Give the Gift of Forgetting
By Susan Law Corpany

In an Institute class on courtship and marriage, which I took many years ago with the man I was about to marry, Dee Hadley told the men, “Women may forgive, but they never forget.”  He was of the opinion that women have total recall when it comes to slights and suffering, and are especially gifted at recalling the faults and foibles of their husbands. 

Forgotten anniversaries, household appliances given as gifts, botched birthdays, not to mention the time he wore that hideous tie when meeting your friends for the first time — things such as these occupy a large sector of the female brain.  Perhaps it is politically incorrect for me to say so, but I find this to be all too true, at least in my case.  Perhaps reader response will bear me out.  Brothers?

In 1994 I attended the 20-year reunion of the South High Class of ’74.  As I entered the elevator to go up to the dinner, I glanced at the name tags of the couple sharing my ride up.  Without thinking, I blurted out.  “Marty!  Kris!  You guys got married!  Wow!  Marty, remember that day in health class when they were showing the childbirth film and you tried to leave class because you couldn’t take it and fainted in front of the whole class?  We knew you guys were in love when Kris ran up there to make sure you were okay.  I remember how you fell and knocked over the skeleton and the bones flew all over the room.  It was great!”  I turned to Kris.  “So do you guys have any kids?  Did he do any better in person?”

Ignoring me, he spoke to his wife.  “I told you someone would remember.  We’re not even off the elevator and someone remembered!”

Recently my husband and I were in Washington D.C. for a weekend during a time of torrential rains and flooding.  On Sunday morning, armed with directions to the nearest chapel, we headed out to go to church.  Thom was driving.  I was navigating.  Because it was raining so hard, he asked me to say a prayer to ask for help getting to church.  I began with the standard “car prayer” and while I was at it, I figured I might as well mention our kids, and of course, our parents, our siblings facing challenges, the sick and afflicted, the poor and the needy, and...  Only partway through my personal “prayer roll,” I heard a definitive “Amen!” from the seat beside me.  Then he quickly asked, “Straight or right?  Do I take this exit?”  With a quick glance at the directions in my lap, I confirmed that the upcoming exit was indeed the one we needed.  He apologized for having found it necessary to interrupt me, but explained that he needed me on duty as navigator at that point.  We made it to church safely and on time.  (Obviously my prayer worked.)

Fast forward several weeks.  We were heading across our island, and Thom asked me to give a prayer as we started out.  My instant recall kicked in, and I gave a short prayer, covering only the basics of the car and driver operating safely.  I probably should have stopped there, but I didn’t.  Right after the “amen” I asked, “Was that short enough for you?”

“It was fine.”

“Good.  I’d hate for you to have to cut me off.”

“What are you talking about, Susan?”

“You know, Washington, D.C., on the way to church.”

He was quiet for a moment.  “I had completely forgotten about that until you brought it up.  Why did you bring it up, anyway?”

“I don’t know.  I just wanted you to know that I can do a short car prayer.”

“That was not a judgment of your prayer.  It was raining.  I couldn’t see well.  I needed to know which exit to take.”

An internet friend of mine, Geoffrey, once told me he had decided he needed a system for dealing with problems.  He was of the opinion that twelve steps (and even seven habits) were too much for the average man, so he came up with his own three-step program.  He calls it “Feel.  Deal.  Heal.”  That describes my husband pretty well.  He truly does let things go, and for that I am grateful.  I really do want to learn how to return the favor, but I admit to a weakness in this area.  Thom says that the companion program for women is “Recall.  Replay.  Retaliate.”  Unfortunately, I think I’ve got that one down. 

I am grateful that when I do something absent-minded, he never brings up old things I have done.  Trust me, there would be an unending supply.  There is the time that I got mixed up about the dates the German tourists were coming to stay in our vacation home, and we drove across the island and frantically helped our cleaning ladies do a one-day turn-around in anticipation of their arrival, only to discover they weren’t due for another month. 

There was the time I couldn’t remember the combination to our storage locker and finally had to borrow the bolt cutters from the office to get to the things I needed, figuring it would be cheaper to just go buy a new lock than to waste any more time trying to remember the combination.  When I got the bolt cut, which was no easy feat, I discovered why the combination hadn’t worked.  Like Geraldo opening Al Capone’s vault, I got a surprise when the stuff in the locker wasn’t ours.  (Thom can’t really bring this up, however, because I never told him about it.  Just checking to see if he reads my column.) 

I bought Melissa (her name was all over the boxes) a new lock and ‘fessed up to the lady in the office, who put the new lock on and gave the owner the combination, reassuring her that I hadn’t touched or taken anything. (Well, okay I pushed the button on her dancing hamster to see what song it would play, but nothing else.)  I left her a signed copy of one of my books as an apology.  Then I opened the locker next to it and got out what I needed.  (The good news is that I did remember the combination correctly after all.)

I could go on, as could my husband, anytime I do something new, but he doesn’t.  He does a “Feel.  Deal.  Heal,” and lets it go.  I imagine that if he brought up these things on a regular basis, I would find it increasingly difficult to have loving feelings towards him, and would certainly find myself wondering how he was able to simultaneously love me and keep my “fault storage” completely up-to-date, rotating the stories regularly and replenishing the supply with each new incident.

When my son was in elementary school, he had a bad day and wanted to switch schools.  He was sure nobody would ever forget that he had gotten a nosebleed and bled all over his report.  So I told him a little story about his dad.  “He was playing on the softball team for the law office where I worked.  They had recruited him because he was a good player, even though he didn’t work there.  I asked the attorney in charge if he was allowed to play.  She said it didn’t matter whether or not we were married.  It mattered if he could play ball.  The batter hit a ball straight at him in center field, and if he had caught it, we would have won the game.  But it rolled between his legs, and instead of being the hero, he lost the game with that one fumble.  He felt awful.  He didn’t want to come into the office or see anyone from the team, sure they would never forget.  But in just a few days, nobody mentioned it again or remembered about it.”

“Yeah mom,” he said. “Well if no one remembered about it, then how come you’re telling me about it now?”

I had to admit, the kid had a point. 

Perhaps the wrongdoing isn’t so much in the remembering as it is in the rehearsing, whether it is our sins of the past, a laundry list of our spouse’s shortcomings, or reminding others of things they’ve done that should be long-past forgotten.  While I am often absent-minded, I have total recall in some areas, and I often wonder how I can tell if I have truly forgiven someone. 

Sometimes I think we beat ourselves up for not having forgiven someone because we still remember the wrongdoing committed against us.  For me, I consider it “forgetting” if I am able to call forth a certain incident without the attending feelings of anger or guilt.  My hope is that old age, which is fast-approaching, will likely take care of the rest. 

We heard in our General Conference this past weekend a story from Bishop Richard C. Edgley, who brought home a couple of souvenir towels from the place he had stayed during a summer job and how he made a trip back to return them, prompted by a comment from his father about his expectations for his son’s behavior and integrity.  In sharing that story, he obviously had to remember it, but it was not the remembrance of someone racked with guilt for an unrepented sin, nor was it an enjoyed recollection revealing that he had not been totally squeaky clean in his youth.  It was shared as a teaching moment.  

I believe it is the “letting go” part that we need to work most on, and the “forgetting” will follow.  We need to let go of nursing hurts, of reveling in wrongdoings, of picking off emotional scabs and preventing healing that can naturally occur if we will let it.

According to the scriptures, our sins will be forgotten (D & C 58:42), blotted out (Psalms 51:1), or bleached (Isaiah 1:18).  Forgotten is one of many ways of saying they will be gone.  It is a great and wonderful gift God offers us, not only that our sins will be forgiven, if we take the steps necessary for that to happen, but that they won’t be rehearsed to us or others. 

Whether it is a matter of little consequence, like many of our small grievances and annoyances are, or a more serious transgression, forgiveness is a gift we should also give one another.  If we can think of no better reason for doing it, we should do it for the sake of our own salvation. 

According to Matt 6:15, we have to give it in order to get it:

I don’t know about you, but I’m hoping to at least get past the elevator ride before someone pulls out the list of my shortcomings and sins.