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. 

Love is selflessness

I have been thinking a lot about love today. What is love? How is it defined? How do you know if you are truly loved by someone? How do you know if you truly love another person? I have read the 5 love languages book several times over. I think there is a lot to say for his perspective on love, but for some reason it doesn't feel completely accurate to me. It is still missing something. The five love languages are Words of Affirmation, Gifts, Physical Touch, Quality time and Acts of service. I grew up completely not understanding how any soul could possibly feel loved by acts of service. How does mowing the lawn translate into love? Dishes? Laundry? Any of it? It seemed like the most unromantic of all of the languages to me. Today I was thinking about that a lot. Acts of service really has grown on me exponentially throughout the last 4-5 years, yet up until tonight I still held on to a piece of my past feelings. It's great and all, but not the way I prefer to feel love.

 

Not anymore. I have been converted and I want to tell you why. True Love is selflessness. When you really love someone you want what is best for them. You want to make them happy. Your thoughts change from self centered to centered on that person. Their needs become more important to you than your own needs. Their dreams become your dreams because you want to see the look on their face when they realize their dreams. Love has been made over in this world of ours to look like something other than what it should be. All of the movies and magazines and articles scream at us that Love is all about sex. They tell us that looks should be the primary factor in love. Physical touch is made to be the primary love language. Movies often show the physical progression of a relationship without much in the way of the emotional and cognitive sides. But that's just the thing. Physical touch isn't a bad thing, but it comes back to one basic principle. Love is selfless. If there is any other motive, it becomes lust or manipulation. Not love. Affection is important in a relationship. It is essential in a healthy relationship, but it the key is motive. The minute our physical relationship is about what it does for me instead of for you it has turned from lust to love. The same principle is found in all of the languages. They can be a show of love or a manipulation depending on the motive behind them. The words "I love you," for example, when said while a spouse is neglecting his or her companion are not an expression of love. They are a manipulation that says instead, "I know that I am spending my time on something or someone other than you, and I don't want you to be mad at me, but I don't want to put you first, so I will use these words to try to placate you." Yet those same words when said by a spouse who has just cleaned up the puke of their pregnant sweetheart carry more weight. They say, "You are my companion through better or worse, and though throw up is nasty and makes me feel queasy, you need me right now and I will be here to take care of you because you mean the world to me." The same principle can be carried through all of the languages.

 

This leads me to conclude that the difference is all in the motive. It is in the selflessness. I now proudly say that my primary Love language is Acts of service. What is there that is more romantic than that? I have been that wife who carries more than her fair share of the work load in the household. Dishes need to be done. Laundry needs to be done. Bathrooms need to be cleaned. The lawn needs to be mowed. The list is never ending. A household has chores that have to be done. I think when I was younger I didn't understand that. The reason must have been that I didn't know what it takes to keep up a house. How can you truly appreciate all that your mother and father do for you when you've never had to do what they do yourself? After having been in a marriage that required me to do all of that, I fully appreciate the work load. Now that I have the privilege to live with my parents I get the unique opportunity to watch my parents again as role models from the perspective of an adult. I see the kind and tender things they do for each other and for me and my babies and it is enough that it brings tears to my eyes. The trash doesn't walk itself out the door, yet somehow, it makes it out and every time it goes out that I wasn't  the one who had to take it I recognize that it is someone in my home screaming their love to me. Someone, whether it was my mom, my dad or my brother, someone loved me and this family enough that they put our collective needs before their own. Before sitting down and relaxing they took the trash out. There is nothing that means more. Why? it's not a matter of worldly romance. It is a matter of one soul placing the needs of another soul above their own. A husband going to work 40-50 hours every week to put food on her table and a roof over her head. A wife taking the hours to prepare his favorite meal at 5:30 PM sharp. The husband who nearly kills himself during the week with his workload who then uses his Saturday to mow the lawn instead of go golfing. The mother that stays up all night with a sick baby so the husband can function at work. The wife who goes stir crazy in the house all day without a car so that her husband can use it to go to work. Examples could go on and on. These people making sacrifices of themselves because they have MADE THE CHOICE to actively love their spouse by serving them. There is nothing more romantic to me than that, Than the active choice to selflessly love and serve another person. So yes, Acts of Service is my primary Love language. I think it always has been, I just never understood it before. I still love and appreciate all of the others. After all, who doesn't appreciate any gesture that says, "I was thinking of you, so I bought you your favorite treat/took the afternoon off so we could go fishing together/wrote you a love letter/gave you a foot and back massage?"

 

I have been so scared of the idea of being in a relationship again. I think this understanding ties right in to that. I think I was scared because nearly all of my dating/marriage relationships have been with men, or rather boys, who romanced with their own interests at heart. I think at times I probably had my own interest at heart as well. But as I am contemplating this true definition of love I realize that I DO know how to love in that complete and total selfless way. I realize also that if I found a man who loved me by caring for my interest needs above his own, I wouldn't have an ounce of fear in being with him forever and a day.

 

That is the man I am looking for. That is the relationship I am looking for. That is the self that I am striving to become. So how to proceed? Work to become as selfless as possible so when Prince Selfless himself comes along he sees a mirror of himself in that way in me. Ready. Set. Go.

 

 

 

Quotes that fit:

"Being in love isn't a feeling. It is a choice. It is an action. It is a habit." -Unknown

"Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense. It is not resentful." -A Walk to Remember

The House That Built Me

I have heard people say that Music is the Language of heaven and I would have to agree. There have been too many times in my life that I have heard a song that somehow communicated a meaning to my soul deeper than words alone could have.

Today I had one of those experiences. I was driving and Miranda Lamberts song, "The House That Built Me" came on the radio. (Feel free to look it up on Youtube....hearing it makes a difference) I have heard that song countless times before and always liked it because of its sound, but never really connected to it. Today was different. As I listened to the story behind the song as well as the words I was touched by the thoughts that came up. It was as though these thoughts were being placed in my brain rather than my brain creating the thoughts.

The story is about a woman who takes quite a drive to get to her old house that she grew up in. She is feeling lost and broken and is searching, yearning, aching, for some sense of the self she used to know. She goes to her old house out of desperation, singing, "I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside of me might starting healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that Maybe I could find myself.... if I could just come in, I swear I'll leave, Won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me." I realized that I fit this girls story in my own way.

I have little emotional attachment to any specific house I lived in growing up, but I have that exact same attachment to that girl that I used to be....before. I moved to Utah a happy-go-lucky, simple little girl and I came home a deeply emotionally destroyed wretch. Not only was I treated poorly, but I also changed myself so I could cope with my situation more easily. I eventually learned to numb every ounce of myself so I couldn't feel anything. You see, if you can't feel at all then you can't feel pain and it's worth it. Not feeling anything, even the spirit seemed a small price to pay for never having to feel the complete lack of hope and total despair.  So when came home I had some of those some feelings as our girl from the story. I felt like when I was here, in tricities before, I was someone else. I wasn't that broken weak girl that I had become. I wanted her back, so I came back.....but to what? What was my "House that built me" so to speak? What was it that could remind me of who I was and fill that emptiness? She is trying to fill her emptiness and fix her brokenness by visiting a house in hopes that it will remind her of who she is. In hopes that it will give her a sense of self back. So what is it for me? I was searching for that distant person, but where could I turn? Where could I look?

And then it hit me. I happened to be on my way to the temple while this whole thought process was taking place. It was to be my first time back to the temple in around 9 months, give or take. At one point after moving back home the temple had become my safe haven. It had become a place that I went weekly to commune with my father in heaven. There was nothing I loved more than being in the celestial room, that peaceful beautiful, quiet and perfect room, praying my soul out, often crying my heart out. It was the one place that I felt like I could pray and receive answers to my prayers and actually trust them. I had come from a rough emotional place and was building back my faith in my father in heaven week by week. And then life hit. My schedule changed, I started school, and suddenly time for the temple was few and far between. And slowly I started losing all that ground I had worked so hard to gain. I was lost. Without going into too much detail, for several months I didn't have a recommend. I COULDN'T go to the temple. It was a hopeless and helpless feeling. "You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can. I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am"  Well it has been a long hard road, but tonight, for the first time in way way too long, I was on my way to the temple.

And Those are the circumstances this song found me in. This poor girl, in her story is searching desperately for the emptiness and coldness and brokenness inside her to heal. I have been so broken and so empty and cold. And, like her, I was going back to the house that built me. The house of the Lord. "I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could just come in, I swear I'll leave, won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me......" All of the sudden the song holds so much more meaning. I know I can't ever go back and be that little girl again. I can't be that carefree teenager. I can't change where I have been. I am a divorced, single mother of twins.I can't be that little girl sitting on daddy's lap without a care in the world again. I can't go back to THAT house that built me. But I CAN become rebuilt in HIS House. I can become a peaceful being in HIS house.  I can build my testimony and faith continually. I can become a strong woman of courage. I may not be able to get the old girl back, but something tells me the one I will end up being will be far better. Step. By. Step. 

warning. emotional vomit to follow:
hmmm.  well that was weird.  i usually do a pretty DANG good job of being not only content with my life but loving every second to the fullest.  i recognize that my situation isn't ideal, but i also understand that i don't have to let that change my outlook, personality, or mood.  But it's been a long time since i had a good cry.  i was overdue i guess.  add in 5 nights without sleep and 5 days of CRAZY babies plus some added monthly hormone shifts....ya.  no getting around that.  I was reading both of my sister in law's blogs tonight and they both mentioned at some point how they have the best husbands in the world......and it hit.  i broke down completely.  if i ever had had a husband one tenth as great as my brothers i would be the luckiest woman alive.  i don't know if it was jealousy....or if it was a general frustration that many wives who have it good don't get how good they have it....or if it was loneliness....or maybe it was fear that there aren't any left in the world that are as good as my dad and brothers....maybe self pity....i really don't know what all was exploding inside of me. what i do know is that now it's out, and that's usually the first step.  step two?  get back on that horse.  what am i grateful for....lincoln.  lexi.  eyes that CAN cry. good eyemakeup remover so i won't look like a zombie forever. a heart that can hurt and feel pain...because if it can hurt than one day it can love and feel joy too. brothers that are amazing husbands so their wives never have to hurt like i am. medicine that will help lincoln feel better...AKA sleep. bedtime so mommy has time to decompress. i am so grateful that God created opposition.  i love the happy feelings and good times, but i only know their joy because of the sad moments and hard times.

Sunday

Today I woke up super early....oh wait, I just don't sleep at all. I GOT up super wary and showered and did my makeup flawlessly and straightened my hair with great care. I wore my new clothes!!!! Then I organized all my stuff. Did laundry. Packed a diaper bag. That kinda thing. Then we had French toast for breakfast. Ohhhh yummers.

Then we went to Jordan and mandees ward. Sacrament was interesting. Linc wasn't super stoked about life. After sacrament they both slept for Sunday school. Then I went to RS alone cause Mandee was with sawyer. Luckily try introduce me and said, "this girl is handling 4 month old twins on her own, so if needed, give her a hand." I didn't ask them to say that but was grateful. A lady in front of me immediately turned around and asked for Lexi. :-):-) the rest of the meeting was peachy.

We talked about the parable were te people work all day for a penny an others worked only an hour for a penny and how that fits Ito our lives. It was a good lesson. I really enjoyed it. Those sisters were super sweet.

Then we went out to the farm and I read twilight while babies slept. Then everyone and their dog came over for dinner. Holy crawdad. These people sure can throw a party...and do....like every day. Sunday unlike thanksgiving. Every freaking week. It's ridiculous. Ridiculously amazing. Then we cleaned up and hung out for a bit

Then Lexi, bless her soul ha her first terrible twos fit. She screamed like crazy. So we went back to the school house and she fell asleep on the way. I got mostly ready to go and Jordan and I played cards and ate icecream. :-)

Saturday

I didn't sleep at all Friday night to Saturday. I got a nasty cold. So Saturday was special.

It started out great though. I became a rebel child and didn't wash my hair but took a bath instead which felt awesome! The steamy air was great to clear out my sinuses. Then when ingot out Jordan and Mandee had made crepes!!!! Mmmm mmmm good. So heavenly. I looooove crepes. Then we went out to the farm pretty early. I felt yucky so I took a long nap. :-) and of course played with the babies. Then we went for a walk. Then we went to the farm for another bonfire! So great. Hot dogs and s'mores. Mmmmgoooood.