So Many Voices

I know--I haven't written for a long time.  I'm sure both of the people who read this blog are super broken up about it (insert snarky laugh here).  Fact is, I'm still not at liberty to share the full and complete truth of the struggles I'm dealing with in my marriage and life for the whole Internet to see (even if it is through a semi-anonymous blog that can pretty easily be traced back to me).

That time is coming, and I can feel that it is, but until then, it's hard for me to be truthful and vulnerable without being entirely truthful and vulnerable.  Holding oneself back during a confession is awkward.  It doesn't come naturally for me to write that way, and so it's been easier for me to just do my writing in a place that I know is completely safe and private until I can start sharing more details in a completely open way.

So I've been avoiding you.  Sorry about that.

But tonight, I felt driven to write on here--for the first time in months, I knew I needed to share my voice again.

I've been keeping my voice mainly to myself and a few people who know me in person--which I think is what I needed to do.

But tonight--tonight is about me sharing my voice.

Tonight started out rough.  Let's face it--since last Saturday, when my husband and I had a confrontation that ended up with me feeling completely crazy, there have been a lot of rough nights that have been numbed mainly through lots of ice cream and binge-watching "The Office."

Tonight started out no different--due to a perfect storm of too many panic-inducing influences to even begin to name, all converging on me tonight, I was feeling a LOT of fear and sadness and anger coming up, and it all just kind of took advantage of the fact that I was home alone with a messy house and threatened to completely overwhelm me.

And for a while, I nearly let it.

I stress-cleaned and over-thought and snapped at the kids and took a break to be a good mom and read/pray/sing with the kids before sending them to bed and shamed myself about the dust on my piano and the gunk in my sink and worried about whether my husband was mad at me and then started stress-cleaning again, trying not to panic with the thoughts that were coming towards me with the speed and intensity of so many semi trucks barreling towards me at 115 miles per hour.

I called my sponsor--she didn't answer, but texted back to let me know that she was with family (Duh--I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the country not with family on the night before Thanksgiving), and I felt inspired to text her back and let her know that I was feeling some fear and anxiety, but would work through it on my own.

I was surprised by my own answer--usually when I'm having such a panic attack, I feel drawn to call someone to help me through it, but tonight, I was feeling pulled in a completely different direction.

I have had so many voices in my life lately--Facebook voices, blog voices, family voices, friend voices, support group voices, loud voices, angry voices, quiet voices, shameful voices, peaceful voices, all of them from time to time helping me, hurting me, telling me what to do and what not to do, and while I know that my sponsor and several other members of my support system (including my husband at times), have been inspired of God before, tonight, I could feel Him telling me that He didn't want me listening to any other voices.  He wanted tonight to be about Him and me (and, apparently, you).

So, I let Him know that I wanted to finish cleaning/packing (we have an early morning tomorrow), and He patiently waited until I was done.  Then, after I finally stopped rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off and put down my to-do list, I listened while He spoke to me.

"Do some yoga," He said.  "On your own.  Don't use a video.  I want you listening only to your voice and My voice, not to the voice of an instructor."

So, I slathered myself in my essential oils that help me calm down, turned on a relaxing music station on my phone, and started a yoga workout.

He stopped me.  "Turn off the music.  I want you listening only to your voice and My voice, not the voices of whoever is singing."

So I did.  I turned off the music, took off my glasses so I wouldn't be appalled by the ridiculous amounts of dog hair embedded in my bedroom carpet (being legally blind has its perks), and started moving from pose to pose as I felt my body and my instinct telling me what I needed--Sun Salutation, Warrior Pose, Child's Pose, Happy Baby.

As I did so, I could feel myself calming, my instinct taking over and the voices of fear, guilt, shame, anger, bitterness--quieting in the background as I listened to myself breathing, moving, thinking.

At the end, Heavenly Father told me, "Now.  Be still."

So I was.  I was still, lying in Savasana, on my back, hands open to receive the revelation and knowledge my Heavenly Father wanted to give me, when thoughts started coming to my mind, unbidden and powerful in their truth.

"I am strong.

I am inspired.

I am beautiful.

I am enough.

I am enough!

I AM ENOUGH."

Of all the truths and voices and statements out there, that is the one that I needed to feel, hear, and know and that I feel compelled to share with you.  I am enough.  YOU are enough.  If you're reading this, that's God's number one message for you tonight.

Don't listen to the voices that tell you otherwise--that you need to be thinner, prettier, a better housekeeper/mother/wife/cook/runner/visiting teacher/crafter/seamstress/family historian.

You--as you are--are enough.

And so am I.

But if Not

Faith is such an interesting topic to me.

As I've been trying to pull myself out of the depression, bitterness and anger I spent this summer feeling, I've been studying a lot about faith and gratitude.  The interesting thing about faith is that we often hear about faith producing miracles--sickness and injuries healing, peoples' hearts changing, finding jobs when it seemed impossible, etc., etc... but for me, one of the most fascinating examples of faith is the one of Amulek.

In Alma 14 (you might recall this story), Alma and Amulek have been teaching among the people of Ammonihah.  While they were able to have some success among the poorer class of people, they hadn't had any with the wealthier people; at this point in the story, the judges and lawyers have taken the believers and driven out the men with stones, and then thrown the women and children into a fire, which they forced Alma and Amulek to watch.

If you'll recall, this is Amulek's home, so many of these believers are probably people he knew--neighbors, cousins, friends; so, as it says in verse 9, it says that when he "saw the pains of the women and children who were consuming in the fire, he also was pained;" At this point, he had the faith to turn to Alma, someone he KNEW as a prophet of God, and ask, "How can we witness this awful scene?  Therefore let us stretch forth our hands, and exercise the power of God which is in us, and save them from the flames."

I want to point out that he did the right thing here!  His request wasn't a wrong one or a bad one--He exercised faith and turned to the prophet and asked him to use the power of the priesthood for this admirable cause--to save these innocent people from suffering at the hands of wicked men...but Alma's answer wasn't the one he wanted to hear; in verse 11, Alma responds: "The Spirit constraineth me that I must not stretch forth mine hand;" and explains why--that the blood of the innocent must stand as a witness against the wicked.

If I were Amulek and I were in that place, I would probably be angry.  WHAT?  How is asking for such a good and worthy thing in any way wrong?  I would have my doubts--how could a prophet of the God of Love sit by and coldheartedly view such a scene without using the power he has to change the outcome?

But Amulek's response inspires me.  After asking if they, too, will be required to sacrifice their lives (in itself another show of faith), Alma answers in verse 13, "Be it according to the will of the Lord.  But behold, our work is not finished; therefore they burn us not."

After going through more torment and finally receiving the miracle to deliver themselves three days after the martyrdom of the people Amulek loved, Alma and Amulek are freed, and in chapter 15, verse 18, it says that Alma "took Amulek...to his own house, and did administer unto him in his tribulations, and strengthened him in the Lord."

Later on, Alma and Amulek went on to serve many more missions and have many other miraculous experiences together, showing to me that Amulek, despite this HUGE trial of his faith, continued faithful until the end of his story.

So many times in my life, I feel as though I'm pleading for good things--worthy things--honorable things.  I want nothing more than my friends who are struggling with infertility to be able to have children; for my brother who has been unemployed for years to find a job; for my father who has struggled with pornography issues for more than 40 years to be able to overcome his addictions; for my marriage with my husband to be a celestial marriage full of trust and honesty; for my sister who is doubting her testimony and acting out in rebellion against our family to gain a testimony and have a desire to choose the path that will truly bring her happiness.

And as I've spent time on my knees in prayer, crying to the Lord in supplication for these and other blessings that I desire with all of my heart, I've had experience after experience where the answer hasn't been the one that I've wanted.  People have gone on as before, and on the surface, everything seems unchanged in many of these situations.

But--over this journey I've been taking to try to truly trust in God, I've learned that I desire to cultivate faith like Amulek.  I want to have the faith to trust not only in the Lord's power to cause miracles, but also in His wisdom to let burdens go unlifted and trials to go unchanged.  I want to truly be able to say, with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, "If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us...But if not...we will not serve (other) gods."  (Dan. 3:17-18)

I want for my husband to be faithful and true to his covenants.  But if not, I will remain faithful and true to mine.

I want for my father to overcome his addictions and give my mother the honesty she deserves.  But if not, I will work to overcome my own imperfections.

I want for God to make his hand known in the lives of my family.  But if not, I will still look for and acknowledge His hand in my life.

I want to be happy in my marriage.  But if not, I will learn to be happy on my own.

As I'm learning to cultivate this trust in God, I'm seeing a difference--perhaps not in my outward situations, but definitely in my inward heart.  The situations around me may or may not be changing, but I am changing.  I am becoming more peaceful, more focused on what I can and should work to change, and more able to let go of things outside my control.  I am becoming closer to my Heavenly Father, and, I hope, becoming more like Him in my capacity to feel, to endure, and to love.

Have any of you had times where unanswered prayers have turned to your good?

The Human Experience

Lately, I've been reading in Mormon (you know, from the Book of Mormon), a part of the BoM that's usually pretty depressing/pointless for me.  If you haven't read this book (I highly recommend you do--it's very good), this is the part where the Nephites (the main people in the book) all fall away from the truth and get destroyed.  It's sad and depressing and very dark, and when I'm usually in my sunshine-y phase of life, I tend to kind of skim over it without getting much out of it other than the message to stay strong like Mormon (the prophet at the time) did, and that's about it.

However, today, I was reading Mormon's lament, where he talks about the mourning and the sorrow he's experienced as the Nephites continue in their wickedness, and I was touched.

It's okay to be sad.  It's okay to have sorrow when people you love aren't choosing what you'd like for them to choose.  It's okay that I'm sad that my husband doesn't have much of a relationship with God; it's okay that it breaks my heart that my sister is rebelling; it's okay that I'm mourning the fact that my dad is an addict who has put his marriage in jeopardy....experiencing this heartbreak and sorrow and sadness doesn't make me bad, unhealthy, or even necessarily codependent.  It makes me human.  It makes me compassionate.  Mormon was a prophet, for crying out loud, and yet he genuinely sorrowed and mourned the downfall of his people.

However, when I start to worry or fix or try to rescue or plan for these people in my life--THAT'S where the unhealthiness comes in.  Mormon agreed to be a general over the Nephite armies twice--once in his younger years, and then again when they begged him to come back; but he didn't take responsibility for their choices, and when he was allowed to preach, he did so knowing that they weren't going to change....and the entire time he is writing about his sorrow, he continues to use phrases that show that he still trusts God and HIS plan, despite the pain he is experiencing.

That's what I'm wanting and trying to do.  It's okay for me to feel pain, sorrow, hurt, and even abandonment and trauma.  That's part of my human experience and part of God's plan for me....and I'm not weak or deficient in some way for feeling these things.  But I have to trust God through all of it.  That's the part that can be hard, but it's the part I'm gaining the most from.

Anyways.  Just a thought. 

The Details of our Lives

President Thomas S. Monson once said, "Heavenly Father is in the details of our lives."
I have never been more aware of that fact than at this time.
He is with me when I wake.
He is with me as I teach my children, as I play with them, as I watch them.
He was with me this weekend when I fielded trigger after trigger with peace and serenity as I could literally feel the prayers of my sponsor and my mom lifting me through three solid days with my husband's family (usually trigger central for me).
He is with me as I deal with the grief of losing someone while trying to maintain boundaries with my husband.
He is with my family members and friends--the ones I worry about and lose sleep over and shed tears for while praying on my knees.
He is in the details.
And I have been noticing.
My heart is full.