The Final Blow

 One night I came home from a youth fireside where I had been given a picture of Jesus Christ to hang in my room and serve as a reminder of who I wanted to become like. I went down the stairs toward my bedroom and found my younger sister dressed in some of my clothes. Immediately I became enraged.  I grabbed her smaller frame by the shoulders, pushed her back against the wall, and gave her a very satisfying undercut to the belly. Her belly wasn't expecting this becaue it felt like very fresh play dough. There was no resistance from her muscles at all. It was too easy. Until this moment, our physical fights had only included pinching, hitting, and pulling hair. This was definitely an acceleration to our physical confrontations, or rather MY confrontations with her.

She fell to the floor groaning, probably over-reacting in her writhing about and with hollaring that would naturally bring a parent. Deathbed repentance was kicking in. Had I overreacted to her helping herself to my closet? As expected, Mom appeared on the stair landing with a hand on her hip and a very disappointed look. She sternly uttered, “I hope you are satisfied.”

She had glanced at the pool table behind me. Why? I glanced over my left shoulder. Sitting just where I had left it to free my hands for that upper cut, was that picture of Christ that I had just been given. How could I have forgotten Him so quickly?  All over stupid clothes. I felt embarrased and ashamed. I made a private/personal decision that moment that I would never again hit or punch or kick or upper cut my sister again. No matter what. That was in 1984 and I can report now in 2024 that I have kept that promise. It took some restraint initially, but it has been pretty easy the last, oh, 39 years or so. She is a dear, best friend to me.

There is a story in the Book of Mormon about a group of people (The Anit-Nephi-Lehis) who after learning about Jesus Christ, not only repented of their many murderous sins, but also burried their weapons of war so they could not ever retrieve them again. If their enemies came upon them, they would rather lay down and die than offend God by staining their swords again. They burried their weapons of war, FOR peace. And so did I.