Mercy

"Let us be merciful with each other. We certainly do not criticize hospital patients amid intensive care for looking pale and preoccupied. Why then those recovering from surgery on their souls? No need for us to stare; those stitches will finally come out. And in this hospital, too, it is important for everyone to remember that the hospital chart is not the patient." Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Quote Book, p. 210

"We do notice each other's weaknesses. But we should not celebrate them. Let us be grateful for the small strides that we and others make, rather than rejoice in the shortfalls. And when mistakes occur, let them become instructive, not destructive." Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Quote Book, p. 213

O Lord, help me be merciful.

Meekness

"More regrettable than the Church being accused of not being Christian is when Church members react to such accusations in an un-Christlike way! May our conversations with other always be marked by the fruits of the Spirit - 'love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, [and] temperance' (Galatians 5:22-23). To be meek, as defined in Webster's dictionary, is 'manifesting patience and longsuffering: enduring injury without resentment.' Meekness is not weakness. It is a badge of Christian courage." Elder Robert D. Hales, "Christian Courage: The Price of Discipleship", Ensign Nov. 2008, 73

"Human suffering does not automatically produce sweetness and character unless meekness is present. Meekness is the mulch that must go in the soil of adversity in order for empathy to grow and in order for character to grow. Jesus could not have become the most empathetic person had he not been the most meek person." Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Quote Book, p. 208

"If sufficient meekness is in us, it will not only help us to jettison unneeded burdens, but will also keep us from becoming mired in the ooze of self-pity. Furthermore, true meekness has a metabolism that actually requires very little praise or recognition - of which there is usually such a shortage anyway." Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Quote Book, p. 207

"The meek...make stepping-stones of stumbling blocks." Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Quote Book, p.
206

O Lord, teach me meekness.

Mondays and Mornings

Mondays and mornings are my two hardest times right now.

Mondays have been feeling like a huge slap in the face. Sundays have been my respite, my refuge from the storm. I have been relishing in the spirit and the uplifting atmosphere of worship on the Sabbath and finding such great strength in that time. So Mondays when I have to face things like laundry, dirty bathrooms and fixing lunch it just feels so insignificant and overwhelming. I also have been placing my name on the prayer role each week as I have attended the temple. I realized that the temple is closed on Mondays, so it's the only day besides Sunday that I am not the beneficiary of many mighty prayers on my behalf. I think I need to fast on Mondays.

Mornings are the constant daily reminder that my life is different. Other than that first terrible night, I have been miraculously able to sleep during this ordeal. Eating is an entirely different story, but I have been able to sleep - often very hard and deep. So as I wake up each day, I feel the sorrow somehow anew. I have to process it all over again and come to the disheartening realization that this, in fact, is now my life. I am so grateful for prayer. We are praying together as a couple again for the first time in years and I am thankful he has taken to saying the morning prayer. It gives me an ounce of hope to cling to and makes it so I feel able to then kneel on my own and offer my own prayer.

Mondays and mornings - moments of sorrow renewed.

I Know Why Forrest Ran

I know why Forrest ran. And ran. And ran. His betrayal was so complete, his heart was shattered, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't feel. So he ran - the blood pumping furiously through his body, the wind piercing his skin, the constant pounding of the street under his shoes, the steady breath, in - out - in - out. He ran so he could feel something, anything, so he wouldn't forget how to feel altogether. That's why he never noticed anyone was running with him. He never knew how far he had gone. He never heard the crowds surrounding him and cheering for him. He was running to feel his heart - confirm for himself that it really was still there. That the shattered pieces could still pump, still beat, still work. That maybe if his heart could do that, maybe one day, if he ran enough, it would finally stop hurting and be able to heal. Run, Forrest, run.

To Find Myself Anew

I've always felt confident in who I was. I felt that I understood myself clearly and knew myself well. I'm finding myself wondering how to find my way back to her. Things in life I'd become so accustomed to as to take them for granted - love, trust, friendship, affection - seem somehow juvenile in their simplicity. And yet, that's one of the things that attracted me to my husband in the first place. He could make me laugh and I knew I would always feel young with him.

There is no way back. There is only forward. There is only the search to find out how to become whole again, trying to hold onto the aspects of myself that I still know, letting go of those that must not have been true in the first place and working to discover new definitions of love, of trust, of friendship and affection. I have to believe that new ways await - I just have to.

Mad

Today I'm just mad. Spitfire mad. Mad that sorting laundry throws me into a catatonic state. Mad that my children's efforts to clean bathrooms elicit criticism instead of praise. Mad that the thought of fixing dinner is paralyzing. Mad that I have an aversion to shopping. Mad that any unexpected or unintended conversation with another person who doesn't know what I'm experiencing forces me to pretend yet again that I am the same person I was two weeks ago. Mad that I have to see a counselor and even madder that I know how desperately I need it. Mad that running now is an escape instead of simply exercise. Mad that every morning I have to wake up and relive the horror again, wishing against everything I know that somehow this is all just a terrible dream. Mad that I have to figure out all over again who I really am, when I thought I always knew. Mad that I know how the anger is poisoning me. Mad that I realize how much I need to forgive my husband for MY sake and SO mad that it seems so utterly impossible for me to forgive without complete trust again. Mad that the trust I have given so completely and freely for my entire life is something I have to guard, hide, and dole out in miserly selfish portions. SO MAD.

Insights from Injury

My son got hurt after church today, badly. Blood and screaming and everything. As my husband and I rushed to him, rushed to comfort him, assure and reassure him that everything would be okay and that Dad would take him to the hospital and be right by his side, I kept seeing myself in his eyes. I saw the fear, the pain, the tears, the terror, the uncertainty that he would be able to handle the situation and the future, wondering if he could endure the necessary pain to heal his gaping wound. In my efforts to calm him, I heard the loving voice and felt the tender hand of my Father in Heaven saying the same things to me.

I'm right here.

You will be okay, I promise.

I know it will hurt, but you need to have the wound fixed so it can heal properly.

Don't be scared.

Daddy will right by your side the whole time.

I'm so sorry.

I love you.

Let me hold you.

Let me wipe away your tears.

The Holy Ghost is the comforter. You have the right to have him with you the whole time. Just pray and he will be right there.

It will be okay.

The wound will heal.

It won't hurt forever.