Learning to Live with Open Hands

I've debated for the last few days on whether to post this or not. It is a personal issue that I would have written in my private journal if only I knew where that journal was. The thoughts about needing to publish this wouldn't leave my mind. So as you can see, I decided to publish it, maybe there is a message here someone is supposed to read.

I have several different notes from ladies in my ward who have dropped me a line to let me know they admire my faith, strength and testimony. I have held onto these notes for a long time to read during those times when I don't feel so strong. And then the other day I received a Facebook message from a woman who knew me in my youth. She wrote:

I knew you in your youth and I saw your struggles. I didn't know how you could ever make it with so much to swim against. I totally underestimated the Whiting Tenacity! It was a beautiful thing to see you fight against the odds and use that tenacity to build. Much of it you did alone.

Again, a message I will save to refer back to when I am struggling. But here's the problem I have with these notes and message, I don't view what I have done as particularly out of the ordinary. I think I have done and lived how anyone would. I'm really not sure that I deserve any sort of special praise or recognition.

I was relaying these feelings to a colleague (who happens to be a counselor) after I received the Facebook message. He told me I needed to let go, to open my hands and heart, and receive the goodness of God. I told him I wasn't ungrateful for the messages and that after each note I did thank God for the note because it came just at a time when I needed to hear words of encouragement. But I still couldn't identify what it was about my life that was extraordinary, that inspired these ladies. Again, my friend said to open my hands and receive the blessing that these notes were. He said it didn't matter whether I felt like I deserved the praise or not, I just needed to receive it.

I spent the rest of the day and night thinking about our conversation. Thinking about what my friend had said about not feeling like I deserve the recognition. He was right, I did feel like I didn't deserve the recognition and I felt that way because what if I was a fraud? What if I had somehow portrayed my life to be harder than it actually was/is?

The next thought that came to me was "why would I think I was a fraud?" This took some soul-searching and dredging up some painful memories. But the reality of it is that in my childhood I heard some pretty hurtful things. Words were said that created a lot of self-doubt. At one time I was even told "No one will believe a little sh*% like you."

As I was thinking about those hurtful things of my childhood, the words to one of my favorite hymns came to my mind:

Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,

I found him by the highway side.

I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,

Revived his spirit, and supplied

Wine, oil, refreshment--he was healed.

I had myself a wound concealed,

But from that hour forgot the smart,

And peace bound up my broken heart.

"I had myself a wound concealed,...And peace bound up my broken heart." Those two lines echoed in my head for quite awhile until I realized what God was saying to me. He was saying "forget those words from your childhood. Let my Son heal your broken heart."

My friend's counsel. The words from that hymn. Knowing God loves me. All of those things combined just a the right moment and helped me to let go and live with my hands open...open to receive more of God's love and blessings.