{"id":498,"date":"2013-11-18T22:01:51","date_gmt":"2013-11-19T05:01:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/?p=498"},"modified":"2013-11-18T22:09:36","modified_gmt":"2013-11-19T05:09:36","slug":"looking-back-five-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/2013\/11\/looking-back-five-years\/","title":{"rendered":"Looking Back Down the Years"},"content":{"rendered":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional\/\/EN\" \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/REC-html40\/loose.dtd\">\n<html><head><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><\/head><body><p><figure id=\"attachment_525\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-525\" style=\"width: 225px\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\"><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/313\/2013\/11\/sacrament-1b.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/313\/2013\/11\/sacrament-1b-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" title=\"sacrament-1b\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-525\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-525\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dad takes the sacrament<\/figcaption><\/figure>One assignment I give my students is to write a letter.  My objective is for them to use their natural voice and to focus on a familiar audience, and thus to escape the pretentions of \u201cofficialese\u201d or academic loquaciousness (like that). This semester, a student wrote to herself in the future, asking if she had turned out okay. It was a lovely essay.<\/p>\n<p>Five years ago, I wrote this to a missionary in the Congo\u2013one I had later as a student.<\/p>\n<p>My letter:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Dear Elder\u2013On Thursday, I went swimming fairly late at night.  I did some easy kicks, then hit butterfly hard and lashed the water with full strokes.  I started getting angry at the whole situation.  I felt so ripped off that for four years, when my son has said, \u201cYou don\u2019t know the real me,\u201d he meant it.  I felt like I had missed out on a huge portion of this kid I gave birth to, because he had been stoned much of the time. By the time I got home from my swim, I was still mad.  I knew that it had to be resolved somehow, and that I could not control my son.  Somehow, I had to find peace beyond the current trial.  So I talked to my son about what I was planning.  I told him that I was going to have my husband give me a blessing.<br>\n<!--more--><\/p>\n<p>My son stayed in the room as Bruce blessed me. The line I remember most vividly is this one: \u201cI bless you that your memory will be sanctified as the larger picture unfolds, and you will view all of the difficulties and the trials you\u2019re enduring now with gratitude and love.\u201d  Isn\u2019t that lovely\u2014the idea that our memories can be sanctified?   Did I ever tell you about the day I gave birth to my son?  No epidural, so I knew how painful the final push would be, and I <a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/313\/2013\/11\/mom-and-baby-me.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/313\/2013\/11\/mom-and-baby-me-300x227.jpg\" alt=\"\" title=\"mom and baby me\" width=\"300\" height=\"227\" class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-523\"><\/a>said to Bruce right before the last labor pain hit, \u201cI don\u2019t want to do this.\u201d  He answered, \u201cIt\u2019s too late.\u201d  I pushed and it was every bit as bad as I knew it would be.  I screamed.  But then my son was born and the pain was over.  A couple of hours later, I had a rather miraculous experience in which I fully remembered\u2014even relived\u2014the birth, except without any pain.  And I kept repeating in my mind, \u201cHow beautiful.  How beautiful.\u201d  The fact that this child had come through me.   <\/p>\n<p>So, in line with the idea of sanctified memories, I\u2019ve been thinking of two stories from the New Testament: The raising of the daughter of Jairus and the raising of Lazarus.  <\/p>\n<p>Whenever we lose someone, whether it\u2019s to death, sin, their choice to leave, or our choice, we tend to blame\u2014and we\u2019re certainly desperate for an immediate solution.  Elder Willis says, \u201cThe Lord is never frantic.\u201d  But we mortals, when faced with such calamities, do get frantic.<\/p>\n<p>In Mark 5, the sick girl\u2019s father, Jairus, a leader of the synagogue (and so, we might guess, someone not all that likely to approach Jesus) finds the Savior, kneels at his feet and pleads with him to lay hands on his daughter so that she might be healed.<\/p>\n<p>Then, though we assume that Jairus remains by the Lord\u2019s side, the scriptures take us to another event\u2014where a woman who has had an issue of blood for twelve years touches the hem of Jesus\u2019 garment, and he feels \u201cvirtue\u201d (strength) go out of him because of the power of her faith.  (Btw, the woman\u2019s issue of blood refers to constant menstruation, and means that she has been in an \u201cuntouchable\u201d circle for twelve years.  The Levitical law required that menstruating women not associate with men until they were cleansed.  For twelve years, this woman has been \u201cuntouchable.\u201d)<br>\nThen, we\u2019re back with Jairus, still at Jesus\u2019 side.  They go to his home, though word has already come that the child has died.  Jesus tells Jairus to \u201cbe not afraid, only believe.\u201d  They enter the place of mourning, where everyone is wailing because the girl has died.  Jesus asks calmly, \u201cWhy make ye this ado and weep?\u201d  Then he approaches the girl and says, \u201cTalitha, arise.\u201d  The scriptures interpret \u201cTalitha\u201d as \u201cdamsel,\u201d but there is another Hebrew meaning: \u201cLittle lamb.\u201d  Imagine the affection.  \u201cLittle lamb, arise.\u201d  (It likely also refers to her hair, which was perhaps like wool.)  She opens her eyes. Then Jesus, so aware of her need, simply asks for somebody to bring her food.  He performs this mighty miracle and then is instantly concerned for the mundane reality: The child must be hungry.<\/p>\n<p>In the story of Lazarus, the dead man\u2019s sisters say to the Lord, \u201cIf thou hadst been here, our brother had not died.\u201d  But Jesus understands his priesthood.  I\u2019ve wondered what it was like for Lazarus.  Surely, he was asked if he was willing to resume mortal life, and he must have known that he would be a testimony of the Lord\u2019s power.  When the command, \u201cLazarus, come forth!\u201d was given, he obeyed. <\/p>\n<p>When we read either story, we already know the ending, so the whole picture is available to us.  We read it with a sense of the miracle already in our minds.<\/p>\n<p>So here I am, a fifty-something mother of a kid who is spiritually ill; a kid who has, for years, deceptively taken substances into his body. I have been flailing.  The Provo Temple is closed for another month, and I haven\u2019t been to the temple since we went to Europe.  (Usually, I\u2019m there every week to help with the Spanish session.)  My husband\u2019s blessing to me\u2014which included much more than the sentence I quoted\u2014was like the Savior saying, \u201cBe not afraid, only believe,\u201d or \u201cWhy make ye this ado?\u201d  In other words, DON\u2019T YOU BELIEVE I, THE LORD, HAVE POWER?  <\/p>\n<p>I do have a strong hope that in five years, I might see my son as a strong, righteous man who has chosen to do good things. <\/p>\n<p>I cannot control my son any more than your parents could control you, or any more than Jairus and his wife could control the end of their daughter\u2019s life.  This is the time for faith. I have to go a step at a time, trying not to get frantic or flail if I think I\u2019m drowning, but to believe that the Lord really is with me and Bruce as we do this most important work of raising our children.   <\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>It has been almost\u2013but not quite\u2013five years since I wrote that email.  Changes?<br>\nMy son is becoming a righteous man, one who values peace and integrity.  My other children continue to progress in their own endeavors.  Perhaps the biggest change has been in me.  I am not frantic. I am not fearful.  I understand that the more I love my children, the more they will love themselves and others. This is my season of learning, not of mourning.  I am only mid-way through the story.  As I always told my children when thy reported someone else\u2019s messing up: \u201cThe end of the story hasn\u2019t been written yet.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I write this now, on the 19th of November, 2013:<br>\nDear Margaret at age 63: I think our children are settled now, and the clamoring voyages of youth have come full circle. Do you even remember how hard it got at the peak of the trials, when you felt so betrayed that you couldn\u2019t even see your children\u2019s pain (which was far worse than your own)?  Do you remember how helpless you felt and how resistant to giving love?  Do you remember praying for strength and peace and finding both\u2013particularly in the temple?  Do you continue to thank God for miracles?  (I assume they\u2019re still happening.) You have a teenaged granddaughter now.  How is her mother?  Are you strengthening her?  Are you doing good things for good reasons?  Are you noticing how glorious the vista is\u2013all down the years\u2013now that it has been sanctified by the completion of a few stories and the kind haze of memory?  And those shadowy places\u2013you do know, don\u2019t you, that they will be beautified as well, and will be made to shine.<\/p>\n<p>Dear reader: Feel free to write yourself a letter.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>One assignment I give my students is to write a letter. My objective is for them to use their natural voice and to focus on a familiar audience, and thus to escape the pretentions of \u201cofficialese\u201d or academic loquaciousness (like that). This semester, a student wrote to herself in the future, asking if she had [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1301,"featured_media":523,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-498","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Looking Back Down the Years<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"One assignment I give my students is to write a letter. 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