Forgiveness: I Didn't Have a Picture, so I Wrote 1000 Words

Understanding is when truth reaches the heart. I knew the truth, but it never had the chance to reach my heart.

I was taught as a young child that forgiveness was essential. I didn’t get the purpose, because no matter how many times I forgave my brother, he still tormented me. I remember the relief I felt when I learned that Christ taught us that we only had to "seventy times seven" times. If I hadn’t met my quota yet, I knew I’d be there soon!

I later learned two important things 1) Christ often speaks figuratively rather than literally; he never intended for us to stop forgiving somebody after 490 times but to forgive endlessly, and 2) forgiveness is essential to our happiness. I was intrigued by a news article I stumbled upon about a woman who had forgiven the young man who had killed her son. She had let go of her anger and basically adopted the killer as her own son, providing for a more fulfilling life for both of them. I was amazed by her strength and wisdom.

I thought I knew all about forgiveness because it’s generally very easy for me to forgive people if a) they’re still learning and just made a stupid mistake, b) they didn’t realize how their actions would inconvenience me, or c) they have a short-coming that I know about that makes it difficult to behave appropriately.

But I recently learned that I didn’t know anything about forgiveness.

Somebody I really trusted did something that hurt me a lot. Long story short, it seemed like they worked hard to get to know me, made me feel like they really cared about me, reeled me in close with artful manipulation and a handful of lies, and hit me again and again right where I told them it would hurt the most. And for some reason, a marginally sincere “Uh, sorry,” right before they abandoned me in a crumpled mess on the ground just wasn’t quite enough to make up for it.

I’d never been treated this way before. I’ve built thick walls to keep people like this out, but this one waltzed right past my barricade wearing the most impressive façade I’ve ever seen.

Afterward, I would be so sad during the day that I would have random bursts of tears, and sometimes at night I would be so filled with rage that I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to slash their tires. I wanted to tell all our mutual friends what they’d done. I’ve never felt as much hate for anybody as I did for this person. I desperately wanted justice. It didn’t make sense to me that I should be so unbearably sad while they weren’t; that I was left alone while they had somebody who cared.

And I thought the feelings would pass after a few weeks, but they didn’t.

I had moments I thought I had forgiven them, only to fall back into despair and rage a few minutes later. I asked God for help, but felt like I got nothing.

I have always loved the story of Corrie Ten Boom, a Holocaust survivor who went around teaching about endurance and forgiveness. When she crossed paths with one of the cruelest of her Nazi captors who was requesting her forgiveness, she paused to asked God for help. She had faith that if she extended her hand to return his handshake, God would supply the feeling of forgiveness. And He did.

I prayed over and over for this feeling of forgiveness, but nothing came. I wondered if I had a romanticized understanding of what achieving a state of forgiveness would feel like; could forgiveness possibly coexist with the hate, sadness, bitterness, and rage I was experiencing? That wouldn’t make any sense. Forgiveness is supposed to enable us to overcome those negative feelings. I was so tired of being miserable and desperately wanted to move on and be happy—but that transition seemed to be out of my reach. I had done everything I could and God seemed pretty content to watch me get eaten alive by my destructive emotions.

I spent an embarrassingly large amount of time considering how I could take justice in to my own hands without spiritually disadvantaging myself, but realized there was no possible way. Even if there were, it wouldn’t do anything to heal my hurt, to change the past, or to better align my future. And that frustrated me terribly.

The only way I could win in this situation was to give it to God. I’ve always hated when people gave me abstract advice like that, so I’mma briefly outline what that meant for me.

I had to trust that God would handle the justice. Maybe the desire for justice is a sign that we haven’t forgiven somebody, but knowing that temporal and spiritual laws will be upheld is extremely important—and this shift from my desire to handle it to mentally handing God the responsibility was crucial for my healing.

What finally worked for me was when I came across H. Burke Peterson’s devotional “Prayer: Try Again.” In it, he shares an experience where there was an individual who wronged him and who he really didn’t like. He prayed once for divine aid to forgive this man, and it didn’t work. He prayed for a week, and it didn’t work. He prayed for months before he finally was able to overcome his challenge. It was a gentle reminder to me that God's timeline is always the best, that there is purpose in pain if we let there be, and that God loves us enough to let us struggle through difficult things.

I think the truth of forgiveness has gotten a little bit of space in my heart—I am beginning to understand it a little better. I believe forgiveness is a choice, but sometimes the feeling of forgiving somebody can only be gifted to us from Heavenly Father. And sometimes He really makes us work for it.

I’m not sure if I’ve completely forgiven this person yet, but I do know that I’m much closer now than I was two weeks ago. What I also know is that forgiveness is worth it. Forgive freely, even if the offending party is unapologetic or apathetic. If they don’t want it or don’t care, do it for yourself. You are the cost of your grudges, and that’s an extremely high price to pay.

Look to God and Live

Just a quick thought for today. Probably the only thought I'll have for the year ;)

Trust God.

Sometimes I feel like God’s favorite child even though my life isn’t perfect. Things go wrong every day, there’s always something I could complain about, and there's so much left I wish I had figured out.

It’s when I look back at what I’ve been through that I feel like God’s favorite. Not because everything has gone according to my plan, but largely because it hasn’t.

I went through a phase about a year ago where I was angry, sad, lonely, confused, and hopeless. I cried out to Heavenly Father (quite literally) demanding His help—demanding that he reward me for my faith in Him and save me from my pit of despair. Probably not the best way to speak with Him, but that’s where I was. And He did help. He guided others to reach out to me at opportune times. He enabled me to provide for myself immediately after losing my job, and continues sweeten the deal in unexpected ways. He inspired me to do things that would help me overcome much of my weakness that was keeping me down. Steadily, I regained confidence. I regained purpose. I regained hope.

I had felt like He had removed every good thing from my life, but looking back, everything I have now is so much better than what I could have planned for myself. Yet, I couldn't be where I am without going through every miserable part of what I experienced a year ago.

This is not an isolated experience, but it's incredibly easy to forget how regularly He pulls through for us--especially when we're stuck in a dark place. 

If your life isn’t okay, hang on. Just keep doing what you’re supposed to do—God keeps his promises. Always.

For more on the topic check out Eva Witesman's "A Future Only God Could See for You"

and

Aimee Robbin's "When Life Doesn't Go According to Plan"

Thoughts on Rejection

Today I spent a few hours drafting rejection letters for a publishing company. It made me feel kinda bad. Here are these people who have put their heart and soul into a manuscript and here I am to crush their dreams.

It made me think back to the heart break I had previously experienced because of rejections. I was rejected by the soccer teams I really wanted to play for. I was rejected from every single choir or band that I auditioned for. I’ve been rejected by a vast majority of the jobs and internships I’ve applied for. I’ve been rejected by every man I’ve ever expressed interest in.

It was all very devastating. It made me question my self-worth. It made me question my self-image, because I knew I was good enough for many of these positions. It even made me question my identity sometimes.

So now, as the person rejecting things, here is some perspective:

1.  It’s not failure if you don’t “fit the bill.” Some of the manuscripts I reviewed today were fantastic; well-researched, well presented, engaging, smart. But not what people—not what our readers—would be willing to spend money on. Some other publishing company might gladly pick it up. And it only takes one willing publisher. Similarly, you may not be the missing piece for a puzzle for a company you’re applying for. You will be for some other company.
2.  Sometimes “no” means “not right now.” Sometimes the timing simply isn’t right. Markets change: maybe we could sell your book in five years. People change. Needs change. If you aren’t the right person now, maybe you will be next month.
3. Self-evaluation is important. We’ve all seen clips of people on “American Idol” or the like in which some auditions are simply horrific. I read submissions that are absolutely terrible. Maybe that’s us! We need to take a step back and take a real good look at things. It’s not always “them” sometimes it really is us.
4. Be willing to change. We will be rejected. And it will be painful. And it will all be a complete waste if we aren’t willing to learn from it.
5. Expand your perspective. If your book doesn’t get published, life continues. If you don’t get your dream job, life continues. If the boy you love doesn’t love you back, someone better will come along. Most of what happens in your life is of little consequence: what you do because of it defines who you are.
6. Yo-Yo Ma is probably a terrible soccer player. That’s what I’ve told myself for years when I’d get frustrated because I’m not good at everything. We are typically good at the things we spend time doing. If you want to be better at something, put time into it.
7. Lacking natural talent is okay. If we want to succeed at things that do not come naturally, we may just need to work harder than others would to have success. Let me illustrate: for most of my soccer career I played keeper, and unfortunately, nobody likes a vertically challenged, quiet keeper. Lofty shots were very difficult to stop and I had a hard time directing my team the way a keeper was expected to. Anybody that was taller or louder had more potential than I did. I could have chosen a different position. But I wanted to be a keeper. I received specialized training to stop high shots. My coaches even had me practice yelling so my team could hear me. I struggled. But I got pretty good.
8.  Most of our rejections are not eternally significant. Nearly eight years ago, I got cut from my high school soccer team. I was absolutely devastated. I had failed at something I’d been working toward for my entire life. Never have I felt so much pain. Never have I shed so many tears for so many months. Does it matter now? Not really. I still tear up when I think about it, but my life now is probably exactly how it would have been even if I had made the team.

But there are some successes that do matter, where if we don’t succeed our life really will have been a waste. But the beautiful thing about those ones is that the ball is always in our court. The thought, opinions, and actions of others have absolutely no bearing on the ultimate success of our lives. There is nobody that we need to be better than and nothing that can prevent us if we have decided it’s what we want and act accordingly.

When you are rejected, don’t fret. Remember which successes actually are significant and adjust your efforts accordingly.

We are here to learn and grow.

We are not here to fail in our ultimate goals.

Changing Default Settings

Soooo, I was reflecting on some goals that I'd made for last winter semester that turned into goals for the year. I did really well on one of them, did really well on another one for a good chunk of the year, and did more poorly than I would have hoped on the other two.

But here's a thought that I am hoping will govern my actions the following year:

I’m a pretty good person, especially when I’m well-fed, when people are nice to me, when I’m healthy, when I’m not under a lot of pressure, and when life is just going smoothly. But so is everybody else.

But what are my default settings?

Let me illustrate what I mean by default settings. I haven’t been skiing for several years, but when I did go, I used the plow style that beginners use. Sometimes I would go on the bunny slope to try to work up to parallel skiing. I’d go back up to the bigger slopes, begin parallel skiing and then switch back to the plow when the path got steep or icy. The plow is my default—it’s what I do when the going gets rough.

Changing our default settings is difficult business that requires dedication and discipline, and most of all, desire.

Let’s all be nice, even when people aren’t nice to us. Let’s think of others even when we’re tired, hungry, or sick. Let’s be understanding, even if we feel misunderstood. Why? Because that is what Jesus would do. And that is what will bring us the most satisfying form of happiness.

When this life is over it will just be us: not the company we founded, not the friends we made, not stuff we acquired, but just who we've become. What our default mode is.

So that's will be my overarching goal for the year--make my default mode a little bit better.

Let's all take control of our lives and intentionally make 2016 the best year ever by being our best selves the world has seen.

Reflections of a Mission.

"The attitude you have toward your mission experience is a reflection of your love toward your Heavenly Father and His Son."

This statement from Preach My Gospel (the training manual for missionaries) was one that haunted me in the early stages of my mission.

I can remember a conference we had in which another missionary who was in the final weeks of his mission shared his testimony. He said something like, "A lot of people say that serving a mission is a sacrifice. Serving a mission IS NOT a sacrifice."

I thought a lot about that. How could it not be a sacrifice? How could hitting the pause button on my life not be a sacrifice? How could leaving some of the best friends I'd ever had, with the knowledge that I'd never see some of them again, not be a sacrifice? How could leaving the life I absolutely loved, in exchange for doing things I hate doing everyday, not be a sacrifice?

At the beginning of my experience, I was more sad than I could ever remember being. I had been used to skipping through my days of sunshine, fun, and friends. And now I dragged myself through the rain, drudgery, and emotional pain. There's nothing like spending your days trying to talk to a bunch of people who don't want to talk to you, in a city where you don't know anybody, and in a situation where you don't have your normal methods of coping available.

On the other side, I can fully agree that serving a mission is not a sacrifice. Helping people find the way to find the most satisfying and lasting form of happiness is the best way to find it for yourself.

I'm not going to pretend that it wasn't really hard to get to work every single day. I'm not going to pretend that there weren't disappointments everyday.

But I do know that there must be sorrow to really understand joy. And I do know that that joy is worth the greatest price. And I do know that as we strive to be more obedient--as we strive sacrifice more for the sake of righteousness--that there will be even greater joy.

When we watched General Conference (when the prophet and apostles speak) I had the question in mind: "What do I need to sacrifice to have greater success in my calling as a missionary?" The question was answered clearly. Multiple times, they talked about the rich young ruler that came to Christ to ask what he needed to do to better follow Him. He responded that he needed to give up everything he had to follow him. And the young man wouldn't do it.

Earlier in my mission, I felt like I had given everything. But I hadn't yet. I clung to my understandings. I clung to my pride. I clung to my comfort zone. He asks us to give up everything and I was still clinging to these treasured possessions.

I won't say that I completely got rid of my pride, or the other things that held me back, but I sure tried. I set specific goals and held myself accountable to those goals geared to help me overcome my weaknesses. And I saw miracles.

And that is the Gospel of Jesus Christ
Faith in Christ: Belief in Christ motivates us to act accordingly. Don't just believe in Christ, but believe Christ. If we truly believe Him, we'll do our absolute best to keep His commandments
Repentance: Changing ourselves to be more in line with His commandments.
Baptism/Sacrament: Making/keeping a promise with God to 1)follow Him 2) keep His commandments. In return we are cleansed from our sins and are promised His spirit to be with us all the time. We take the sacrament as often as possible to renew that promise we made when we were baptized and be cleansed again.
Gift of the Holy Ghost: The spirit is often equivalent to happiness. It's a feeling of peace. It brings clarity to our lives. It can be a voice of warning. It inspires us for what we need to do (what we need to give up) to be more like our Heavenly Father) In essence, everything the spirit does leads us to make this whole thing a process in our lives.

On my mission, I learned the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I experienced it. I know it is real, and is the only thing that gives our life meaning. For every sacrifice we make for this cause, He will make the reward worth it. From this side, I cannot say my mission was a sacrifice. What I have gained is better than anything I could ever give.

Missionary Woes ;)

My Not-so-lyrical Ode to Catering

My last shift at the job that's supported me for the past four years was about two weeks ago. And I miss it.

Hiding drinks from EFY kids...they'll think twice before they ask me to do ice again ;)

Catering was the reason for my burnt finger tips, the bloody lump on my head, bruised shins, sore feet and ripped jeans. Because of catering I enjoyed many long days on campus, sometimes up to 17 hours. Sometimes I found myself at the Wilk at 5:15am. Sometimes I'd be in the dish room 'til 2:30am. Sometimes I'd come in to do a rack-up at 1am because that was the only time I had to do it. Sometimes I'd work 9 hour shifts without a break (don't tell Donna!) Sometimes I would begin my day with work, then go to class, then go back to work, then back to class, then back to work, then go play soccer, and then come back to work to prepare for the next day. (What's this homework stuff I'm supposed to be doing?) One time I worked 7 shifts in two days with a solid 7+ hour shift for football the next day.

Me, Carissa, and Joyce with an impressively packed truck...and the end of a nine hour shift...that was longer than 9 hours...

If it weren't for me in catering, that glass pane in the Garden Court might not have been broken. That cement pillar by the JFSB would not have been knocked over. That girl's pants would not have been ripped by the plate cart.

The passover crew: Me, Terence, Jordan, Sarah, and Amber at Passover. Our spoons were so shiny :)

If it weren't for catering I probably would have starved, or at least died of scurvy.  I would never have been educated to the wonders of creme brulee or haggis. I would have never worked a "bar" or learned to tie (near) perfect bows or fold napkins several different "acceptable" ways.

Gettin' the band back together: Brady, Jokke, and Zack

If it weren't for catering I would never have refilled General Petraeus' water glass. If it weren't for catering I would have never had profound conversations (consisting solely of 'thank you' and 'you're welcome') with Presidents Beck or Wixom (among others). Elder Perry would never have made me feel awkward for not being married or wished me luck on my mission. I would have never poured President Monson's soup, or served Navajo Tacos at President Eyring's family reunion. I would have never had occasion to give President Uchtdorf a bagel. Cecil O. Samuelson would not know my name.

If it weren't for catering I wouldn't have many of my greatest friends--I discovered that about 15% of my Facebook friends have worked for catering. I would not have been featured on Asleep at BYU. The triad of catering songs would have never existed. And I would not have hundreds of stories that I have now that could never be done justice in a blog post.

The picture that made me famous ;)

Here's some favorite quotes.

Lorraine: My thoughts are in Portuguese...but I don't know Portuguese...which explains a lot, I guess.

Christian: Por favor, mantenga sus manos, brazos, pies, piernas y en el interior del vehiculo en todo momento. (or something like that)
Dave: Uhh, I'll have the spaghetti.

Terence: If you were diced onions would you rather be tonged or sp--...nevermind.

Me: I did the math and found that there are 3 girls to every guy at catering.
Terence: I like those odds.
Me: But you have a girlfriend...
Terence: Yes, but I'm Mormon.

"What's this broom doing here? I don't need it, I drove my car today."

 I bid catering a fond farewell. It's been a pleasure.

Year in Review 2012

It's been a while since my last post, but here's to renewed intentions, eh?

It's been a fabulous year with many fabulous new friends made, many experiences shared, and much knowledge gained. Here are some of the highlights:

Intramurals! I had the fabulous opportunity to captain a volleyball team that made it to the finals, as well as a kickball team that made it to the quarter-finals of the upper division (that means I had one of the top 8 kickball teams at BYU!) I also played some basketball, soccer, and ultimate frisbee. Most important, were my amazing teammates: I got to play with some of the greatest people I have ever met.

My ninja training began to pay off! One morning at the beginning of the year, I was riding my bike to school. I hate to admit that I was riding on the sidewalk, but the shoulder had piles of snow :p The sidewalks were also lightly dusted, which meant that I couldn't see exactly where the sidewalk met the grass. I went to maneuver around some people and went a little too far to the right. Right in front of these people, my bike jerked to the left, heading straight for the busy road. The thought I'm going to die went through my head. Motivated by adrenalin, my arm wrapped around the conveniently placed light post at the edge of the sidewalk. I swung off the bike and onto my feet. The bike was safe, I was safe, and the onlookers were impressed. And then I couldn't lift my arm above my head for the next two days. Ninjas have rough lives.

I touched more important people's food! I had the wonderful opportunity to serve food to Elder Perry, Elder Nelson, President Julie B. Beck, Sister Thompson, Sister Allred, Elder Bruce D. Porter, Elder Paul V. Johnson, the First Lady of Honduras (as well as several ambassadors from various countries). I'm pretty sure President Samuelson knows my name by now too, because I get to feed him so often. I also got to serve at President Eyring's family reunion/50 year wedding anniversary. There's nothing quite like having the knowledge that you touched a servant of the Lord's navajo taco ;)

Me in my cage at work.

I finally moved out of on-campus housing. I might just be growing up ;)

The wonderful girls I used to live with: Jill and Kate

The wonderful girls I live with: Allie, Julia, me, Courtney, Danielle

The wonderful boys I sort of live with: Back row: Jeff, Sean, Sean's lovely girlfriend Shelli, Michael, Kirkham, Front: Zack and Terence

The rest are pictures of other significant moments from my life this year, because I seemed to have more photographers in my life than before (or maybe just more Megan ;)

Broke campus. With a truck.

.

Learned how to cut hair! I first cut my own hair and then brave souls let me experiment on theirs. Here's a shout-out to Courtney, Zack, Jonathan, Jordan, Natalie, and my dad for their bravery in trusting me enough with their appearances.

Played Uno EVERYWHERE

Met the child of my dear former roommate Kamie

Played with fire. A lot.

Added new meaning to the phrase "Happy Easter"

Choreographed a dance number. And gave love a bad name.

Had my first out of Utah college road-trip. Zack and Terence and I went to Huntington Beach, Downtown Disney, and Hollywood. And played cards on the beach. Naturally.

Became an aunt to a beautiful little girl.

Here's my niece Leah <3

Discovered my passion for duck catching.

Went on an epic adventure to find pizza that resulted in finding an awesome 'Mexican Seafood' place.

Enjoyed my first all night "Book of Mormon Read-a-thon" And consequently "slept-in" past noon for the first time ever.

Enjoyed a significant number of car trips in trunks, or across laps, or in trunks that weren't really trunks...

Had my acting/dancing debut as a fate in the 125 Ward's production of Hercules.

And won an award for best facial hair. Unfortunately no award for being creepy.

Played my geetar for food.

This is Zack and me at Creeps. Usually we get the words right, but sometimes we struggle.

I give up (for now) on trying to predict what the future holds. However, this next year I hope to learn how to format blog posts for a more non-awkward appearance. More realistically, I hope to actively continue my battle against fear, begin one against apathy, and press onward for love (not necessarily the romantic kind, but if that's what's in store, so be it ;). Happiest and productivest ( <--hey look! I made a new word) of new years to all!