Opening Exercises: my girls stretched on hard chairs, schooled hands still seeking their phones; leaders whispered, heads together, in the back; we settled into our common rhythms—every week the same. Toward the end I gave an announcement, passing along information I had recently received. We broke for classes. And a woman I love and admire made an offhand comment—to herself, walking away, unaware of my location—that immediately, unexpectedly, cut.
I grew hot, and my ears rushed, and my eyes pushed against rising tears. I told the Laurels to start without me and held the baby close as I hurried down the hall, head bowed, past the primary, past the library, past brotherly greetings, and into the mother’s lounge where I shut the door and turned off the lights and then I held the baby even closer.
The feelings of self-doubt, the recognition of my own inadequacy, the unlooked for guilt—their intensity surprised me as much as their very presence. I thought I left this long ago. The baby slept against my shoulder in the darkened room; she did not mind the tears.
I grew up. I pulled myself together. I wiped away mascara. And I went back to class where I stood with the baby in the back, swaying.
I think what caught my attention and what catches it still is how odd it all was. As a rule, I do not cry over comments made by other women. It’s not worth it. And this woman, my friend, would certainly be horrified if she knew—I know her well enough to realize there was no malice behind her words, or even simple dislike. So why did I feel like a Laurel again myself, and why the unwanted tears?
(Church ends; an hour passes.)
Visiting Teaching: I tucked myself into familiar cushions and conversations and, after a while, my hand slid down to feel for slick paper—every month the same. Toward the end I looked down:
Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don’t judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefit of the doubt or remain quiet. Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended…. Charity is refusing to take advantage of another’s weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other.
I shared this with my friend as we visited. I still need charity. I need it in my life and I need others to have it in theirs so they can live with me and I with them. I still need it now, now even more than ten years ago when I was still only half-awake to the world and to God. The pure love of Christ—Christ’s pure love and loving Christ in purity—I thought about that as I said goodbye to my friend after an hour and she hugged me and told me she loved me and I knew that she meant it and the words she had spoken earlier at the church, the words she did not know I heard and that sent me running, those words are fading as I write. I cannot recall them now.
Thank you.
That was a great VT message. I hadn’t read it. I really liked the admonition to “give each other the benefit of the doubt or remain quiet.” That course of action could do a lot for everyone, within the Church and without.
beautiful. made me cry. i loved that message. thanks for the reminder.
And the reader keeps on reading, wondering what that offhand comment could have been. To finally get the message: not to be remembered. Excellent post, great lesson, Jenny.
I had a moment like that with unkindness from a stranger, at Costco. I couldn’t hold back the tears. The rest of my shopping trip was quite embarrassing as the tears crept down my face. I’m sure the cashiers wondered what to think. We never know when what seems inocuous to us can cause someone else pain. Thank you for sharing this.
Lovely message.
There is also an additional aid in overcoming self-doubt caused by others’ comments. Ask the Lord if the criticism is just as Joseph Smith did:
After Joseph Smith had the First Vision, he experienced persecution “by those who ought to have been my friends and to have treated me kindly.” He says: “I often felt condemned for my weakness and imperfections.” So he prayed “that I might know of my state and standing before him.” Then Moroni visited him. Here’s that story:
Pearl of Great Price, Joseph Smith – History:
27 I continued to pursue my common vocations in life until the twenty-first of September, one thousand eight hundred and twenty-three, all the time suffering severe persecution at the hands of all classes of men, both religious and irreligious, because I continued to aaffirm that I had seen a vision.
28 During the space of time which intervened between the time I had the vision and the year eighteen hundred and twenty-three—having been forbidden to join any of the religious sects of the day, and being of very tender years, and PERSECUTED BY THOSE WHO OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN MY FRIENDS AND TO HAVE TREATED ME KINDLY [ CAPS ADDED ] and if they supposed me to be deluded to have endeavored in a proper and affectionate manner to have reclaimed me—I was left to all kinds of temptations; and, mingling with all kinds of society, I frequently fell into many foolish cerrors, and displayed the weakness of youth, and the foibles of human nature; which, I am sorry to say, led me into divers temptations, offensive in the sight of God. In making this confession, no one need suppose me guilty of any great or malignant sins. A disposition to commit such was never in my nature. But I was guilty of levity, and sometimes associated with jovial company, etc., not consistent with that character which ought to be maintained by one who was ecalled of God as I had been. But this will not seem very strange to any one who recollects my youth, and is acquainted with my native cheery temperament.
29 In consequence of these things, I OFTEN FELT CONDEMNED FOR MY WEAKNESS AND IMPERFECTIONS [ CAPS ADDED ]; when, on the evening of the above-mentioned twenty-first of September, after I had retired to my bed for the night, I betook myself to aprayer and supplication to Almighty God for forgiveness of all my sins and follies, and also for a manifestation to me, THAT I MIGHT KNOW OF MY STATE AND STANDING BEFORE HIM [ CAPS ADDED ]; for I had full confidence in obtaining a divine manifestation, as I previously had one.
30 While I was thus in the act of calling upon God, I discovered a light appearing in my room, which continued to increase until the room was lighter than at noonday, when immediately a personage appeared at my bedside, standing in the air, for his feet did not touch the floor.
I think that, without realizing it, we all say unkind things from time to time, or maybe not even unkind– maybe they just hit a tender spot for that particular person that we don\’t know about.
It really is the basis of oneness, of charity, to be able to work through those differences.
Thank you so much for the post… I really needed to read something like this today.
The mother’s lounge is good for so much, isn’t it? Place of refuge, situation room, meeting spot, therapy session, pilates class (if you’re late and have to balance on the counter or crunch on the floor). And banquet hall, of course.
I appreciated your double reading of “the pure love of Christ.” Very nice!
Thx for this — I’ve been waiting for an American partner for Wilfried’s posts.
Yes, Jenny, very Wilfriedian, which is the highest praise. Thanks.
What a lesson in discipleship, Jenny. For us who have read it. I was struck especially with your line, “I grew up.” That’s what this seemed to be–growing up, choosing to grow up, growing up unto Christ. That must be the difference between us and Laurels: we have many of the same reactions and even face many of the same situations, though disguised a bit with age. But we don’t have to burst into tears and make a scene–we can grow up. I teach a class of seniors, and one of my senior girls came in the other day with a tear-streaked face and red eyes and asked me in a quivering voice if she could go to the bathroom. Poor girl. She really must not have wanted to take that vocabulary quiz. Thank you for another wonderful post, Jenny. I’m giving this as my VT message next month.
Isn’t it interesting how our physical bodies provide opportunities to reflect and learn spiritual lessons? If this had happened to me I would have chalked the initial reaction–the hurt and tears–up to something chemical/hormonal–some frustrating, temporary predisposition to tender feelings. Yet regardless of where the hurt came from, or what influenced it, it is there and must be dealt with. It is such a blessing to have doctrines which speak peace, and which teach us how to have peace when faced with the hurt and sorrow that often arise because of our mortal bodies. Our weakness (physical) can become strength (spiritual). I am grateful for the Lord’s plan.
A. Nonny Mouse and random me: thank you for taking the time to leave your kind thoughts.
john f.: I agree—that line in the message caught my eye and has stayed with me. I wonder why it is so hard to actually do at times …
Wilfried: thank you for your appreciation of the aesthetic structure here (it’s one of the things I struggle with when I write).
m&m and Sare: I always wince when I realize, sometimes months or years later, that I have unintentionally hurt someone’s feelings. I think that’s why for me it was important in this experience to not make an effort to remember what she said—focusing on bruised feelings was not going to help either of us and would have probably caused some damage.
YL: thank you for sharing these verses with me.
Rosalynde: I love the mother’s lounge ;) Some of my favorite church moments from the past year have occurred in that plush mauve rocking chair. The verse that always suggests a doubled understanding of charity to me is Moroni 10:32: “Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ; and if by the grace of God ye are perfect in Christ, ye can in nowise deny the power of God” (my emphasis).
manaen and Kevin: thank you for your generous sentiments.
Naomi: we have grown up a bit, haven’t we … (ok, just a bit). I like the idea of linking growing up to growing up toward Christ—they’re both decisions we can consciously and autonomously make and act upon. Isn’t that the scriptural idea behind maturity? To act and not be acted upon? By the way, (this is totally unrelated) given your sports interest, I thought you’d like to know that I succesfully spiked the volleyball not one but four times tonight during our ward’s game (our resident tall athletic volleyball wonder was out of town and so they stuck me [only tall] in the middle …). We even won. That’s a first for me (the successful spiking that is). Does that count toward growing up somehow? Anyhoo …
4. And the reader keeps on reading, wondering what that offhand comment could have been. To finally get the message: not to be remembered.
This echoes a story Harold B. Lee told: he once was about to enter a pasture when he felt the Spirit’s prompting not to do so, so he didn’t enter it.
And that was all he said. When asked what was the danger, he answered that he didn’t know because he didn’t go in.
Julia: I’m sorry I didn’t see your comment before I responded yesterday—but I really like the connection you make between our physical experiences being grounds for learning spiritual lessons. I have a good friend who recently observed that the first three years of our physical existence are primarily concerned with learning how to manage and control our bodies—eating, sleeping, walking, motor skills, etc. She concluded that the experience of having a body and learning what that means existentially must be incredibly different from our prior spiritual existence given that we dedicate so much time to it. To connect both of your ideas, it seems like much of our lives, even beyond those beginning years, can be concerned with learning to increase our understanding and control over our physical bodies. And it seems like all that effort ought to have a significant spiritual dimension as well, if we can remember to look for it. I’ll have to remember that next time I sprain my ankle …
manaen: I think there’s a spiritual maturity (that I have yet to reach) at the heart of Pres. Lee’s story: to not be curious about things the Spirit prompts me to leave alone. Thank you for sharing this.