or greater to the size of the pain. Sorry, no specifics again.
But I do have one specific. I had actually been on the above line of thinking yesterday or the day before when this memory came into my head to help alleviate the downward spiral. In 1993, I was hit by a minivan while crossing the street on my way to work. I did suffer some, broke my first bone of record--the orbital bone in my right eye. I might have broken a toe or two before, but never had it verified because the doctor wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.
Anyway, I had felt particularly nervous about going to work that day, with no pinpointable reason, but I do remember feeling anxious about it, and feeling like I should get a ride or something. It was raining, but I had walked to work in the rain before. I even asked my roommate for a ride, knowing she didn't like to be the apartment cab company, and she, of course, said no. I think she had a good excuse, but I don't remember.
I even thought about not going. I don't remember the specifics of that time period, but I might have just been obligated to certain number of hours per week, rather than a daily schedule, but it was easier to go x number of hours per day. Anyway, I went anyway. And the rest is history.
After it happened, my mind had a tendency into the what might have been thinking, particularly given some comments one or two people made. Most people were sympathetic and compassionate, but there were a few who didn't understand some things, accusing me of not looking where I was going, and such like.
A new guy had moved into the ward, a nice guy, a cute guy, and I'd even talked to him a few times, and some friends had decided to do this girls-ask-guys thing, so I'd even gotten up the courage and asked him, which is really, really rare for me. Anyway, so with my little accident, that was, of course, cancelled. And before I was really well enough, he had found a girlfriend. So, how could I not help but wonder what might have happened if I hadn't left for work that day?
Well, fortunately for me, one of my professors, my grammar professor of all people, had encouraged us to read D&C 93. And these are the verses that stood out, 24 and 25: "And atruth is bknowledge of things as they are, and as they were, and as they are to come; And whatsoever is amore or less than this is the spirit of that wicked one who was a bliar from the beginning."
Where does "what might have been?" fall into this definition of truth? It isn't what is, what was or what is to come, so it must be more or less than that, and therefore a lie. Isn't that interesting?
I have brought this up to some people before and there is some argument that there are scriptures that talk about how life would have been better if so and so hadn't sinned. And that is truth. It is also true that President Monson likes to remind us of the whole picture of our lives, saying to learn from the past, live in the present and prepare for the future. So if we can learn from our sins, that life would be better if we didn't, then we can progress. But when no sin is involved, and even to a certain extent when it is, doesn't it make sense that we not dwell on what might have been but rather take those lessons and live in the present and prepare for the future? After all, we can't change the past, so it's a fruitless endeavor, and Satan is the master of fruitlessness.
12 comments:
This is good stuff.
Your writing is wonderfully candid and insightful. Not purposely deep, but obviously from a great and dynamic mind. And your innocence is still a fresh breeze.
The first time I met Heidi Quist is what I remember as being fresh in the start of 1994, just before winter semester (though the dates you give in your blog cause me to doubt a bit). I had just gotten home from my mission, and I believe it was my first night at Monticello apartments, maybe my second.
As I recall, Miss Quist was the first girl in my return to civilian life that struck me as "gorgeous." She was tall and long, with that quality of light brown hair that toys with brunette in a dim light, but with blond in the full light of day. Furthermore, she had these stunning turquoise eyes that would make just about anyone's face beautiful--but with her they not only graced an already angelic face--they were complemented by these full eyebrows that were mercurial like her hair: sometimes brown and sometimes blond--depending on the light.
She was a truly magnificent creature.
She had come over my apartment to hang out with a group of about ten or so that included two of my roommates--guys who I did not yet know, but were soon to become great friends.
That first night I met Miss Quist I don't recall speaking a word to her. But she was soft spoken to the other people present--and seemed to keep her conversations on the private--one to one--level. Be that as it may, she carried herself with the type of elegance--and invaded the male space just enough--that she struck me as someone mature beyond her years--like mid-to-late twenties. Her tone and expression were focused and serious, and her articulation very refined and intelligent. Being a mere twenty-one, and just re-acclimated to my own social sexuality, she struck me immediately as someone out of my league.
Then came the car accident; my next memory of Miss Quist. As I didn't have her name down yet, I didn't realize that I knew who the victim had been. All I remember was a general call in Church for prayers, and all the small talk around the apartment complex that a very nice and important girl had been bumped by car while out walking, and would be gone for a bit to heal.
I don't remember how long it was before I next saw Heidi, but it wasn't till that moment that I connected my gorgeous, angelic face with the girl of the accident. She sat somber on the couch, meeting with my roommates (who by this point were like brothers). She was still a bit stiff from the accident, so some of that stunning aura from my first encounter was gone. And you couldn't miss for a second that one of those rarest of turquoise eyes now carried an unfortunate blood clot (which would dissipate with time, bless us all).
I'm sure I talked a bit with her at that time, but I can't remember just how much. What I do remember is that she gave me a slight, bright smile when I first entered the room--and a slight blush. She was obviously a little self-conscious of her injuries. It's amazing how quickly and thoroughly a little vulnerability melts away the most intimidating personas we invent for those we meet.
Such was the case with Heidi Quist.
My goodness, how incredibly kind. I'm blushing now, I'm sure. I have a few thoughts about who you might be, but I really hate to guess.
In any case, thank you a million times for your compliments.
As for the question of dates, the car accident happened on September 16, 1993--which stating, I now remember it was the car-owning roommate's birthday, so I'm sure she had a good excuse.
Well there goes my credibility. (Or maybe my mind went some time ago.)
I was in upstate NY on my mission on Sept. 16, 1993.
Did I at least get the turquoise eyes right?
(Really, call me crazy, but I think you need to recheck your dates!)
How very interesting to have this date come into question. You were obviously there because you got so many things right. How many people would know about my red eye? That I left for awhile (which I didn't mention--I went to my sister's for a few days, a week?) And yes, my eyes are otherwise green/blue/grey/turquoise. You're really very flattering.
But as for the date, you've made me reflect on it, but I remember who my roommates were and they were my roommates in 1993. I also know that I had just come back from summer at home in Colorado, and 1993 was the only summer I went home while living in Monticello. And since I was born in 1973, and I know I was 20 years old, I'm 100% positive it was September 16, 1993. So sorry to confuse you, my sweet flattering admirer.
Well, Heidi, you've got me wondering about my own mission departure and return dates! I was born in July 1972, left late Nov. of '91 at age 19 (roughly when I was supposed to), and returned early Dec. of '93 (again, when I was supposed to).
I first assumed your accident must have happened sometime in the Winter semester of '94, shortly after I recall first meeting you, but apparently that can't be right. You seem to be sure of this specific Sept. 16 date, and I won't dare argue with that date.
So I'm afraid I might have to cut you some slack on this one, Heidi, and assume (against my better judgment!) that you might have a better handle on your life than does my normally impeccable memory.
But I'm going to fully acquiesce only on the condition that you consider two alternatives: one that favors your date, and one that favors an alternate date.
I'm going to first allow that even though I first recall meeting you in Jan. of 1994 in a completely whole state (no red eye), and that I subsequently remember you having that fateful run-in with the car and your brief exit from Monticello that followed, perhaps the memory of that accident and short leave was based on oral history heard from you in '94 which somehow over the years in my head became confused with history that I actually experienced. Perhaps in the awe moment of taking in your eyes for the first time in Jan. '94 I failed to see the blood clot. I'm positive I witnessed your injured eye, and as I arrived in Jan '94 that certainly would've still been observable, but I must admit that I vividly recall seeing it in a fresh and pretty bad state. And I also seem to remember thinking to myself, "I hope that beautiful eye heals," as if I had seen and admired your eyes in their previously unblemished state. Perhaps I am wrong in that memory, as clear as it seems.
Even still, it further strikes me as odd that I so vividly seem to recall hearing all about this mystery girl who was hit by a car, and then finally meeting you in your post-accident state and appreciating you as a pretty face I had admired in one of my first nights at Monticello. I suppose this too might all be a mixup of oral and experienced history, but it sure strikes me as utterly real and chronologically sound.
Now for my second alternate date and theory. Back in Monticello I did eventually strike up a friendship with you, Heidi, but I'll admit that I'm pretty hazy on when and how that actually happened. Because we were friends for a number of years at Monticello, when I wrote my opening post I kind of assumed that we must have been so rather early in '94 when I first arrived, and when I first recall meeting you. But as I consider this further, I'm realizing that I was definitely wrong in this assumption.
In my first Winter semester of '94 my roommate and I spent quite a bit of our time over with a particular apartment of girls at Red Brick. Following a return home to be with my family much of the Spring and Summer terms of '94, I continued to spend good time over at Redbrick in the late summer and even struck up a bit of an exclusive friendship with one of the girls over there (think it lasted all of 3 weeks--and no kiss!). In that same period of time I don't recall making any outstanding female friends from White Brick, though many of the girls living there (including yourself) would eventually become good friends by the end of my first year, and beyond. (I'm sure my broken heart had nothing to do with the change of scenery.)
So this leads me to my alternate theory: WHAT IF my memory of admiring you at a time before the eye injury was indeed in Jan. '94, but I failed to strike a friendship with you till fall or winter of that year, after the accident? In other words, might your accident have possibly occurred on Sept. 16, 1994?
Sorry to be stingy about this, but my memory banks are really on the line here. (Or my sanity: you choose, Heidi.)
I'm getting more and more curious about who you are. If you would tell me, I'm sure I could clarify a few things. Well maybe. :)
Okay, let me tell you a few things about my life in 1994 that might help. In winter semester, when you arrived, I lived in Red brick, #382. I moved to 390 for spring and stayed there for the rest of the calendar year.
Then in December I moved to Colorado to get ready for my mission, though I came back to visit a few times after that. Not to discourage your memory of our being friends for several years, I did come back to Monticello after my mission and lived in white brick #7 and then #4--in 1997.
Perhaps there was someone else who had a car accident? I don't recall one, but it's possible. Also, I was in a minor car accident in the fall of '94, but I was in a car for that--my sister down from Ricks and her friend. Some nice guys from the ward happened to be at a nearby gas station and brought me home. Being in the back seat, I only bruised my hip a bit from that.
Another possibility would be that I showed you pictures and you remember seeing my eye from them? I can post a couple on here. I don't remember how long it took my eye to heal.
This is all very curious. Very curious, indeed.
Dave? I'm reading my old journal trying to puzzle this together. Apt 25?
Oh shucks. Sorry to keep you on the edge, Heidi, but my post to you yesterday apparently didn't go through. I'm at work presently, and don't have time to make my introduction properly, so hang on the the edge just a little longer, if you will.
I really didn't intend to be this cruel.
No, I'm not Dave from 25.
Oh, what the heck, it won't kill me to do this quickly.
After all, you've returned any favor you might've owed me by being a "good sport" in seeing my game "through to the end."
I think those were your recent tribute to me, and I too am flattered at the compliments, Heidi.
I found this blog by googling my name with the word "mormon" in the hopes of finding a lengthy post I made on some religious forum some time back. Did find that, but I'm much happier I found this instead. And to think I fortuitously found my way to a blog that had been made weeks in advance. (And, no, I don't make it a habit of googling my name!)
I think you've for sure got me now, Heidi, but if I would've chanced a hint from the start I think "Killer Turtle" would've been my hint of choice. Which hopefully would've been a dead give away.
And, no, I'm not from Connecticut (one of those New York Wolves in New England clothing). (Had to go with that closing analogy seeing my word verification here is "sheepe.")
Dale! I'm so glad to find you, and to have this wonderful, though confusing, conversation with you. I wondered if it was you, but I was sure you'd come to Monticello much earlier than 1994 for how well I felt I knew you. Really, it was just 1994? You're only a year older than me? Will wonders never cease. Well, now you'll have to give me your email or something so we can catch up away from my blog :)
mantismutu@hushmail.com
(That's Mantis Mutu, a quirky pen name of sorts).
Great to hear from you too, Heidi.
Dale.
Well my post to you last night failed to go through, Heidi, so I'll repost my email again, just in case. (And in case I spelt something wrong.)
mantismutu@hushmail.com
Dale.
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