Not too long ago I wrote a letter.
It was a long letter, pages (and pages) hand-written in blue ink, all scratched out and messy. And when I folded it up to send, the envelope was at least a half-inch thick. I plopped it into the mailbox with a surge of hope in my heart at the possibility of what the contents and words might produce.
But I should back up.
There is someone I love who struggles spiritually. And because I love them, their trial is my trial too. And if emotions could be called a “tour de force,” this particular trial would be my Ulysses AND my Odyssey, put together. A journey. Anyway, one day I wrote this person a letter because being a writer makes me a very ineffective communicator at spewing words out of my mouth into actual sentences. I do better with my fingertips and a clicking mouse, a simple pen.
So I took my ballpoint fine-tip and a sheath of white paper and started to write. After a while I realized I was just writing down my testimony. There was a fierce urgency about me as I wrote (I believe I had a baby perched on one knee); there was also a sweetness about the moment that I could only attribute to the Holy Ghost. Oh, I felt it. And it was grand. I would reread a paragraph and cry. I would say a prayer and write another sentence. I finally finished and I was spent. It was long (and possibly quite long-winded). If letters could be classics, this would be my Moby Dick.
Because now I think I may have gotten a little “Ahab” in my relentless attempt at getting what I wanted and on my own terms. I wanted to change a heart! I wanted a testimony to be borne! I wanted a soul back on the Lord’s side! I know that I did feel the Spirit as I wrote it, but I look back now and question a teeny tiny little tinge of Ahab-violence that may have been about it somewhere—between the lines maybe? And I couldn’t help but wonder, later, after the mailman came and my letter was somewhere floating out over the Rocky Mountains, if I wasn’t forcing something that shouldn’t be forced?
Free agency withstanding, I can’t will my testimony onto someone else. And I can’t will my design onto my Heavenly Father’s. I know this in my heart. But do I know this in my head? Because all I keep wondering is this:
What about the person who waits? What about the person who watches another amidst their trial? What about the person who writes a letter in attempts to change a heart, but only finds a heart closed and deaf to the pleas?
Is my only recourse patience?
Neal A. Maxwell said, “Patience is tied very closely to faith in our Heavenly Father. Actually, when we are unduly impatient, we are suggesting that we know what is best—better than does God. Or, at least, we are asserting that our timetable is better than His” (“Patience,” Ensign, Oct. 1980, 28).
I have never been patient. Or let me rephrase that. My head has never been patient, not when it comes to a nagging worry in need of quelling. My heart recognizes my Savior’s sufficient grace—a grace that will someday be in the eternities—even as my head wonders over the seemingly questionable timeline. Because you see, my head can’t fathom an eternity. My head wants things right, right now.
It’s funny, but even as I write this with a small migraine starting to bloom, my brain starts thinking of poetry (or is it my heart?). And it thinks this, by James Stephens: “I have learned that the head does not hear anything until the heart has listened, and what the heart knows today the head will understand tomorrow.”
And so.
I will wait. Because I do trust, and I know.
And see now, that while my letter may not have changed a heart, it certainly changed a mind. Mine.
Beautiful Brooke. Simply Beautiful. Could you maybe have shared this with me yesterday when I was ranting on and on??? Or were you just being patient with me?
This is what I was trying to come up with when I was mumbling assorted incoherent phrases and mostly staying quiet!
The separation and unity of my head and heart is a confusing topic for me. Sometimes I wonder which one to preference, which one to trust. I need to figure out how to learn from both my head and heart, but it seems like I either pride myself into trusting my logic or convince myself that my emotional state is absolute reality. Obviously neither option is healthy or complete. What’s the trick?
My head is usually the cynic, my heart the believer– I don’t know how to reconcile the two except to wait.
i think that is my problem. the fierce urgency in me. wanting to fix it. wanting to make everything ok. its so hard to wait. what am i waiting for? a miracle. really. i know, miracles do happen. just on the Lord’s time. not on mine. the miracle i think takes place in the time we wait. the whole head and heart thing totally hit hard brooke. i see the process a little clearer now. thank you for the gentle reminder.
Well, I rarely hear anyone saying they changed because someone cut loose on them with an emotional tirade. But I do hear people say they changed because someone stood by them and influenced them gradually over a long time.
Here in Bible country they have a saying “let go and let God”, which I haven’t heard used in LDS churches but probably should be, hee hee.
On the other hand, Nephi shocked Laman and Lemuel, which seems to have helped…temporarily. Don’t you sometimes wish?
I love the way you captured an experience I have also had. It is hard to love and wait.
What fabulous remembrance you have brought to me of a very similar experience. Oh, to exert a measure of control… and yet, it is that very control we seek that would be our undoing.
This was beautiful, thanks.
“I have never been patient. Or let me rephrase that. My head has never been patient, not when it comes to a nagging worry in need of quelling. My heart recognizes my Savior’s sufficient grace—a grace that will someday be in the eternities—even as my head wonders over the seemingly questionable
timeline. Because you see, my head can’t fathom an eternity. My head wants things right, right now.”
I related so much to this post. I have done this MANY times in my life. I get so anxious for results, or understanding that I pour myself all out onto paper, fully intending to send the letter, but I rarely ever have. Probably a good thing too because I think as you phrased it, went a little Ahab in my writing.
I feel so much better after writing it all down though, exhuasted, but better. I generally come to the same realization, that it was me that needed changing to bring myself in alignment with God’s timetable, but once I had written my feelings out on paper it quelled that need for things to move at my scale or to MAKE someone understand.
Thanks for sharing your insight in such an eloquent and convincing manner. I bet your letter was really good.
“Well, I rarely hear anyone saying they changed because someone cut loose on them with an emotional tirade. But I do hear people say they changed because someone stood by them and influenced them gradually over a long time.”
texasgal, that is a quote for my fridge!
Brooke, I have the opposite problem. My head knows God loves me, that miracles come, trials end, they always do. But in my heart I still feel like maybe God doesn’t love me, maybe its hopeless…. I’m always talking myself out of those feelings.
Hmmmm what does my heart know today?
Fantastic Post.
“Patience is tied very closely to faith in our Heavenly Father”.
I would take it a step farther and say they are almost interchangeable at times. I often pray for the faith the have patience, and I wonder if I’m being redundant because truly they are often one and the same.
Thanks for this beautiful reminder that we are on a journey, we each have to learn, over and over again how to reconcile our head and our heart and keep in tune with the spirit to know which to listen to and when.
loved it! this morning on my family’s website i found ramblings about passion and i added my own thoughts and i’m sure i rambled. but isn’t that what i feels like when you are passionate about something. your thoughts can’t get out fast enough and you wonder in the end if you made any sense to anyone. i guess that’s when you realize something is truly important to you.
thanks for sharing and letting me ramble.
Brooke-
You are a very talented writer - I’m reading this at work and hoping that no one walks by my cube as I have no excuse on hand for my watery eyes….
By the way - President Kimball was a prodigious letter writer. After he died his family discovered file cabinets full of letters of testimony and encouragement to those struggling with doubt or repentance - you are in great company.
Beautiful post. Thank you.
A few years ago I was standing in the hallway of my children’s elementary school talking with one of the teachers there who is also a friend of mine. I was lamenting over how hard it is as a parent to know a few things from experience but to have to watch your kids struggle because they haven’t learned those lessons yet. I stated how frustrating it is we can’t just make them know better now so they could be spared the pain and suffering of learning things the hard way.
Another teacher, one who had had his own struggles and then returned to the right path happened to be walking by and he turned to me and said, “That was the other plan.”
I try to remember that when I get impatient or worried over someone I love–especially one of my children–who doesn’t seem to be grasping the precepts that will lead them to happiness.
“If you really want to make God laugh, tell him of your plans.” That’s what this eloquent post reminds me of.
“I can’t will my testimony onto someone else.”
I love that line. I tried so hard on my mission to do that… and at the end, having watched some people I loved leave the Church, and others stay strong, I came to that same conclusion: I needed to trust God.
Thanks for this, Brooke.
When Nephi describes the Liahona he tells us that “within the ball were two spindles”. Are these two spindles in our life our mind and heart? Will we only progress in our journey when the two align? This is so hard to do at times but when it does happen we find peace.
You have such a gift for expressing yourself, Brooke.
I think that was beautiful. I don’t think it was wrong to bear testimony. At least it strengthened yours. And you are right, we all have free-agency. I think the most important thing to look at is our motivation. Is it pure or is there a twing of selfishness? It’s SUCH a hard question to answer sometimes and so tough to be always purely motivated.
I think that it takes so much more courage to bear your testimony to a family member than to a stranger. I admire you so much for having that courage. I believe that when you do bear witness to another of your own testimony, it finds it’s place somewhere in that person’s heart. Whether they show it or not.