I admit it: I'm a complainer

Lisa McKendrick

In the church we do not aspire to callings. No one I have ever known has run a campaign to be bishop. Ward greeter maybe, but never bishop. But here’s one way of knowing for absolute sure that a person you know is going to get a huge calling, other than the fact that they’re worthy: their spouse never complains. I don’t know about you, but when the leaders of our church talk about their wives at conference I always feel guilty, and extremely confident that my husband will never have a parking pass at the church offices. Why? I’m a complainer.

It’s really too bad for my husband, Rich. I think he would have enjoyed being a general authority, but it never would have worked, because when it came time for him to express his love for his "sweetheart" (me) in conference he wouldn’t have been able to say that in all the years he has served in the church "she has never once complained." Rather, he would have had to say something like this, "I love my wife. She’s wonderful, and only huffs and says, "What took so long?" when meetings run extra long." I don’t think the church is ready for that.
But it’s the truth, I am a complainer. It’s irritating to me that tonight, for instance, my husband missed dinner and was in stake meetings until ten and, you guessed it, when he walked through the door he was greeted with a "What took so long?" Of course, I don’t complain about some things. I’ve never once complained about how clear his priorities are, that he loves his Savior and tries to follow His example. Nope, that’s never been a problem for me. I’ve also never complained about what a devoted husband and father he is, shuffling his work schedule at times during the day to help me meet all of our kids' commitments. I’ve also never complained about his worthiness to lay his hands at any time on my head or our children’s heads and give a priesthood blessing. Honestly, stuff like this has never earned him a scathing glance.

I guess what it comes down to is that I’ve never really been good at math, and so I’m slow to put two and two together: Rich serves because he loves the Lord, and that service carves even deeper into his soul a commitment to live His gospel which equals wonderful husband and wise father for our family. Of course, when it’s spelled out like that who could complain? Um, probably me, the next time a meeting runs long.

Is The F-bomb Losing Its Bite?

Lisa McKendrick

Is it just me or is the f-bomb losing its bite? When I was in high school twenty-ish years ago, I remember how the word jarred me. I would come home at the end of a school day and feel weighed down from having heard so much of it. Graduation and heading off to BYU meant, among other things, freedom from a constant barrage of cursing. But whatever reprieve my freshman year gave me has long been over, and since then, let's just say I've heard a lot of cursing. The difference, however, is now the people spewing the obscenites are not just high school kids trying to sound tough, but moms in Wal Mart on the hunt for an illusive can of lima beans, and young-adult authors endeavoring to write what they consider "teen truth." And to all of this I find myself growing less and less repulsed, the barbs of that word stinging less against my thicker skin. This, in my opinion, is cause for alarm.

What has made me consider lately the declining umph of the f-bomb was watching the Jimmy Kimmel Show and seeing Sara Silverman--Kimmel's hugely funny but vulgar girlfriend--in a music video wherein she confesses what she's been doing with Matt Damon. The f-word is everywhere. I watched it and thought, Wow, this is on TV. Sure, they're bleeping it, but it's still there, and what's worse, it's funny. As a writer, one of my favorite things to do is write comedy. I like to think that my standards for what is funny are high, and that nothing cheeseball ends up in my books. Yes, the f-word can be funny, Silverman and Kimmel (he produced an equally vulgar yet hilarious retort to her video) proved that. But there are LOTS of ways to be funny, and I would argue, there are LOTS of other ways to write about teenage angst, or for that matter, express your frustration about having to hunt for an item in Wal Mart. I remember my linguistics professor, Royal Skousen, telling us that language is constantly changing, evolving in the words it uses and the meanings behind those words, so maybe what I see happening with the f-word is unavoidable. But still, there's this part of me that sees that word as society's litmus test, and that if we accept it as part of casual conversation or as something that we're willing to laugh at, then perhaps it won't be long before our skin is so thick that nothing in this *&%$ world offends us.