I've made some stupid choices. No, let's go back further. My friend and I were talking about the struggles of the world's youth, specifically the youth of the church, and I realized that one of my biggest struggles was my immature perspective on sin and blessings. I believed that once I had sinned, all blessings were withdrawn. There was no pathway back. Once I had sinned enough, I was done for. I had this unrealistic (and frankly unnecessary) image of perfection to which I held myself, and once I broke the image into too many pieces, there was no piecing it back together.
So. I made a lot of stupid choices. Once I made those choices, it was easy, because of my incomplete understanding of the Atonement and the way my Heavenly Father loves me, for the adversary and my ex-husband (certain people who love me suspect the two are almost one anyway) to convince me that there was no Father who loved me, I was not and would never again be blessed, and I was not of worth. They were wrong. I was wrong. My Heavenly Father continued to bless me with whatever I had capacity to receive in the circumstances into which I had placed myself. There were car accidents narrowly avoided, times I should have died from drug overdose or alcohol poisoning, brief comfort felt in times of deepest despair, and even the occasional blessing of convenience.
One night, very late (probably between 10pm and midnight or so), the driver of the vehicle in which I was riding was so impaired that he ran the car up on a sharp curb- destroying both tires on one side- pulled into the nearest parking lot and immediately passed out cold drunk. I was in no state of soberness to have any idea what to do, and in no state of physical strength or dexterity to get my passed-out lump of a driver to safety, let alone home. After about an hour, a truck pulled into the parking lot into which we had limped, and two men in t-shirts and basketball shorts got out and entered the building. I watched them speak briefly with the custodian who was leaving for the evening, and then come back out, looking confused. They talked for a few minutes and eventually spotted me and came over and asked if they could help me. I didn't have a jack, but I did happen to have two spare tires, so they got the jack from their pickup and changed my busted tires. Together they moved my inebriated baggage from the driver's seat to the back seat. I offered to pay them what little cash I had for helping me, and they declined. One said "We're missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This building is our mission office. We normally wouldn't be out this late, and you probably would only recognize us in white shirts and ties, but my companion here woke me up and said 'Something is wrong at the mission office- we have to go now. So we went.'" And then they sent me (I had sobered up to what I thought was a safe level by this time) on my way.
At the time, this was a highly humiliating experience for me. I refused to tell them my name, for fear that this story would get back to my parents. I was grateful, but honestly wished it had been anyone else, or that nobody had seen us at all. Later, once my life reached a state of stability and my mind a state of soberness, I was able to look back and see that event for what it was. I saw a Father, desperately reaching out to a daughter who had run away from home, begging her to recognize Him. Pleading through others who would act on His instruction, when the daughter would not, for her to partake of His love and return home. I know a brilliant composer who penned these words: "He longs to give you life, He longs to bless you, can ye then forsake Him? Will ye turn away? Ever He pleads for you, sorrows and grieves for you, will ye return to Him, or will ye turn from joy?"* There have been other events in my life where, in hindsight, I can see Him pleading with me to allow Him to change my course, to purify my heart, and to give me all the blessings He so desperately wanted me to have. As I have undergone the repentance process for many of my stupid choices, my guilt and grief have turned to compassion and regret for the sorrow I caused in my Father and Brother, who knew all along how much more I could be, and ultimately gratitude, that They never gave up on me.
Throughout my life, whether I was making right or wrong choices, my Heavenly Father has always watched over me. Without fail. He has been faithful in my protection when I was unfaithful in my choices. He has always blessed me, but in many cases I missed, rejected or squandered those blessings. When I am in the right place at the right time, with the right mindset, I have been able to recognize, receive, and make proper use of the blessings that are so abundantly poured down on my head. But often, I don't see those things until much later. I have recognized this about myself more and more over the last several years, and I have made a practice of searching out the blessings in every moment so that I don't have to wait five years for a clearer vision of the past to recognize them. This has led to much happiness and gratitude, and though I still fail at times to see the good in my life as it comes, I'm getting better at it as I learn to focus on the great gifts that my Father rains down on me. I desperately want others to experience this joy and confidence. It's fairly easy to teach a course on what not to do. What evils to avoid; for which pitfalls we should remain on alert. It's more difficult to teach a lesson on how to handle our imperfection. I feel it's imperative that we teach our youth of the Atonement. To teach them that there is always a path back from a dangerous pitfall. To teach them to see the evidence of Heavenly Father's influence in their lives, and to feel His yearning to bless us with all that He has.
In LDS theology there is a story of a prophet named Nephi who had some obnoxious older brothers. They never wanted to follow directions, they never wanted to do what needed to be done, they never wanted to work hard for survival or comfort, and they never stopped complaining. They underwent and survived some excruciating trials, and narrowly escaped death on multiple occasions, but never seemed to recognize the Lord's hand in preserving them. At one point, they were reluctantly out on a difficult task with Nephi when they became so angry with him that they bound and beat him, and would probably have ultimately killed him, had not an angel appeared to them and put a stop to it. Pretty extreme remedy, really, but Nephi's mission was just that important. Later, when they again refused to do what was required of them in another difficult responsibility, in what I imagine could only have been loving frustration, Nephi chastised them, asking "How is it that ye have forgotten that ye have seen an angel of the Lord?"** I believe that the Lord sends us reminders that He is there, that He loves us, and that He LONGS to bless us. I believe that my Heavenly Father has always guided and protected me, thought I could not always see His hand until I was looking back with clearer sight. I trust, because of this perfect pattern (and only He could create one so perfect), that He always will. Some might attribute my experiences to luck. Some might call them coincidences. I call them angels. I have seen too many angels to forget.
I got so many goosebumps reading this post! Our Heavenly Father is definitely with us ALL THE TIME :) It's rather comforting.
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