No Snowflake in an Avalanche Ever Feels Responsible
By Susan Law Corpany

It was the last straw.  Brother Porter from the elders quorum had come into Relief Society to make an announcement that the dry-pack canner was available in our ward and that we would be canning that week in his garage.  He made the announcement and started the sign-up sheet around, asking if there were any questions or comments. 

This was in Florida where there were many challenges with food storage.  A sister blurted out, “I canned some rice a couple of years ago and now none of it is any good.  It’s no use canning anything in this humidity.”  The floodgates opened.  Before Brother Porter could escape, we heard sorrowful tales of bug-infested food storage, mold and mildew, rust and ruin.  A grand total of three sisters signed the list. 

As Relief Society president, I took it upon myself to apologize later to Brother Porter.  “I’m sorry our sisters were so unsupportive on the food storage project.”

He exploded.  “Unsupportive?  They were brutal!  I’m never going back in there again. I thought Relief Society sisters were supposed to be kind and gentle.  Those sisters ate me alive!”

I brought it up at our next presidency meeting.  “Okay, we’ve got to do something to change the tone of our meetings.  Brother Porter felt like Daniel in the lions’ den — only without God’s protection.  Next to nobody signed up for the canning, and with that and Delores’ rambling compassionate service announcement, we shorted our teacher by nearly ten minutes.  Then somebody hijacked the lesson and headed south, yet another time.  Sisters don’t seem to raise their hands anymore.  They just blurt things out whenever they feel like it.” 

We conferred as a presidency and determined three problems we needed to address — negativity, rambling and comments that took the lesson in a downhill direction.  After further discussion, we realized that many of the worst offenders were members of our Relief Society board. 

“What if we addressed these problems in our next board meeting and asked the sisters on our board to help us combat these problems?”  It seemed like the perfect solution.

The following Sunday reaffirmed our need for the “special” board meeting.  Delores did not just announce the upcoming funeral luncheon and pass around the clipboard.  She detailed the menu and took recruits on the spot.  “Joyce is bringing a ham, and let’s see, we’ve got two people already bringing rolls, so would you like to do a macaroni salad or a Jell-o salad?  Three-bean salad is always a hit.”   

I tried to think of a tactful way to interrupt her.  Delores, sit down and shut up!  I stood up.  “I’m sorry, Delores.  I just can’t take all this talk of food on a Fast Sunday.  Anyone who wants to sign up, see Delores afterward.”  I followed up with a quick announcement about the Pioneer Day party the Primary was holding.

Anna spoke out.  “Why is the party just for the Primary?  You know, the Wellington Ward has a spectacular Pioneer Day celebration every year.  Why doesn’t our ward ever do that?”

We finally got to the lesson.  It was on helping others to have confidence in themselves and reach their potential.  Our teacher had the lesson going in an upbeat direction and then Lois, our resident “Sad Sack,” added a comment. 

“I never had any self esteem as a child,” she lamented.  The next thing I knew, it was just like with the food storage.  For some reason, with this group, one depressing comment got everyone else searching the hard drive for a matching story.  Soon the lesson was on a downward spiral. 

At the end of the lesson, I once again reminded all our board members of our upcoming meeting and reiterated the need for their attendance.  If God could shut the mouths of the lions, perhaps he would work a miracle with some of our outspoken sisters.

When I got home, I got to work.  I told my artistic son I needed pictures of three women, whose names were “Rambling Rose,” “Depressing Diane” and “Negative Nelly.”  He came through like I knew he would, with comical pictures that illustrated perfectly the behaviors we were targeting.

We had a good turnout at our board meeting.  One by one I held up the pictures of the women and talked about ways we could bring a more positive spirit to our Sunday meetings. 

“This is Rambling Rose.  You all know her.  She tries to make a point in the lesson and takes way too long, meandering off this way and that, or telling a story that is way too involved for the time allotted.  She can’t just cover the basics and give a quick, clear answer that adds to the spirit of the lesson.  If she has an announcement to make, she often cuts into the time of the teacher by not wrapping it up.  We need you, as our board members to be aware of the time constraints on our teachers and help to keep the lesson moving along.”

“Boy, I know what you mean.”  It was Delores.  “We have that one brother that gets up every single Fast Sunday.  Last month he was talking about his son in the military.  No, wait — that was the month before.  This last month he was talking about his missionary son and he just kept going and going like the Energizer Bunny.  He just went on and on and on.  He even he took the time to explain about where he was transferred to.  I don’t know West Virginia.  I’ve never been east of the Mississippi River.  My family never did much traveling.  We thought it was a big deal to go to the next town over.  Of course, we didn’t have the means to travel like some people do.  That’s another thing that bugs me on Fast Sunday, those travelogues.  Anyway, I don’t know the names of any of those cities that it would make any difference to me.  I don’t know why he just couldn’t say his son was transferred and let that be the end of it.  I didn’t think he was ever going to end.  Doesn’t he think there might be someone else that would like to bear their testimony?  I wonder if anybody has ever thought of talking to him about it?”

It wouldn’t work.  Undaunted, and hopeful that I still might get through to someone, I continued.  I held up the next picture.  “This is Depressing Diane.  She had an unhappy childhood, and life hasn’t really gotten any better since then.  If we are talking about genealogy, she will tell us about how she doesn’t really like to claim her family and how they never had any closeness.  If we are talking about temple attendance, she will tell us about her arthritis and how hard it is to feel the spirit when you are in pain.  If we are talking about reverence, she will tell you how strict her parents were with her as a child, so that she had to sit and hold it in long meetings rather than be allowed to visit the restroom, and how she had to sit with her arms folded or she would get a swat.”

Lois commented.  “It is really terribly depressing to listen to someone like that, especially if you’re already depressed like I am.”

Two for two.  “Yes, we generally don’t need any further nudging in that direction.  Once we get headed downhill, we pick up speed without much effort,” I added.  “So if we can all try to be aware of this, when one of those depressing comments is made, if we can balance it back out with something positive, that might help keep the entire lesson from taking a downhill turn.  I don’t mean that we need to totally ignore everything that is less than perfect in our lives, but if we dwell on those unhappy things, it doesn’t really help our frame of mind.  So let’s keep it as upbeat as we can.  Life is good.  ‘As they say, ‘it is never too late to give yourself a happy childhood.’”

I held up the drawing of Negative Nelly.  “This sister has a gift for complaining. If we are talking about genealogy, she will tell us about her dead ends with her dead ancestors.  If we are talking about the temple, she will complain that they are building the new temple too far away and how much better an alternate location would have been.  If we are talking about reverence, she will tell us about how the irreverence in our meetings is the reason her husband stopped coming to church.”

Anna piped up.  “You are so right.  I visited the Boca Raton Ward recently and went to their Relief Society.  Their meeting had such a special spirit.  Why can’t our meetings be like that?”

As we cleaned up after the meeting, my counselor Mary Beth asked tactfully.  “Well, how do you think it went?”

“Everyone liked the refreshments,” I dodged.  “If you want the truth, I’m wondering what obnoxious traits I have to which I am totally oblivious.”

We often hear the term “Preaching to the Choir.”  When a lesson or talk is given targeting a behavior that could and should be changed, I think we often automatically put ourselves in the choir seats (whether or not we can sing well), and assume the message must be aimed at all those other imperfect people out there. 

Furthermore, if we can identify one or two or seventeen of them, it helps us feel even better staying the course.  Satan wins another battle, because we never make needed changes in our behavior and in our lives. 

Take it from a “Rambling Rose” who knows of what she speaks and speaks and speaks.