Magic Eye pictures are fun to look at. You can spot 3D images in what looks like busy printed pictures. It takes time to get your eyes used to the method of seeing the images. And as you begin to 'see' the 3D renditions, a thrill sets in and the further back you look at the print, the object has more depth and sharpness to it. Suddenly, you have a little something that others can't see until they themselves learn how to 'see' through the print. It's magical.
My daughter recently, in a blaze of frustration, asked me why it is that she can't see what I see. She said that she wishes she could have the same conviction about the things I see. I often ponder about that exchange and it somehow disturbs me. The context of the conversation is more complex than I am willing to describe but today a thought just ran into my head.
Lehi was a 'visionary man'. I've always thought that people could see things that I could see. Many times I'll see people and I'd see the 'insides' of them....like I can see what they are hiding and what they really are. Many times I can 'see' what is going to happen or feel something that would indicate a warning to me or for others. Many times the things I 'see' are inexplicable until some time later when things begin to unfold. And still many times, I'd 'hear' a voice or see 'text' or words in my head that instruct me on what to do. Many times these things are random. But these feelings and vistas have always helped me and at times, saved me from danger. So I rely on them and know that I should take them seriously. I don't purport to be like Lehi. But I always thought that others experience the same things I experience. That is, until my husband pointed out to me that I'm the only one he knows who can do that. A gift perhaps?
Laman and Lemuel, the sons of Lehi, murmured endless about their visionary father. That's because they can't 'see' what he sees. Now I don't particularly think that they were completely evil at first. I mean, they did follow their father into the wilderness and then across the wide ocean. They did go back to Jerusalem as told to complete a task or two. I am sure that while living in Jerusalem that they went to their synagogues and tried to live their lives according to the laws. And I do believe that they were at least worthy to be saved and given the privilege to live and prosper in a new land. They probably would have done their home teaching, passed the sacrament, taught Sunday School and their priesthood duties. And for sure, they did most of what their father asked. But still, they could not 'see' what their father saw.
I think that sometimes, as children, there will be times when we cannot see what our parents see. But if, like Nephi, we are born of goodly parents (not perfect....but good...), we may have to believe what they see and heed their counsel. Especially when they feel strongly about things.
When I was almost 19, my mother had a dream. She dreamed that our family crossed a wide body of water and when they reached the other side, I was missing and had been left behind. It scared her so much that she immediately came into my room, roused me awake and told me the dream. Initially, her conviction and emotion scared me. She told me that I had progressed as far as I can within the church and that I needed to go to BYU. Now, I had applied to BYU-Hawaii 2 years previously and received a letter from the dean asking me to reappy when I turned 18. At that point, I decided not to do so. I was happily attending the University of the Philippines as a partial scholar, about to be initiated into a sorority and active in political groups. I also had a boyfriend. I attended church and did everything I was supposed to do as an LDS young woman. But I also did others that were deceitful. I knew it.
My boyfriend was my escape from all the burden and responsibilities that weighed so heavily on me. And I felt that no one really understood me, loved me as freely and appreciated me as much as he did. My whole world seemed to encompass his. And I had this relationship behind my parent's back. He was a good man. He went to an exclusive private college. He had pedigree. He drove a nice orange model T that was his pride. He was smart and talented and worked providing voice-overs-- dubbing HongKong made kung-fu movies into English. He was a catch. And he was crazy about me. Leaving him was not an option.
There were many confrontations with my parents regarding him. He was not LDS. He smoked and drank. But other than that, he was perfect. I could not 'see' what my parents were seeing about him. I could not see why they were upset about him. I thought our confrontations were about him and their prejudice against non-LDS people and because he was not what they wanted for me. My father would constantly tell me that he was not what he 'saw' in his head for me. How can he 'see' what I can't see?
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The above confrontations would replay two years later. I had done EVERYTHING my parents wanted me to do. I reluctantly left my beloved University, my boyfriend, my sorority, my gang, my charmed life in Manila to attend BYU-Hawaii. One day, feeling particularly lonely, I prayed to God to 'please give me someone to love.' That afternoon, I met Tom. He was also non-LDS. But I would fall helplessly inlove with him and he with me. He would propose to me many times and what pushed me to accept was another confrontation with my father.
My papa was visiting Hawaii from attending Stake Conference in Utah. He found out about Tom. We had a huge confrontation ending with him disowning me. ("You are dead to me.") He told me that this was not what he 'saw' in his head for me. He told me I was worth more than this. He told me that I was not in any position to make 'inspired' decisions because of the life I was living. How dare he judge me? I was living a good life. I attended church, I performed my callings, I worked 20 hours a week and carried a load of classes. But inside me, I KNEW he was right. But how dare he anyway? That's when I decided I would marry Tom. Because he was the only one who understood me and with him, I felt happy and free. And if he's a good man, which he is, surely one day he will be baptized and marry me in the temple. It's not a risk if he's a good man who fears God. And he did. No one can judge that. Not even my father who does not even know him. I am the only one who can make that determination.
How wrong I was. And my father was right. I did not marry Tom. Later, I would choose to serve a mission. My father 'saw' in his head that I was supposed to serve a mission and so I did. It was a very wise decision. My father was not always a good father. But when he was, he was very, very wonderful. And despite his many faults, he still received inspiration for my benefit and empowerment. Such is the case because though he was flawed, his love for me was real and deep. He still saw and knew things in my behalf.
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If Laman and Lemuel were not so bad and had the priesthood and if they did all that they were asked to do; some even very difficult tasks, why then could they not be given the same vision and signs that their father saw so they can know for a surety regarding their fate? Obviously their attitudes were problematic and became worse as time went by. But there are many times when we don't see what our parents see for us and we'd rather not do as they counsel because we think we know better. We think we are entitled to 'see' as they see.
God sees what is good and knows the path that we should follow. He knows our potential and knows what we should be doing. And yet, over and over we do not 'see' what he sees either. We continue to wander and err thinking that its much better to experience sorrow for ourselves so we can know joy better--not realizing that earthly life comes packaged with sorrows and challenges anyway and that we don't need to complicate matters by actively taking unnecessary risks. I think that is why we have righteous parents. If you are born of goodly parents, thank your God continuously.
As parents it is a great challenge to know how to act when a child willingly enters a moving train that is about to wreck. The child thinks it's exciting and nothing can hurt him. But as parents we know better because we know where the destination is. Do we chase the train and drag him off of it as he thrashes, curses and hates us, inflicting pain and defiance as we do so? While there's still time to save him? Or do we watch and wait until the train crashes and then with crushed hearts and bowed heads try and pick up the pieces and hopefully put them back together? Should we fight with all our might? Or harden our hearts and allow the terrible end to happen? I don't know the answers.
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