I’ve been laboring under a bit of a cloud for a couple days. If you follow this blog and my Twitter updates, you’ve probably guessed that my family and I are sort of reeling from some very unexpected incompetence from our mortgage lender, Bank of America. It’s incredibly frustrating and infuriating to be trying to get a point across to people who have not been trained to think for themselves and really help their customers. Instead, it is clear that these customer service reps have been trained to deflect, divest BofA of responsibility, and stonewall.
Yesterday was a tough day. As the day passed, I found myself reflecting on my part in the fiasco. I have made a series of shamefully stupid and gullible mistakes that have strained our finances rather significantly. Her Highness had plenty of concern over the decisions I felt like we should make, but I didn’t listen very well.
She was right.
I spent much of yesterday really angry at myself and walking a grim road of self-hatred. I’ve never been tested with severe depression, thankfully, but I am guessing this is what it must feel like for those of you coping with that illness or issue. I feel you.
So last night, everyone was in bed except for me. I shower at night usually.
As I stood considering my monumental gullibility and lack of wisdom, as well as how completely I had failed at my fundamental job of providing for my family, I was overcome with a need to talk to my Father. I knelt and laid my soul out to my Father and- as I’ve done in the past with so much else- gave the burden to my Savior.
At the end of anger, despair, and loneliness is love and clarity.
Just before I hit the sack last night, I was reminded by a strong impression that I ought to put all of the details of our current issues in order and write about it all in a letter to BofA and its compadres. This turned out to be a very clarifying and cathartic experience for me.
Funny how writing is part of my healing process. Funny how my God knows that. I love His gentle way of reminding me.
Charity never actually fails. We can count on it always and in every moment.
Our issues have not miraculously disappeared. They’re not apocalyptic by any means, but they have thrown a bit of a wrench in some plans that had been cooking along very nicely. Those plans are still on track.
But we’re not going to suffer. We’re not going to struggle through a grim and dark period of despairing and angry days. We’re not going to wish it would all just end so we can get to the good stuff. Nobody has any right to ask the universe to remove the refiner’s fire from their life. We are not entitled to ease.
It’s simple. At the end of anger, despair and loneliness is reverence and humility followed by charity. Which is a gift freely and generously given.