Captivating Inspiration

Daddy issues. I has them.

So as the weekend went by, my emotional issues with my father just kept going. Like a sink I couldn't turn off, and even still now if I think too hard, or reflect on something too long, I'll burst into baby tears which immediately trigger the all too infamous "ugly cry" that we girls do our best to avoid at all costs. Ugly cries are reserved for the high school years, ex boyfriends and pints of ice cream.

This weekend Matt and I watched General Conference at home. For those who don't know, I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, (Mormon), and twice a year instead of going to Church to listen to our local Church leaders and members talk, we stay at home and via satellite, cable or internet we watch our worldwide Church leaders talk. We believe that God still speaks to man and that our leaders are inspired by God to direct us.

Before General Conference, I usually pray and ask my Heavenly Father to inspire the men and women speaking. That perhaps whatever answer I need from Him, can be spoken clearly from their mouths. Usually the answer is something vague (but necessary). Pray. Go to Church. Serve others. Read your scriptures. And even once I got a healthy dose of "stop being so busy".

But this one needed to be a little more detailed. My prayer wasn't a typical one. I didn't kneel. I didn't even speak the words. But as I wrote my last blog post about my Dad, I asked God to tell me what I was supposed to do about this situation, and why NOW did I actually care? My Dad has gone to jail before. I've known for at least fifteen years, and never before has it emotionally hit me so hard. In fact, up until last week I was about 99% certain that I had stopped caring all together.

Sunday morning, my husband and I sat back and put the conference on the computer. I laid on the couch, my feet in Matt's lap as he lovingly massaged them (cause I got me a good man). I'll admit that at the time I wasn't paying much attention to the speakers. I was relaxing, enjoying the stress free moment. Matt and I would occasionally chit chat about our plans for the rest of the day and week, and then in a short moment of silence, the speaker, Bishop H. David Burton's voice somehow gained volume as he said,

"Be kind to the poor, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, administer to the sick, visit the captive."

Eyes wide, I turned and looked to Matt to see if he heard what I heard. He had.

I'd never heard the quote before, at least not directly. It sure sounded familiar as the scriptures often tell us how to treat the poor, the sick and the afflicted. Eventually, the only scripture I could find that was close to the quote was Jacob 2:19.

"And after ye have obtained a hope in Christ ye shall obtain riches, if ye seek them; and ye will seek them for the intent to do good—to clothe the naked, and to feed the hungry, and to liberate the captive, and administer relief to the sick and the afflicted."

There's a large difference between the two quotes. The scriptures say to "liberate the captive". Something that I clearly cannot do. Nor would I. But inspiration had told this Bishop to say, "visit the captive" instead. A phrase that cannot be found in the scriptures. Trust me. I looked.

Matt turned and said, "I think you should write to your Dad."

I agreed.

It's something I've never done before. It's something I never believed he deserved. I'm not sure I believe it now. And frankly, I'm not even sure if I know what I'm going to say that hasn't already been said. I don't know if my heart will open and I will be angry. Or if I'll be moved to forgive and beg him to change. Who knows at this point? But I'll put pen in hand and see what happens.

After all . . . I'm pretty sure at this point, God told me to do this. And I trust my Heavenly Father.