Sometimes I show up at church with a bunch of baggage: stuff at home, stress of inadequacies, feeling sapped. While I know people are looking for healing, love and acceptance, it can feel so hard to get to church with all my munchkins...let alone smile at anyone or even just smile in general!
This last Sunday, as I walked down the hall and through my mind rushed all the people whose names I had forgotten, all those things I hadn't done and the ways people should and could despise me, --thoughts that usually cause me to shrink within myself--another thought drifted into my consciousness: "Think rice, Mary...love the rice."
I did. I pictured those silly little jars of clean rice marked "love" and transferred that love to every person I passed. It is crazy how something so small can make such a difference. All of a sudden I was seeing people I loved and it was easy to smile. I felt such joy, such gladness at simply being there with people I loved. Sometimes I get so pre-occupied with all the stupid and offensive things that I say or the ways what I say could be taken, I get caught up in a little ball of stress that doesn't want to say or do anything with anyone. This jar thing has been miraculous at helping me. It is amazing how when you just feel love for others, your pre-occupation with self and your own limitations disappear.
Jars of rice. Seeing people with love...pure, unmerited, unearned love...love that doesn't need to be merited, love that doesn't need to be earned.
You know something? I have been doing the same thing when looking at myself in the mirror in the morning too, and that has been kind of crazy. I am becoming more and more okay with myself, who I am and what I do. I am human. I make mistakes, but I am also lovable and happy and kind. I try really hard and I do love people. Silly how our deep love and concern for others can take a twisted turn and become a burden and a challenge. The pure love we can direct at others through this process of just visualizing love is beautiful.
Maybe this love we feel is the gift spoken of in Moroni 7, just after the passage on "charity":
Wherefore, my beloved brethren, apray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are truebfollowers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the sons of God; that when he shall appear we shall cbe like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be dpurified even as he is pure. Amen.
I woke up a couple Sundays ago thinking about how much I love my kids.
You know, there is something about kids that makes them so lovable, despite their obvious "shortcomings": picking their nose, not washing their hands, not speaking "correctly," unique clothing styles, needing naps :). As I thought about this more, this "unconditional love" people generally show toward children, I realized we don't really consider them "shortcomings" when they are little...we just realize that there are certain things they haven't figured out yet and give them latitude (for the most part). We just love and support them and figure that they will "get it" eventually.
But somehow we have put a time-limit to how long we can tolerate this learning process. When adults--or even older teenagers--exhibit weaknesses (bodily noises, grooming patterns, behavioral peculiarities, deficiencies in education or experience), they are no longer cute. Somehow, we stop loving the person quite as completely as we would a child in that same state and we judge. "Surely," we think, "they should have learned this by now."
Why is that?
This realization has caused me to consider more deeply the admonition to "be as little children"; perhaps it could be extended to loving others completely, not "in spite of their weaknesses" but not even seeing their weaknesses?
45 And acharity suffereth long, and is bkind, and cenvieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily dprovoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
46 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail—
47 But acharity is the pure blove of Christ, and it endurethcforever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.
It is so easy to be comfortable around children. They accept you for who you are. They forgive quickly. Their needs are met simply. Their thought processes about others is not complicated. We could learn so much from children: to be more like them and to love others as they do. Let's stop putting a time-limit on when people should be "done" progressing, stop making a point at which our incomplete learning is now a short-coming.
Now, perhaps the hardest part is allowing this extended learning period for ourselves? "I just haven't got it yet" sounds a lot better than "this is a weakness I have" or "I am just so stupid! Everyone else..."
One of the most powerful moments in "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader" is missing in the movie.
It is the part where Eustace changes from a dragon into a boy...with the significant help of Aslan. If you will remember, Eustace was turned into a dragon after succumbing to greed and putting on a magic circlet on his arm. He is miserable as he realizes this selfish, sinful choice has possibly separated him from humankind forever. He cries himself to sleep one night, resigned to this awful fate and then has the following experience. This is in his words as he retells it to his friends:
“Then the lion said — but I don’t know if it spoke — You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was jut the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know — if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Edmund.
“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass, only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on — and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again. . . .”
I read these books several times in my youth and the imagery of this scene has always remained with me, the painful peeling off of layers to the tender, smooth, delicious self.
Through the past few months, as I have struggled with facing the probing question "what lack I yet?" and God's merciful yet often painful answers, to my mind has come this image: “The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was jut the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know — if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.”
The process has been painful--it hurts like "billy-oh!"--but has been such fun to see it coming away. I am still peeling and know I have far to go to be like my Savior, but the layers underneath are looking beautiful. I am so grateful for my Savior who is doing the peeling...who knows just how much I can handle and who sends me refreshment to restore me through the mercy and forgiveness of Him and others around me, others whom I have hurt or offended. I pray He will remain with me to shape me into the tender, new creature that is His.
It has been quite a learning curve these last few days. This "what lack I yet" personal question to God has had some pretty deep answers:
-I need to treat my husband not only as my friend, but as a real person...not a wall to lash out at when things go wrong.
-I need to start treating my oldest son more consistently as an adult.
-I need to be still.
I see my children move around, in constant motion, and have felt to ask them to learn the art of stillness. However, yesterday, I started seeing myself reflected in their busy motions. We need to be more still. My children need it. I need to stop planning things for a while, stop getting our family in motion to do, do, do. I am not that kind of person that necessarily enjoys busy-ness, but I feel compelled to do it as I see many needs around me and the many desires of my children to do different things.
As I have reflectively observed myself and my intentions, I find that I do seek to be busy, equating busy with valuable, with productive, with "being my best." It is true that I am busy doing awesome and meaningful things. However, the lesson right now seems to be to learn stillness. To learn gentleness. To learn quiet: quiet of spirit.
I have seen that I am really a gentle person underneath all those layers of brusque-ness and initiative and drive. Maybe I have felt that I have had to fight this gentle person within to be what God wants me to be. Maybe I am wrong...maybe.
"What is the point?" This question has been at the forefront of my thoughts lately, and I almost feel myself going through my days as a third-party observer as I ponder the point and direction of my days. My musings about time go ever onward or ever deeper...I am not sure which. Time. God exists outside of our human limitation of 24 hours, and yet He has us live with this limitation. Why? I wonder if it is because when we are resurrected and eternally progressing, without the limitation of time constraints, we need to have already established what is important...what are we going to be doing with that existence: that Time without Time. No 24 hour cycle. No minute to minute demands. No schedule? Maybe that is part of what this life is all about: to help us decide what matters most. To allow us to feel, through trial and error, what makes us happy and what would we do with our limitless existence? I have been thinking about this as I schedule a day full of items...and miss the mark with much of the timings. How much does it matter, I wonder. How "structured" do I need to be? As a homeschooling mom, I have a lot of autonomy. While the burden of stewardship over my children's education is ever-present, I am at my own discretion as to how to best conduct it. I have been experimenting with being strict with time and with being looser in my strictness with my schedules...to no satisfaction. I am afraid the "times and seasons" rule still applies and, as my dear Quinn would put it, I must decide that on a case by case situation. I always have a loose structure of my time, something in my homeschooling circles called "Structure Time, not Content": I schedule basic breakfast time, morning ideas, lunch time, afternoon quiet time and ideas, dinner time, and any officially scheduled items in the day. Some of my children panic when they wake up and see nothing on the board for the day...or, worst yet, the schedule from four day ago still up on it. But I digress... What is the point? What is the most important thing for my kids to learn? What is my role in all of this? Am I a home-improvement expert? Am I a homeschooling goddess that spends her day from sun-up to sun-down teaching and inspiring my children? Am I an environment creator, producing amazing and healthy meals and protecting the spirituality of our home? Do I schedule meaningful field trips? Do we invite others to join us, to bless and be blessed by us or do we cherish quiet times alone? I am sensing a pattern in all of this as I write this. I am too much an "all or nothing" kind of gal. I like to "pre-program" my life: make the decision for the week on Sunday and then move forward on automatic pilot. Maybe this is because of the barrage of suggestions, questions and comments that I get from my darlin's all day long :).
I also continually toss around in my mind "good, better, best": evaluating and then second-guessing every stinkin' choice I make with my day...and it gets exhausting!
The other day, as I stood up from one task, doubting my choice in doing it and over-analyzing the next one, I berated myself for most likely not doing enough.
"Father!" I cried out. "I cannot do this any more!!! I am so tired of feeling like I am not enough! Like I am already behind and can never do enough! Please help me and tell me what to do next!!"
I stopped. I listened.
"What if I told you that you have already done everything I wanted you to do for the day, Mary?"
Shock.
It was only 12:30 pm. What?
"Mary. You have already done everything I wanted you to do for the day. The rest of the day is yours."
I broke down, in tears, as peace washed over me...a hugely unreal and unusual feeling for me.
This experience has really made me wonder how much of my "frantic doing" is necessary and how much God really wants me to do. I feel more and more that He wants me to chose, to figure things out, to start making those awesome decisions of how I will create and how I will spend my time and who I want to become. And then enjoy it :).
Whatever it is, I have been really considering what I should be engaged in doing, how I should be thinking, serving and loving. Tonight, I had a little "music therapy" while I pondered in a deliciously quiet house...and fed my adorably pudgy little six month old his evening dosage of solids. I included the songs just in case someone else could benefit from my "line-up."
I was having a hard time with loving someone and realized that I needed to love them for them...and show them true charity..."what love really means." Is this not what I want for myself? What does that kind of love look like? This is a huge part of why we are on this earth. Relationships. Helping others come to Christ. Really loving, accepting, and helping others on this earth to fulfill their destiny...and just feeling loved.
What would I do tomorrow if I knew that I was dying?
Cool thing: I don't think I would change anything...makes me think.
I am having a "picnic" with my little girls, playing Monopoly with my "middles," taking a walk with my girls and babies after lunch, enjoying St. Lucia's Day courtesy of Avot (her last time before her mission...darn it and good all at the same time!). Friends are coming over for dinner...which they are bringing, and my husband works at home so I get to see my best friend all day long. I have an adorable baby, kids to snuggle and a house that keeps me warm and dry and in which we are making progress (drywall almost done in the dining room!). Lek just finished his ACT and has big plans for mission and college, just completing an awesome and inspiring talk in church today.
The Goob makes me laugh...and everyone else. (After that episode above...you know, the crying one? He came bounding up, going on about some delightful Drew-ish thing or another and then saw my face. He stopped mid-word and his blue eyes widened, "What's wrong?!" The dramatic pause of it all made me burst out laughing. "Oh, I am so sorry! What did I do?!" he apologized. I just kept laughing. Love that guy.)
Liliputian nurtures and loves me and everyone around her, Pipalicious is just delicious, Hava is a warm, snuggly bundle of joy, Papaya brings life and light to everything, not to mention her ability to play longer with her baby brother than any Energizer Bunny, and Spooner is just a doll.
Heaven, right? Why am I still grumpy sometimes? Is it enough to just sit and enjoy this bounty? What about all those Christmas cards--spreading love and joy, those last-minute presents I haven't finished, the messes, the laundry, the dishes...the poor, the needy, the dear ones that are suffering all around me?
Enough, Mary. Back to calm :).
I can only imagine...what it would be like. It really puts everything in perspective.
I am living. Every day. It means something: to sit, to snuggle, to love, to reach out, to share, to weep, to laugh. I am living. And one for my little angel in heaven:
Good night, my friends and family. Thanks for bringing beauty to my life. If for nothing else, I am looking forward to heaven when I get to sit down with all of you and "catch up." :)
I did. I pictured those silly little jars of clean rice marked "love" and transferred that love to every person I passed. It is crazy how something so small can make such a difference. All of a sudden I was seeing people I loved and it was easy to smile. I felt such joy, such gladness at simply being there with people I loved. Sometimes I get so pre-occupied with all the stupid and offensive things that I say or the ways what I say could be taken, I get caught up in a little ball of stress that doesn't want to say or do anything with anyone. This jar thing has been miraculous at helping me. It is amazing how when you just feel love for others, your pre-occupation with self and your own limitations disappear.
