Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
It was my first presidential election. And my candidate of choice lost the race.
I felt sad, mad—even dismayed that the majority of American citizens didn’t agree with me. I never imagined this outcome. In fact, I went to bed on Election Day with the conviction that my candidate was clearly superior. But many others disagreed with my viewpoint. They were wrong, I thought. And now the country is going to suffer for the mistaken views of the majority.
How do you feel when the candidate you voted for doesn’t win? How can you deal with your disappointment, anger and fear?
I’ve come to believe that voting provides us the opportunity to agree to disagree and respect each other’s differing opinions. However, patriotism and respect for the democratic process weren’t enough to help me deal with my post-election emotions, especially when my candidate lost. I found only prayer-filled conviction took me to a more centered place and gave me peace of mind. This conviction also showed me what next steps I could take to support social progress.
Divinely given rights are established for all.
My prayers affirmed there is a divine Power higher than the presidency—a Commander-in-Chief for humankind. This overarching Spirit has created a universe that runs on spiritual laws maintaining order and peace. These laws mandate that divinely given rights are established for all.
Mary Baker Eddy, the author of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, the book that inspires this Web site, wrote these words during the Spanish-American War: “Pray that the divine presence may still guide and bless our chief magistrate, those associated with his executive trust, and our national judiciary; give to our congress wisdom, and uphold our nation with the right arm of His righteousness.”
As I read these words again recently, I am finding this prayer as relevant today as it was in 1898. I’ve been praying about Election Day in the US this year—both before and after the fact.
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
“If mamma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” I laughed about this at the time, but these words on the magnet I got for Christmas 1998 from my daughter, Jennifer, really described how she felt.
In fact, recently, she told me, “It was more of a joke than anything. But it was true that when you used to cry or become irrational about something, it affected the happiness of my day as well.”
My New Year’s resolution was to change this cycle.
Honestly, her mamma was not too happy in those days. I could have used that magnet to tack up a long list of gripes including being depressed that I was not able to have more children, and dissatisfied with the old house we were living in, and wanting to move—or burn it down. On top of that, we were living next door to my in-laws—enough said.
And yet, my New Year’s resolution that year was to change this cycle. I began to acknowledge that there is always something to appreciate, even in the worst of times. That a grateful heart begins with the present moment. That I could be grateful for goodness itself, regardless of what was happening.
I made some progress during the next few years, but I needed something more to help me maintain my improved attitude. I needed to understand more about the source of gratitude, lasting happiness and peace of mind. I believe that the source of all good is God, so I turned there in prayer to find the answers.
Good is all that was going on.
My prayers in the intervening years brought me to a book of quotes by Mary Baker Eddy called Moments of Gratitude. I read, “Hold to the presence of all good in which you live and have being.” This helped me see that no matter what the situation, I could acknowledge, expect and witness good in my life—in fact, good is all that was going on.
I decided to begin each day by recognizing the presence of good, God, in my life. Waking up with a grateful heart helped me see the good around me. This new attitude gradually transformed my days, until I no longer felt impatient, frustrated or depressed. In fact, my daughter told a friend, “The change in my mom was gradual over the years. I just think one day she decided to make a change in her life and began to grow in happiness from that point on.”
I cherish the many moments in my days.
Though my circumstances haven’t changed, what’s different now is the way I think about my life. For instance, I saw my house with fresh eyes, started a remodeling project and now can’t imagine living anywhere else. And the in-laws next door? I’m grateful for the years my daughter was able to grow up just steps from her grandparents.
And although I never had more children, I no longer feel I have been deprived. Gratitude for the very special relationship I have with my daughter, and all of my loved ones, has filled me full.
These days my life is calmer. I cherish the many moments in my days. And I find I want to bless others in whatever way I can.
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
I fell in love with John while standing in line for an amusement park ride. City girl meets country boy. Seven months later, we married. I had found my Mr. Right.
But soon I found out he thought his first name was “Always.”
He always knew best—where we should live, what we could spend money on, what we would do for fun. My opinion didn’t seem important. Compromise? Not an option.
We immediately moved into the old farmhouse John’s parents owned on their Texas ranch—and right next door to my in-law’s brand-new house. As resentment built in my marriage, my hatred of our home grew.
We rarely had an amicable discussion about how to spend our finances. With John as the primary breadwinner, I often felt I didn’t have a say in how we spent our money.
I’d end up in tears of frustration.
I thought he showed little appreciation for the work I did in the home. He dropped his dirty clothes on the floor by the hamper. He left his coats and shoes wherever he took them off. I’d often end up in tears of frustration as I cleaned up after him time and time again.
I also became increasingly frustrated with living on a ranch, far from the city activities I liked. Going dancing or out to the movies became extra-special treats. And when I suggested these outings, John showed little interest.
I often resented his absence.
Years passed with me spending a lot of long days caring for our young daughter while John worked equally long hours at his construction job, an hour’s drive from home. I appreciated his hard work, but I often resented his absence.
Eventually, I realized I didn’t like the person I had become—the critical, angry, quick-to-judge person. Maybe my husband had room for improvement, but was I really so perfect?
I did love my husband. We spent many happy family moments together. John and our daughter, Jennifer, developed a close relationship. He always took time to talk to her—especially during the long drives to her weekly dance classes. And he taught her to appreciate the outdoors and to fish—so well that Jennifer can outfish him now. When she was older, she used to cook our supper while John and I took care of the ranch chores.
I began to see how disconnected I’d become from my spiritual identity I learned about during years attending Christian Science Sunday school. I had learned about a loving, wise, forgiving God—and as a child of God, I reflect those attributes.
I wanted to be a new “me.”
I had also learned that if I wasn’t happy with the way I viewed myself, I could pray to see myself as God’s reflection and start afresh without guilt or self-condemnation.
I wanted to be a new “me” and toss out the “grouchy me.” I wanted to love. To feel love. To think lovingly. To be loving. Could I do this? Could I love in spite of my circumstances or surroundings? Could I love in spite of how I was treated? Could I love first?
A statement Mary Baker Eddy wrote in the chapter on “Prayer” in her book Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures gave me renewed hope: “Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires that they may be moulded and exalted before they take form in words and in deeds.”
Since I have always believed in the power of prayer to transform and heal, I found great comfort in the idea that prayer based on good desires can lead to healing results. I took my desire to be a more loving “me” to God in prayer.
I turned to the Bible to see what Jesus taught.
I started by looking for an example of a truly loving person—someone I could emulate. Jesus came to mind first. So I turned to the Bible to see what he taught about love and also to examine his relationships with others. I found lessons of forgiveness and unconditional love for both friend and foe. In awe, I wondered if I could truly love this way.
Then I came across Paul’s definition of love in his letters to the Corinthians. Every line defined love in a different way. Patient. Kind. Not proud. Not self-seeking. Not easily angered. Keeps no record of wrongs. Always protects. Trusts. Hopes. Perseveres. (See full reference below.)
Well, I didn’t change overnight, but I took these ideas to heart and worked through several years of progress, prayer and tender lessons. Eventually, though, it hit me. Truly, God is Love. The source of love. And my husband and I are children of Love. We both are unique and individual expressions of this Love.
Love is a choice.
But even more, love is a choice. Jesus chose to love. And I too could choose to love. Besides, as a child of Love, how could I not be loving, act lovingly, think lovingly?
With love as my center, it became very natural to choose patience instead of frustration. Empathy instead of criticism. Joy instead of sadness. Peace of mind instead of anger. Trust instead of doubt. Forgiveness instead of condemnation.
Tears and resentment disappeared along the way. Looking back on these years, my husband commented to a friend, “I realize it was tough for Annette in the beginning—living near my parents and in the country. There was some friction between us, but Annette worked through it with prayer. She became more tolerant, well-adjusted, less judgmental—and I hope I did, too.”
I enjoy the time I spend with my husband.
As I began to realize and appreciate John’s goodness—and the goodness of our home—my perceptions changed. Our communications grew into a sweet interchange of openness and respect.
Today we still live in the same house on the ranch, but I love it now. And I enjoy the time I spend with my husband, regardless of what we’re doing.
In fact, now I find my reactions to everyone around me come from my desire to love more and to think lovingly. I want to love. I choose to love.
John and I will be celebrating our 24th anniversary in March. I can honestly say we share a mutual consideration, thoughtfulness and tenderness for each other’s needs and feelings. I have an equal say in how we spend our money and our time—and now we go to movies or out to dinner weekly. John even joins me for the annual Nutcracker ballet.
So what about my Mr. Right? I’ve found him.
Gratitude and forgiveness
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
My husband John and I lived with our 3-year-old daughter Jennifer just a stone’s throw away from my in-law’s house on the family cattle ranch. Jennifer spent nearly every day with her grandparents and I wanted them to be part of her life. But their proximity suffocated me at times. After four years of daily exposure to my father-in-law’s “I know best” attitude, my resentment was building up. I found him opinionated, arrogant and domineering. Especially concerning my daughter. And this time things went too far.
It was a warm and sunny spring Saturday—the day before Easter Sunday. Jennifer busied herself building sand castles in our fenced-in back yard. I helped with the building until the phone rang. I stood at the back door where I had a clear view of Jennifer while I talked.
My father-in-law arrived and took Jennifer off with him.
In the middle of my call, I watched as Pa-Pa, my father-in-law, suddenly arrived (he didn’t see me) and took Jennifer off with him without letting me know. Mind you, they often went for walks to pet the cows and feed the ducks and catfish on the farm, which delighted Jennifer. But his actions infuriated me. How could he take her without asking? After all, I’m Jennifer’s mother—I’m the boss here.
So later that day I confronted my father-in-law. I accused him of overstepping his bounds and disrespecting my authority. He staunchly defended his behavior with his own angry outpouring of accusations. The scene ended with hurt feelings on both sides. I walked away in tears, ready to pack up and move far away.
But I knew moving wouldn’t solve my problems. In retrospect, I think I wanted to find ways to prove him wrong—to assert my authority over his. And being the mother of his granddaughter seemed the only avenue I had for establishing my position in the family and gaining some respect for my viewpoints.
I welcomed the opportunity to get away.
Easter Sunday came. I welcomed the opportunity to get away from the ranch for a few hours. I had recently started attending church again and I loved the way I felt there: accepted, welcomed, unconditionally loved. But I dreaded coming home. I knew my in-laws would have Easter goodies for Jennifer and would want to come over. What would I say? How would I act? How could I face my father-in-law again?
In church, I listened to Christ Jesus’ life story. The meaning behind his teachings, his enemies crucifying him, his friends deserting him and the fact that he never stopped loving—friend or foe—astounded me. I sat awe-struck and humbled.
Clearly, Jesus intimately knew divine Love—and this knowledge healed and transformed lives. His life proved love’s power over hate, violence, apathy and fear. He instructed, “If ye love them who love you, what thank have ye? for sinners also love those that love them.” Jesus’ love enabled him to conquer death and the grave; his unconditional love enabled him to forgive all the evil directed at him.
Mary Baker Eddy, in her book Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, describes the “universal solvent of Love” as what’s needed to dissolve stubborn self-justification. I was certainly full of self-righteousness as I justified my actions and feelings toward my father-in-law. But through my study of Christian Science I knew the question I needed to ask was: where was the love?
I prayed to stop judging.
That Easter Sunday service left me humbled. I prayed to stop judging and critiquing my father-in-law’s every action and word. And I had a deep desire to love as Jesus loved.
Then, toward the end of the service, I began to feel nothing but compassion and yes, love, for my father-in-law. The power of Christly love and forgiveness filled my heart and replaced the hurt.
I felt resurrected from the destructive power of anger that had prevented me from seeing a solution. I knew I could choose a new basis for my relationship with my father-in-law—one based on unconditional love, understanding and gentle communication. The day took on a whole new meaning for me. I now looked forward to returning home.
I welcomed my in-laws when they arrived with their gifts for Jennifer and we spent a lovely afternoon together. As they departed, my father-in-law embraced me and, kissing my neck, apologized for what he had said. I said, “Me, too.” (My husband remarked later that he’d never seen his father apologize like that before.)
We made a mutual commitment to promoting harmony. And, you know, I can’t recall harsh words between us in the 25 years we’ve been neighbors since.
I have continued to learn more about love.
I have continued to learn more about love, the unconditional love God gives all His children. Also what Christ Jesus referred to as the second great commandment, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”
These words by Mary Baker Eddy recently reminded me of my Easter lesson:
“You must yield your obedience to God, give up your own will, love your enemies, do them good instead of resent or revenge wrongs…and rest in peace, for all things will work together for good to them that love Good.”
Forgiveness comes with Love’s help
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
I never thought about not going to college. During the fall semester of my senior year I was busy, like my classmates, sending out college applications to my top choices. Of course, I had a favorite: a private liberal arts college in another state. And in January, I got the good news—I was in!
I also never thought about how I was going to pay for college. My mom could help with some of the tuition fee, but I’d need to apply for whatever loans and grants I could find—and plan to work as much as possible. Even with the grant money, however, I was still short a significant amount. And I didn’t think I could earn enough during the summer to cover the remaining expenses.
Still, I never considered not going to my first-choice college. I was convinced I would find a way to cover my costs. I remembered that “. . . all things are possible to God . . . .” This was a lesson I had learned well while attending a Christian Science Sunday School.
I had faith I could go to college.
Jesus said it this way: “The things which are impossible with men are possible with God.” And Mary Baker Eddy spoke about the faith required when she said, “The prayer that reforms the sinner and heals the sick is an absolute faith that all things are possible to God,—a spiritual understanding of Him, an unselfed love.”
I had faith that it was possible for me to go to college. But I didn’t know where else to turn to find the money. I had enough to take care of the first semester—but then what?
The healings of Jesus recorded in the Bible had been a source of inspiration and guidance to me all my childhood, and they still are. I have always expected to find in the Bible the answers I need for every situation or problem I face.
I read again about a man who was waiting at a pool called Bethesda. It was believed that, at a certain time, the water there was stirred by an angel. Tradition said that whoever got into the water right after the angel had visited the pool would be healed. A crippled man had been waiting 38 years—probably most of his life—to enter the pool. But each year, he missed the perfect moment and others got to the water first. Still, he didn’t give up. And his hope was finally realized through Jesus. His healing came—but in an unexpected way.
He found the freedom he had longed for.
This account, in John’s Gospel, gave me a new perspective on my worries about college expenses. Was I limiting my options? The man at Bethesda had thought the only way he could be healed was if he got into the pool at exactly the right time. Yet that wasn’t the “only way,” and when Jesus redirected his faith from a pool of water to the Christ-power that uplifts and heals, the man found the freedom he had longed for.
Where was my faith, I asked myself? Was it tied to loans and grants? To finding ample employment? Getting a scholarship? What were my options? Did I face a future of uncertainty and fear?
What I learned from thinking about Jesus’ encounter with the man at the pool of Bethesda was that God is always sending me—and everyone—infinite possibilities. I needed to open my thought to them, not define or limit the ways my needs could be met. Looking to God for a solution calmed my fears and brought confidence, assurance and peace.
When I headed off to college, I was taking a leap of faith. But my faith was absolute. It was a confident expectancy that God knew the best way to meet my needs. And my leap was sure-footed. Semester by semester, prayer led the way to my college degree. And expenses were paid each semester in countless—sometimes unexpected and unexplained—ways.
One unexpected and unexplained solution came in the form of a note in my school mailbox informing me an anonymous donor had paid the remainder of my tuition that year. There were also many loans, grants, scholarships and awards. And a variety of jobs—some of which gave me valuable experience that served me well in future endeavors.
My college experience provided me with groundwork for the rest of my life. What I learned has redirected my faith to God, who truly does meet my every need. His ways are infinite—and sometimes quite unexpected.
All things are possible with God.
