She Can Sit With Me: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Several years ago, several women I was interested in dating told me they wouldn’t date me until I returned to the LDS Church (which I knew was true) and got my Temple Recommend. At the time, I was hurt, and wrote this poem: http://cyranowriter.wordpress.com/2012/10/09/getting-to-the-mountaintop-together-revolutionary-contexting-limerick/
The other day, in church, one of these women was sitting next to me, (as my friend), and I realized something:

She now sits with me/
on the mountain top, not through/
my path, but her own.

Christ’s Atonement Works For The Repentant Sinner (Me)

Nearly a decade ago I was excommunicated from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for conduct unbecoming a Priesthood holder and member of the Church. Specifically, I broke the trust of my wife, my children, my family and friends. I hurt my wife, my children, and others, and I will for forever regret the pain I’ve caused them. Each of them know I’ve tried to make it better, as much as you can make restitution for something so terrible. (Note: There was NO excuse for what I did. I take full responsibility for it.)
I stayed “out” of the Church for several years (although I kept attending), because I had insecurities and other issues I needed to work through. HOWEVER, I NEVER DOUBTED THE TRUTHFULNESS OF THE GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST OR THAT THE CHURCH WAS HIS RESTORED CHURCH. I knew, someday, that I would return to full membership in the Church. People would ask me “Why”, to which I would respond: “It is true. I’ve never doubted the truthfulness of the Church. I’ve only doubted my ability to live it.”
During the time I was away from the Church, I dated a number of women, but did things which were not in keeping with the Lord’s teachings as revealed through His living prophets.
About 2 years ago, I had straightened out my life to the point that I felt like I could petition to return to the Church. I also felt like I had worked things out so that I felt confident that I could live the Principles of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Working with the appropriate local authorities (my Bishop and Stake President), I started down the path of returning to the Church, applying the principles of repentance and obtaining forgiveness through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Since that time, I’ve had a few occasions where women who knew me “before” have told me (and others) of what I did, and that they should avoid me because of who I was. This happened just the other day, again. When this person, who I’ve never met, told me that her friend (who evidently knew me) told her what I was like, and what I’d done, (and thus, she didn’t want to get to know me, as though I was still that way), I felt like I had to write to set the record straight.
This is the content of that email (with some edits to maintain privacy and to improve the flow/make sense) :

Thank you for at least letting me know your logic (of why you won’t contact me any more). It’s always better to write and remove all doubt than to just go silent. Normally I would accept your email, tell you “Thank you”, and move on. However, I feel there are a couple of points I need to make.

1) Who I was when your friend knew me is NOT who I am now. That is the point of repentance and applying the Savior’s Atonement to our sinful lives, isn’t it?
2) I have taken the appropriate steps I needed to, to get my life back in order, and to repent of the many sins I’d committed during the past decade or so.
a) I got divorced
b) Through working with my Bishop and Stake President, and through hours and hours on my knees, I’ve sought forgiveness.
c) Because, several years ago, I’d STOPPED my inappropriate behavior, early last year, through revelation from my Stake President and the Stake High Council (who I had to meet with as part of the process to be reinstated in the Church), I was judged worthy and ready to be re-baptized for the remission of sins and for membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
d) Last Memorial Day weekend, under the hands of my father (a High Priest in the LDS Church), in the waters of Lake Winneconne (where he lives), I was re-baptized.
e) Immediately afterwards, under the hands of my brother (also a High Priest in the LDS Church) and other Priesthood holders, I was confirmed a member of the Church AND given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
f) Since that time, I have been working with my Bishop and Stake President, (he being an authorized representative of the Quorum of the 12 Apostles) (and, thus, the Lord), to be ready and worthy to get my Priesthood and Temple blessings restored (it takes at least a year after a person is re-baptized).
g) My goal is to be deemed worthy, when the Payson Temple is dedicated in June, to be there, and to be able to attend as a member in good standing. In order to do so, the restoration of my Priesthood and my Temple blessings will have to be approved by the First Presidency of the Church, acting as inspired representatives of the Savior.

I tell you these things not to boast or brag, but to let you (and your friend) know that I have repented, that the man I was several years ago has been “put away”, and that through the Grace and Goodness and Atonement of Jesus Christ, I have been changed and been made a new man. That’s how repentance and the Atonement is supposed to work, isn’t it? It worked for Paul the Apostle. It worked for Alma the Younger and the Sons of Mosiah (in The Book of Mormon). We all have hope that it will work for us.
I wanted to contact people I’ve hurt and lied to, and apologize, as part of my repentance process, to make some sort of restitution. Some have accepted my apology. Some have requested that I not contact them, so I haven’t.
I have not only sought spiritual help and turned my life around that way, but I also (as some suggested) sought counseling. I’ve worked on, and continue to work on, fixing the things which messed up my life, which caused me to be insecure, which caused me to do the wrong things I did.
I hope that those I’ve hurt can some day find it in their hearts to not only forgive me, but — most importantly — also recognize that people can (and do) change, through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Because of that Atonement, the statement “Once a cheater, always a cheater” is NOT true.
Again, I only tell you this so you can understand where I am, and the steps I’ve taken. There is a chance that we may meet some day, perhaps even in the Temple. In order for the Spirit of the Lord to be unrestrained there, I feel like you need to know that I will be there worthily, and approved by revelation from the Lord through His anointed servants. I have taken, and continue to take, honest steps to put my life in harmony with what Heavenly Father wants me to do.
I am not perfect, but I know that, through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I can change. I have changed. And I will continue to change, to follow His will, to be the best person I can be.
Best regards: Dave

Do I Dare Expose Moi? Revolutionary Blogging Free Verse Poem

Do I dare expose me?
Do I dare
open up the soft,
white,
flabby,
pocked underbelly
of my past
to those I’m trying
to get to know?
To those who want to believe
the best about me?
To those who don’t know
this part,
Jean Valjean-ish,
24601,
about me?

Will they turn
and reject me,
my stupidity,
the pain I caused?
Do I hide?

Or do I enter the courthouse
and scream out
who I am
and what I did
and what I’m trying to
repent of,
throwing myself
on the mercy
of the court,
the jury of
Facebook peers?

Do I dare?

Opening Up Her Box Of Pain: Revolutionary Blogging Free Verse

Today
I found her box
of pain.

Not knowing
it even existed,
I opened it,
read her words,
and drifted back
10 years.

Even before she knew,
or I knew,
or we knew
the end
was near,
there was sorrow,
hurt,
pain.

Only this time,
it wasn’t mine.
It was hers.
Words screaming
on the screen,
loudly,
yet in her soft,
patient,
“I can take it all”
voice.

There was passion
and problems
and pain
and fear
and hurt
and anger
and loneliness
I never knew
she carried.

Reading
opened up
all the things
I didn’t know,
or hadn’t cared
to see.

Her vision:
She saw me
clutching the side
of our bed,
lonely,
back to her,
but I never saw
her fear,
her wondering,
her begging,
her confused yearning
what to do
so I wouldn’t yell,
or be angry,
or threaten to leave,
or emotionally
hurt
her
who I should have
been protecting
and loving.

Like a drug
of pain
I couldn’t stop
feeling,
I kept reading,
and reading,
and piling on
the “whys”
and
the “why nots”
and
the cruelty
I never knew
was me.

She piled it on,
words on
words,
more
and more,
but it wasn’t
about hurting me.
It was about
how
to protect
herself.
How
to keep herself
from fading away.
From dying.
From loneliness.
From nothingness.

In her words
were reflected
and broken mirrored
so many
similar stories
I’ve heard
for years,
from others,
about the pain
women felt
from abusive men,
from cheaters,
from liars,
from narcissistic
self-righteous
SOBs
they’d escaped from.

Hearing the pained stories,
these pig-men were creatures
who have disgusted me,
who have enraged me,
who have made me sick.

Selfish men who hurt women
they’d vowed to protect,
left them cold
and vulnerable
and unsafe
and desolate
and alone
and scared
and lonely.

Are they blind?
How could someone
do such things
and call himself
a man?

How could someone
be such a thing
and call himself
a human?
Much less
a Christian?
Much less a righteous
Priesthood holder?

WWJD?
Not that!
Disgusting!

File > Open.
Now I stand,
looking in her box
of pain,
words black
on pale blue,
reading what she’s gone through,
probing her thoughts,
sneaking into her mind,
knowing what she’s going through.

My stomach churns
more than it ever has
for anyone else’s story.
More than it ever did
as I’ve held others
and comforted them
and said
“That’s in the past”
and
“That’s disgusting.
I’m sorry that happened
to you.
It shouldn’t have,”
and asked
“I don’t know
how someone could do that.”

But it did happen.
And someone could do that.
Only this time,
I’m not hearing about it.
I’m reading about it
in an old family folder
dot doc
from an old
blue light
hard drive I’d rescued
for the photos
and the good memories
I thought I’d find.

Not knowing
I’d find this
memory,
words lining
her box of pain.

Does this pain
ever stop?
Does this repentance process
ever end?
Does this discovery and learning
ever quit?
Or will I always
and forever
keep uncovering how much
I hurt her
and what a bad man
I was?

Am I still?

I’m sick
and sickened
as I read about
the man
she knew.
The pig-thing
clutching to his side
of the bed,
clutching to
his side
of the story,
clutching blindly,
blind to the hurt
he dished out.

He makes me sick.

Does this pain
ever stop?
Does this repentance process
ever end?
Does this discovery and learning
ever quit?
Or will I always
and forever
keep uncovering how much
I hurt her
and what a bad man
I was?

Am I still?

I’m ready to puke
on my shoes,
and take my son’s nine iron
to my knee caps
and punch
myself out.