There is a woman I have known for over 20 years who at times has been a difficult neighbor. I define difficult by her actions. She has continually asked for help in cleaning her home, her yard, in babysitting her aged father. I have consistently helped and have mostly been tolerant. But there were times when I told her to stop crying and "No," I wouldn't drive her an hour and a half to a concert because she was too upset to drive herself because her cat had died. My compassion was ashes that went right up the chimney.
This unusual, difficult, loving, giving woman, recently told a group of her neighbors that she forgave us--for the times we didn't help, didn't come to her rescue, didn't kow-tow to her needs. She forgave us like the Savior forgave his persecut-ers because they "knew not what they did."
My immediate response was a jolt to my heart. Surprise, even mild shock. But I continued listening. I softened, I pondered. And I understood she was right. We didn't understand. We didn't understand her. Because we didn't, when we ignored her or shut her down, we failed her but we did it in ignorance.
We didn't sin, we weren't cruel, we just couldn't comprehend her mind and heart. I couldn't comprehend the anguish from a cat's death because I've never loved a cat like my child.
It's why the Savior's admonishments are so clearly to love one another as I have loved you. The well of his love was so deep that he compassionately understood our inherent and unavoidable shortcomings, the times we would turn our backs on each other, the times we didn't reach out in patience and love, and he was willing to die that we might have another chance.
He would have understood her debilitating sorrow at the loss of a cat. I lacked the capacity, but his example has shown me the way. His example has shown me the need to listen more closely, to care more deeply, to get in the car and drive when it's not convenient.
The way.
This unusual, difficult, loving, giving woman, recently told a group of her neighbors that she forgave us--for the times we didn't help, didn't come to her rescue, didn't kow-tow to her needs. She forgave us like the Savior forgave his persecut-ers because they "knew not what they did."
My immediate response was a jolt to my heart. Surprise, even mild shock. But I continued listening. I softened, I pondered. And I understood she was right. We didn't understand. We didn't understand her. Because we didn't, when we ignored her or shut her down, we failed her but we did it in ignorance.
We didn't sin, we weren't cruel, we just couldn't comprehend her mind and heart. I couldn't comprehend the anguish from a cat's death because I've never loved a cat like my child.
It's why the Savior's admonishments are so clearly to love one another as I have loved you. The well of his love was so deep that he compassionately understood our inherent and unavoidable shortcomings, the times we would turn our backs on each other, the times we didn't reach out in patience and love, and he was willing to die that we might have another chance.
He would have understood her debilitating sorrow at the loss of a cat. I lacked the capacity, but his example has shown me the way. His example has shown me the need to listen more closely, to care more deeply, to get in the car and drive when it's not convenient.
The way.
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