Confucius supposedly once said that "by three methods we may learn wisdom: first by reflection, which is noblest; second by imitation, which is easiest; and third, by experience, which is hardest."
This morning, as I reflected on years past and the significance of the day, I remembered some of the dangerous risks I had taken as a young woman. At one time, I was 21 years old, a student at BYU-Hawaii and inlove with a wonderful young man who was not LDS. In my mind, he was the most amazing person and he had asked me to marry him. My father had flown from Manila to attend April conference in Salt Lake City and stopped over in Hawaii to visit me. It was not a pleasant visit. My father was very upset about my apparently serious relationship with Tom and had told me that "I was dead to him." But my father could not remain upset. We made up after my boyfriend insisted that he drive me to the airport to see him off. We took pictures of that afternoon. My eyes were clearly swollen from crying. It was a very difficult time. But it would take a lot of pondering, weighing, vacillation, grief and confusion before I would have the courage to get myself out of the dangerous risk I had begun to play with.
I am usually not a pragmatic person though I'd like to think that I am. I am often so full of emotion, drama and passion....and opinions that I whole-heartedly believed in. I believed that to attain happiness, one must follow the heart. It sounded good. But I always knew it was a formula for walking into a tempest of difficulties. The heart is a poor judge and often impedes clarity. The mind is a more powerful judge for it can sort through the variables and calculate risks. And it was always wise to weigh things carefully. These principles would run through my mind as my father, with great frustration coupled with fear, would yell at me and tell me that marrying this 'non-member' is a huge mistake. That I deserved better. My response would be defiance. But only in my head. I thought that he had no idea how wonderful my boyfriend was. That one day, he would accept the gospel and be baptized. That if I were faithful and stayed true to the church that the Lord would grant me all the desires of my heart. That he was a wonderful person and surely the Lord would one day soften his heart. That if I lived my life as a true example, he would follow. Most of all, the biggest defiant question raced through my head: how do they know? They have no idea.
Calculate your risks. Empirically. Clinically. So I asked myself that question: what am I risking? What do I really know? And what if what I know does not match what I feel? What if I would be missing out on other possibilities regardless of the risks? Surely the heart does not lie!
Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God? (D&C 6:22-23)
I find it inspirational that instead of "feel" we would KNOW concerning the truth. And that instead of "heart", the Lord speaks peace to our MIND.
In D&C 9:8, the Lord also tells us that we must first study in our MINDS before we ask him if 'it be right". And in D&C 8:2, the Lord tells us that he will tell us first in our MIND and then our hearts the things that are true.
In calculating the risks at hand, it was apparent to me in my mind that the possibility that I may have to raise my children outside my religion was much too high a price to risk. I knew it. But inside me, my heart told a different story. My heart tells me to have faith and to believe in the possibility that he may convert--that the risk of losing him was too great. Obviously, I chose to break off the engagement but it was a battle to do so. I thought at one instance that death was a better option than to have to struggle and pass through this hardship. Such drama. And oh boy am I glad that I had enough strength to stick to what I KNEW and not give in to what I felt. It took quite a long time for my emotions to equal what I knew and even now, over 30 years later, I am still reeling from the close call of that time. I think that is the faith that is required of us---to be able to wait for things to equalize because the repercussions of a wise decision can be far-reaching and what will allow us to wait for confirmation is precisely what is spoken of in the scriptures in vast quantity--faith itself. I think that is why the Lord enjoins us to 'cast your MIND upon that night' as in D&C 6:23. And once we KNOW, we must DO. Not after we have done as we know will the true impact be realized. That is the trial of our faith....that is when our minds will equal what we feel in our heart. Just because in the scriptures we are told that the Lord will tell us in our mind first, and then in our heart next, doesn't mean that that will happen immediately. Sometimes, it takes time. And in the interim, we simply cannot doubt what we know.
My mother once woke me up in the middle of the night just because she wanted to tell me that she had a dream and was jolted by it. In her dream, our family was crossing a wide ocean. And upon crossing over, she looked around and could not find me.....that I had been left behind. She pleaded with me to reconsider going to BYU-Hawaii. She told me that I needed to go to this Mormon college because I needed to learn "how to be Mormon" and to grow spiritually. I was defiant again because I loved where I was and did not want to go to a small college 'in the boonies' of Hawaii. But I went and my life has changed for the better. I owe my mother the wonderful life I now live. And to this day, though I FEEL that going to BYU-Hawaii did nothing for my academic career because I was FEELING defiant about being there, I KNOW that it was nevertheless the best thing I ever did because I KNEW my mother was right though at the time, I FELT defiant about staying with my university, my sorority, my friends and my then boyfriend.
Now that I have children of my own, I appreciate all that my mother has taught me. And I can appreciate how right she was because all she prayed for, all she desired, all she dreamed about was a better life for me. I try to pass on these same principles to my children. My mother had the uncanny ability to see things 'far off'. Sometimes it surprised me that she could predict how things will go. But she always just told me that it was just mere calculation. I understand what she means. As I reflect on my life, I do realize that because of my time spent here on earth, I can see 'variables' that my children cannot see. And if this ability is genetic, then I can safely say that I owe it to my mother.
My mother cannot remember things anymore. But I remember them for her. And I hope that my children will remember too and pass them on. I know it. And I also feel it.
