What I know

There is so much I do not know. I've become more aware of and comfortable with the fact that every moment that exists beyond the present is a mystery to me. I don't know what will happen. I don't know what choices other people will make. I don't know what conditions will be thrust upon me. But based on what I have experienced, there are some things I know. I say I know them because I have had experiences with them that transcend what I comprehend to be the capacity of mortal experience. And because making choices consistent with this knowledge brings increasing peace and goodness in my life.

I know that at many times in my life God has protected me from the emotional consequences of negative events. Most recently, for the first two weeks after D-day, I was in an almost constant state of calm. Despite the devastating news I had received about the state of my marriage, I was able to engage almost continuously on a rational level and focus on making decisions about how to proceed, rather than get lost in processing emotion.

I know that at many times in my life God has allowed me to feel quite deeply the natural emotional consequences of negative events. I can see at least two purposes for God allowing this. 

1) I have learned important things from my emotions. Feeling hurt emotionally by something someone says or does can help me pay attention to the quality of the relationships I am in and think critically about how safe they are and if (or to what extent) I should trust someone. Recurring feelings of hurt can remind me to continue to enforce boundaries I have set for my protection when it may be tempting to remove them (perhaps prematurely). I have decided that rather than be a victim of my emotions, I want to be a student of them. If I'm going to feel pain, I don't want it to be in vain.

2) Feeling emotional pain gives me experience that helps me be more sensitive and compassionate and learn how to better serve others. I still have a long way to go in learning how to succor others in the best way possible, but I have learned some powerful lessons from going through my own pain---particularly regarding some beautiful experiences I  have had in receiving comfort and support from others when I have suffered. Something I love about the word compassion is that its roots mean "suffer with." Because of what I have suffered, I am capable of more effectively suffering with others (in a way that can relieve their suffering).

I know that I "see through a glass darkly" (1 Cor 13:12). I also recently learned that the word "glass" in this scripture is better read as "mirror." And I recently have made the connection that this scripture occurs in a chapter focused entirely on charity. And I remember the words: "The strongest among us are those with the cleanest mirrors," and "You don't have to be strong to have a clean mirror; it is the act of cleaning your mirror that will make you strong." (See this post for sources/explanations.)  

I know that a natural consequence of becoming closer to the Lord and being blessed by and with his love gives me a cleaner mirror to look in. To me, having a cleaner mirror means seeing simultaneously both my divine nature and potential and my weaknesses and flaws (a la Ether 12: 27). In this context, I have been pondering these verses (Alma 38: 13-14): "Do not pray as the Zoramites do, for ye have seen that they pray to be heard of men, and to be praised for their wisdom. Do not say: O God, I thank thee that we are better than our brethren; but rather say: O Lord, forgive my unworthiness, and remember my brethren in mercy---yea, acknowledge your unworthiness before God at all times." I know I need to repent. Most of my anger and actions toward my husband is justified---which I explain with the paradoxical statement that I feel that God is actually showing mercy by allowing me to feel enough anger to take needed action to ensure the safety of me and my children. But there are times my anger crosses that line, and I become prideful. I know that I deserve a spouse who reciprocates the love and commitment I show to him---and this knowledge must be used to inform the decisions I make about my relationship with him. But when my anger makes me want to shame, hurt, punish, or blame my husband, I have crossed a line. When my anger toward my husband makes me feel that I am worth more or better than my husband, I have crossed a line. I know that when it comes to my relationship with God and my understanding of myself, the choices of my husband are irrelevant. When God considers me, his feelings are not based on a comparison of me and my husband. God's feelings of love toward me are based on my inherent worth and His acceptance of me depends only on my commitment to living the covenants I have made with him. God does not love me more or less because of what my husband or anyone else may do to me. God's feelings toward me are in no way affected by the conditions I find myself in: "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8: 38-39)

I know that God's love and word (the scriptures) bring peace and light and comfort into my life. I started writing this post because I felt deeply lonely and empty. I had checked Facebook and the forum and blogs for the umpteenth time, finding nothing new or novel enough to engage me. I knew there were friends I could email or call, but didn't feel up to reaching out. I wanted someone to reach out and in to me and find that place in my chest where my heart is trying to back slowly and unobtrusively out of the scene but keeps pounding slowly but surely against the reality that there are lungs and muscles and veins and ribs and spine and skin trapping it in my body and the circumstances surrounding my body which somehow constitute my life. I needed a safe place to say this. To say the words, "I am lonely. Is anyone there? Right now?" So I started a new post. And I looked at my notes from Attached, and remembered that my great capacity for intimacy, which I consider to be the greatest gift I have to offer myself and others, is also the source of the frequent and deep loneliness. This loneliness is compounded by being in a marriage where my emotional needs are not met, but feeling lonely will continue to be an issue even if the quality of my marriage changes. I have worked hard to create a network of friends that is both broad and deep in order to fend off this loneliness, but even that is not enough. I need more. I need God and the infinite love he offers---love that transcends time and space. And writing this post helped me remember his love and access it and feel some relief.

Some relief. For a few moments, it felt complete. Now, as I finish writing, I realize that my loneliness is not completely gone, although it is assuaged. And I know why. I know why God will, in his loving kindness, continue to let me feel lonely at times---perhaps much of the time. And if I forget, I can always just read this post again.