Change, Forgiveness, and Freedom - a Very Personal Post

Every single one of us have said or done something in our lives that we are not proud of, something we would take back if we could.

(This post was hard to write. Yes it's long, and very personal, but the message is close to my heart and too important to share. I hope you bear with me and read on.)

People change. I have changed.

None of us are the same as we were yesterday, five years ago, twenty years ago. Every day we change. Sometimes it is imperceptible, other times the change is drastic. But we all change. That will never change.

When I was in my late teens early twenties in many ways I was different than I am now. I was still fun-loving and outgoing, but different. I made different mistakes. Many of my choices were driven by insecurity, immaturity, and selfishness. Perhaps that is pretty typical of one that age. My intents were good for the most part, but there were times when I said or did things then that I would never do now. There are things I wish I could take back.  I wasn't a terrible person, by any means, just different. I've grown a lot. I've repented. I've learned. I've changed.

In my first book, "Does This Insecurity Make Me Look Fat?" I am quite open about some of my struggles of those years and their ramifications. It was a scary book to write. I still have struggles today, which I am equally as open about. That was even scarier to write. But I am able to be honest about all of my struggles due to the very fact that I have changed. I was and am imperfect, but I know Who makes me perfect. I have been forgiven. I have been changed. I know who I am now, and I like me very much.

I am who I am because of my Savior. Through Him I've had the opportunity to change. My Father in Heaven has forgiven me, the Spirit has touched me, and I have changed. That's the beautiful thing about Their perfect forgiveness--I learn, I grow, I change, and when I honestly repent, They remember my sins no more. They forgive and move on. They don't hold my past mistakes over my head. They see me as I am now, love who I am now, and glory in who They know I can be.  When I seek forgiveness, I am free to be me now, and not be held hostage by who I was or what I've done before. Their forgiveness frees me now and allows me the chance to keep on changing for good. It is such an empowering and liberating principal!

Most of us want that deep inside: to be forgiven, to be seen for who we really are and who we can become. Heavenly Father is always ready and willing to offer His forgiveness. The Savior, through His Atonement, has already paid the price for our mistakes. They are just waiting for us.

If only we understood what power forgiveness really holds! Their forgiveness frees us, and yet, do we offer our forgiveness so freely to others? Can we see past who they were to who they are today? Do we withhold forgiveness because we don't feel they deserve it? Can we forgive to free ourselves of grudges or pain, even if the other person isn't sorry? Can we let go of our misgivings and allow those that have hurt us to be forgiven, to move on, to learn, and to change?

Sometimes it takes great courage to forgive people, to let people change, to see them for who they are now rather than who they were before. But, we should try. First of all, it's pretty much a commandment (Matthew 18:22) but also because it frees not only them, but it frees us.

Let me share two very different, very personal, examples of what I mean. 

A few weeks after my book came out I received a call from an old friend of more than twenty years. We used to be very close, and I felt we still were. She was the kind of friend who, though we spoke every few years, I had felt a sisterhood connection with and a love that time hadn't diminished.

When I saw her name flash on the caller ID I excitedly picked up the phone and greeted her.  This was her response: "I am fine thank you. I am reading your book and I am not enjoying it at all." Then she proceeded to tell me I was a terrible person. She said I needed counseling, that I was messed up. She told me that there was no way I could write something like this when after what I had done to her. How could I, in good conscience, write a book about loving God, yourself, and others?

I was dumbfounded. We had emailed back and for just a couple months prior and ne'er a word was said about any issues or events. So, I inquired as to what I could have done to cause her such anger and grief.

There were three things: First, I had said something years ago that wasn't very positive about her to her husband, a then mutual friend, when they had first begun dating. Second, she was upset that she hadn't receive an invitation to my wedding twenty years ago. And third, she was upset that in 2010 she called to tell me she was pregnant. We were about to have family prayer, so I asked if I could call her back and I never did.

Still shocked, I tried to explain myself, firstly, about what I had said years ago. Whether or not it was true, and though my intentions were good at the time I had said it, it was something that should not have been said. I reminded her that this was something we had talked about at length in the past, something I had apologized for twenty years ago, and something she had forgiven me for twenty years ago. Still, I apologized again. I then apologized for her not getting an invitation. My mother had made the list and sent them out. I didn't play a part in that, nor did I pay attention to who was on the list. I simply didn't know she hadn't received one. As for the last one--I didn't ever remember that call. I am sure she did call, I'm sure I was happy for her, I'm sure I told her I'd call her back, and I'm sure I forgot. I'm also sure there was no ill intent. 

My explanations and apologies meant nothing. She was still mad, and had her mind set that I was simply a terrible person. She told her I had tried to ruin her marriage by my comment years ago (which was not true). She also told me she was sure I didn't call her back because I was jealous that she was pregnant again, and I couldn't have any children (I'd had a medically-necessary hysterectomy in 2001.). She said I had always been jealous of her, that I wanted to have her life and to be her, and that's why I didn't call. That last one particularly hurt, and proved that she really didn't know me very well now, or twenty years ago.

What she didn't know was that call came during the time we had just adopted our youngest child. The night-time routine then was long and hard. The transition was difficult for our daughter and for me. I spent many nights crying, wondering if I had the strength to be the kind of mother I needed to be to parent this beautiful, broken child. I wasn't jealous of my friend. I would have been happy for her. I was just struggling, exhausted, and focused on my own family at that time.

But she didn't want to hear that. She did want to hear about my twenty year old apology and her then-forgiveness, or that I had no idea she didn't receive an invitation twenty years ago, or that five years ago I was just keeping my head above water as I was trying to know how to parent my little girl. All she could see was who she thought I was in the past, and was convinced I was the same, that I hadn't changed. 

I spoke softly and calmly while my heart ached. She said she could never be friends with someone who could have done those things to her. She said I was a terrible person who didn't even know who she was now. I posed the idea that perhaps she didn't know me as well as she though she did now, either. I suggested we start anew, that the 'her-now' and the 'me-now' become friends. I told her that I loved her, and I didn't want to lose the friendship I had always valued. She said, "Your cute words sound nice but they don't mean anything, just like the nice words in your book. No thank you. I don't want a person like you in my life. You're toxic. I am going to finish your book however, even though I am not going to enjoy it." I told her I was sorry that she was not open to our friendship. She said she was even going to unfriend me on Facebook, so I shouldn't be surprised. Then she hung up.

It was a call I had no idea was coming. For years she had harbored these feelings. They had festered, tainting her ability to know me now. She was stuck in the past, and in a reality she had created herself. She was held hostage by her unwillingness to understand, to forgive, and let go. She was unwilling to believe I could change and grow after twenty years, and felt that I was undeserving of forgiveness. 

She is wrong.  

Still, I was shocked and hurt. No, I was devastated.  What brought me more sorrow was the fact that she was in more pain than I. She couldn't leave behind her negative feelings, and they festered until she was filled with bitterness and anger. She was in her own prison, and that made me so sad.

Contrast that with this next experience with two other people in my life, a friend and a roommate.

I had made a mistake once and was confronted by a friend in front of other people about it. Feeling ashamed, insecure, and embarrassed, I denied it. Not only did I lie, but I led her to believe that it wasn't me who had done it, that it might have been my roommate. I know, awful, right? That's exactly how I felt at the time. Insecure and awful. After the conversation nothing was ever said about it again by anyone. It just kind of melted away. We went about our lives and, as what happens to many over time, we fell out of touch.

I know it wasn't the right thing to do. I knew then. Though I never talked about it, it was still there, a heavy spot on my heart. So, years ago I spoke with the person I lied to and sought their forgiveness. They were so good and understanding and kind, They forgave me, understood me, and let it go. I felt so grateful, so good. They told me I need to apologize to my old roommate. I told them I would.  Then, as it happens, we lost touch again, and the promise faded into the background of my busy life.

One day, years later, my old roommate popped up in my Facebook news feed when a mutual FB friend commented on a post of hers. Like a rush of heat I remembered my promise. I knew I needed to apologize still, even after all this time. I was surprised and embarrassed I had forgotten the promise, and knew what I had to do. It took a few days to muster up the courage, but late one Sunday afternoon I reached out to her. 

I was so nervous. What if she was still upset? What if she hated me? What if she couldn't forgive me?

After our initial long-time-no-talk pleasantries, I dove into my apology. I told her what happened that day, how I apologized to our friend, and how sorry I was that I purposefully redirected possible blame her way so long ago. Then came silence....followed by laughter from her end; not unkind heckles, but a soft chuckle. She was never aware of what I had done. But that wasn't what made her laugh. She laughed because I still cared enough to apologize after all these years. Not that she thought it was funny, but she couldn't believe how sweet it was that I had still cared enough about it, about her, to apologize now. 

In a loving tone she forgave me, even though she said there was no need for forgiveness. That was a long time ago. We are both different people now. We had both changed. And nothing else needed to be remembered or spoken of again.

We talked for another hour about our lives now, our families, our accomplishments, our testimonies, and our interests. She told me multiple times how it was such a joyful surprise that we had connected again and I agreed. At the end of the call I expressed my gratitude for her understanding, forgiveness, and love. She laughed again and said, "I don't even know what you're talking about. You are wonderful, Michelle."

Do you see the difference? Both incidents were of friends that I had offended long ago. One wasn't willing to see that I had changed. She was unwilling to forgive and see me for who I am now. She was weighed down by anger and pain.

The other freely offered forgiveness and let go. She rejoiced in the fact that I had changed, that we both had changed, and that brought us closer together again. 

One was held hostage. The other offered freedom.

I know, it can be hard to let people change, to forgive. It's hard to acknowledge that someone who hurt you in the past could change and grow. Sometimes it takes a lot of courage to let the past stay in the past, and to live in the now. I know it does.

I had a friend who hurt me a long time ago in a way that could be easily considered unforgivable. I have heard through a mutual friend that he is a loving father and husband now, active in his church, and is happy. He has changed. I could be mad, feel that he doesn't deserve happiness, that he was and always will be a terrible person. But that simply isn't true. I am so glad he has changed. I am grateful he has learned and grown. I am free of ill feelings towards him, and, through the power of my Savior's atonement and a lot of prayer, I see that he is a good man now and I am happy for him. He has changed, but I am free.

When I say we 'let' people change, what I really mean is that we acknowledge they can and have changed;  we 'let' ourselves see them as changed. It's hard to do when we want to hold onto our grudges, when the pain they cause runs deep. But, forgiveness isn't ours to keep to ourselves. The moment we ask God for forgiveness we give up the right (if it ever was one) to keep forgiveness to ourselves. When we ask God to help us learn and grow and change, we acknowledge that that is a gift He gives to all His children who sincerely seeks Him. 

Every single one of us have said or done something in our lives that we are not proud of, something we would take back if we could. Most of us are trying to become better people each day, to improve, learn, grow--to change. If only we could see each other as we really are now, untainted by our past mistakes, what would we see? Who would we see? How would we feel?

Yes, it's hard to let go of our perception of who people used to be, but when we do we free ourselves, and them, to love who they are now and to keep changing (hopefully) for good. It takes courage in some cases, but it is worth it. I am heartbroken by my good friend that refused to believe I could change. I am filled with relief and joy by my sweet friend who offered forgiveness and love for who I am today.

People change. I have changed. And I will strive to continue to change the rest of my life, for that is why I am here--to become better, to become more like my Savior.  I know what it feels like when forgiveness is withheld. I know what it feels like to withhold it. It is painful. I also know what it feels like to be forgiven and to forgive. It is liberating. And that, I think, is something that will never change.

As I was about to publish this post, a thought occurred to me. I've talked about letting others change, accepting who they are now and letting go of the past, but what of ourselves? I'll admit, when I remembered what I had done to my roommate so long ago I felt terrible. How could I have forgotten to reach out and apologize to her? Thoughts began to creep into my mind and the adversary, seeing a crack in my armor, fueled the flames of self-doubt. Questions about my integrity and worthiness whirled in my head, but only for a brief moment. I shared my concern with my good husband, who said, "Michelle, you made a mistake a long time ago. That doesn't mean you were a bad person then, and you are not a bad person now. Go and apologize. Let it out and let it go. Then be the person you know you are now." He was right. For a brief moment I let the past taint my own view of who I am today. Seeking forgiveness and letting go helped me to, once again, accept that I have changed for the better, and fed my desire to continue to do so.

I love the quote by Donald L. Hallstrom, "Who we are is not who we can become." We are meant to change, to progress, to improve. We are meant to be more than we are now. That doesn't mean we aren't good enough now. It's not a matter of being good or worthy of being loved. It's a matter of becoming like our Savior. Regardless of mistakes past and present, we have infinite value and worth. But, through Jesus Christ we have the privilege to progress. He gave His all--literally--so we could. Let's not get in His way, in other's way, in our way, of change.

Sometimes it takes even greater courage to see ourselves and others for who we are now, not a collection of mistakes we've all made in the past (because we have all made mistakes). It can be hard to forgive ourselves and others, to love ourselves and others. But, we must try. We need to try so we can be free. Free to love ourselves fully, free to forgive others--free to be all that we can be. Free to change. Free to forgive and be forgiven. Free to be free.

Layers

Last year at our church's Harvest Festival there were a variety of games we could play.  One of them was the Mummy Game.  You stand still as your partner runs around you, unwinding a large roll of toilet paper.  You race against another team to see who can unroll the toilet paper first. In the end, you look like a wrapped up mummy (albeit a messy one!)

It was a fun game, and not as easy as it sounds.  (I, personally, enjoyed the eating-a-donut-hanging-off-a-string-with-no-hands one.  I pretty much dominated that one!)

My daughter played the mummy game a number times. One particular time she teamed up with an overzealous partner who speedily unwound three rolls of toilet paper all over her. Nearly every part of her was covered, but her feet.

She stood there, looking like a TP mummy. I wouldn't have recognized her if it weren't for her sparkling prices shoes!

I helped unwind her, layer by layer, until I was able to see and recognize my little girl again.  She said, "Whew, now I'm me again!"

Adopting an older child has had it's blessings, but it has also come with its share of challenges.  There are behaviors and habits that were developed long before she came.  Some are positive, but others are foreign and even detrimental. Some are just down-right frustrating.

But, as I've studied, prayed and pondered about it, I realized that she is playing the Mummy game, although this time it was not of her own choice.

Deep inside is my little girl.  She is strong, sweet, intelligent, patient, loving and kind.  She has amazing potential.  But, covering up much of who she really is are her behaviors.

She is wrapped up in fear and anxiety.  She has layers of sadness and anger.  Since she was young she had partners who ran around her with instability, abuse and neglect. So, now she comes to our home, wrapped in layers; and it's my job to unwind them, layer by layer, until I can see her.

I struggle because sometimes I forget that I am not seeing her, but the layers that she is wrapped up in; when she throws a fit, when tells a lie, when she makes other choices that are contrary to what we teach and practice on our home, I need to remind myself not to just stare at the layers, but to look beyond them.  I remind myself that she is under the layers, and it's my job to get to her.

This concept of layers doesn't only apply to adopted children.  They apply to all.

We are all covered in layers to some degree. Some are wrapped so tightly that it is nearly impossible to see who they really are.  They might even know who they are inside.  Others have only a thin layer; perhaps of insecurity or sadness.  But, we all have layers.

When I see someone acting in a negative way, intentional or not, I have to remind myself that behaviors are  layers.  And when I get frustrated with them, and perhaps even develop feelings of dislike for them, I have to remind myself of a saying I once heard "You cannot love behaviors."

It is difficult look at a person or child who is hurting you or attacking you and think warm fuzzies- because you can't love behaviors.

The key is to look beyond the behaviors, beyond the layers to the person wrapped up inside.  Often they cannot find their way out without help.  And almost always, they want deep down inside to feel like themselves again. Deep down we all want to be happy.

So, when I am offended by an adult, or frustrated by a child, I tell myself they are layers, not them.

Underneath we all want the same thing: to be valued, to be loved, to be needed and to be worthy.  In most cases, the people with the most behavioral issues are the ones with the most layers.  They are the ones that want to be freed the most, even if they don't know it.

I know I have my layers.  Sometimes I will say or do something contrary to who I feel I am because I am acting out of insecurity, anger or selfishness.  That isn't easy to admit, but it's true.  And, I would hope that those around me would try to look beyond my layers, too.  That they would try to see me, my righteous desires, and my potential.  And I would hope that they would love me for me, not judge me because of my layers, but see through them.

I love my daughter.  She is a challenge, with many layers.  It will probably be a life-long endeavor to unwrap them, but she is worth it.



PS- For those of you who were wondering, there is the matter of accountability we all have to unwrap our own layers.  Regardless of what has happened to us, we are accountable for how we act and what we do. This post in no way is dismissing personal accountability. (That's a whole different post!)  It is simply a visual that helps me get past the choices that some people make and see them for who they are.  It makes it easier to love them, not their behaviors. 

Make the Call

For some reason, this was a tough one to write.  Not sure why- but here goes anyway.

While out on my jog yesterday morning I found a wallet on the ground.  I looked in the wallet to find a way to get a hold of the owner.  There was a drivers license with a PO Box. The picture on the drivers' license was one of a tough-looking, non-smiling twenty something muscled-up guy.  I also found a library card and a registration card for a sexual deviancy in-patient program.  Up to that point, I was ready and willing to find the person and return the wallet personally, but after I found the registration card,  I questioned whether it was it the best decision? He could be a sexual offender or he could be an employee there. I didn't want to judge him. But...... after a lot of thought, I decided I needed to go a different route. My dad ended up taking the lost wallet to the local police station. 

We are told never to judge people.  That's not our job.  We cannot possibly know all there is to know about a person to come up with a completely accurate assessment of their worth. So, did I judge this man without ever meeting him, based on a blank registration card?  Some might say yes, but I disagree. I did not judge him, I made a judgement call regarding the situation.

What is the difference?  I did not deem this man a bad man, who is condemned to a life of crime and deviancy.  I simply looked at the situation - not the man himself- and decided it was not safe. 

If I am walking down the street and I turn into a dark alley and see a large man dressed in black holding a knife, will I continue on because I am taught I should not judge others? No way!  I make a judgement call, and run for my life. If there is a grizzled hitchhiker by the side of the road holding duct tap and a rope, do I still pull over and give him a ride? I'd say a hearty NO to that one, too.

These seem like no-brainers, but about the situations where it is not so easy to differentiate between judging and making a judgment call?  What about the homeless man on the street holding a sign for money, or the stranger who asks for a few bucks to spare as you walk through the mall.  

What about the situations that hit closer to home? An acquaintance who makes you feel uncomfortable asks for a ride home. A coworker who has a reputation for being back-stabbing wants to team up with you on a project. A flaky family member wants to borrow a large amount of money. Where do we draw the line between judging someone, and making a judgement call?  

When you judge someone you place a value on their person as a whole  (she is a good person, he is bad person) and you attached a label to them (i.e. loser, greedy, materialistic, lazy, shallow, etc).  When you judge someone you take it upon yourself to be the expert on this persons past, present and future, and their ability to contribute to the world we share. 

When making a judgment call, you look at the situation. The focus isn't the other person, but how your interaction with them will affect you.   You look at a snapshot of the person (dark clothes, knife in hand) and how things appear at the moment (dark ally, all alone)  and decide what kind of potential impact their presence will have in your life.

Judging is focused on the person.  A judgement call is focused the situation and it's affect in your life.

Here I make a confession that only a handful of people have ever heard.  (Mom, Dad, I hope you are sitting down.) When I was around 19 years old I picked up a hitchhiker.  He was a young man, not much older than me. He was clean-cut and harmless looking.   It was late at night and his friends left him without a ride home.  We talked as I drove.  He seemed nice enough.  In fact, he was very nice- and very cute. We stopped at a park on the side of the road and swung on the swings in the moonlight while we continued to talk. (When people ask what is the dumbest thing I've ever done, this is what I think of, but never share!)

After about 20- minutes he stopped swinging and looked at me.  His face was long and grim.  He said something I have never forgotten.  "Picking me up was a stupid thing to do.  You are too trusting." He said. "You don't know me. I could be crazy.  I could really hurt you."

I froze on the swing and said a prayer in my heart.

He continued,  "But, I'm not crazy, and I won't hurt you. But the next guy could."

He then made me promise to never, EVER, pick up another hitchhiker again- even if they looked harmless.  He told me to leave him there in the park and go home.  I did just that.

Afterwards I was very shaken and embarrassed.  I still am 20 years later as I think of all the the what-ifs. I thought I was being a good Samaritan. I thought that God would protect me since I was trying to do the right thing by giving him a ride.  I do believe I was protected but not because I had good intentions, but because I needed to learn a powerful lesson. I am grateful for the protection and the lesson.

He was first hitchhiker I had ever picked up, and the last.  I have often felt bad as I drive by hitchhikers. Many have looked harmless, even kind.  But, the experience so long ago has been etched in my mind forever. I cannot imagine putting myself in that position ever again. This is where it is important to understand the difference between judging a person and making a judgment call.  I am not judging the hitchhikers by my choice to not pick them up.  I am making a judgement call. 

Should you judge people? No.

Can you say no to someone without judging them? Yes.

Would saying no to certain people be a good judgment call? Yes.

Should we feel badly about saying no? No. (Although I still do sometimes- but that's a post for another time)

It can be difficult, especially for us women, to say no when someone needs help. We want to rescue the stray dogs, feed the poor, take troubled peopled under our wings.  We don't want to judge others, so we open our hearts, our homes, our wallets and our lives to even the most unsavory characters. We want to save the world.

But, often times those that we try to help hurt us.  We put ourselves in dangerous situations for the sake of being kind.  We don't want say no.  We end up being taken advantage of and wondering if this is our reward for trying to do good.

God has given us hearts that want to help and serve. But He has also given us minds to analyze the situation and decide if extending that help will be detrimental to us and the ones we love.  It is our responsibility, and our right, to make judgement calls for ourselves and our family. He trusts you to make the choices that are best for you and the ones you love.

Making the right call isnt't always easy.  It might hurt or offend others.  It might even make them mad. But, I know one thing, I never want to feel like I did that dark night 20 years ago.  I made a terrible judgement call, all in the name of doing good.  I could have paid dearly for it. I am grateful the He saw fit to let it be a lesson taught, rather than a trauma to overcome.

Turn to God in faith. He can bless you with clarity and courage to make the judgment calls that are best for you in your life. Doling out righteous judgment is His job.  Making good judgement calls is yours. It's up to you.  You make the call.