Bury your weapons of war

The other night I was reading from Alma 24 about the Lamanites who were so converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ, that they never wanted to sin again.  Though they'd previously been a ferocious people, they were now a peace seeking, humble people.  Their brethren Lamanites who were not converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ were angry with those converts.  They prepared to battle them in war.

The converted people decided that rather than sin and commit any more murders, they would rather bury their weapons of war and die without lifting up their arms in their own defense.  They believed that God had forgiven such great sins in them, including murder, that they couldn't risk repeating those sins, even in the face of war.

They ended up literally burying their weapons and dying in the act of praising God.  They did not run screaming from the approaching armies.  They didn't hide as well as they could.  They knelt on the ground and waited to return to their maker.  Many died, and many were saved, but it doesn't matter which side they were on.  They all attained the same state--utter peace.

A couple of days ago my brother-in-law wanted to set up a birthday dinner for my mother-in-law.  I have written about them before.  This brother-in-law and his family live about an hour away,  Over the course of my many years of marriage, I have hosted many extended family dinners for Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays.  I helped my elderly mother-in-law entertain when she had out of town company come into town. I'd planned, cooked, cleaned and cleaned up. One brother-in-law was fantastic about helping out.  He always brought drinks and he hosted a great mother's day brunch every year.  The other brother-in-law and his wife seldom had the family over, and in the last 14 years, they'd only been invited my family to their home on three occasions--when their children each graduated from high school.  After years of not being invited to their home, I was hurt but got over it presuming they didn't like to entertain.  Then one day I was talking to one of my husband's young cousins.  He told me how much he enjoyed all of the fun family get togethers on the waterfront at my brother-in-law's home.  As the story unveiled the history, it turns out that there were many family get togethers with everyone but my family. We were the only ones not invited.

I'd been rather hurt after 14 years of never being invited to their lovely home, but I "forgave" them because I presumed they simply didn't enjoy entertaining.  However, after I learned that for 14 years they'd had many extended family barbecues and brunches, and my family was the only one excluded, I was angry. They hadn't bothered to attend almost all of my children's bridal and baby showers, and most of them didn't even come to my son's wedding, preferring instead to care for their dog.

I'd spent years of hard work caring for my elderly in-laws.  I'd cleaned their home, taken them to every doctor's appointment and run their errands. My brother-in-law and his family seldom helped out.  When I found out I'd been purposely excluded, I tried as gently as I could to tell them how it had hurt me.  Rather than us coming to an understanding, they were angry with me.  My brother-in-law was angry and my sister-in-law, who'd only rejected me behind my back before, now rejected me openly.

So back to this brother-in-law planning a birthday dinner for my mother-in-law.  A part of me was happy that he was trying to help out. Another part of me was hoping he'd have a difficult time of it.  I wanted it to be hard for him to get a reservation at a restaurant.  I wanted it to be difficult to get a cabulance. That way he'd understand how much effort I put into every single family event when I was the one cooking or getting the reservations, and the one literally lifting my mother-in-law in and out of the car and wheelchair.

As I was on my way to the dinner, I thought of the phrase, "Bury your weapons of war."  I realized that I was sitting there wondering if I should hug my in-laws that had rejected me so completely.  Should I act as though nothing had happened?  Should I ignore the whole rejection thing as though I didn't care? Those were my thoughts as we neared the restaurant.  I realized I needed to bury my weapons of war.

The weapon I'd been considering using was simply rejection of their rejection.  I'd ignore them, or only give them a one armed hug when I saw them.  I'd smile disinterestedly and chat mildly, but I wouldn't put myself out there for them.  I'd sit at the other end of the table and enjoy those that wanted my company.  It sounded fair to me.  I'd reject them a little for them rejecting me a lot.  Then I realized it was still a weapon of war.  It wasn't a full burial if I buried my sword but kept back a knife.

I've heard people say in times like this, "Be the better person," but even that is a weapon of war.  If you do something so you can show that you're better than the other person, that's still a weapon.

These were my brethren.  I loved them. They were my kin. I needed to bury all of my weapons of war. When I got to the restaurant, I hugged them fully, as I would any dear friends.  I chatted with them without reservation or holding back.  I extended my love to them completely.  I had a wonderful time.  I have no idea if they rejected me at that dinner. I wasn't looking to see if they did or not.

I don't know how many years are left for us to be an extended family.  I suspect that when my mother-in-law passes away, my brother-in-law and his family will stop seeing us altogether,  However, I will remember that I loved them and that I did all of those family dinners and get togethers because I wanted to. No one asked it of me.  I will remember the good times that we had.  I will remember that we are family.  And if the hurt ever raises its head and wants to play, I will remember that I buried my weapons of war on my way to a restaurant on a dark and rainy evening.  And I will remember that I felt utter peace.

Do something every day that stays done.

The first day of a new blog is an awesome feeling.  I've thought long and hard about whether I wanted to put myself out there--pubic, unexplained, for anyone to see.  I've had an amazing life, a life I'm grateful for and one that's been harder than most.  I know that's an incredible statement to make, but it's true.

However, thankfully, I don't want this blog to be about me, but about survival in the 21st Century.  

So on with today's post.

Today I'm embroidering quotes from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. onto little puffy pillow-ish ornaments to hang on a metal tree in my entry.  I eventually want to have a different set of ornaments for every month or holiday of the year.  For January I considered snowflakes, snowmen, or red cardinals.  

While those are all cute and seasonal, I want the decoration that I look at for a month to mean something to me, to inspire me and lift me up.  If I'm going to put that much time into something, it needs to be worth it.  I chose quotes from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. because he was a great man.  He did a great work, not only for the African American people in our country, but for me personally.  I work at a large corporation that treats all people with respect regardless of race, age, sexual orientation, religion or other differences that make up the wonderful world of human family.  I believe that Dr. King is in large part responsible for the awakening of the rightness of respect for all people.  I feel I enjoy a better a world because he lived.  I want to honor him in his birthday month, by displaying quotes from some of his many great speeches.

So how does this relate to survival in the 21st Century.  Today is my day off.  I have many choices to make about what to do with my only truly one free day of the week.  Goodness knows that after the holidays I have a house to clean, groceries to buy, food to make.  I need to exercise, pray, study and meditate.  There's my elderly mother-in-law to care for, and children both grown and at home.

One thing I learned when my children were little and it felt like my life was a circle of make food, clean the kitchen, clean the children, repeat, was that I had to do something every day that stayed done.  Beds don't stay made.  Kitchens don't stay clean.  Children don't stay anything.  I was going crazy inside with the conflict between how valuable my service was to my family and how repetitive it was with seemingly no progress.  I needed to do something each day that stayed done, so I sewed.  I could look at a finished seam, a finished collar, or even a finished garment and say, "It's done."  Yes, it would wear out in the next year, but not in the next few minutes or day. (Unless Kool-Aid was present which required the mandatory spill.) 

Now that my children are grown, I still need the same thing--to do something each day that stays done.  I sew.  I garden.  I decorate.  I write.  Reading makes permanent changes within.  Some people say that you have to find time for yourself every day.  I guess that's one way of putting it.  I could find time to paint my toenails or get my hair done, but that's not what my soul craves.  My soul needs to do something creative every day that stays done.  Today I will make pillow-ish things that remind me of the good in all people. I plan to keep them for years.