Forgiveness is Divine

The sky is tempestuous tonight (Saturday, May 30) after a fairly nice day with a lot of cloud cover and some beautiful sunshine passing through silver linings. Bill was going for a run so I joined him, even though my body still feels like Olaf when he can't find his legs, disjointed and confused.

Running might not be as easy as it used to be for me, but it is still a great time to ponder. We had some good conversation about current events, likening them to our own lives, and trying to learn from them. And then we got to Abigail's grave and took a few pictures before going our separate ways. Bill had a 7-mile goal and I was planning to walk the rest of the way back (four miles total). I carried some purple mums a friend told me she had left at Abigail's grave and would like to see rehomed in Abigail's garden.

They are happily rehomed there now. But while I was walking about a mile by myself, I was thinking about the things I specifically need to work on in my life. The thing that kept coming up in my mind was forgiveness.

I used to boast that in our marriage relationship, I was the forgiving one. I would forgive quickly and completely. I had lots of practice with four siblings and two parents growing up. But even before Abigail was born, her presence in my life was making me dig deeper with forgiveness. I realized there were hurts I was holding tightly to that I hadn't completely forgiven, even though I thought I had. These were unhealed hurts that had become part of my identity, they had been with me so long. 

I was up all night once, late in my pregnancy with Abigail, taking refuge in the sitting room because the bed wasn't letting me rest. I spent time talking out loud to myself about the messages I needed to reject in order to forgive more fully, to stop letting myself be hurt by those false messages. Nobody was hurting me now, just the shadow of what was. It was time to release the shadow and let in more fully the light. Lots of prayer helped me do that, and I went into the day of Abigail's birth a free woman.

The pain of the past was in the past. I spent that time with Abigail in a state of wholeness, even though my body was in distress.

After she left for heaven, I cried so many tears. That, combined with the histamine already in my system, left me with the puffiest eyes you've ever seen. I cried so much I was surprised there were more tears. I didn't hold it in.

But it wasn't really enough, because a new bitterness had taken root. It was tiny, still dwarfed and overcome by the incredible spirit Abigail had brought with her when she came. Some of her glow was still with me. I could feel that, and it was comforting, stabilizing. I was so sure that she knew why she had come and that she was satisfied with her mission. She was fulfilled. That was what mattered the most.

That seed of bitterness stayed with me and over the three months since her passing, it has grown steadily. See, my ability to forgive before Abigail came was superficial in a lot of ways. I had a method that worked for me. I'd give people the benefit of the doubt when they offended me. Like The Four Agreements say, I tried not to take it personally, realizing that most of the reactions people have are about them, not me. If it hurt really badly and made me feel defensive, I would acknowledge why it stung--where lay the grain of truth in the accusation or name-calling. If it was something I could and should change, I would consider that. If not, I would go back to trying not to take it personally. One thing that helped a lot was thinking about the person (who hurt or offended me) as a little child who had already been hurt by someone else. I could be more patient and understanding with a hurt child. This one worked with even the most severe forms of hurt and humiliation. If I could see where they had been hurt and then acknowledge that I have often lashed out in my own pain, then I could say with King Benjamin, "Are we not all beggars before Christ?"

I could forgive because people are fallible and we ALL need forgiveness.

But...

The person I was struggling to forgive now, with this particular bitterness, wasn't fallible. I couldn't imagine Him as a hurt little child lashing out. He was God. He was unchangeable and unapologetic because He was always right. Right?

So when--less than two months after losing my daughter--I was told I needed a root canal, I still prayed constantly through the procedure. I asked God to send me comfort and angels to keep me company. And He did.

And then a couple weeks ago when I died again--at least it felt exactly the same as flatlining in the OR, both before and after--I prayed and asked God to help me want to be here, and to help me get healthy because I know that's His will for me right now and that all healing comes ultimately from His son's healing wings. I could tell I wasn't healthy, despite my attempts to grow stronger with time. I knew my body and my mind were both still struggling with the trauma of February 25 and 26, 2020.

I have had too many experiences with God acting in my life to deny His existence and care--giving me help, or a miracle, or a feeling exactly like a warm hug at the precise moment I needed it. I had already been near death and miraculously saved, through mini stroke or car accident. I had already struggled through "no" answers and "not yet" answers and times when I was so sure I knew what was best for me and then God gave me what I needed instead of what I wanted.

Our relationship is not new. Like my relationship with my parents, siblings, spouse, and children, my relationship with God has been tested in the fires. If it hadn't been, we wouldn't be having this conversation at all. I wouldn't have had the faith or the strength to do what I have done. And that strength and faith I do have, it's all creditable to Him. He's the one who formed me in my mother's womb. He's the one who is forming me now.

So when I say that I am mad at God, it's not a simple emotion. Some of the people close to me suggested I try yelling at God to get it all out, kind of have it out with my Deity. But I'm not that kind of angry. I'm the kind of angry where all you can do is cry because it just hurts. How could this be the plan?

Just like a fight with my mom or my sister, where I know we'll be okay again because the love is too tried-and-true to doubt, I know at the end of this journey, there will be healing and increased understanding. I think one of the hardest things right now is that I do not and cannot understand. His ways are higher than mine, His thoughts are higher than my thoughts. I stood at the edge of a cliff and leapt into the darkness, and He caught me, but I had to go on with a loss. It was just the way it had to be. And now I know that the only way forward is trust.

I'm suddenly feeling stingy with my trust. My heart is saying to me, "If we trust again, what will happen? Will it hurt this much again? Still? Forever?"

I thought my problem was only this lack of trust, but after pondering a while on forgiveness and recent conflicts in my life, I am realizing that my problem is holding back love when I feel hurt. My problem is forgiving someone who doesn't need forgiveness. And this unwillingness to forgive God for putting us through this is spilling out into other relationships. Suddenly I am not quick and complete in my forgiveness. Suddenly everything is deeply, deeply personal, and I do not feel empowered to take it any other way but personally.

I am so far from where I want to be. But I am positive now that forgiveness is the only way forward.

Today I watched video from the Best.Day.Ever. Abigail was born on February 25, 2020. I missed her first hour because I was in the ICU, but as soon as I was stable, Bill was allowed to bring Abigail into my room. When I met my daughter for the first time, I looked like an awful mess, but you could see the recognition in my eyes that I was holding a miracle! As I watched these videos, I came across image after image that reminded me of that miracle. She was so perfect. Her brothers held her and sang to her in the sweetest way. I even found a video I had forgotten I took of my husband Bill singing so softly as he rocked her, I almost couldn't make out the words to our love song, "Come What May." 

I happened upon another video, taken by and narrated by my midwife Roxanna. She was sort of interviewing the grandmas. She asked them to list the miracles that had happened that morning, and they had no trouble naming several--first the little ones. The boys had gotten dressed that morning without trouble. The songs playing in the car were from the Saturday's Warrior soundtrack and everyone was singing along to those songs all about eternal families and this journey of life. Then there were the big ones, things I had begun to take for granted: that Abigail lived, that she breathed on her own! We had been told she might cry once and die. Nobody had expected a whole day! That she was so much more fully formed than we had been taught to expect by ultrasound glimpses. That she had been able to receive a name and a blessing from three priesthood bearers in her family. That I lived.

All miracles. The big ones and the small ones.

I watched how calm and happy and peaceful the members of our family were on that day. It is surreal to look at now and think of the huge things that happened, yet everyone is happy. Miracles.

Reviewing those miracles brought Abigail back to me today. In those moments, I remembered the gift... the gift I had accepted. And I realized how ungrateful I have become in my bitterness. How can I withhold my love when I have received so abundantly?

God didn't do anything wrong with me or with Abigail. She was everything she was created to be. I had forgotten.

I can't forgive God because He doesn't need forgiveness. I do.

So tonight I took a minute to mend bridges with others who have been denied my love because of my hurt. I have a long way to go to get where I want to be. I'm grateful for the patience of my friends and family. Forgiveness and trust are foundational to any relationship. Without them, we can't feel each other's love. And for a while now, I haven't been able to fully feel my Savior's love for me. It wasn't because God had turned away from me. I was the one holding back all along. I just couldn't remember.

I'm writing this so I will have something to read in case I forget again. I miss Abigail so much. A few nights ago, on the night before her three month birthday, I dreamed my Aunt Karen was throwing Abigail a party for her three month birthday. There were a bunch of beautiful little girls in Easter dresses and the room was decorated for a grand party. I held Abigail's body, which had inexplicably grown over the past three months even though I knew in the dream that she was dead. And I felt sad that I had missed out on that growth. Later, as I crossed the gymnasium where the little girls in beautiful dresses were celebrating Abigail, one of them turned to me with an accusatory tone and said, "It's not all about you."

I know that Abigail came to our family for many reasons, but her coming and going wasn't an insult directed at me from God. She was and is a gift, not just for me. The other day a friend I haven't talked to in ages sent me a message about how Abigail's story had touched her. Abigail's life is way bigger than me. And that makes me very, very happy.