Searching for Forgiveness

Dec 2009 Issue

By Ken Craig
In the summer of 1988, as a shocking reaction to my dad’s midlife crisis that he insisted he was not having, our family moved to the tiny Hawaiian island of Molokai. People have two reactions when they hear about Molokai: 1) Where? and 2) Isn’t that where the lepers are?

You are correct on both accounts. The beaches are beautiful and the island smells terrific, but it is not a tourist destination – there is very little to do there. No shopping, no movie theaters, no recreational centers, no stop lights, no cable TV. Just like the pioneers! But with coconuts and ukuleles!

I made a wonderful friend that year named Ann Marie. We were not boyfriend/girlfriend, we were not flirtatious, we were not even affectionate. (If you’re going to press me for details, I will tell you that occasionally we high-fived.) But she was a wonderful friend who laughed at my jokes, let me play my CDs for her, and shared my disdain for this Hawaiian concoction called “poi.” (And yes, those were my three prerequisites for friendship.)

At the end of that year, I left for BYU in Provo, Utah. Ann Marie and I would occasionally write letters, as email or texting hadn’t been invented yet. I KNOW! I actually had to dip a quill in ink and write by hand! Just like the pioneers! But with lined paper and contemporary postage stamps!

Then one day, I was careless with Ann Marie’s feelings, and I wrote a letter that hurt her. It wasn’t my intention, but I was insensitive, and after I sent it, I regretted it. I wished I could un-send it. I wrote a letter of apology right away, but I didn’t hear back from her. I called her home, but I could never catch her there. I wrote another letter. But I never once heard back from her.

I soon left on my LDS mission, where your weaknesses and shortcomings feel like they are placed directly under a microscope for you to agonize about. Over time, I felt worse. I suppose one reason that I felt incredibly awful was that for Ann Marie, I was the face of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She knew it was important to me and she had even talked with the missionaries and expressed interest in one day being baptized. But now her friend had been un-Christian with her feelings. I wrote again and again on my mission, but with never a single response.

I returned from my mission and started college again. And in December 1994, during the First Presidency Christmas Devotional, President Howard W. Hunter counseled “This Christmas, mend a quarrel. Seek out a forgotten friend. Forgo a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Apologize. Try to understand. Examine your demands on others. Be kind. Be gentle. Laugh a little more. Express your gratitude.” (Ensign, December 2002 Gifts of Christmas.)

I was reminded of Ann Marie, and how those unsaid and unforgiven pieces from four years prior were still there. That counsel would return to my mind each Christmas; and finally, another 10 years after that, I found Ann Marie.

Oh, it wasn’t easy, but see if you can keep up: My sister, Holli, had kept in touch with a friend from Molokai who had a sister who had been close friends with Ann Marie and was still single, living on Oahu as a practicing lawyer. I used the ol’ Internet (thank you for finally catching up, technology) and found the law firm and found this mutual friend. We chatted for a few minutes and I asked her if she kept in touch with Ann Marie.

“Nah,” she responded. “You know, we went to different colleges, and then after she married George and moved away, we really didn’t stay in touch.”

“Right…right…” (I pretended to know all of these things had happened). “What was George’s last name again?” She told me, and I continued, “Right…right…and where did they move to?” She told me again. “Interesting,” I said, uninterested and wondering how quickly I could hang up, jump on the computer and hunt down Ann Marie. Ken Craig, P.I.

I browsed the Internet and found it. Ann Marie’s phone number. Right there for public consumption. With Christmas music in the background and President Hunter’s ringing endorsement running through my head, I picked up the phone and called. Somebody answered.

“Hello?”

“Ann Marie?”

“Yes.”

“Ann Marie…that used to live on Molokai?”

“That’s right.”

I was so nervous, I could hear myself sweat.

“Sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

Juuuuust kidding. I didn’t say that. But I wanted to. Now that I had found her, what if she decided
that I was not worthy of forgiveness? What if she was as embarrassed as I was, and didn’t want to talk about it? What if she just plain hung up on me?

“This is Ken Craig.” I half-swallowed.

“Oh. My. Word!” she kindly gasped.

And it went from there. Who we married, how many kids we had, where we lived, how we got there, what were our feelings on the then-popular phenomenon of “boy bands” – essentially summing up our lives from over the past 14 years. And then the moment came. I reached deep within me and found the intestinal fortitude to begin.

“Well, Ann Marie, I called because I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your friendship during a time in my life when things were new and unfamiliar and uncertain. You made things comfortable and fun. You were a wonderful friend. And I know that in a moment of youthful selfishness, I foolishly said something hurtful. I don’t remember what it was, but I wish I could take it back. And I am so sorry that I ever said it.”

And then she said it.

“I forgive you.”

I could feel my face literally light up as a longstanding burden was lifted. I felt fantastic. I felt the spirit of Christmas. After years of longing for a forgiveness that seemed unattainable, I felt a chapter of my life close with redemption.

Nothing else really changed after that. We don’t live near each other nor do we casually call to see
how the other’s family is doing. But each season, when I receive a Christmas card from Ann Marie and George, I feel that spirit of the season swell up in my soul, and I’m grateful for the counsel of inspired leaders who know where the greatest joys of the Christmas season come from. If you are looking for the spirit of the season, might I suggest you also follow President Hunter’s counsel? You will indeed have yourself a merry little Christmas. Or, as the pioneers would say, “Mele Kalikimaka!”