Ohhhh, the Irony

Sometimes, Heavenly Father whispers to me.  He nudges, He caresses, and then He waits until I'm willing to listen.
Other times, He shouts.  Today was one of those days.
This week, I started working on Step 8, you know, the one where you're supposed to become prepared to make amends to people that you've hurt?
Only problem was, before I even got to the point of humbling myself enough to be aware of who I might have wronged, my mind was filled with the names and experiences of people I knew I needed to forgive.  So, as I worked my Recovery on Monday morning, I prayed, then I sat in front of my computer screen and tried to be completely open to those people I needed to let go of resentments for as I typed.  The names that came up and the reasons for them completely blew me away--a few names (my dad and my husband, for example), didn't even come up at all, and then there were other names that were on there of people I hadn't even realized I was harboring resentments towards--some of the resentments were really stupid, pointless reasons (a sister-in-law who never visited me when she was in town last week, for example), and others were much more deep-rooted, but through the whole page of writing ran a stream of vitriol I was shocked to see that I was capable of.
I looked at my list after it was done, and I prayed.  With most of the names on my list (there were probably about ten people total), I was able to feel the peace of forgiveness and assurance quickly, but there are two names left on my list that I'm really still having to work towards.  These two people are family members, which of course gives me plenty of justification for being offended by them and plenty of opportunities to be freshly offended by them on quite a regular basis, and although none of the offenses are entirely serious, I can still feel them rankling in my bosom--this irritation that won't quite go away, this willingness to automatically assume the worst about them, this unkindness in my thoughts towards them.
I look for excuses to still feel angry towards these two people, and I don't like that I do that.
I've been praying for these two family members for a few days, but was still feeling justified in feeling irritated towards them even this morning, and then I went to Sacrament Meeting today.
The speaker, a high councilman, was both inspired and inspiring, and between pulling kids out from under the bench, chasing down runaway crayons, and wiping chewed-up Fruit Loops off of my dress, I was busy wiping away the tears that streamed down my cheeks as he spoke of forgiveness and grace in a way that touched my soul deeply.
He spoke of the book "Les Miserables," and read a quote describing those people who are so interested in other peoples' flaws and secrets that the only joy they have is from putting people "in their place."
He then spoke of our need to forgive others--our need to love them, to look for the good in them, to help them in their times of need, and as he did, although I did feel guilty for still justifying my resentment for these two people, I was filled with hope--I knew, I just knew, that as I continued to pray for at least a desire to forgive these people that that forgiveness would come.  And as I seek to forgive, I know that burden will be laid down at the Savior's feet, and He will take care of it for me.
"Is it not the most fallen who have most need of charity?”
~Victor Hugo

Be Still

Yesterday morning, I decided I was going to kick my depression in the butt.
I woke up, I GOT up (rarely two simultaneous events these days), and I got working.
I made pancakes for breakfast.
I did the dishes.
I folded the three weeks' worth of clean laundry that had been sitting in my laundry room so that my children could once again find some clean underwear to wear.
I started picking up my room...
and then I crumbled.
I couldn't do it.  I didn't have it in me to fake it.  I was yelling at the kids, I was crying at my husband, and I was miserable.
And I felt guilty for being miserable.
So, I finally called my sponsor (after hiding from her for the past two weeks), and talked.  And cried.  And talked some more, and she let me know--I needed some self-care.
Not curling up in front of a movie with a bowl of ice cream style of self-care....I didn't need to numb myself.
I needed to be still.
She suggested a walk, so after I studied and prayed and took the time to be still for a while, my husband and I took the kids to the park, and I watched them play.  I didn't hover, I didn't force myself to participate, I just watched.
And was still.
Then, when we got home and I got them to bed, I did some yoga.  And during the savassanah phase, where the instructor asked me to lay down and be still--the part I usually fast-forward, because it's not "real" exercise, I was still.
It's hard to be still when you want to escape from the darkness of your thoughts, when you want to run, to hide, to ignore or numb who you are and what you're feeling--but sometimes, that's what the Lord commands us to do: "Be still and know that I am God."
And last night, when I fell into my bed and was still yet again, I felt it.
Peace.
Be still.