This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the April 1991 Conference.
When I was little, I loved to go around the house (and yard…and everywhere) singing. I would happily play for hours, making up all kinds of songs about what I was playing. I can clearly remember one time I was walking up and down the driveway, singing an earnest and pathos-filled song about how I was an orphan, and I'd just gotten "a letter, that would change my liiiiiiife!" At this critical point, my brother popped out from behind the car, laughing his head off. I was hoping he hadn't heard, but that hope disappeared as he sang the last few lines back to me between gasps of laughter. I was so embarrassed. I still remember that rush of embarrassment washing through me, and me feeling like I could never sing in that joyous, unfettered way again.
Now, to be fair, I now see this as a fortunate experience to have occurred at home with my brother, rather than out in the world with some crueler or more disdainful observer. People can't just go around in this world un-self-consciously singing about being orphans! It was a life lesson that had to be learned. But I think about it sometimes—how quickly I lost the ability to let those open, spontaneous songs float out of my heart, once I realized they could be laughed at.
I, in turn, have been blessed with a houseful of children who also love to sing their little hearts out—loudly, stridently, and even (I am sorry to say) annoyingly at times—and who have to be reined in and restrained periodically—and who have even necessitated the rule "No singing at the table!" because the peace of the household must be maintained somehow—even though I mostly love their singing! Because they, too, have older brothers, I know that their innocent exuberance will at some point be quashed, and I know that isn't completely a bad thing. BUT—there is just something so pure about singing for joy. And I still feel it inside sometimes (though I don't always give it expression—unless no one is around! ha). And this quote from Elder Marvin J. Ashton made me think about that:
In the world, where there are often voices of pessimism and negative feelings, the voice of gladness is welcome indeed. Some seem to live with doubt, fear of the future, and sorrow for the past. If it is our nature to criticize or demean, we can cause the voices of gladness to be silenced. We need those who bring gladness into our lives. We need those who give encouragement and reflect optimism.
I want to be one of those who brings gladness wherever I go—to make people feel that they SHOULD be happy and love life, and that I will be happy with them. I don't want to ever silence someone else's voice of gladness! I've had a goal for a long time to never say, "I'm so jealous!" but only "I'm so happy for you!" when something good happens to someone else. I'm still working on doing it perfectly—but there are people in my life who do that for me, and I am so buoyed up by it.
I love the reminder that this voice of gladness is how God speaks to us as well, and that we can echo Him:
From the Doctrine and Covenants, we are given this counsel: “Now, what do we hear in the gospel which we have received? A voice of gladness! A voice of mercy from heaven; and a voice of truth out of the earth; glad tidings for the dead; a voice of gladness for the living and the dead; glad tidings of great joy. How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of those that bring glad tidings of good things.”The Lord would have us mingle our voices of gladness with His to give strength, encouragement, and joy to His children.
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