Monthly Archives: October 2016

Abraham

A number of months ago I was reminiscing about the time since I’d been divorced. “Reminisce” is the wrong word. That makes it sound like I was dreaming about the good ol’ days. “Day dreaming?” Ha! I don’t think so. “Having a nightmare?” No. ☺ But I was wondering what I’d learned and where I was compared to where I began at the time of separation from my wife.

I wonder if this will be hard to hear or believe: I confessed to myself that I’d actually progressed. I’m not saying separation and divorce was good, nor right, nor that I thought it should have happened and that my wife was right in seeking divorce. But just like the stone in the riverbed, rolling and rubbing against other stones and sand over dozens of years, it becomes smooth and beautiful. I know that if I will let them, hard times make me a better man. (I don’t want women who might be reading this to think divorce is OK because it makes men better, especially considering the negative effects on innocent children caught in the middle!) But aside from the evils of divorce in most cases, or whatever the hardship, these times can make us better men … if we will let them.

Something during that time of “reminiscing” over a week-or-so period led me to consider and ponder Abraham. The comparison is not perfect, because Abraham’s test was given to him by the Lord, carefully crafted to see if he would remain faithful to the word of God that came to him, to sacrifice his son. But it’s terribly close. And regardless of the source of the test, from God or brought upon us by the choice of others, how we respond to the test proves our mettle.

Personally I was far from perfect during that time. And I still am. I am a failure. And I failed continually. I have at many times been angry, lost, inconsolable, and a dozen other unmentionable adjectives, each of which my Father in Heaven was not pleased with. But I tried. As Maria in The Sound of Music said, “Perhaps I had a wicked childhood, perhaps I had a miserable youth, but somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, …I must have done something good.” Something in my past, in my upbringing by “goodly parents,” told me that I would be happier in the long run if I remained faithful to the truths of the gospel that I’d been taught.

I cannot describe the difficulties and awkwardness of that time. I had made a commitment to my Father in Heaven to remain active in the church, regardless of the embarrassment or what I thought others might think. Ours is a family religion, and although it’s quite acceptable to be a single woman, that’s from from so for single men. This time was I dare say the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. Being a somewhat quiet person anyway, I decided to go to every function that I’d have gone to as a married man: Sunday church, all my meetings, church parties, wedding receptions (that’s one of the toughest!!), church cleaning, welfare assignments, home teaching, whatever came up. I got numerous awkward interactions and odd looks, blank stares, and conversations that were worse than a first blind date. But I kept in the back of my head that I was doing all of this solely for me and my relationship with my Father in Heaven. (All of those that had awkwardness being around me had their own issues to deal with, and as long as I was cordial and saintly, well, at least as best I could be, perhaps I’d be a catalyst to help them learn to overcome their issues with single men, to help them repent so to speak, although that’s only a thought I have now in hindsight, not something I could consider then.)

And beyond the awkwardness, the pain of being removed from my children, well, you all know what that’s like. Words can’t describe being separated from those you love and for whom God planted in your heart a natural instinct and desire to protect and provide for. My wife and I lost a child at birth, and the two years following until our next child was born were some of the darkest and hardest. But to be teased and taunted week after week with short visits and then long separations from my children, I’ve thought more than once that either I’d rather give up and not see my children anymore, or kidnap them. But I knew in my heart that neither would be good for the children, just a selfish desire on my part.

OK, so back to Abraham. I believe that for those of us in this life that profess to love God, we will have an Abrahamic experience. And the difficulty of that experience will be commensurate to our faith and trust in God. The more trust and faith in God we have, the more difficult the experience we will be presented. And, we will have repeated experiences, some small, some larger, to test our commitment along our mortal path. Sometimes I wish I were a swearin’ man. Must life be this difficult! Yes, it’s part of the “test” of this life, a probationary period. Ha! Now there’s a nice analogy. I’ve often compared divorce to prison in regards to our separation from our children and wife. Are we all on probation in this life? That might be fun to try writing about sometime.

I find the similarity with Abraham’s and our experiences surprisingly similar in many respects. Both have to do with what we care for most, our families. And similarly, Abraham and we have sons removed from us, although not permanently. Ours is a painful week-after-week manner as we see them once or twice a week (whereas we used to seem them every night and tuck them into bed). Hmmm. At least Abraham got his son back. When do I get my sons (and daughters) back?

My heart goes out to Abraham. My heart goes out to you, my brothers.

Carl

Journeys

On a Wednesday morning last month I pull my hot cereal from the microwave and sit at the table. In front of me are the conference Ensign and the Book of Mormon my son had bound for me on his mission in Romania. Until the children come to visit these are always open on the table. I look at the two. “Which today, Father?” “The Ensign,” the Spirit says. I pull the Ensign near my bowl as the cereal cools and flip through it until I’m told to stop. “The Healing Ointment of Forgiveness.” It seems an innocent enough talk. But it puts me on a path of pondering, praying, and repenting for several weeks.

I made a personal covenant with the Lord a few years ago to read each conference Ensign before the next conference. As much as I enjoy conference, my experience with reading the talks, underlining, and scribbling in the margins, has sent me on many journeys.

About a year ago a conference talk prompted me on a journey to understand my two wayward children. “How could they leave the Church? How could they choose a direction so opposed to what I feel is true?” But I’m nervous and so I ask, “Do I want to go down this path? Will it shake my testimony?” No, it won’t. It’s not for everyone, but I am to walk this path a few miles.

At the end of those miles, a couple months later, after deep pondering, studying, and learning, I arrive. I’m in their shoes. I understand my dear children. I know with certainty how the teachings of the world make sense and comfort them. I feel how they can be good, even with their choices. I know how those in the spacious building think, and how right they feel.

2016-10-05-1831-01-license-plate-from-carls-missionOn my mission in Québec we baptized a young man. He gave me a license plate he had had made for me. I was without words. It was so personal and appreciated.

Over the years the words at the bottom of the plate have prodded me. “Je me souviens.” “I remember.” Since my journey with my children it now hangs on my wall. As I stood in my children’s shoes and looked at my testimony in one hand and what I’d learned about my children in the other, the Spirit said, “Remember!” And I remember. I DO remember‼ I remember in my teens in sacrament meeting asking, “Do I know this is all true?” The Spirit shouted, “You have always known. You just haven’t recognized it and you didn’t ask.” I remember in a bishopric meeting being told clearly to call Sister Davis as Primary president after just learning a week earlier that she hated Primary, then extending the call in her living room and her response, “I knew yesterday this call was coming before you even came. I accept.” I remember sitting on the front pew in Sacrament meeting six years ago, opening the scriptures at random when I was feeling the lowest in my life, and “happening” upon the words “your sins are forgiven you,” the only words that years earlier I had underlined on that page, just so in this moment I could read them—I broke into tears. I remember in the temple when I felt those beyond the veil, and when “chance” encounters repeated themselves so frequently I couldn’t doubt the Lord’s hand. I remember placing my hands on Nathan’s head to ordain him an elder, and the Spirit pouring words into my mouth.

“I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes; That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I’ll never, no never, I’ll never, no never, I’ll never, no never, no never forsake!”

My dear brothers. I commend the conference Ensign to you. It is the word of God. It will send you on your own journeys.

Brother Carl