You have trials. I have trials. Some years it feels like a natural sprinkling of struggles to work through, and other years it seems like the windows of heaven on the “other side” opened - pouring out so many storms there is not room to receive them.
When asked to share how the Atonement has been an anchor of strength and source of healing in my life, my mind naturally went to the remarkable number of difficulties experienced in the last several years. Like so many people, those trials have included infertility, a severe car accident, loss of children and loved ones, financial hardship, house disasters, car problems, chronic pain, mourning the loss of health and quality of life, being affected by the dishonest choices of others, the rollercoaster of starting a business, moving literally a dozen times in about as many years, all in addition to dealing with regular life. Needless to say I was surprised when my mind skipped over all of those and kept going back to a single experience from over 10 years ago. I have learned trials have the greatest meaning, purpose, and feel more like blessings when they can be used to have compassion for or help someone else; I hope with the following account it can be so. My husband was a graduate student working on his Masters and Doctoral degrees simultaneously. Consequently our student debt was through the roof and seemingly to the heavens. Loans typically covered the student, not a student’s family. We paid our tithing, budgeted, accounted, watched every penny and didn’t do or buy anything extra. (I remember dreaming of a $4.99 watch at Wal-Mart). We had 1 child, rent, bills, and a car payment. I was teaching a class once a week to earn a little extra for diapers. Still, we found ourselves needing financial assistance for a short time. Despite not wanting to, we needed to; I filed all the documents and took the required course to receive a little help to put food on the table. It definitely wasn’t “living the dream” so to speak, but it was what it was. We chose to live by Elder Wirthlin’s counsel – “Come what may and love it.” And we did. Those years of sacrifice and stretching were some of the sweetest - both at the time and looking back. Over time, through garage sales, babysitting, gifts, etc. we had saved enough money to visit our families during a holiday break. After we arrived I spent a lot of time helping my mom, which also allowed aunts and uncles to get to know our child. While grocery shopping with my mom for the holiday feast, she kept talking about what a burden the cost would be, how they couldn’t afford so much food for so many people for just one meal, and how lucky we were to receive assistance. (My parents were not severely struggling financially, but it has always been an insecurity my mom has). She suggested I use the “extra” we receive to help pay for the groceries, as we would be eating as well. I was torn – wanting to help my mom but knowing it was not “extra,” and that by using it we wouldn’t have sufficient groceries when we returned to school. Though nervous, I paid our significant-to-us yet meager month stipend for the groceries. I kept reassuring myself with thoughts of hope – it would work out; I was honoring my mother; I was helping her and relieving her fears. Whether it was paying for food, cleaning, cooking, or helping in the yard, I felt confident I was doing all I could to help lighten the load my mom seemed to feel in having everyone home, despite this being her one proclaimed dream. All of that is what made the following encounter even more painful. I had noticed since arriving “home” that my sister seemed a little on edge. After a couple days, I was visiting with my mom while she did her make-up. I thought it was safe to share, “It seems [sister’s name] is tired, often flustered or that something is bothering her. Is there anything I can do to help her?” My mom didn’t have any specific ideas (in fact I am not sure she had even noticed) but I felt better knowing she was aware – of the situation, that I cared, and that if a volcano erupted I might escape any wrath. Later that day, I was in the pink floral bedroom I had known from birth until I left for college. I was kneeling on the floor with my little one on my lap, her cute piggy toes over my garbage can so I could clip her toenails. My sister walked by my open door and made it known she was upset that I would clip toenails in my room over mom’s carpet, and not the bathroom. Totally caught off guard, I gave a simple apology, noted the trashcan and my desire to care for mom’s house. I finished clipping with the door closed. My heart pounded and I tried to calm down. I focused on my little one and reminded myself this was just a poor response from my sister’s bad mood. If I could shake it off before I went downstairs all would resume as normal. Apparently my apology was not enough. I have no clue what my sister said to my mom after she left my doorway, or what could possibly have warranted what happened next. My daughter and I went downstairs to visit and ended up in the backyard to play. While there, my mom stormed out and angrily shared some words – some of which included how I hadn’t done anything to help, was being selfish, unkind, and making more work for everyone. ?!!! My chin must have hit my toes, though my heart may have made it down there first. Where was this coming from? I felt hurt, confused, and betrayed. Even if I had hung around lazily the past few days those things still wouldn’t have been true. To rub lemon juice in a so-called paper cut, I had been happy, buying groceries, and was actively trying to help and go the extra mile – not for any praise, but just to keep things calm (within myself and in the home). I’m sure the neighbors in every direction heard my mother lecture me. As tears filled my eyes, I said, “I’m sorry; that is not true.” With her harsh response that followed, I shouldn’t have, but gave way to a moment of hurt and anger; I regret to say I told her “Then you can buy your own darn groceries!!!” (I may have said a similar word for darn). I can’t even remember if I got slapped or if she just screamed at me and walked inside. Coming right out as if on cue, my angry, offended sister also expressed her disgust with me and with what I had just said to my mother (yes, I shouldn’t have). She, along with everyone else, was unaware I had purchased the groceries, as my mom still had the nerve to complain about the financial burden of the food. It hurt - every time, especially knowing we would be struggling after this not so happy, sacrificed for, long-awaited holiday. After my sister finished giving me a piece of her mind, she stormed inside and locked the door. I stood there for a moment completely shocked. I walked around to the front door – also locked. As I went to the garage, it was closing. Yep. My own family had just locked me out. As far as I knew, the only thing I could and would have done differently was not fall into talking back and of course my word selection. The whole scenario spun in my mind like a crazy, confusing dream. I quickly thought of what seemed the only rational option to escape the madness; I hollered to the upstairs window for my husband to let me in, or, if I wasn’t allowed - to pack our things. I simply stated we were leaving and would start our drive to his parents’ house earlier than anticipated. He let me in, and we went upstairs to “my bedroom.” (I have no idea where my child was or what was put in her mouth and mind during the next few hours). I fell to my knees at the side of “my” bed, a place of personal prayer for much of my life. My husband followed and the emotion of days came pouring out my tear ducts. I explained my perspective or “side” as that is the only thing I truly understood; he had heard the rest from upstairs. I pleaded with him to tell me if there was ANYTHING he could think of – from that incident or during the past few days, that I should have done differently and could apologize for (aside from what I already knew). Clearly I was missing something; yet, there was an underlying feeling of reassurance and personal peace. My husband sat quiet listening, but did counsel me to apologize only for things that were true. This would include swearing and clipping toes in the bedroom, but then what? Whether I had actually done anything else or not, they had somehow felt hurt by me. Wrong or ridiculous, their feelings were real, and so I would sincerely do all I could to make it right. Sadly, I knew there was a risk of being the target in another game of emotional darts. How would I walk into the lion’s den downstairs and offer my apology without starting an entirely new circus? I wondered what falsehoods were shared about the ordeal as they all happily reconvened to play a game around the kitchen table, while I struggled, cried, and prayed upstairs. I was hurt – the deep kind of hurt and betrayal that is hard to forget and inevitably puts a guard up for a really long time. My husband and I discussed what Jesus would do, and came to the simple conclusion that although He hadn’t done anything wrong He stood there. He took it. He loved them anyway. So after another prayer, I went down. I excused myself for interrupting their game. Facing them felt humiliating, and embarrassing. I kept the mental picture of the Savior in my mind for strength – not comparison. I chose my words very slowly and carefully. Someone at the table said “thank you” in acceptance of my apology but the rest just nodded as if they deserved every word and more. No one apologized to me; no one considered his/her own part. No one ever thanked us for the groceries. My help cleaning and cooking was now expected and taken as efforts to make restitution rather than being genuinely helpful. After I apologized for everything I truly could, I went back up stairs. More tears flowed, mostly of relief this time, though adding to my massive headache. I again fell to my knees next to my husband who was sitting on my bed waiting. I thanked him for listening and for his guidance. I prayed in gratitude for the stability, peace, and tangible strength gifted to me through the Atonement, and requested more help, healing, and strength to move forward as I felt was right. I had words of a prophet fill my mind – reminding me that Heavenly Father loves us because He is good, not because we are always good. Likewise, I wanted to be good, love, and forgive because that is who I want to be, not because they were “good” to me. Yet during that very prayer, my eyes of understanding opened and my heart broke all over again – deeply but for a different reason. I realized in the most painful, heart-wrenching hypocrisy that the way I had been treated was probably not completely different from how I might have reacted in past situations with my husband. I stopped my prayer, weeping and shaking my head, my hand covering my mouth in painful recognition and self-disapproval. I shared my realization with my husband and asked with my whole soul for forgiveness. I knew there had been times when he probably had done nothing wrong, and in my bad mood or frustration had wrongly accused him, gotten angry, or yelled. A specific instance didn’t need to come to mind; I was sure it had happened and I knew the hurt on a level I wish I hadn’t. He likely did what Jesus would do – stood there and took it, loving and forgiving me anyway. Not only did I have a Savior who understood my suffering that day, but to some extent my husband also. That repentant moment brought healing, cleansing, and hope for doing better in the future. The opportunity to recognize and apologize for that error meant more to me than I could express, and made the ridiculously wrong exchanges that had transpired with my family a little worth it. Today, I wish I could say I have responded perfectly ever since. I wish there weren’t emotional scars and fears created that day. There are still often eggshells to walk on, unfair accusations, and gobs of guilt. But through the Savior’s peace – that only He can give, and through His help – in yoking myself with Him, my burdens are truly made easier. I had previously wondered, “Do I even want to be with my family forever?” Because of Him, I can see my family through eyes of compassion; I know that someday we won’t have our mortal weaknesses, and will be able to interact and love more perfectly like our Savior. In the meantime, I am often on my knees in prayer, repenting for my many mistakes and in gratitude for the promised blessings and cleansing that come. Thankfully, we have unlimited access to His help, strength, perfect love, and forgiveness. Because the peace and literal power His Atonement provides are so real – sometimes almost tangible, I increasingly learn to see my trials through a different, enduring, and eternal perspective (even when they unfortunately pour out simultaneously). I fully trust that somehow each will be consecrated for my good and that through the Atonement, everything will be made right some day – for me, for them, for you. - Anonymous |
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