Emergency Blanket

Greg drove to Colorado to get a topper put on his truck, or “to have his truck lose all its cool factor” as RE put it. Because Greg knew I needed a last shot of megabonding with RE, he took the boys with him. Only minutes after cool truck pulled away with chubby hands waving out the window, I speed cleaned the house and then watched the Juliette Binoche version of Wuthering Heights. That movie was a natural segue to every version of Jane Eyre ever filmed, all of which I watched except for the 11-episode Timothy Dalton version that reeked with its soap opera sets and yuck lighting.

Everyone knows the best part of Jane Eyre is when Jane saves slumbering Rochester from the bed of flames. Because I know what simple draperies cost, a little part of me dies every time Rochester beats the flames down with his lush, Victorian panels that were probably heirloom quality and "hand-stitched by dear little nuns in Switzerland”. (Now I’m quoting Summer Magic, a childhood Disney movie I watched too many times. We had all the Hayley Mills movies, although I was never brave enough to watch Moonspinners unless Suzette was with me.)

All the flame quenching is tied to a term from a story I cannot forget. 

In most situations love really is the answer, but it is not always easy to love. I have often called upon the wise counsel my mother gave me when I was relating to her some perceived injustice I had suffered. I insisted that my grievances were justified. Knowing she could not undo the injustice, my mother advised me to

THROW A BLANKET OF MERCY OVER THE SITUATION.

In essence, she advised me to love, to forgive, and to show mercy, even where I felt my demand for justice was valid. She urged me to let mercy pay the debt and satisfy my claims. That advice has saved me much anguish and provided me great relief when I have been able to heed it.

Choosing to love is choosing to heal from the spiritual wounds inflicted by injustice and suffering. (Steele)

I cannot stress how much this term has impacted me. BLANKET OF MERCY. BLANKET OF MERCY. It is the only blanket with smother-ratings for every flame the adversary can ignite, be it volatile bonfire infernos or the slow, sickening coals we bury, yet carry, for years. 

I lived for decades before forgiveness hijacked my happy place and became the soul-twisting request that won’t let me be. I have strived to completely forgive...and then a spark flies and the flame is back. I’m wondering if I’ll confront it forever like a trick birthday candle. Is 70x7 going to occur every. single. day?

I hope not.

As a young driver, my parents counseled me to keep an emergency blanket in the trunk. You never know when you’ll be stranded and cold. To this day I still keep an emergency blanket in my car. In fact, I have two. They have come in handy so many times.

I need to carry another emergency blanket with me at all times—an emergency blanket of mercy—because old offenses can be easy to remember and hard to kill. The content of the Atonement of Jesus Christ is the only mass powerful enough to snuff the truly complex misfortunes of life gone awry. I’m tired of feeling stranded and cold. I'm more tired of dealing with fire. I can't throw in the towel, so I must throw the blanket.

Excerpt from “Choose to Trust the Lord”, Michalyn Steele, BYU Speeches, June 25, 2019. Photo image from ChurchofJesusChrist.org

Both of my emergency blankets were crocheted with love by Samkol, a Cambodian angel.

Forgiveness: A Series of 12

I collect postcards, salt and pepper shakers, white pillows, pens, and things with bees on them. And, apparently, forgiveness. I collect forgiveness.

I have tucked more words, lines, and paragraphs about forgiveness into my pockets these last few years that after accidentally washing them, uncrumpling them, and arranging them I’ve curated quite the menagerie.

One shouldn’t collect forgiveness. One should give it away. So I am. I’m giving away a whole series of it—on paper marbled with chalk, an X-acto knife, and a plastic tub of water. It's one of the few MacGyver things I can do besides making dinner almost every night.

Enjoy the exhibit.

no. 1

Harboring resentment…doesn’t empower you. It can actively cause you harm, both physically and emotionally. Repeatedly recalling the slight (yes, it can definitely feel much larger than “slight”) is called ruminating. “Research shows that when people keep ruminating, it increases the base level of the stress hormone cortisol in their bloodstream. That in turn can shrink the brain and also impact the immune system, cardiovascular system, GI system—there are a lot of costs.”

In a study on young adults, higher levels of forgiveness were connected with fewer physical issues, like sleep problems, digestive trouble, and headaches, as well as fewer feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, anxiety, and depression.

What you want is to move on and feel good about yourself and the world, while making sure the offense doesn’t happen again. The only way to get there is through forgiveness. “Resentment is a slow, happiness-stealing poison,” says Engright. “And forgiveness is like medicine.” Forgiveness is being good to those who are not good to you. Difficult, yes, but the payoff is worth it. “Think of yourself as someone who has the power to create the life you want to create,” says Carter. “Showing mercy to the people who wrong us is a little-known secret to happiness.”

“How to Bury a Grudge” by Melanie Mannarino, Real Simple, July 2019, p. 71.

no. 2

“Love is of the Spirit,

and Christ’s spirit is what you seek

to built love,

to repair it,

and to heal it when it is sick.”

-Truman Madsen

Photo quote summarizing what I feel when I read Isaiah 30:21 "And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand, and when ye turn to the left." I really believe that because the Lord has commanded us to forgive, He will back us up when we're all in and trying to do so.

no. 3

“Besides the noble art

of getting things done,

there is the noble art

of leaving things undone.”

-Lin Yutang, The Importance of Living

This is one of the hardest lessons I'm learning. I want to have a conversation, unload what's on my chest, clear my name, and be right. None of those things will happen if I have a conversation. A conversation will only pull off scabs that have been drying at a snail's pace for years. There is surely an art to letting things go. It's not my art. Also, this paper really looks like an everlasting gobstopper to me—which is something I can easily leave alone. Ga-ross.