As dad had said, there was no work and I didn’t search for any. There was a pond behind our house and I wanted to clear out the underbrush around it and the meandering creek that fed from it. I built steps down to it and bridges across various places along the creek. Friends heard I was in town. One that came to see me was Chris. She had married while I was at BYU and now was just finishing up her divorce. She was living with a man, not her husband. She looked so sharp when she came to see me. But my dad began to question her and she became quite uncomfortable under his examination. She left me after only a brief visit and I knew I loved her. I was so surprised at the strength of my feelings. She wanted no more of me. I had no income and little plans. I suppose I was too religious for her. I was very concerned with her choices and I began to pray for her.
Prayer soon consumed me. From the time I got up in the morning to going to bed at night all I could thing about was wanting the Lord to bless her. She seemed so precious to me. Mom and others began to remark how peaceful I had become. After about three days I realized I had not contended or argued with anyone. I had not thought of anything less than best. I had not done anything wrong, not that I didn’t make mistakes but nothing came of me that wasn’t of the best intent. I realized I had experienced a kind of perfection. Others felt the peace within me and drew close to me. It was a wonderful three days, for I had been giving of myself, asking nothing back.
Mom and dad wanted to build an apartment over the garage and asked me if I wouldn’t be willing to do a lot of the labor. I felt that the only way I could do it was if they accepted it as a gift. They could not accept that and insisted on paying me. I was sure that this would lead to disaster in our relationship. I only find this kind of peace when I am giving of myself.
But I gave in to their demands. I should have quietly left. Instead, I walked right into hell, a hell I created. Within a few weeks I was arguing with them continually.
I finally prayed and asked what to do. I felt I should go to Provo. I did, over the vehement protests of my parents. I climbed Y mountain and stayed up there for a couple of days fasting. I asked the Lord what I should do. He said, “Write!” It felt like a commandment. I couldn’t see how writing would solve my problem. But I went back to Washington and continued working for my parents. I thought about writing for a long time. What would I write? The contention continued. After a month I began to write. It was very defensive sounding and poor writing at best. But it was good thinking and when I gave it some time, it brought peace.
Anne talked to me about the contention between my parents and I.
She said, “Why do you still have such hard time with them. Why do you say stuff like that; you know they aren’t going to like it.”
I replied, “That’s me. If I can’t talk like that, I fake like I am someone else. I don’t want to do that. It’s like I am lying to them.”
Anne replied firmly, “Well you know how they feel and think. You shouldn’t get mad when things go sour.”
Without thinking even for a moment, I said, “Intellectual understanding isn’t emotional security you know.”
She hesitated and said, “Right.”
It wasn’t till later that I realized that I had said something near profound. I do that very rarely. Another time this happened I was trying to make peace after too much contention with a family member. I walked away from the heat of the argument. After I cooled off a bit, I returned and said, “I am sorry I fight with you so much. I’d really like to end things on a better note. I know there is a lot to what you say.”
Instead of joining me to make peace, she lashed out, “You’re always going to destroy your relationships with people. That’s probably why you lost Beth!”
That really hurt. I returned fire, “Well there is something you should know, Dad’s not yours, he’s God’s!”
She was stung worse than I intended. She had always wanted dad to take her advice. Her efforts to do that had really harmed her own relationship with him. But it wasn’t something she considered.
I again surprised myself. I hardly knew what I was saying. It just came out. I believe that the Spirit can teach us by our own mouths. But Dad has assured me that if I talk enough, sooner or later I will say something worth remembering even without the Spirit’s help.
While working and sometimes writing I was home a lot. When some Jehovah’s Witness missionaries came by our door, I invited them in. This bothered my father, but I didn’t do it to bother him and after a bit he was just fine with it. Some of my thinking had led me to believe that I should be good to missionaries of all religions.
The contention and struggling between similar faiths have always seemed to me to be completely out of character with the Spirit of Christ. What we are to do as individuals, we should be even more certain to do with our organizations. How can we love and cherish one another and ban and boycott each other at the same time? How can one faith pray for their own missionaries and shut the door against the missionaries of another faith? My father may have thought that my faith was weak. The real problem was that my love and delight for anyone teaching the righteousness of Christ was too strong to let them go without some sharing time. I ended up going to several of their meetings and felt happy to be with them. In one home meeting, I got to participate and comment. I never tried to push anything Mormon onto them. We laughed and there was much happiness.
God requires no membership of us to love and be one with each other. An organization may think they seek union by requiring certain covenants and rites. But inherent to all this is division (I can’t be both a Mormon and a Jehovah’s Witness) and a kind of labeling judgement which is forbidden by Christ. There should be no contention and in the end no division between one faith and another. ‘Those who are not against us are with us.’ I am not saying that all religions are the same. They’re not. What I am saying is that all people are equally loved and cherished by God and we should do and feel as He does. God has never promised salvation to a religion. There is no resurrection or glory reserved for any of the organizations of men. So, I am left wondering why so many people seem intent on preserving them or declaring them important and true. So, what! The question I feel God asking us is: Are WE true? Do we love each other as Christ would?
Perhaps the road to bringing an end to all the confusion of religious differences doesn’t lie through proselytizing and preaching to one another; but through loving and accepting one another with our differing views still attached. This needs to be done not only by individuals but by each sect. Let other religions have time on Mormon podiums and let the Catholics and protestants hear from us and each other Let this be done for the education of us all without rebuttal or rebuke from anyone. I hope a time comes when, like John Lennon said, there are no religions, just people loving each other living together in peace. Their differences and beliefs still intact, all seeking Christ and goodness as one.
I was having a struggle; I was not as peaceful as I had been just after my mission. I was becoming quite disappointed in myself. Looking back now I can see that I was violating the nature of my soul. I was born to give, not to bargain or offer deals. I could not act against the strongest desires of my heart and get anything but conflict. As a young teenager working with my brothers and helping Dad build our house, I didn’t keep track of my time like dad had instructed us. My brothers kept careful tract of how much they were earning, but at the end of the summer my dad was in a dilemma. I had no record of the time I had spent working. I believe I spent as much or more time on the house than my brothers and worked more closely with dad. But he refused to pay me unless I could show him some record of my time. I didn’t really care that much, but my mother intervened and gave me fifty dollars. I didn’t mean to cause them concern, I just thought that since I had been good to them, they would be good to me. I don’t think that teaching me a lesson in bookkeeping was as important to dad as coercing me into submission. But I enjoyed the work and the company, it was its own reward. It was a great summer and became one of my better memories.
From before my mission, I have had dreams of flying. These came randomly whether I was happy or depressed. I dreamed once that I was feeling so grateful for all the goodness of the Lord in my life. I was walking near the old Olympic View elementary school. As I walked it was night and a little cold. I felt something in my chest. It was as if there were cabinet doors in my chest. I was trying to open them so that I might let the Spirit enter me. I knew that if I did so I would be finally one with the Spirit. I would be able to do all things if they were right with the Spirit including flying. To open those doors, I needed to feel great joy and peace. So, I tried and felt them open.
I felt the Holy Spirit come in me and lifted off the ground in joy and not a little triumph which was soon cut short. The direction of my flight, which the Spirit let me choose, led me right into the overhead power lines which followed the road. I laughed as I disentangled myself and then continued my flight to a trailer home. I knew a very troubled family lived there. I hoped that they might be willing to receive some of the peace which I had of God.
In another dream I was speaking to a group of forty to sixty people. I was standing slightly above them and trying to interest them in living and thinking as God wanted; that they might feel the joy and peace which I had found. This peace and joy, however strong I felt it, was not complete as long as there was anyone outside it and I could do anything about it. I was calling for them to join me in God. But as I talked, I could see they were turning against me.
Soon it became a waste of time to speak to them for they were throwing things at me. I began to rise up into the air. By my side was a lovely blond woman who looked a little fearful as I rose up. I realized that her faith was not strong enough to rise unaided, so I reached down and took her hand. With that she rose up easily with me. It was the Spirit which carried her, but for her to be open to the power of the Spirit still required physical contact with me. I knew that in time she would mature.