the faceless millions have faces

It happens when I pass by a large town or city on the freeway. It happens when I walk in large crowds. It happens when I’m at the largest waterpark in the nation, looking around at all the half-naked bodies surrounding me. It’s a feeling of awe at the amount of people there are in the world, most of whom I will never know, never learn to care about, never speak to. Looking at a town from the freeway, I realize that each house and business represents the livelihood of many people, and the town itself seems like another world to me, one which I will never enter. When I was at Denver’s WaterWorld last weekend, I was amazed at the sheer number of people there in their swimsuits, amazed at the amount of people who chose the same recreation that afternoon. There was something unifying about being with a few thousand park visitors all in swimsuits (which often don’t leave much to the imagination, I realized)—and everyone was comfortable and recreating happily. This feeling I’ve described can be awe-inspiring in a positive way, but it also has a shade of fear along its underside, a fear that my individuality might be lost in this crowd of humanity. If there is such a diversity of people and so many people, am I even important? Do my aspirations, worries, relationships, and opinions matter?

Sometimes we hear about the “faceless millions” (or billions if you will) that populate Earth. The thought that helps me through those overwhelming moments where I feel so inconsequential against the swarms of strangers I see is that these “faceless millions” do indeed have faces. And feelings. And families. And priorities. And opinions. Just like me.

So then I find myself contemplating the middle-aged, bikini-clad woman at the park. She will never know me, and I will never know her. I have no idea of the triumphs and failures she has experienced during her life. The stretch marks of childbirth and the graying hairs on her head provide a few clues to her experience, but unless I actually go to her and open myself up, she will always remain a stranger. Yet I don’t want her to remain a faceless stranger, because I am determined to recognize that she matters. Her opinions matter, even though I might not agree with them. Her relationships matter, even though I might not be able to help them in any way. Her unexpressed heartaches matter, and I pray God that there is someone in her life that can listen to them and help her, because I cannot. I’m just a stranger.

Obviously, it’s impossible to meet every person in a city, let alone the world. I don’t think that’s the point. Those people who do come into our lives are suddenly transformed from “faceless strangers” to people we care about, people we dislike, people we try to help, and people we avoid. Those are the people God has given us to work with, and it is with them that we can have a direct influence. While it isn’t always a bad thing to think on an impersonal, global scale, I’m more concerned with those who I know personally. When I think of the first time I met someone who has become a close friend, I am amazed by all the experiences, feelings, and thoughts that we have since shared. A single human being is such a complex creature, and it is beautiful when two complex beings with so much hidden in their depths can come together to share parts of themselves with one another. So as I go through life and see strangers around me, I will try to remember that they do have faces, and that their lives are every bit as meaningful and important as mine. Most likely, I won’t ever meet a small percentage of the people on this planet, but I hope and pray that I will be more than a “faceless stranger” to those I do.

Music and the Spoken Word 2 weeks ago = refreshing

Cultivate an Attitude of Understanding

Delivered By: Lloyd D. Newell

For centuries, people have separated each other by setting up barriers and boundaries—the divisions we call “us” and “them.” In our interconnected society, we interact almost daily with people whose heritage, religion, skin color, gender, language, or choices are different from ours. The challenge lies in how we treat each other when we have little in common except our humanity.

Small children seem to be especially good at this. When you smile at a child, she smiles back. When you make a face, she giggles. When you wave good-bye, she waves too. Barriers disappear in this simple, satisfying exchange. Perhaps children haven’t yet learned to see those barriers. Or maybe they see more clearly what’s really important.

Anne Frank, a child herself and a victim of persecution because of her heritage, wrote that “we’re all searching for happiness; we’re all leading lives that are different and yet the same.”1
“I still believe,” she observed, “in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.”2

Accepting one another—no matter our differences—is a measure of our character and our hearts. Acceptance is not about changing “us” or “them”; it’s about a friendly gesture, a smile, an appreciation for interesting company or new ideas. It is learning to accept others despite mistakes, weaknesses, or bad choices and still loving them for who they are. Acceptance comes more easily when we are at peace, confident of our own place, our beliefs and direction.

“Cultivate an attitude of understanding, and come to genuinely like people,” religious leader Thomas S. Monson has said. “I’ve rarely met a person that I didn’t want to get to know better. ... It doesn’t matter who they are.”3


1 The Diary of a Young Girl, ed. Otto H. Frank and Mirjam Pressler, trans. Susan Massotty (1991), 324.
2 The Diary of a Young Girl, 332.
3 In Gerry Avant, “Church President to Be Sustained in Solemn Assembly,” Church News, April 5, 2008, 4.

filling the pensieve

I just need to freewrite a little to get my thoughts in order. The last few weeks have been a huge transitional time for me physically, spiritually, and emotionally. I’m trying to sort through a lot of baggage and emotions and trying to figure out where I’m going with my life. Today and yesterday I’ve been feeling a little melancholy and unmotivated. I had a flash of fear today that I might be entering another depressive episode, but I don’t think I am. I just feel like I’m not doing much with my life right now. I feel like I’m constantly putting out energy to do things, but those things aren’t yielding much back. I wish I had a regular schedule with a job or something. As it is, I water the lawn twice a week, I help dad with concrete twice a week, (which is good cuz I’m making money). I try to study for the GRE which I’m taking in a month. I try to do volunteer work but that’s not very time-consuming, just once or twice a week at most. And those are all good things and they do keep me busy some of the time, but I’ve gone a few weeks where many days I have nothing to look forward to, nothing really planned. I go to the gym to work on my ever-present goal of gaining muscle, which is working. :) But I just feel a bit stagnant. I’m not sure what it is exactly that I lack, but I just feel a bit lackadaisical and unenthusiastic.

At the beginning of the summer when I came back from BYU I was so excited to get involved with my internship and volunteering and going on trips and everything, but the internship fell through, and the classes I took ended, and now all I have is working at home w/ Dad which I don’t always like. I’m not sure living at home is the best thing for me at this point, but I’m kinda stuck here, seeing as I have only about 5-6 weeks to go. The thing I don’t like is feeling obligated to be here and like I’m deserting my family if I go out. When I’m at school, no one asks me where I’m going and I can just do what I want. However, it’s not always a bad thing to feel obligated to one’s family. I am greatly indebted to my parents for what they do for me and provide me with free of charge. Meals. Health care. A car. Fresh fruit. A bed to sleep in. Air conditioning. So I feel I do owe them some of my energy in helping around the yard, especially since their own health is deteriorating.

The thing that frustrates me the most is my relationship with Dad; it's by far the most imbalanced, difficult relationship I have right now. Every time I’m around him, I have this sense that he doesn’t even know me anymore, and I would work on telling him who I am if I wasn’t so afraid he would reject me. It’s not just the gay thing, although that is a big part. It’s about accepting that I may have different opinions and that I have a different way of life than he does. I view things like money, work, play, love, sexuality, and spirituality in a very different way from him. Some days I just want to blow open the wall of non-communication between us and shake things up a little, in hopes that we might begin to finally have an honest, genuine dialogue. I just might, someday, but not right now. It’s the risk we take when we get involved with other human beings. Any relationship is a risk, be it friendship, parenthood, or a romantic relationship. We have no guarantee for what the other person will end up doing or becoming, and we must simply press forward with the knowledge we have and the common sense to keep out of too much trouble.

UGH! Life.

To finish, I’ll recount a good thing from today. During the sacrament, after I’d passed the water by without partaking, I was sitting praying to God to help me figure things out, to keep his Influence in my life and to help me be aware of it and how to share it with others. I read the words of the hymn “Reverently and Meekly Now” with such phrases as “I have loved thee as my friend / with a love that cannot end.” And after reading it and praying I had a few moments of that exquisite peace that I sometimes feel where the only words that describe it are “It’s going to be ok. It is ok. I am ok. Everything will be ok.” A calm, powerful reassurance that I can be at peace, that I’ll be ok. I feel that as long as I stay in touch with my heart and my soul, the very essence of who I am and the person I want to become, I will be ok. As long as I don’t lose sight of my role in life as a witness of truth, a listening ear, and a helping hand, I will be ok. As long as I stay my selfishness and try to think of others first, I’ll be ok. As long as I seek and celebrate goodness in all its forms, I’ll be ok. As long as I stand up for what is right and build the courage to speak out against what is wrong, I’ll be ok.

I’m reading Man’s Search for Meaning right now, and it has caused me to reflect on the meaning of my life. I don’t think that the purpose of life is to be happy. There are so many people who are miserable and who have horrible lives, but who may see meaning in their suffering, which one might label as happiness or acceptance. Many happiness-oriented people, even in the Church, tend toward hedonism, which isn't the point of living. I think that we should seek but not expect happiness; we should also expect and not shun suffering, for it will teach us more than happiness ever will. All to often I get depressed about having a bad day or two, when I have forgotten all the days where I was happy if not reasonably content. It’s in days like yesterday and today (which really weren’t that terrible) that I reflect more and that I pause to see where I am and where I am headed. I have to remind myself that it’s ok to have a blue day once in a while, because I have so many that are wonderful.