Proud

I got my patriarchal blessing when I was 13.  That's pretty young.  My grandpa was a patriarch and he'd just had multiple bipass surgery again and everyone thought he was going to die so I thought if I wanted a blessing from my grandpa it was then or never. 

I remember getting my copy and thinking "it's awfully short".  I mean after you take out the lineage and the standard ending there's only about four short paragraphs left.  Not like H-ers that is two full pages (font 8).

But I guess that He only needed four paragraphs to get the salient points across.  At 13 I wondered if God knew me at all. I mean he started with "Beware of pride".

Turns out He knows me pretty well.  See no one-I repeat-NO ONE thought I should marry H-er. Not my family, not my friends, not my roommates, not his family, not my bishop. Just me (and him). When I called to tell my dad I was getting married there was a moment of silence and then he said "as your father and preisthood leader I feel I absolutely must tell you this once and I will never say it again.  If he can't be faithful to the covenants he has made with God he will not be faithful to you". And I cried silently on the phone because I knew every word out of his mouth was true.  And I decided if my marriage lasted longer than his first I would win.

Everyone asked if I prayed about it.  Well of course I did.  I spent a Sunday afternoon with my scriptures out at the botanical gardens asking God if "H-er repented and lived worthy of his priesthood whether our marriage would be blessed".

I imagine Him giving me the stare I give my kids when they ask me an idiotic question just to annoy me.

So I pressed forward in my plans--most of which were over the phone with my mother because I didn't dare leave or he might slip up with someone else. 

I bit my nails and chewed on my lower lip and ran some calculations and figured if I  went home two weeks before the wedding that would be just enough time to crash plan a wedding but not enough time for him to stray.  (It was a close call.)

30 minutes before the wedding my mom said "if you want to call this off right now you can.  All the way up to the wedding you can stop and we will support you. It doesn't matter about the money or the people who have come. On the other hand, if you do marry him from that point on he will be part of our family and we will support both of you".  Another warning but I was determined to go ahead with it.

Once the bishop asked me why I thought all of this was happening.  I told him I'd been warned about pride and this was probably God's way of keeping me humble.  "That's a lot of pride" he said.

I recognize my pride now and for years I was afraid of making the wrong decision again. How I agonized over whether to divorce him.  This time I needed to ask the right way.  I needed to do what He wanted, not what I wanted.

Finally my dad said I should make a decision and act on it.  It it was right God would make it very clear to me.

So eventually I did. I decided on the divorce.  And I haven't been told to stop. But I feel it's conditional. 

To quote someone famous "I know The Lord giveth no command unto his people save he shall prepare a way for them to accomplish that which he hath commanded". 

See in my patriarchal blessing He commanded me to "beware of pride" and then in the very next paragraph He gave me the way to accomplish it.

"Show forth the light of Christ especially to those who hurt you or may mistreat you".

 Oh that's hard. Really hard.

Pride would have me withhold recognition and appreciation and praise in his recovery and parenting.  Pride would have me shame him.  Pride would have me put him in his place and crucify him in front of his children.  Pride demands it.

 

So that's my condition.  I have to love him through and after the divorce.  

At 13 those paragraphs didn't mean much to me. At 40 they speak volumes.