The Learning Days

Abe has learned a lot recently:

He learned how to take his own picture for his new Facebook page. Drool is the equivalent of a rock hard six-pack on Baby Facebook. (Drives the ladies crazy).

We have sufficiently trained our dog to know that Abe can do whatever he wants and he has to just take it. As proof, here is Abe doing curls with Hercules (the most ironic name for a 5lbs poodle mix ever).

We took Abe to Disneyland recently and while he didn't scream with glee, this was his face the majority of the time. We are pretty sure he loved it.

Finally, we taught him how to shoot a gun. Thataboy.

Oh Shame, there you are.

One of my many social quirks is that I have an overwhelming sense of shame or more specifically embarrassment. If someone says something for which they should be embarrassed I take it upon myself to fill myself with their missing shame. Growing up, I couldn't watch The Wonder Years, because it portrayed Kevin growing up and acting like a child which can be pretty embarrassing. Scenes in between Kevin and Winnie were the worst. The muscles in my extremities would start to suffer from RLS (restless leg syndrome) and I needed to get up and walk it off before I could come back.

I feel the same way in church when some people go off their given topics into personal stories that are either too personal or have little to no relevance to the topic at hand. It is common in some churches to hear conversion stories about how someone was leading a terrible life and then they found God and are now saved and condemn their former life. They always spend the bulk of the time in their story on what they were doing. They were snorting lines of coke off an underage prostitute while simultaneously running guns for a Colombian cartel which led them to beating their wife and screaming at their children. Then they say they found God and condemn all the awesome stuff they just finished describing in perfect detail.

Mormons are a little different in that we aren't encouraged to share past transgressions because once you have repented of those things and changed your life, you really shouldn't dwell on them, and let's be honest, it doesn't do any good to share them other than to let people know that you were a complete deviant. Not that everyone thinks everyone else is perfect or that that is supposed to be the perception; we just believe that your mistakes are in between you and God.

So when someone at church decides to do that, my natural reaction is to feel embarrassed for them. I put my head in between my knees and rock back and forth until my wife taps me on the back and tells me it's over.

My overwhelming shared embarrassment coupled with my complete inability to hide my emotions compliment each other well. When someone says something incredibly stupid and their audience says, "oh that's nice," I can't help but grimace and groan. While my social quirk certainly makes me uncomfortable, maybe it should be more widespread. Would people think about what they say if everyone gave their honest reaction to their quick to speak, slow to think comments? If everyone stopped placating those that shared their most private stories (for which they should be ashamed) would they stop telling them? Well, here is to hoping so.