Our lesson in our women's organization at church today was on a talk Elder Robert D. Hales gave in this year's April General Conference titled
Coming to Ourselves. The sister who taught our lesson did a great job with this talk, but I kind of felt like another sister and I
(unintentionally) dominated the discussion portion. This was a topic that is rather dear to me and has been a big part of my life over the last 5 years, and I felt that I should base my post on it today.
Do you ever have one of those experiences where you feel like you "wake up" to the terrible position/situation you are living in and think to yourself 'I deserve so much better than this!' Not in a selfish, entitled manner, but in regards to your self-worth and your innate knowledge that you are worth more and deserve to live in happiness and not misery. This was the premise of Elder Hales' talk as well as the story he retells of the Prodigal Son. He brings up a great point that in
Luke 15:17, the young man "came to himself." He had that ah-ha moment where he said to himself: what am I doing?? Even the servants in my father's house live in better conditions than me! I am not a pig and should not be subject to living as one. I deserve to be treated with at least the basic dignity and respect that my father's servants have.
Coming to oneself as the Prodigal Son did is the easy part. The next steps are hard. It requires swallowing your pride, becoming humble and quick to repent, asking forgiveness to those you have offended or shunned in your arrogance, and changing habits that may be deeply ingrained in your life. Sometimes it requires you to make small changes to get back on the path, and sometimes those changes are drastic and daunting. It is easy to feel overwhelmed and depressed by how far you have fallen. Many people think that they have messed up so badly that they are no longer worth saving. NOT SO! God loves EVERY one of his children, just as the young man's father loved him, no matter how badly he had screwed up his life. His father ran to him with open arms and lovingly welcomed him back into his home, not as his servant, but as his son, just as before he left and began sinning. So it is with our Father in Heaven. As one sister eloquently pointed out in our discussion: our Father sees us for who we can be and what our potential is, while we sometimes merely see who we are right now, black spots and all. Our Father loves us and wants us to partake of the blessings that he WANTS to give us. He will accept us back with open arms and loving welcome when we come to him with a humble heart, ready to repent and make changes.
When we are ready to take the steps necessary to change, He will comfort us, straighten us, and guide us. I have seen this in my own life on a first-hand basis. I started, as most do, with a small deviation from the things I knew were right. We do not merely wake up one morning and have the thought: I'm going to commit adultery today
(I love my bishop's one-liners!). Satan is subtle. Anyway, I started with the subtle sin of thinking 'I'm in college and away from home. My parents aren't here to MAKE me attend church. I don't feel like going today, so I won't.' While that was not a huge life-altering decision in itself, and I still continued to go to church on a majority basis, it was the first step. Eventually, I began dating someone who did not share my values or commitment to religion. That turned into pre-marital sex. That turned into a marriage outside of the temple. Eventually, I stopped going to church altogether and began swearing, and drinking alcohol
(luckily, it was at the end of my first 6-pack that I had my ah-ha moment and never went past that). I wound up married to a man who was verbally and emotionally abusive, who selfishly spent our money on himself and had affairs with other women.
One day, I truly hit rock bottom. I had recently discovered that I was pregnant and seriously considered having the baby aborted. A voice in the back of my head screamed at me that it went against everything I believed in. For once, I listened and decided that, against all of the misery of my life, I was going to keep the baby. Sadly, the pregnancy ended in the baby being stillborn and premature. I was a mess. I came home from the hospital an empty shell. I couldn't feel sad. I didn't have it in me. I was past feeling anything, my life was so screwed up. I hadn't been to church in ages, my husband had denounced the church, I ignored the kids I did have, I lived in destitution with no friends or contact with my family, and now I had lost a baby that at one point, I didn't even want. I went to my room and fell to my knees. Literally. I felt so... I don't even know what word to use... pathetic I guess. I figured, since I was there, I would see if God was still there. At that point, the flood gates didn't just open, they burst. I cried like I have never cried in my life
(seriously, I soaked a spot in my bed nearly 2 feet in diameter) and poured my heart out to my God, who I KNEW was there. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. I felt so terrible for everything that had happened and everything that I had brought upon myself. I just wanted to make it right, and had no idea how. I finally stumbled into my soaked bed, alone, and fell asleep.
I had a dream that night, that, for many years, I thought was a vision of the son that I had lost. I woke the next morning with a renewed faith in my Father's plan for me. I knew that if I wanted that baby in the hereafter, I had to make some serious changes. I started going back to church, which was very difficult with my husband being so adamantly against the church. I stopped drinking, stopped swearing, and worked towards being worthy to have a temple recommend that I had given up years before. I prayed more than I had ever prayed in my life. Things didn't get easier. In fact, they got harder and harder. My husband found reasons to have the car on Sundays, and excuses to avoid marriage counseling. I had friends who tried to get me to drink with them. I struggled every day with my personal demons and fighting my depression. One day, I knelt down to pray, utterly overwhelmed by my struggles, and demanded of God 'what do you want from me?!?' I prayed very deeply about several specific issues and for His input on what I was considering as my most viable option. I felt a peace and calm, despite thinking that it was crazy and I had no idea how I was going to pull it off. That night, I filed for divorce. Having no car, no money, no support system, nothing. I very clearly said to my Father: alright, I'm going to do what I can, and I am putting the rest of my life in your hands. I truly felt like the Prodigal Son, stepping out of the pig pen and heading back to his father's house, unsure of what was going to happen next.
The next morning, my life started a series of rapid and unforeseen changes, that, if I did not know that Heavenly Father was involved, I would see as a miraculous chain of coincidences. I reconnected with an old friend who was also going through a divorce. He helped me get back on my feet and move. I started attending church on an incredibly regular basis. I was able to obtain a temple recommend for the first time in 4 years. I took my covenants seriously and lived my life in a way that made me happy and blessed. I was eventually, blessed with the opportunity to marry my wonderful friend, but to be sealed to him in the temple. Now, 5 years after my moment of "coming to myself," I have a happy, healthy marriage, 4 kids, a great life, a temple recommend
(which I actually USE!), a faith that is stronger than it has ever been, and a clear knowledge of who I am, where I am going, and what I am supposed to do.
Sometimes, I wish that I had that moment earlier. Sometimes I wish that I had never stepped of the path to begin with. Then I remember that feeling of my Father's open arms, welcoming me back after my time away, His forgiveness for what I had done, and the love that he has for ME, an insignificant no-body. I see how my experiences have shaped me and influenced the woman I have become. I have that reminder to not take what I have for granted
(and that it really could be worse).
And I don't regret a thing.
