The Garage Guys LDS Mormon John Bonnor
 We’re not crying. You’re crying.
Thanks, John, and all THE GARAGE GUYS, for inspiring us!

 

 

 

What I know of grace, I learned from my mother. She, more than anyone, is intimately acquainted with the parts of me I try to hide away from the rest of the world. We all have those parts, as much as we may wish we didn’t. We spend our lives trying to change them. Sometimes, we succeed. But more often than not, the same old envy, ego, vanity, stubbornness or resentment shipwrecks on the shores of the people we love.

We worry that if people knew all these things about us, they might not go on loving us. They could, we hope, learn to put up with us in spite of our flaws. But at some point, we fear, they would come to loathe our character defects as much as we do.

If you are lucky, you may find those who can see how much you do battle with yourself everyday, and love you all the more because of it. And if you are really lucky, as I have been, one of those people may be the same one who brought you into the world. The person who has kept loving you through each halting footstep, beginning with your first and continuing unabated until her last.

My mother has seen me at my worst. She knows my impatience, my selfishness, my pride. She has borne the brunt of my unreasonableness.

Yet somehow, my mother’s love for me has only grown. She loves me beyond all measure or reason. When I think about what it has meant to experience her love throughout my life — a love that passes all understanding — I don’t have sufficient words for it.

That kind of love cannot be defined. But I can feel it when I sing. It is the feeling I had while singing this arrangement of Amazing Grace with my friends. And I can tell you that as we sang, my heart wanted to break wide open with joy.

Posted by John Bonner on Thursday, March 15, 2018

What I know of grace, I learned from my mother. She, more than anyone, is intimately acquainted with the parts of me I try to hide away from the rest of the world. We all have those parts, as much as we may wish we didn’t. We spend our lives trying to change them. Sometimes, we succeed. But more often than not, the same old envy, ego, vanity, stubbornness or resentment shipwrecks on the shores of the people we love.

We worry that if people knew all these things about us, they might not go on loving us. They could, we hope, learn to put up with us in spite of our flaws. But at some point, we fear, they would come to loathe our character defects as much as we do.

If you are lucky, you may find those who can see how much you do battle with yourself everyday, and love you all the more because of it. And if you are really lucky, as I have been, one of those people may be the same one who brought you into the world. The person who has kept loving you through each halting footstep, beginning with your first and continuing unabated until her last.

My mother has seen me at my worst. She knows my impatience, my selfishness, my pride. She has borne the brunt of my unreasonableness.

Yet somehow, my mother’s love for me has only grown. She loves me beyond all measure or reason. When I think about what it has meant to experience her love throughout my life — a love that passes all understanding — I don’t have sufficient words for it.

That kind of love cannot be defined. But I can feel it when I sing. It is the feeling I had while singing this arrangement of Amazing Grace with my friends. And I can tell you that as we sang, my heart wanted to break wide open with joy.