The Son that was Lost

So there I am at church, It has been a LONG sacrament meeting. The twins have been running at top speed the whole time. This week was the primary program and it was wonderful, but went pretty far over time. So the meeting ends and the lady sitting at the end of the row asks if she can let Lexi out into the isle when it looks like I am about ready to take her and Lincoln down to Nursery. I say sure and as I am about to walk out after her, the lady in front of me starts talking to me. I am trying to be polite and answer her question while at the same time making sure to keep Lexi in sight. The result is me looking like I am watching a tennis match on fast forward. Finally Lexi exits the Chapel, into the hall and I realize my conversation needs to be terminated yesterday. I ask my mom to finish answering her question for me and I race out after Lexi, weaving in and out of people, elbowing old ladies in the way. I get out into the hall and I realize that I see Lexi, but I can't find Lincoln. I turn around and look back in the pew to see if maybe he is still in our row with Grandma, but he isn't there. I don't see his little blonde head bobbing up and down between me and grandma either.....I race back to the hall and search diligently for him there too, while still trying to keep Lexi in my sights. I make it as far as the hall that breaks off the main foyer and he isn't down that hall either, he isn't on the stairs, he isn't by the drinking fountain, as far as I can tell, the boy simply vanished. I turn around and in a moment of pure tender mercy, I see Ben Murry sitting near the door to the chapel and I realize that he has been there for a while....I hurry to within shouting distance and call out, "Ben! Did you see Lincoln come out?" and he looks down at lexi a few people away and asks, "Did you mean Lexi?" I am feeling exasperated by this time, "No, I mean Lincoln. I know where Lexi is, but I can't find Lincoln.....did you see him?"

Well, Apparently I was holding him. The whole time. Yup. I am clearly that awesome. Poor guy. I just was so focused on not losing Lexi that I wasn't thinking straight, and then I thought the weight of him was the bag I was carrying I guess. I am sure that the fact that I have averaged 4-5 hours of sleep per night this week has NOTHING to do with it. Is it bedtime yet?

Forgiveness. A journey.

Foreword: I hope you will forgive the overly personal nature of this post. As always, but particularly today, I share my personal feelings and experiences in the hopes that they will touch someone's heart, allowing them to find the same peace I have found through the atonement and through allowing myself to forgive.  

What is forgiveness? What makes it possible for us to forgive others? Especially when the hurt is deep and intense. Or maybe when the hurt isn't directed at us but our children, parents, siblings, or friends? What makes it possible to allow that pain and hurt and anger and bitterness to go? I used to think that time was the healing factor, and maybe there is something to be said for time, but I am convinced that isn't the only factor. For example, how do you forgive someone NOW for pain they are STILL causing and pain they are going to CONTINUE causing in your life or in the lives of your loved ones? How can you forgive future offenses?

These are all questions that I have been grappling with for several months. I felt like I had forgiven Brian for the pain he had caused me, personally. I felt free from that dark and deep enemy of bitterness. But then he met the twins for the first time when they were 16 months old and suddenly I had so much hate and anger in my soul I felt like I might explode at any minute and possibly on an undeserving person. I could handle him not being a part of the kids lives and I could handle him being a full and active part of their lives, but what I felt he was doing was dropping in when it was convenient. I worried that he would wait another year and a half before his next visit and the reason that concerned me is because I know how it would affect my children. How confusing and hurtful it would be to them to know they had a Dad somewhere in the world, but to see him less than once a year. I grieved for their pain. I could just imagine them asking me, "Mommy? Does my Dad Love me? Why doesn't he come see me more often? Why am I the only one in my primary class who's Daddy doesn't live them them? etc." I could just imagine Lexi growing up having daddy issues because of the inconsistency. I could imagine Linc not knowing how to treat women or how to be a father because his father wasn't there for him. And certainly my children have wonderful examples all around them through other righteous and wonderful men, for which I am truly grateful, yet I was terrified to the depths of my soul for the damage that their father was creating day by day because of his lack of presence.

I didn't want my soul to be darkened and held down by the anger and bitterness I was feeling, but I was finding it nearly impossible to let it go when the offense was still happening.   Around this time, my dear friend, Sarah Murray, shared a poem with me that she had written after her own experience with letting go of pain and hurt through forgiveness.

The poison roots spread thick and deep,
Are reaching down and up and steep.
The blossoms drop with oozing puss,
That stings, and burns and smells like dross.

This tree of Malice with roots so thick,
Is the Deceiver's oldest, cruelest trick.
First it starts with the spore of pain,
Then spreads to hurt, then anger, then shame.

Though the fault of sorrow isn't yours to bear,
By nurturing enmity, hatred and care,
The spore soon turns from shrub to tree,
Then sucks and shrinks your soul, you see.

You can clear, and carve, and try to purge,
But when one stem's gone, another will emerge.
The more you examine and fret on this beast,
The more the poison on you will feast.

So how do you clear this terrible muck?
And free yourself from whence you are stuck?
You don't.
You can't.
It's not your job.
You've tried and tried with every sob.

The answer lies in one little word.
Forgiveness is this gleaming sword.
But this heavy sword is not yours to wield,
And neither is the gleaming shield.

For the hardest job of all, in the end,
Is letting go of hate, my friend.
Those two little words, "I forgive,"
Will be the means to let you live.

You see, the Hero of us all,
Has already fought and suffered this Fall.
He drank the bitter, poisoned root,
Absorbed your sorrow, that pierced his foot.

So the sword is his.
The shield he wields.
And when you make this hardest choice,
And whisper with convicted voice,

'I forgive my enemy',
It is only then that you are free.
For letting go of poisoned vines,
Is giving up a land of mines.

But when you do, and you shall see,
He's vaporized that ghastly tree.
For all that's left is an empty room,
With sunlight streaming through the gloom.

And if you look and scour and search,
There is no trace of that deathly birch.
For what you have instead of pain,
Is pure joy bursting from your frame.

For you are free and you are pure,
And the whole world is yours to explore!
And when you think upon this space,
You'll know He's made YOU a holy place.

As she read this poem to me, Tears were streaming down my face. I had experienced that feeling before of being free from that terrible pain, but I couldn't comprehend how to find it again when the offense was continually being committed every second of every day. I have spent months trying to understand with no break through or answer becoming clear.

Today at church, Crystal Field, a dear friend, sang a musical number that touched my heart. I happen to know exactly how much time she spent worrying and fussing over the song, wanting it to be just perfect and more importantly wanting it to be the song that someone needed to hear that day. What she didn't know is that I, the person who asked her to sing, was the person who needed to hear her song. She had received special permission to sing a song that wasn't in the hymn book, "Consider the Lilies." (Click this link to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's rendition. The story is more effective when you hear the music while you read the feelings I had while listening to the song)  I have heard the song countless times and haven't ever given it a second thought until I heard her beautiful, clear, perfect voice sing the third verse.

Consider the sweet, tender children 

At this point I have my sweet Lexi on my lap. I am thinking of her and Lincoln. After all, what children are more sweet and tender?

Who must suffer on this earth. 

At this point the tears are streaming down my face because of the pain that I know is in store for them. My sweet little Lexi looks up to see why her head is getting so wet, and seeing my tears, she gently touches my face as if to tell me that it will all be ok.

The pains of all of them He carried from the day of his birth.

And at this moment I it came full circle in my mind. I know how the atonement works personally and intimately. I am well aware that my Savior suffered every pain and affliction and heartache and grief so he could succor his people. Me specifically. I have felt him carry me when I was too broken and disheveled to carry myself. I have felt his strength when I had nothing left to give. I know his strength is real for myself. The problem was that I hadn't applied that knowledge to my children. If Christ could and had healed MY pain and MY sorrow, then couldn't he also heal theirs? Did I believe in the atonement enough that I believed he could take their sorrow and pain too? Did I believe that his atonement could make fair for them what their father was making unfair?

Before I had thought this grievous thing that he had done and was still doing was causing damage that couldn't be undone and I simply couldn't bare the fact that someone could emotionally destroy my children that way without there being a single thing I could do to stop it. I couldn't forgive him because I couldn't see a way for the pain he would cause to be fixed. But it can. Just like Christ has always been there for me and even more than he has been there for me he WILL be there for my children. We know from the scriptures that Christ has a tender place in his heart for the children. He will carry them through their pain. And because he allowed a way for my children to be whole despite this gaping lack of their father's presence in their life, I can forgive Brian. And now, Like Sarah said, What I have instead of pain is PURE JOY bursting from my frame. I feel peace. I can sit back and know that God is God and that he has a plan for me. For my children. I know that we will be ok.

So what is forgiveness? It is trusting the Lord to be in charge of justice and mercy and judgement. It is recognizing that there is no hurt and no pain that another human soul can cause that the savior hasn't already felt specifically so he can walk our path with us. It is recognizing that because our hurt, mangled and broken heart can be mended, possibly that same atonement can mend the offenders heart. It is a paradigm shift from selfishly demanding that the offender pay for his sins to selflessly granting them the same mercy that our master has already granted us. It is recognizing that these principles apply yesterday, today and forever, regardless of the offense.