The Game of Life - From my Personal History Writing Class

I remember when I first played Milton Bradley’s Game of Life.  The rules were explained.
·    On your turn, spin the wheel. (If the spinner arm stops between numbers, spin again.)
·    Then move your car the number of spaces on the spinner.
·    Always move your car forward, in the direction of the arrows. (Just as in real life, you can't go back in time!) If you land on an occupied space, move ahead to the next open space.
·    Follow the space directions. This ends your turn.


 There was no shortage of facts.  There was even Career Guidance: How much money you earn depends not only on the amount of your salary, but also on how often players land on your Career Spaces (spaces with symbols that match your Career Card). For example, if you're the Accountant, players must pay you whenever they land on "Taxes Due" Career Spaces.

Yet, I didn’t understand  how the random rules fit together to make a strategy let alone an interesting game.  I didn’t understand that the reason you got life insurance was that in the end you got a huge dividend.  I didn’t recognize that by not buying fire insurance you could lose everything in one catastrophe.  I didn’t realize that by risking money on the stock market, you could win the money needed to survive the rough spots.  I just didn’t understand the game and was not a serious contender.   In real life, I’ve tried to play a little more competitive game, but life is still a mystery to me.

My life has turned out almost nothing like I had planned.  In many respects, it has been more fantastic than my wildest imagination – an exciting job, travel to distant lands, a wonderful husband, amazing children, adorable grandchildren, fantastic friends.  It has been incredible – and filled with delicious ambiguity.  I have had a great life. But I must confess that it has been harder than I ever thought I could endure.  I assumed there was a boundary to heartache – a threshold which no one would be allowed to exceed, but just as joy is unbounded, so is pain.

I just didn’t see the trials coming.  As a child, I lived in a pretend world where I had magical powers and every story had a happy ending.  While I am no longer a young woman, life has had to pull me kicking and screaming from the La-La land I resided in as a child.  I believed that if I kept the commandments and worked hard, every prayer would be answered in the affirmative and I would be spared heartache and pain.   Oh, I might have a temporary inconvenience to teach me about patience, but it would quickly dissipate in answer to a fervent prayer. I think that attitude was preached when I was a child.   “Man is that he might have joy,” right?  I thought that meant a life of bliss. What was I thinking?  I saw the pain of Joseph Smith’s life.  I understood the heartache and tears of his family.  I saw others suffer, but incongruously, I assumed that my life would turn out just the way I planned.  Why do I cling to such foolish beliefs?  Where is the growth in everything turning out perfectly?  If pain only exists to teach you a lesson and then quickly leaves when you see the light, how hard is that to endure?  What I continue to learn is that joy is not an absence of pain, but a realization of how far I have come and the lives that have become entwined in mine in the process.  Heavenly Father told us that “Man is that he might have joy”.  “Might” is the keyword.  We MIGHT have joy.   “Pain is inevitable.  Misery is optional.”  I think I’m getting it.  We might have joy.  It is up to us.