How do we forgive?

See Elder Kevin R. Duncan’s, “The Healing Ointment of forgiveness.”

This morning I felt to open up the conference Ensign and flip through the pages until I felt to stop. My finger fell upon this article. What struck me most to me was the thought that I could be healed from the pain. What does it mean to be healed of the pain, and yet to remember? We hear often that we need to remember the past so we don’t repeat the mistakes. But how do we remember without feeling pain? Is that possible?!? How do you forgive someone when you are in the middle of the experience? Could Corrie ten Boom forgive her captors while she was in the concentration camp? Perhaps years later when feelings weren’t raw and she wasn’t in the midst of the cruel treatment?

Over recent months I’ve felt the need to forgive. But I don’t think my ex would even consider that she’d done anything that required someone to forgive her. Were I to tell her I forgive her, she would be confused. Is it still required to forgive in order to clear my plate, and create for me the freedom of her control over my feelings and thoughts.

Then my children come to visit and I’m reminded of the pain of having to say goodbye to my children when visiting hours are over. A continual reminder of her decision that broke up our family. How do I forgive with the offense is repeated weekly, or seems to be? Every child visit, every paycheck that has her fingers in it, every sorrow seems to be tied to her past decision.

Carl

Distance makes the heart grow fonder

A good friend, an 80-year-old widow, has several times shared recommended books with me. I usually prefer non-fiction, but when she recommended a fiction book, I felt somewhat obligated to read it. It took a bit of effort to get into, but as I relaxed my brain and soul I found it comforting and a wonderful read. And as I read, my thoughts turned to my oldest daughter because she is much like the main character, thoughtful, artistic, and sensitive to the good things of life.

As I neared the end of the book, I felt impressed to buy the book for my daughter. I realized that it was a few weeks before her “half-birthday” on Oct. 24. So I ordered a near-new copy from Amazon, and got it a week before. But with many overtime hours and my procrastination, I didn’t get it off until last week. She received it today. She texted me. She loved getting a surprise in the mail, and I was reminded of the Carpenters’ song—I’ve been playing in the car a golden-hits CD of Carpenter songs, and one of them is “Please Mr. Postman.” I have also prayed that she may except my gift as a token of my love for her, as I’ve sensed that she and I have not been on the best of terms since the divorce, not bad, but just not as good as it could be.

She texted me while I was at work. As I drove home “distance makes the heart grow fonder” came to my mind. I saw her for a few minutes this past July, and before that it was much longer since I’d seen her. She is always in my prayers and fasts. My thoughts then moved to my other children and I realized that even for those I see at least once a week, that distance and separation makes my heart hunger for them, and I sense them to hunger for me. My quick search of the web indicates there is some truth found in the phrase.

I’ve thought and told others often that in many regards I’m a better father now than I was when married. There is also truth to that, likely for the same reason about distance—when my children aren’t with me on my solo nights, I’m thinking of them, and when they come to visit my focus is entirely on them. Time is precious. Our interactions are real and deep, and I plan for their visits. We do more in a weekend visit than I’d do in a month of living with them before divorce.

It’s a shame that divorce brings this kind of blessing, but at least I can testify to my married friends the importance of their time with their children.

Carl

(PS The book I sent to my daughter is Remembering Isaac Ben Behunin.)

Cooking

I don’t know about you, but after taxes, deductibles, and the minimum amount I put to my 401K that is matched by my employer, the alimony and child support take 45% of what’s left. From what’s left I subtract my tithing on the gross, rent, insurance, $52 for a storage unit (for what little I kept of my half of our family assets, most important my grandmother’s piano), and my monthly payment to support my missionary … well you get the idea. There ain’t much left for food.

One thing that became obvious upon divorce is that there’s no longer division of labor. I do all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and the to-do list.

As I walk from may car to my basement apartment this evening, late from work, I’m tired and would love to sit down to a warm meal. I walk by the upstairs open patio door and my good friends, the family I dearly love upstairs, is sitting around a lighted inviting table having a lovely dinner together, smiling and talking.

Although I’ve got plenty of food storage, and a full fridge, I don’t feel like cooking. And here I sit at the computer wondering if I can stomach another fruit shake of the bananas I froze last night and the kale from my little garden. To allow me to have money for a few extra things, I promised myself I’d not eat out unless on a date or with the kids on a special occasion, and not eat prepared foods that are expensive (and not usually healthy).

So now it’s 6:50. Maybe I’ll fry a chicken breast with the batch of rice I cooked last week. Maybe I can spice it up to make a meal.

And let’s see. Whom should I eat with? I think I’ll cozy up to the Book of Mormon. I miss my children.

All my best,

Carl