Unexpected Thumbprints
By C.S. Bezas

Today my daughter and I talked about thumbprints. She was angry that her brother had picked up her new "singing" toothbrush and pushed against the bristles with his thumb. Pressure against the bristles, in theory, makes the song sound louder inside your head while brushing your teeth.

Not only did her younger brother pick up the toothbrush and push the bristles with his "unclean" thumb, so did her big brother! They were fascinated with this new piece of technology. She was nonplussed and furious that they would sully the bristles of her toothbrush with their grimy fingers (not that they were that grimy).

Now before the story goes much further, I must say that her toothbrush had made its way into the "share-able zone" downstairs, ending up in the kitchen. I'd sent it down earlier with her younger brother as a small reminder that my daughter had yet to brush her teeth for the day. Well, somehow the toothbrush remained ignored — and my daughter's teeth remained unbrushed.

Some hours later, of course, was when all the rigmarole began about "thumbprints" on her toothbrush with filthy fingers. I took her on a nice, long drive to share two stories with her. I wanted her to see that our responses to unhappy events really come from within.

Don't Be a Victim

Before I shared any story at all with her, I wanted her to understand that sometimes we unknowingly choose to be a future victim — if we don't react carefully to a prior incident. Later we then complain because somebody pushed their "unclean" thumb against the left-out "toothbrush-bristles" of our life. Yet in truth, we did nothing to solve the original situation and as a result our languishing "toothbrushes" keep getting used. End of story.

If we do nothing to solve the problem, it should be no surprise then, if another individual comes along and does the exact same thing.

I explained to my daughter that if she had (upon the first incident) simply returned the toothbrush back to its drawer, the second incident never would have occurred. But instead, she only complained about the first so-called "thumbprint" left behind by Younger Brother, doing nothing to recognize her role in the situation.

By being proactive in unhappy scenarios, we can avoid many future unhappy events.

So often we are willing to open our mouths to complain about a situation, but we are not willing to take charge and do something about it. Why is this? I think it is so because complaining is far easier than actually doing something.

Sometimes the unhappy situation is self-caused. (In the case of my daughter, she ignored the toothbrush and didn't take care of her teeth as originally asked. Had she brushed her teeth, she likely would have returned the toothbrush to its drawer, thereby avoiding future conflict.)

But sometimes unhappy results come about through no fault of our own. (After all, I was the one who had sent the toothbrush downstairs as a reminder to her. She had responsibly kept the toothbrush in its proper place.)

Life is full of surprises, even unpleasant ones. Some we cause and some we don't. How frustrating to have to deal with a situation we don't deserve! Yet it is at this precise moment that we can choose to show personal, mature inner strength.

The choices are many. Do we throw an emotional tantrum, simply because we're angry at something someone else did? I shared two stories from my own life at that point with my daughter: one I am pleased with, one I'm terribly embarrassed about.

Do Be Kind
Story #1:

I was a middle school kid and had a thrilling assignment. A local elementary school had hired me (for 75 whole dollars!) to create a school mascot emblem for their gym. How impressive that as a 12-year-old kid my artwork would "reign" above the heads of all adults and kids for the rest of that school's history!

Immediately I set to work. My father created a four-foot wide circle out of plywood. I painted it bright yellow and then hand drew the school's mascot (a scorpion, of all things). I painted a meticulous border, hand-fashioned the school's name, and painted the elaborate mascot in the center of the board. Up nearly most of the night to finish it, I finally was done! I went quickly to bed, because I had school the next day.

Imagine my horror the next morning to discover that my little brother, no more than three years old, had awakened to find what I'd not thought to put away the night before — black paint and paintbrushes. He decided to "help" and painted lovely shapes in various places on that board. It was horrible. The emblem was supposed to be installed in the gym that very day for the first game in the evening!

My mother was quite upset, feeling bad for me and all my efforts and sacrifices I'd put forth with such short notice. But for some reason, I felt great calm and knew that my brother had only tried to complement my efforts. He'd only wanted to help. To my twelve-year-old perspective, it became a small thing to correctively paint on top of his handiwork so the original design could be seen. Of course, it didn't look quite as smoothly done after I'd finished the touch-ups, but no harm was done. Elevated high over people's heads, they wouldn't be able to notice.

How was I able to be so compassionate, especially on so little sleep? I wish I knew, because the next story I told my daughter completely disappoints me in my expressed selfishness and shortsightedness.

Story #2:

A few years later, I was active in high school and a pom-pom girl, which basically was like being a cheerleader who also danced. It was the month of May. The "little" kids from the local junior high would visit my school for two hours to experience "high school." The end-of-the-year assembly they would attend served to impress the incoming students as to how awesome high school life would be for them the next year. And since I was going to be a big part of the assembly as a "pommie," I was very excited. How cool I would look to my little sister and all her friends, freshly arrived at their new high school.

Backing up a bit, I explained to my daughter while telling the story that whereas it was fun to be well-known in my high school, I also hated the "ditz" reputation I'd inherited. Not sure why, but everyone seemed to view me as a dumb blond, even though I was a brunette!

Eventually it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. If someone was going to forget something important, it would be Cindy. If someone was going to say something silly, it would be Cindy. If somebody lost their homework, it would be — well, you get the idea! I never could seem to shake the "dumb blond" reputation, hard as I tried.

Well, for the coming year, the new pom squad had purchased stools. They were the coolest! We painted them blue, one of the school colors. And then we gave our own stool our unique touch, with whimsical painted accents in the remaining school colors. The final moment for each of us was to paint our name in large letters across the top of the stool.

I was very proud of mine. I'd worked very hard at it. And for once, I was beginning to feel responsible. Especially for this assembly. We were to bring our stools early and place them in the gym, in preparation for the big event. This I actually accomplished! For once, I'd not forgotten an assignment. For once, I'd even done it early. The inner glow of achievement felt indescribable.

Only problem was, I had to miss the first part of the assembly, because I had been asked also to perform at the Seniors' Assembly, even though I was only a junior. Once done, I quickly ran across campus to make my big entrance at the main event.

I screeched to a halt at the closed gymnasium doors. Through the small windows, I could see the whole squad seated on their stools at the end of the gym. They were clapping and cheering and looked so happy. Only problem was, my stool was missing. How could this be? I quickly ascertained that somebody was using my stool and I was livid. For once in my life, responsibility had almost been mine. But noooo, once again, I was going to look like a "dumb blond" who had forgotten something important. Where on earth would I sit?

I quickly decided to just skip the whole event. But unbeknownst to me, the vice-principal had come up behind me and made me enter the gym. To my complete embarrassment, he pulled up a folding chair and required that I sit with the rest of the squad. Now, I don't mind telling you that I realize now what a silly and small thing this all was. But to my teenage self, it was the absolute worst thing that could have happened. And I'm ashamed to say that at the end of the assembly, I quickly noticed who it was who had "taken" my stool.

Assuming she'd forgotten hers, I quickly approached her and accused her of such things. But I didn't accuse her nicely. No, to my shame, I screamed at Christie in front of the rest of the squad. In fact, it got so out of control, that a few students began gathering around to hear what was happening.

Somehow it got all straightened out. I'm not sure who it was that pulled me to my senses. Eventually I learned that this sweet girl had called the senior captain of our squad to ask to borrow her stool. The squad captain and I both happened to be called "Cindy." So when sweet Christie arrived at the gym and saw my stool with "Cindy" on the top, she assumed this was the stool she'd received permission to borrow. Little did she know that "Captain Cindy" had been so excited about her own Seniors' Assembly, she forgot to bring her stool for Christi. Christi mistakenly used my stool, and thus, when I arrived late, I was the odd-one-left-standing.

Today, I'm terribly ashamed at my pride and my fall from grace in that ugly moment. Why could I not have proffered to her the same grace I'd offered just a few years prior to my brother? Both were unintended "thumbprints" against the bristle of a "toothbrush" I cared very much about. But for some reason, I handled one well and the other I did not. From that experience, I learned not to speak to others unkindly. We rarely have the full story.

The Final Redemption

My daughter had been all ears while I'd told her these two accounts. In fact, she asked if I had any more "thumbprint" stories. I laughed and told her that they were too painful to tell more than a few at a time. But that the point was that just because people leave unwanted "thumbprints" in our lives, it does not give us the excuse to retaliate against them.

She was quiet, thinking. I hope she got the message that we really do have choice. We really do have power over our personal responses to others' actions. And when we choose to respond as Christ would (and as I did in the first story and not in the second one), the ensuing emotions are those of peace and contentment, even if we wished we'd not had to pass through the offending event.

In D&C 64:9-10, we read:

We are to forgive all men (and women). It does not matter what they have done to us. It would appear pretty clear from the Lord's counsel that we are to remember that when someone leaves a dusty "thumbprint" on our life with something that offends us, we are to forgive. Period. End of statement. It doesn't matter whether people intended to hurt us or not (I've found it rare that people actually intend to offend). In most of these kinds of situations, I've learned very few offenses are intentional. And it is for us to act in compassionate ways towards all, be the offender a toddler, a teen, or an adult who perhaps has left these painful kinds of "thumbprints."

So yes, my daughter learned a bit of a lesson today about being proactive when situations arrive that she doesn't like. In other words, by putting her toothbrush promptly away after the first altercation with her brother, she could have avoided future ones. By being proactive, she avoids additional unpleasantries.

But sometimes, it doesn't matter what we've done. The unpleasant experiences still come. As the prophet Joseph Smith wrote, "We have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things" (Articles of Faith 1:13). It is at these points we are to act as the gracious children of God we really are and to "forgive all."

C.S. Bezas' new book, Powerful Tips for Powerful Teachers: Helping Youth Find Their Spiritual Wings, has been called the perfect book for those who teach youth. It is available at LDS bookstores and by clicking here.