Facing the Dragon

“Wow! Look at that sunset” our friend belted with his usual over-the-top enthusiasm. I sat quietly looking out over the mountains. The flaming colors of the clouds billowed in defiance of the setting sun, but the scene didn’t permeate anything deeper in me than an intellectual acknowledgment of its beauty. It’s not that I never felt the beauty of the things around me, but there were times when an impenetrable wall of fear separated me from the simple joys of life. Behind the wall, intense unnamed emotion haunted me like a fire-breathing dragon. Facing the dragon seemed impossible.

Building the Wall

The building of my fear-wall started when I was a child. I was afraid of my parents—afraid of being hit, cut, burned, and sometimes even of dying. In the middle of the pain echoed my parents’ words that it was all my fault. I believed them. Fear of not being good enough grew and reinforced the wall. As a teenager, my fear of Mom got wrapped up in hate. It wasn’t just the pain that I hated her for, but the limits she put on me—the suffocating of the me I wanted to be.

Fear that Mom ultimately had control of my life grew. The dragon was born. By the time I entered high school we moved to southern Colorado. We lived in the middle of vast green farm country dotted with tall pines. Our house sat on five acres. The only other house on our lane was a vacant, run-down place that echoed the aloneness in my heart. Snow-covered mountains in the distance whispered a promise of something more grand.

Finding a Path

Down the highway from us stood a small church framed by large Blue Spruce and pines planted in a neatly manicured lawn. Curiosity took my sister and me there to the weeknight youth activities. Each activity night started with music and lessons. The adult women leaders were attentive and kind to my sister and me.  They all had young children and the extra duties that come with farm life, yet seemed to enjoy the time they spent with us.  They laughed and smiled easily, exemplified the joy that comes from living the Gospel.  Their words were not what convinced me, though.  It was their lives.  What they spoke seemed to go so easily with what they lived.

Each week my advisor planned and prepared beautiful lessons for me.  She was open and honest about her own trials and testimony.  I started paying more attention to her lessons on love, Christ, and the gospel. The desire for something better in my life was nurtured in my heart.

Learning about Jesus Christ gave me hope in something better than the life I faced with Mom and Dad. I chose to believe those teachings and soon ways around the wall opened up in front of me. Faith and gratitude buoyed me up as I worked on building the life I wanted. Recognizing the blessings and miracles in my life strengthened my faith in God; living according to that faith increased faith in myself. Still in quiet moments, the dragon’s roar could be heard.

Struggling Forward

As an adult, working with a therapist helped me to accept and process much of the pain of my childhood. While the process helped the bright parts of me get brighter, the fire-breathing dragon still roamed the recesses of my mind and heart and the wall kept me from feeling much of the joy in the good around me.

I determined to destroy the wall once and for all, hoping to disintegrate the dragon in the process. If the wall was fear, then extra doses of faith and positive thinking would the dynamite I needed. I started a gratitude journal, practiced focusing on the positive and prayed for help. But my tactics only produced the explosive power of a few firecrackers. The wall of fear stood strong and the dragon behind it raged.

Frustrated, I focused on the blessings of the present—trying to ignore both the wall and the dragon and move on. I felt way too old and worked way too hard on all of this to still be chained down by the effects of trauma that happened years ago. But the wall still stood; the dragon threatened to devour me with its flames. How could I face the dragon?

Naming the Dragon

I continued to search and found a message in the scriptures that reads “… but perfect love casteth out all fear” (1 John 4:18 KJV) The words hit me hard, blasting a hole through the wall and landing in my heart. Love casts out fear—not faith, not positive thinking—but love, perfect love. I thought of the Savior and pondered the strong love I felt for my husband, children and grandchildren. “I know how to love, I’m okay in that department,” I thought. Without warning a picture of a woman who was a poison in the lives of my family flashed in my mind. A torrent of hateful emotion boiled through me. I hated her with a fire that surprised me.

The intensity of the emotion grew in intensity because this woman’s damaging actions reminded me of my mother’s. Now the dragon had a face. It was the hate and anger I didn’t want to admit I felt, afraid that having those emotions made me a horrible person. The old belief that I would never be good enough surged inside me and fed the dragon’s flames.

Finding Answers

Fear that the hate-dragon would devour the good parts of me reinforced the wall around my heart. I was ashamed of the dragon, yet a hidden part of me that believed the hate and anger gave me some kind of protection. Instead, the opposite was happening. The bad feelings crippled me. It was time to face the dragon and quit letting it keep me from fully feeling the beauty of my life.

So many questions flooded my mind: If love is the answer, how do you go about loving those who have purposefully and deceitfully caused pain to you or those you love? Some believe loving means embracing the offender or pretending like their actions don’t matter. But does loving really mean putting ourselves purposely in harm’s way?

Learning to Trust

Still searching, I asked a friend how she would define Christ’s love and shared my struggle to find it in my heart to love those who have caused so much pain. “I think learning to love like He does comes down to trust,” she said. “It’s not just about believing in the Lord, but trusting Him.” Trust. I trust in His power, but do I trust in His love?

My weaknesses and intense hateful emotion made me feel unworthy of Christ’s love. The truth is that it is that part of me that needs my Savior the most. It is the part of me He most wants to see, know, and help. The Savior loves me and hates the actions of those who hurt me. And He doesn’t think I shouldn’t be hurt or angry, He just doesn’t want it to run my life. Give Him the anger and hurt. Cry on His shoulder. Let Him know how you feel and allow Him to direct you in healing. Trust that He can and He will.

Looking at my problem from the perspective of trusting in the Lord’s love changed things.  The truth is, no matter how I try I cannot manufacture perfect love within myself. Love, perfect love, does not begin with me. It is Christ’s. Accepting His love is what enables me to feel that love for others.

As these truths sank in, the wall inside me began to burst. It was a sensation that usually instilled fear—fear that I would drown in the onslaught of emotion held by the wall. But this time I saw it as a cleansing of sorts, ridding myself of the debris left by old wounds.

Facing the Dragon

Forgiving and learning to love is not simply a declaration, but a transformation of the heart. If I am to feel perfect love for my mom or anyone it is by clearing my heart and allowing the Savior’s love to radiate through me. He will give me the love I need to share. But Christ does not give us gifts without requiring something of us. He does not require me to have a relationship with those who would purposely hurt me, but He does require me to let go of any cynicism and bitterness I might still harbor. Facing the dragon is easier when I picture myself with my hand in the Savior’s, trusting in His love for all of us.

In the Present

The other night, I sat again on the porch swing with my husband looking out over the western sky. As the sun dipped behind the Sierras, color burst over the horizon from one end of the valley to the other. A golden beam of light shot up through the swirling colors reminding me of the pure love of Christ that permeates all of the intense experiences in life. And this time I felt the beauty.

What dragons keep you from feeling life’s beauty?