IN THE BEGINNING: I walked the dogs
Coming back from walking the dogs on Saturday, I ran into my neighbor Lyle. A retired man, Lyle was grateful when Christopher and I moved in next door so that he could spend his retirement watching us make mistakes thereby utilizing his natural “I told you so” personality.
On Saturday I brought my two dogs home from an early morning walk. Lyle was at the gate watching me. I prepared myself for his scrutiny which was easy to do because I had just been listening to “It Doesn’t Matter” by the Chemical Brothers, a song in which the line “It Doesn’t Matter” is repeated 500 times (ballpark figure) to fantastic beats. And if anyone knows the Chemical Brothers personally, tell them that I just plugged that single in my Blog Segullah post, ask them to pay up, and while you are at it answer my question: Are they really brothers?
“So what is the big occasion?” asked Lyle.
“Excuse me?” I asked, pretty sure that the “big occasion” comment was of the sarcastic variety. (Retirement makes one sarcastic.)(Sweeping generality.)
“You let your dogs out of that dungeon. What is the big occasion?”
OFFENSE ONE: Calling my dog’s sanctuary a dungeon
In case you’ve never been to my property before, let me assure you that there is, indeed, in fact, no dungeon. There is a dog kennel, an open-air space that is five-feet wide, twenty-feet long and soft as a downy white chick (if you are into square dancing. . .) We erected a structure (which far exceeds the description of a dog house, so much so that we christened it the Dog Mahal) for the dogs to retreat to in case of inclement weather. Lyle’s word choice “dungeon” was totally harsh.
“We let them out all the time.” I retorted, rapidly blinking.
“No you don’t.” He said slowly and loud. Heated.
“Yes we do.” This is reminding me of grade school.
“Not for very long you don’t.” He said even slower.
OFFENSE TWO: Accusing me of neglect
Christopher and I let the dogs roam our spacious back lawn for over a year before it went from the Garden of Eden (I’m being modest) to Outer Darkness. They dug, littered and relieved until it was a shameful wasteland on which we couldn’t abide. To improve our quality of life, we decided to kennel up the dogs, clean up the place and grow our lawn back. It killed us to do so, you know, for the dog’s sake. It was as if we had gone from liberal educators to narrow-minded academia subscribers. A counsel was held, where we took an oath to let our dogs out to play regularly, as well as walk them on a consistent basis. And by my standards, we’ve done our best, certainly considering the hours of ever-decreasing daylight.
Are you asking yourself, why does Lyle care?
I was too, at that moment.
“I take them for a walk almost everyday.” My voice is shaky. Getting emotional.
“Everyday?” Do pace makers speed up the sarcasm in your heart? Cause. . .
“Yes.” I plant the words firmly.
“Well, how come I never see you?”
OFFENSE THREE: The uninvited all-watching eye
Over the summer Lyle and his darling wife decided to expand their front porch. Most of my neighbors (I live in an unofficial retirement community) have quit going to church and have replaced it with that fast action sport of waving at passing cars from their front porch arena. I am starting to think I need a good excuse to come out of my house, as there are always porches of people watching. I am sure they wonder why I wear my belt outside of my shirt, rather than in the actual belt buckles and how on earth Christopher and I can shuffle off to the movies mid-day and still pay the mortgage. There is a lot of worrying going on around here as well. Just yesterday I got a panicked call from my neighbor Norman who troubled because the news said that it was going to rain and the windows were down in my car. Perhaps all the Porchers got together one day and decided to save us yuppies from the varying degrees of mistakehood. If so, Lyle is their captain to whom they report.
What do you say when someone says “How come I never see you?”
I looked at Lyle like he was an unrecognized alien trying to explain—in his native tongue—how they change tires on his planet.
I turned and walked away, feeling devastatingly defensive.
(Never a bad time for alliteration though!)
SELF-REFLECTION: I thought about my choices.
Inside my house I thought of one grazillion things I should’ve said. Mostly I wanted to tell Lyle that General Conference was starting, and that even though he’d quit church years ago, it would give him something more elevated to stew about rather than me and my choices.
“Yeah Lyle,” I thought in my head, “how come I never see you . . . at church?”
This run-in bothered me all weekend. I have come to realize that when I take offense it is because I am already feeling weak in the area of the offense-making subject. Ridicule me all day about how the quirkiness of my lifestyle, I don’t care. Mention my weight? You got me.
Did I feel weak about my relationship with my dogs?
Had I been neglectful?
And why didn’t The Chemical Brother’s song stick in my head like it was supposed too?
THE NEXT DAY: I get a conference wake-up call
The next day, Sunday afternoon conference, Elder Bednar’s talk woke me up spiritually and—who am I kidding, it’s hard to stay awake in afternoon sessions—physically. I loved the principle he expanded, from Lehi, about how we are beings that act, rather than objects that are acted upon.
Someone offended Lyle years ago and it stopped him—and his family—from gospel progression. Not only did I, as his neighbor, need to stop taking offense to him, I needed to help him stop taking offense to the gospel.
I am not going to lie, this is going to take awhile.
It’s going to take a whole lot more listening to “It Doesn’t Matter.”
I’m pretty much going to put it on repeat.
And if that doesn’t work, I’ll try praying.
Elder Bednar always is near the top of my list of favorite talks- i’m very a fan! (may have something to do with him being the president of the best school in the world, but that’s a different subject all together) I must say i laughed out loud when i heard you got a call from you neighbor to roll up your car windows! You’re a better person than me, girl, a better person than me… just to spite her i’d probably have parked my car on the lawn and turned on the spinklers- then got in my soggy car and and drove off like it was no big deal-
We used to get calls at 3 am telling us the kid’s bicycles were out on the lawn. No, not kidding.
Maybe if Elder Bednar had given that talk 7 years ago we wouldn’t have moved and maybe even started a church going resurgence.
Instead we just moved…..right next door to Dave. But Lyle is such a better name for him.
I guess I better take that challenge as well. Good luck!!
ok, seriously. Can you imagine the serious bravado it would take to say to someone (as Elder Bednar did), “So you would rather be offended and risk eternal progression for yourself and the hundreds of posterity that will follow your example (or something like that)”
Wow. I’m impressed.
And yeah, doesn’t everyone have a Lyle? At least once in your life? Isn’t there always someone with some snarky comment about how you have too many kids, or not enough kids, or your grass is 1/4″ too long, or not quite the right shade of green. I always peek out to see who’s outside before I go get my mail. Strange.
Good luck becoming the kind of person I’d like to be someday. I know you can do it!
Yes, even Lyles have a Lyle in the neighbor hood (I’m still waiting for one to move into our new development). Elder Bednar’s talk was one of my favorites this fall. We’ve all felt offended at one point or another, or another, or another… It takes some serious character building to not allow others to “get under your skin” and itch like a kid at summer camp who slept in a patch of poison ivy.
So I will begin by not taking offense at cjane abusing my name.
Thanks Lyle, you are always so gracious.
People can’t offend me at church, they usually can’t offend me personally either. I will cop to sometimes feeling offended when people around me are targeted. Can you do that? Feel offended by proxy? It’s the same thing as being loyal, right?
Hooray and Hallelujah for Bednar’s talk. How many times have I said those words to some friend or neighbor (albiet not in such a nice way; more like a ‘I can’t believe you let them get under your skin enough to risk your testimony, that’s stupid’ kind of way.)
What a great post, and a great reminder. Isn’t it great when a Conference talk actually passes through the TV and into our bloodstrem and changes our life?
You are officially my new favorite blogger.
I love this…it almost had me snorting milk and cookies through my nose. It reminded me of a past home teacher who handed out lists to each of his families entitled “areas you need to improve on”. My husband and I rolled our eyes and chuckled at it, but another couple never came back to church after receiving said list. That was a real shame. I liked that Elder Bednar acknowledged that mean-spirited things happen, but we just have to rise above it. Anyway, great blog-entry, there is something comforting in knowing that everyone has their own “Lyle’s” to deal with!
While Lyle is a little rough around the edges, I would speak to the phone call you got re your car. Consider yourself lucky! These are great neighbors to have. My wife and I moved into a neighborhood a year ago with neighbors like this. On nice evenings, we frequently hang out in the front yard and chat (ok they drink beer too!). They called when we left our garage door open all day, and shut it for us when we left it open one night (a fallen broom tripped the sensor). They have helped me install a patio, lent tools, and warned off suspicious looking people. They don’t dismantle cars in the driveway, they don’t have loud parties, operate a porn studio, or let their dogs run wild. The best way to tackle with a Lyle is to practice verbal judo. Don’t attack, redirect. When he asks you about letting the dogs out infrequently, say I;m sure they would like to get out more than I can do it. Say, anytime you would like to take them, feel free!
Plus people get weird about animals. As bad or worse than children!
Wow. I’m thinking back now to the neighbor’s who “made me” dig up the thriving pussy willow I planted from my grandmother’s yard and transplant it on the other side (away from their property) of the yard. Where it promptly died.
A dear friend who very unsubtly suggested that the kids’ bikes and toys in my yard drove down property values in our neighborhood.
A mother who–also unsubtly–criticized my child-rearing habits openly to my friends while I was away.
And my husband who always reminds me that we choose to be offended.
And some random psychologist who tells us that when people say things to us we get to assign intent–and can therefore choose better motives than those that possibly existed.
And Elder Bednar who speaks straight and tells the truth.
This Lyle you speak of, have you ever wondered why he talks to you so much? Let’s step into his shoes for a second. He’s hanging out in his yard and see’s you approaching. Things he could say are running around in his head and his heart quickens to reach you before you sneak inside. Puttering around his house leaves minimal opportunity for practicing social skills, maybe that’s why he’s so cynical when speaking to you. When we DON’T like someone, we usually avoid talking to them, not the other way around. Kind of like little boys who pick on little girls… because they LIKE them. That’s how I see it.
My Lyle is named Irma and she lives across the hall, owns a dog named Princess, speaks in, let’s call it colorful language about every person and problem in our apartment building and sees it fit to school me in the ways of city life. More than once I’ve rolled my eyes after turning my back and heaved a sigh of relief on closing my door. She’s not a member of the church; but I have definitely been offended a time or two by her, which leads me to be less Christlike in my attitude toward her. I will have to work hard as well to take what she shares with a grain of salt and if I need to, wait until she’s safely inside her apartment before I climb up the stairs behind her, for the days I’m not feeling so able to be patient.
You’re a hoot Court!
I’m not easily offended, but people who leave the church because they have been offended do bother me. Who are they hurting? I guess I need to work on that because I’m sure I don’t always know the whole story. As a single mother, there have been plenty of comments made through the years that could have offended me, but I told myself the person couldn’t have meant it the way it sounded. That works well for me. Plus, my foot spends too much time in my mouth, and I hope people know I didn’t mean it the way it came out. Bottom line is, the gospel gives my life new meaning and keeps me going. I can’t afford to quit church because of hurt feelings.
I’d wager we all could come up with an example (or ten) of times when inappropriate things, even offensive things, have been said to us (”So…did it just, like, come out?”), but guess what.
It doesn’t make the church not true.
I think about a story I heard a long time ago about some guy in Africa or somesuch who was the only LDS person for thousands (hundreds?) of miles around, who each Sunday faithfully created his own sacrament meeting, complete with singing hymns and a few hours of gospel study. That right there is an example of pure religion, seeking truth for truth’s sake, internal motivation only. And then I hear of people deciding to ‘quit church’ because their neighbor said something.
SAID SOMETHING.
Give me a break.
In addition, I also must say: I’m not for hanging around offensive people. That can be toxic.