My Forever Friend

Doug and Shirley (February 2022)

Hello, my Forever friend. It’s just lonely me, again. 
You’re on my mind it seems, and in my dreams. 
Your face still lingers, slips through my fingers,
I try to make it stay. Heaven’s just too far away. 

The paths we walked, arms interlocked, hands grasped.
We’d joke, you knew before I spoke, what I would ask.
Your voice, your touch, I miss them, oh, so much.
There is no sound when you are not around.

Once in a crowd, I called out loud, nothing mattered. 
People stared, they were scared, so they scattered. 
I didn’t care. I saw you there, why could they not? 
It meant so much, the sweet tranquility you brought.

You were called to leave. I was left to grieve, 
The honour’s mine, do not pine, just let it be. 
Grief, noblest show of love, show I unto thee. 
I’ll wait for you, you for me, My Forever Friend. 

Douglas Garrett

Jennifer Jane and the Shaggy, Shiptus Sheep Sweaters

Chapter 1

Once upon a time there was little girl who lived in a little town called Dinemosa, in the Great Prairie Country of North America. Her name was Jennifer Jane. She was the town’s only street person.

She had no mother or father and for some unknown reason, her hands shook uncontrollably.

Because people thought that she was very strange, no one would play with her. She lived on free food from the Food Bank every day. But, like a stray dog, no one really wanted to have her come home and live with them. She was simply too filthy and her clothes were all worn out.

Jennifer knew how to read and write but her hands shook so badly she couldn’t hold anything still long enough to read it. When she wrote, the pen went everywhere and no one could understand what she had written. They would laugh and make fun of her.

“Jennifer Jane is shaking again. Jennifer Jane is shaking again,” they would chant until she started to cry and ran away to where they could not find her. 

Jennifer felt she had no place to go or be. So she made up a little song that she sang when she felt depressed.

“I have no place to go or be. No one wants to play with me. If I could have a friend or two, I know they’d teach me what to do.”

One day when Jennifer was walking down the main street, she happened to notice the sign over the City Hall doorway which read:“ Dinamosa’s Town Hall – All Welcome.”

“Aha!” said Jennifer to herself. “Surely All must mean me too. So I will go there to live.”

She pushed open the tall glass doors and walked into a spacious office with many people sitting at desks. At first everyone ignored her. No one even looked up to see her or speak to her. So she walked up to the nearest desk where a thin, blonde-haired woman sat filing her nails.

“Excuse me,” Jennifer said in a whispered voice. “I have come in here because it says on the sign that All are welcome. What desk can I sit in and what room can I live in, please?”

The woman looked up at her in surprise. “What are you talking about? Who said you are welcome? You can’t come in here and stay. You shouldn’t even be here at all.” 

All the other people in the office were now staring at Jennifer in her thread bare clothes, dirty shoes and long uncombed hair. They all started to laugh.

“Look at that lazy, little girl, would you? She needs a bath and can’t stop fidgeting. Doesn’t she look funny.”

They all laughed and laughed even more until finally Jennifer begged, “Please. I have no place to go or be. No one wants to play with me. If I could have a friend or two, I’m sure they’d tell me what to do.”

“Well,” said the lady, “You certainly won’t find them here. I think I will take you up to the manager’s office, He’ll straighten you out!”

Grabbing Jennifer by the scruff of her neck, she marched her up a flight of stairs to the second floor, down a long hall way, and stopped in front of a big door of a big office, where the word “Manager” was written in very big, black letters on the door. 

“Mr. Manager,” she said sarcastically, “This scruffy, little girl just walked in off the street and wants to live in the office. Can you imagine such a thing? I told her you would straighten her out.”

The Manager looked Jennifer over while his fingers held his big black spectacles off his nose. His big black mustache began to wiggle nervously from side to side.

“Please sir,” said Jennifer again. “I have no place to go or be. No one wants to play with me. If I could have a friend or two, I sure they’d teach me what to do.”

The Manager dropped his glasses onto his desk and looked at the blonde lady angrily. “Miss Spinhead, why did you bring her to me when I am so busy? This is probably just a lazy, little girl who needs a bath and can’t stop fidgeting. Do something with her. Like, take her to the General Manager – or anything. Just get her out of my office.” 

He quickly hurried them both out the door and slammed it hard behind them. 

Miss Spinhead took Jennifer once more by the collar and led her up another long set of stairs to the third floor, down a long corridor where they stopped in front of a big, big office. This one had the words “General Manager” written in big, big black letters on the door.

A skinny man with a bald head looked up from his big, big desk and said in a squeaky voice, “What do you want? Be quick. I’m busy, can’t you see?”

It was very easy to see he was not busy because his desk was clean and he was drawing doodles on the big, big note pad that covered his big, big desk. 

“Yes sir,” said Miss Spinhead. “I’m very sorry but I have this messy, little girl here sir. She insists she wants to live in our office.”

 “Here in our office?” He jumped right out of his big, big chair. “Miss Spinhead, what are you thinking? No one lives in an office. We only work in offices and this one is mine. Did you tell her that Miss Spinhead? Did you? Well tell her this very minute!”

He waited while Miss Spinhed repeated those very words, mouthing them very slowly in front of Jennifer’s nose.

“Please sir,” started Jennifer. “I have no place to go or…”

Before she could say more, the General Manager cut her off. “Can’t be helped. We can’t help every lazy, little girl, who needs a bath and fidgets, that comes in off the street and wants to live in my office. Take her to the Mayor. He’ll straighten her out.” With that, the skinny, bald man waved them off with his hand.

Miss Spinhead was so angry now that she stamped her feet as she dragged Jennifer up another set of stairs to the fourth floor, down another corridor and stopped in front of another office that was even bigger than the other two. It had the name “Mayor” written in big, big, big letters, blacker than any word Jennifer had ever seen.

Sitting in a big, big, big chair, the mayor was very, very, very unhappy about being disturbed while he read the morning newspaper, “The Dinamosa Daily Diatribe.”

“Mr. Mayor!” Miss Spinhead called as she nearly knocked the door down before opening it. Her voice had become shriller and higher. “I have been to the Manager and I have been to the General Manager and now I am coming to you.”

The Mayor’s big, big, big round face began to frown as she continued. “This lazy, little girl needs a bath and won’t stop fidgeting. And she wants to live in your office with her dirty clothes and messy long hair. If I had my way, I’d put her on an airplane going to the farthest and remotest place that I can buy a ticket for, and dump her there with only French fries and triple cheese burgers to eat for the rest of her life. That would get rid of her for good.”

“Settle down, Miss Spinhead,” said the Mayor in a deep low voice. As his frown got longer, his face got redder, redder and redder. He paced back and forth, his big, big, big cigar dropped ashes all over his clean white carpet. He mumbled to himself out loud, “We can’t have this sort of behaviour here and we can’t have little lazy girls, who don’t wash or comb their hair, come into my office and want to live here. Where would I put them all, I ask you? Hmm…”

Raising his head and his voice he said very loudly, “Take her out of my office and make sure she doesn’t come back. I don’t care what you do with her. Just do it! Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes sir, Mr. Mayor. I understand.” She almost saluted. “I shall take care of it this very minute, sir. Just as you asked.” A nasty smile crept over her face. 

Miss Spinhead turned around and headed down the long corridor dragging Jennifer Jane by the arm. Down the flight of steps to the third floor, past the General Managers office, down the flight of stairs leading to the second floor, down long corridor past the Manager’s office, down the hallway to the flight of stairs leading to the first floor, through the large office on the main floor and through the tall glass doors she went without losing any speed.

A taxi was idling in the parking lot outside. The driver jumped as Miss Spinhead ordered, “To the airport right now!”

Miss Spinhead was so happy the Mayor had given her not only the idea but the permission to solve the problem of the lazy, little girl who was dirty and shabby and couldn’t stop fidgeting. She would see to it no one would be bothered by her ever again. 

Chapter 2

Toni Maba sat on the dirt floor of his little shack thinking of food. His Mother and Father also sat on the dirt floor and thought of food. That’s what they did almost every day now. A big pot of water boiled on an open stove in the middle of the one room shack. It providing heat and light, but there was not a scrap of food in the pot.

“Toni,” said Father, “If you want to eat today you must go and find some food for yourself because there is no money to buy any. Your Mother cannot knit any more Shiptus sweaters as her hands are old and tired. I cannot work because I can no longer see and cannot afford glasses.” 

Toni’s tummy growled and rumbled loudly but he knew it would do no good to complain. If there was to be food today, he would have to get some, but how? 

Suddenly he remembered. He had seen a small airplane land at the tiny airport not far from their shack that very morning. No airplanes had landed in the village airport for many years. Maybe they had left something there that could be eaten or that could be sold to get food? He decided to investigate. Quickly, so that his friends would not see and follow him, he left the shack and slipped into the tall grass. The sun was just coming up and he hoped no one else would think of this idea and go there too.

As he arrived at the airport there seemed to be no one around the old metal shed which had been used for the office. But a sudden noise from inside told him he was not alone. Creeping up slowly, he peeked through one of the broken windows. There inside, on an old wooden bench, sat someone Toni had never seen before. She looked very strange. Her blonde hair was dirty, long and messy. Her clothes were all dirty and from the grimy tear stains on her face, he could see she had not had a wash for a long time. Most of all he noticed how cold she was for her hands were shaking very badly. 

“Did you come to find food?” asked Toni quietly so as not to frighten her. The little girl turned around surprised at the sound of a human voice. Her eyes opened big and wide. She was too startled to say anything. She looked at the brown, thin face of the boy. He was about her age and she could see he was friendly.

Finally she replied, “Food? No. I already have lots of food. They gave this to me on the plane. But you can have it if you want.” She shoved a big brown potato sack with her foot towards Toni. It was stuffed full of French fried chips and triple cheese burgers.

Toni could hardly believe his eyes. He had only been out searching for an hour and already he had found more food than his family normally ate in a week.

“Thank you. Thank you,“ said Toni. “Please, accept my shaggy sweater. It will keep you warm. If you like, you can come with me while I take this food to my Mother and Father”. 

Jennifer had spent so much of her life trying to find anyone to go with that she didn’t know what to say. So she said nothing but followed quietly behind Toni as he dragged the awkward sack.

After a long walk through the tall grass, they came to a small village made up of a number of huts built of wood and straw. They walked towards the one with smoke coming out of its small stove pipe and entered its open door way.

“Mother, Father, I have found food. Also, I have found a new friend!” Jennifer stopped in her tracks when she hear the words “ New Friend.” Did he mean her? 

“Come in, come in,” said Toni excitedly. “See Mother, she is cold, so I gave her my old shaggy sweater.” 

The Father, who could not see well, could see well enough to know this little person was not from their village – not even from their country.

“Your friend. Where does she come from?” he asked.

“And what is the name of your friend?” asked Mother.

“Is it polite to ask a new friend so many questions?” asked Toni. “She has shared her food with us.”

Then turning to Jennifer he asked, “Do you have a place to live, friend?” He was hoping she would say no.

Jennifer thought of the little song she had sung for years. What a silly song, yet it was true. She had never had any place to go or be, but here was someone asking her to come to their home and stay with them. And he was actually calling her “Friend”. The silent thought went through her mind: “If I can stay here, you can teach me what to do.”

“You can call me Friend, because that is my name,” she said out loud.

“That is all well and good,” interrupted the Father. “But what shall we feed Friend when all the food in the sack is gone? Surely she will have nothing to eat either, just like us.” 

“Wait,” said Mother. Quietly she asked, “Friend, do you know how to knit sweaters of shaggy wool from the Shiptus Sheep?”

Jennifer had never heard of Shiptus Sheep before in her life. Still, she immediately replied, “Of course.” 

“Ah then, perhaps we will not be as hungry as you suppose, old man.” Reaching behind her, the Mother picked up a large ball of shaggy wool. She slipped it onto two large wooden needles, tying the string to them with a knot. Then she passed the needles to Jennifer. “Please,” she said looking at Friend and then looking at the needles and wool.

Jennifer could not keep them steady but she hung onto the ends as tightly as she could. The needles began to bang together and the wool started to follow the needles. The more nervous she got, the faster her needles and wool moved. Her hands shook faster and faster. To their amazement, the shaking of the needles began to move the wool first in circles and then in a motion that produced knots and stitches. They were not like the stitches the Mother had made, as there were both small and large knots, and small and large holes. They seemed to form a pattern that tied the wool together row after row. In a few minutes the entire ball had been used up. The Mother reached for another ball. This one was a different colour. She tied it to the first and the process started all over again. This continued until they had used up another ball and then, suddenly like magic, a three-foot by five-foot perfect rectangle of knitted shaggy Shiptus Sheep wool sat on the floor at the feet of the astounded Jennifer. The entire Maba family were clapping and laughing.

“It is indeed beautiful,” said Mother after she had stopped laughing. Hesitantly she asked, “But how does one wear such a sweater?”

“I know,” said Toni excitedly. Grabbing the material, he struck his head through a large hole in the center. That let half of the long side to run down his front while the rest of it hung down his back. Looking around he spotted a length of rope, also made from Shiptus wool, and wrapped it around his waist, tying the sweater snugly to his body. 

“Oh such a burden to have weak eyes,” moaned the Father. “While you rejoice, I only see only a length of knitted wool. No arms and no neck. Where is the sweater and what causes us to rejoice?” 

“It is not one’s eyes that make one blind,” Mother scolded. “What you cannot see is a sweater that will fit anyone, no matter what size. It’s a sweater that can be opened to let in the cool air of the day, yet it can be closed and held tight to the body to keep out the cold air of the night. Ah, how clever your village must be Friend, and how skilled you are to make such sweaters so quickly.”

Jennifer had to smile at these words. But she smiled even more when she realized what had just happened. While everyone was chatting and calling to neighbours outside their shack to come and see what their new friend had done, Jennifer quietly reached over to the stack of balls of wool to see if she could make another one of the rectangular shapes. She was afraid it might simply be a coincidence, too good to be true, and she couldn’t do it twice.

But each ball of wool that she attached to the wooden needles and then held with her shaking hands produced the same result. Now there were 3 such shapes waiting to become new sweaters. 

By late afternoon the news had spread to other villages further away and more curious people gathered outside the Maba household to see the miracle of a blonde-haired, strange little girl was performing there. They had even brought their own balls of Shiptus Sheep wool to have her make them into shaggy sweaters of their own. Jennifer was so excited and happy to have so many friends that she just kept knitting all day and well into the evening until everyone at last had gone home.

In the morning when the Maba family awoke there were gifts of food sitting outside their hut. Even more people had gathered during the night and were singing and clapping while they waited for Friend to start knitting again. 

Soon the pile of food grew higher as people came, sang and clapped then walked away with big bundles stacked on their heads of the beautifully-coloured, Shaggy sweaters made from the Shiptus Sheep wool.

For the first time in a long while everyone was very, very happy. They were warm at night and cool in the day. And what was even more remarkable was, when the Maba family and Friend realized they had too much food, they gave the extras to all the people they could find who had no food at all. 

Before too long, people were coming to buy sweaters from all over the continent. So the Maba family and Friend got rich as well. People in their village soon learned how to make sweaters just like Friend – except they could not make them quite as fast.

In the Maba village things changed a lot. Blankets were now made out of Shiptus wool, as were slippers, jackets, skirts and hats. Mother Maba started a school where she would teach anyone who wanted to learn how to make Shiptus wool products.

The village become a town and Father Maba was elected to be the first mayor. He had more than enough money to buy new glasses. A new Shiptus Products Factory was built. Toni and Friend were made the managers. Schools and houses were now made out of wood or adobe with shiny metal roofs and clean glass windows. And a new big, big airport had been built to bring in all the tourists and take out all the Shiptus products to stores all over the world who were anxious to buy them. 

For some unexplained reason, Friend woke up one day to find her hands had stopped shaking. Some people said it was because she had become tired of making sweaters – but she never got tired of making new friends. Nor did she tire of delivering food to those who needed it. Others said it was because she had found people who loved her for being such a generous person. Whatever it was, Friend was loved by everyone. So she settled down in the Maba village and lived a very happy life. As far as I know, she is still living there to this day. 

Chapter 3 

The Mayor of Dinamosa sat in his big, big, big office smoking a big, big, big cigar. His big, big, big round face got redder, redder and redder as he examined his morning paper, “ The Dinamosa Daily Diatribe.“ He reached for the big, big, big red phone on his big, big, big desk with his fat, fat, fat fingers and spoke to the secretary at the main floor office in a stern, stern, stern voice.

“Miss Spinhead, please tell the General Manager to come to my office at once.” It was only a few moments before a tall skinny man with a bald head came running in, all out of breath and sweating heavily.

“You called for me sir?” His voice was high and squeaky, and he stopped in between each word while he caught his breath. 

“What I want to know from you, Mr. General Manager, is why, a small girl, in a small unknown village, in a small country with no name, on a small continent that no one has ever hear of, can come up with a big idea to make a lot of money and make her town famous, when we have been paying you to make us money and make us famous for ten whole years? You haven’t been able to do either!” 

The tall man’s face went white and he began to stammer. “Who is this girl and where did she come from?”

This question made the Mayor even angrier because he thought the General Manage was trying to change the subject. His big, big, big cigar began to shed a lot of ashes as he chewed on the end of it. His voice got higher as he began to shout. The veins in his forehead began to bulge as he drew in his breath. He pointed at a picture on the front page of his morning paper which lay on his big, big, big desk with his fat, fat, fat finger.

“How am I supposed to know? That’s your job. Funny thing though, she almost looks like the little street girl who came in here a few years ago to live in my office. But this girl is all clean, with beautiful hair and wears those very trendy, shaggy wool clothes. Could you imagine such our lazy little girl being even a relative?

Hmm… Wait! What if we said to their little girl that our little girl is her long-lost sister? What if we could convinced the girl in Maba that our girl is her lost sister? Perhaps we could bring the Maba girl here and learn how she got so rich?”

Rubbing his hands, and wearing a seldom seen smile on his face, he lowered his voice and quietly whispered, “It’s a long shot but get on it immediately. And get me an answer right away or there will be big, big, big trouble. Do you understand?”

The General Manager understood completely. He turned and ran back down the steps from the fourth floor to his big, big office on the third floor. There he sat in his chair behind the big, big desk. After thinking for a moment, he picked up his big, big phone with his skinny, skinny fingers and spoke to the secretary on the main floor. “Miss Spinhead,” he said in a high squeaky voice, “Please have the Manager come to my office at once.”

In a few moments a man with a greying mustache that twitched nervously, came into the big, big office all out of breath and sweating as he fingering his glasses nervously.

“You called me, sir?” he asked in a voice that stopped in between each word so that he could catch his breath.

“Yes. What I want to know from you, Mr. Manager is the whereabouts of that rude little girl who came into our office from off the street some time ago. She had the silly idea she wanted to live here. Do you know who I mean?”

The man with the dark glasses scratched his head and then began to smile. It took him a few minutes to recall the office uproar it had caused, and how funny the story had become after it was exaggerated just a little here and a little there through its telling and retelling.

“Yes sir. I’m sure I do, sir. But I have no idea what became of her, sir. She simply disappeared into thin air.”

The General Manager was not amused. “I want you to go and find her. This a small town. You shouldn’t have any problem. I want an answer before the end of today. Is that clear? Or there will be big, big trouble.”

The Manager understood perfectly clearly. And he was sure he would find the little girl long before that. He snickered as he thought to himself, “How many lazy, little girls can there be in Dinamosa that need a bath, don’t comb their hair and twitch their hands uncontrollably?”

He turned around and walked down the flight of stairs to the second floor with the big office. He sat down on the big chair behind the big desk and thought about where to begin. In a few minutes he reached for the big red phone on his big desk and called the secretary. “ Miss Spinhead, would you come to my office at once?”

Miss Spinhead who very seldom did anything “at once” appeared in the Manager’s office in record speed.

“You called for me, sir?” she asked all out of breath and sweating from the quick run up the stairs.

“Yes I did. What I want to know from you, Miss Spinhead, is the whereabouts of that strange, little, bratty girl who came in off the street a while ago asking to live in the office. Tell me or you will be in big trouble.”

The question was so unexpected, Miss Spinhead dropped her secretary’s note pad and went pale. She began to shake. It was a long time ago since she had thought about that girl. The last time she had seen her was when she was at the airport. She had purchased a ticket that day ( and a banquet-size order of French fries and triple burgers) from the only airline company that would fly the girl from Dinamosa to a village that wasn’t on any map.And that airline had long since gone out of business. No one, not even she, was supposed to ever discover where the little pesky girl had been sent. She had literally dropped off the end of the world.

“I have no idea who you are talking about Mr. Manager,” Miss Spinhead lied. “And I have no idea where such a silly girl would be even if I did know who she was. You say she wanted to live in our office? Who would be so ridiculous Mr. Manager. Surely you don’t believe that story?” 

“How could you let this happen to me? I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe you are lying, Miss Spinhead. And I also believe I should fire you. So good day, Miss Spinhead. Don’t leave anything in your desk when you leave, please.”

Before the manager walked up the stairs to face the General Manager, he tried and tried to think of something he could tell him that he would believe. But he could not. He phoned everyone in the town – and that was not a long list because so few people now lived in Dinamosa. Most had left when the last of the companies had closed and the schools had been forced to shut because of a lack of students. 

Finally he walked slowly up the flight of stairs to the third floor to tell the General Manager the bad news. The General Manager took off his dark glasses and wiped his forehead.

“That is terrible, terrible. How could you let this happen to me? You are fired. Don’t leave anything behind in your desk when you leave, please.”

The General Manager sat at his big, big desk trying to think of something he could say to the Mayor that he would believe. But he could not. Finally he walked slowly up to the fourth floor to tell the Mayor the bad news.

The Mayor’s face got redder than it had ever, ever done before. “That is terrible, do you hear? Terrible. How could you let this happen to me? You are fired. Do you understand? Fired. Don’t leave anything in your desk when you leave, please.”

The next day, the Mayor sat in his big, big, big office and stared out the big, big, big window behind his big, big , big desk. He chewed on the end of his big, big, big cigar which twisted and dropped ashes all over his dirty grey carpet. He was the only one in all of the Town Hall Building. He thought to himself, “I have no place to go or be. I have no one to talk to me. I wish I had a friend or two, I’m sure they’d tell me what to do.”

He walked out of his big, big, big office and closed the door. Slowly he went down the long hallway. He went down the flight of stairs to the third floor. He pasted the big, big empty office with General Manager written on the door. Then he went down the next hallway and down the flight of stairs to the second floor.He went down the hallway leading to the Manager’s big empty office. Finally he went down the last flight of stairs to the empty office on the main floor and out through the tall glass doors. 

As he wandered down the empty main street he wondered to himself. “Whatever happened to that scrawny, little girl who wanted to live in my office? Good thing I didn’t let her. It would have been the end of everything I have worked for.”

-Doug Garrett

If Only I Could Spell

I never got a Valantine, I know it sounds absurd.
I never sent a Velantine, I couldn’t spell the word.
But lady luck was good to me, I don’t deserve my fate.
She overlooked my ignorance and sent to me my mate.
She cooks, she cleans, my every wish is taken care, I tell.
So here’s to you my Vallentine, if only I could spell.

-Doug Garrett

My Child

For Rowan (1978)

Above my child’s bed I stand and stare.
How peaceful, how angelic lying there.

Yet was it not this very night,
Not waiting nor listening to his plight 
I swept his reaching arms aside,
All reason gone, my patience tried?

His hands now tucked between his knees and clasped,
What part of my feelings had he grasped?

How soon the boy will be a man,
Yet so much first he needs to understand.
A searching spirit reaching outward from inside
Pleads with me silently to subside.

I’ll try again despite his clamber and rude calls,
All those things that build such solid walls,
To hear with love and cease this fruitless fight,
Remembering the tenderness I feel tonight.

-Doug Garrett

One By One

Words and Music by Doug Garrett,  Music arranged by Donald A Garrett

In the quiet of the soul he teaches one by one,
By his still small voice he teaches, reaches one by one.
Touch his feet, touch his side. See how once he died,
For us, for us, to save us one by one.

A mighty storm arises, see the wind. As it sears my heart and causes doubts therein,
My trembling shoulders get crushed to the ground, by angry taunting voices all around.

Though strength is gone and confidence is torn, I rise and turn my face towards the storm.
My weakness seems to rob me of all choice. When all seems lost, its then I hear his voice.

He knows me by my name, I’m not alone. I have the strength to find my way back home.
And when I do, we’ll meet as face-to-face, I’ll hear his voice again as we embrace.

In the quiet of the soul he teaches one by one,
By his still small voice he teaches, reaches one by one.
Touch his feet, touch his side. See how once he died,
For us, for us, to save us one by one.

-Doug Garrett

Seeking Forgiveness

We learn the following when the Lord made this statement regarding forgiveness:

D&C 64: 10 “I the Lord will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you, it is required to forgive all men.” 

But the act of forgiving or receiving forgiveness, is not easy. It is complex and requires many preliminary steps. Recognition, remorse, revealing and reconciliation all come before there can be rejoicing. 

When one seeks forgiveness from his fellowman, he is placed in the humble position of a beggar petitioning for something that is beyond his power to acquire for himself. He is totally dependent upon someone else to show mercy before the act can be consummated.

In this respect, forgiveness is a contract between two parties: the transgressor and the transgressed. Failure to reach a mutual agreement on the conditions of the contract means both parties lose. The transgressor remains in debt or bondage, while the transgressed remains unrequited or unreconciled, perhaps even drowning in bitter resentment and soul destroying hurt. Both are chained to each other and cannot move away from the original sin.

Yet the moment forgiveness is fully granted and joyfully received, both are immediately set free. The transgressor is relieved of the burden of his debts and transgression. The transgressed has also removed his own unbearable burden by the very act of forgiving and forgetting. Both come away with an immense feeling of relief and freedom because they are unyoked. They can now move on with life.

It is easier to understand why God would command us to “ forgive all men” if we accept that we, unlike God, are not perfect. The process of becoming perfect requires adopting and mastering the qualities which make him “God” in the first place. Mercy, love, compassion, understanding and humility are required to forgive others who trespass against us while living life. They are also the qualities we must perfect to become as God is. The bigger the debt or offense, the greater the need we personally have for these God like qualities. As we embrace the act of granting mercy, love, compassion and understanding unto to the least of those who seek our forgiveness, we become more worthy to be the recipients of mercy, love compassion and understanding from God – the very being to whom we all stand in debt. The more often we go through the process of forgiveness, the more we progress and qualify to be reconciled with God. Someday, whether we are the transgressor or the transgressed, we will stand in his presence, petitioning for his forgiveness. 

D&C 64: 9 “Wherefore I say unto you that ye ought to forgive one another, for he who foregiveth not his brother his trespasses, standeth condemned before the Lord, for there remaineth in him the greater sin.”

D&C 64: 11 “ And ye ought to say in your hearts – Let God judge between me and thee and reward thee according to thy deeds”

– Doug Garrett

Giving Up, Giving In and Giving Away

There is no other way.

I have discovered that this life is all about giving up, giving in or giving away. Before we even got here, we chose to give up the beautiful spirit home where we lived in innocence and happiness with our Heavenly Parents. The motivation was we could gain experience and a physical body like our Heavenly Father had. But mortal life was not without its inherent dangers. We would be exposed to temptations and evil we could not even conceived of. Our mission would be to choose good over evil or vice versa. We could lose our way and the opportunity to come back to his presence, But we all had the faith and confidence we would do what was required. We willingly and eagerly gave up what we had, for what we might become.

As little children we were concerned only about ourselves and meeting our needs. Yet even then we knew our parents were more experienced than we were. So we gave in to their wisdom.

When we were teenagers we were preoccupied by the need to be accepted. Impressing others, especially those we thought were special, consumed our daily thoughts. But we soon discovered we had to up give many of our frivolous fantasies if we ever hoped to get an education or the skills we needed for life. We discovered, after experimenting, it worked better for us when we cooperated with others. So we occasionally volunteered to give up, give in and give away.

As we met our future partners we have to give away our selfish, single habits and give in to dreams that involved at least the two of us if our marriage was to be successful.

When we had children, we found we had to give in to their immediate needs and give away some of our precious free time because little babies depended totally upon us to survive. There was no one else who would give what we should give.

When we joined The Church of Jesus Christ, we covenanted to give our time, talents and all we possessed to build the Kingdom of God so that he could bless us with peace and hope now, and receive Eternal Life hereafter.

When we gave up 10% of our increase, we became partners with God, giving up a portion of our earthly wealth so he could share with us his heavenly blessings. 

As our children grew, we had to give up the dreams we had for their future because the dreams they had for themselves were even greater than we could have imagined.

Our young adult children, whom we had fallen in love with, brought home total strangers and asked us to give these, our precious offspring away to them. We would have held them to ourselves forever, but we realized they were never ours to keep in the first place. God had only loaned them to us to raise for him There was no other way they, or we, could reach the full measure of our creation unless we let them go. And so we, the parents, hugged, trembled and wept as we watched them drive away together, with our blessings.

When our children had children of their own, we gave up our rights of authority in parenting. We had to stand back and watch silently — even when they made mistakes — because they needed the room and experience to learn and to grow to be become even better parents than we were.

In our roles of leadership we finally realized we need not compete with others forever. We matured enough to give in to the desire for glory, recognition and power. Those things are best exercised by us when we shared them with others. 

As we grew older, we gave up our need to be everything to everybody. We were finally willing to let others win and let others have their time in the spotlight. They needed the experience. We had our days aplenty of these things. We became content to see the job done, not always as well as it would have been by us, but as well done as others with less experience could do. We found ourselves glowing in the satisfaction of the joy of helping others to do and become better.

Now, as our personal health and strength decreases, we recognize someday we will have to give up our independence. Then it may become a joy for others to serve us as tenderly and unselfishly as they compassionately desire to do.

Someday, one of us will have to remain behind while the other slips away. When we are asked to give up our life and eternal companion, it will also mean giving up our spiritual and temporal rock, our pillar of strength. Then there will only be family and friends left to lean on. None of us are ever really prepared for this day.

It may be many or few years before our own time comes. Then we will be required to give up and lay down in the ground the last thing we could call truly our own. We will be left with nothing but our faith in the Saviour and the hope that he will handle it from there.

Constantly and deliberately, from the very beginning of life, we will have given up, given in or given away everything we thought we absolutely had to have to be happy and content, or to experience joy. At each step we discovered all things we thought were indispensable, and had acquired at such sacrifice indeed, were replaced with something else of much greater value than we could have hoped for.

We have been changed through the process, becoming refined, dependable generous, loving — and lovable.

What a remarkable, magnificent plan it is that requires us to fight our very basic natural inclinations to obtain its reward. What a surprise to discover that that was God’s very purpose for allowing us to come here: That we might, through our own choices, be united again with loved ones and become eternally as he is. 

Doug Garrett

Marriage is a Butterfly

When you see a butterfly, you see a jewel of God’s creations. Magnified against the blue sky or flashed against the green meadow, its mere existence catches your attention and your breath. It focuses your vision instantly by its singular rarity.

It was not created in a night of fantasy, nor is it the product of serendipitous experimentation. Long and purposeful has it been in the making. From a lowly, unpretentious beginning to its magnificent sense of purpose, is has been molded to protect itself from even the coldest and boldest of foes, and thus has it emerged. Determination has been its source of tempered elasticity. Strength has been the forger’s gift. Do not be fooled by so fragile its appearance nor its seemingly goalless flight. Not by these things has its laurels been won. Neither by one single sighting can a flawless judgment be rendered of its success. It is a work still in progress.

Its journey is long and perilous, the route precise, its purpose exact, even Eternal. Yet, if left to discover its own way, it will flourish, and all that was ascribed to it by its maker will be attained and its seemingly minuscule mandate, fulfilled.

When you see a strong and fruitful marriage, you see a jewel of God’s creations. Magnified against the chaos of man’s vanity and feeble follies, or flashed against his ever changing, self-liberating norms, its mere existence catches your attention and your breath. It focuses your vision instantly by its singular rarity.

It was not invented in a night of passion, nor is it the product of serendipitous experimentation. Long and purposeful has it been in the making. From a lowly, unpretentious beginning to its sense of purpose, it has been molded to protect itself from even the coldest and boldest of foes, and thus it has emerged. Determination has been its source of tempered elasticity. Strength has been its forger’s gift. Do not be fooled by so fragile its appearance nor its seemingly goalless flight. Not by these things has its laurels been won. Neither by one single sighting can a flawless judgment be rendered of its success. It is a work still in progress.

Its journey is long, and perilous, the route precise, its purpose exact even Eternal. Yet, if left to discover its own way, it will flourish and all that was ascribed to it by its maker, will be attained and its cosmic consequences, fulfilled.

Doug Garrett