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Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Thoughts of My Heart


"There are no happy endings, because nothing ends."  
                                                                                                             -The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle


I now realize that all along I've been looking for the "happy ending" in this Audrey story.  I'm so ready for it.  The adventure has a finish line ahead.  She's going to be able to eat soon, and we're going to go home soon, and we'll all shout hooray, and one day I'll look back on this adventure and say "well, that was hard."

But what if there's not a finish line?  What if Miley Cyrus was right, and (forgive me some massive cheese) "there's always gonna be another mountain, I'm always gonna wanna make it move, there's always gonna be an uphill battle, sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.  Ain't about how fast I get there, ain't about what's waiting on the other side.... It's all about the climb."

I think it's a natural human tendency to want to tie our experiences up in neat little bows.  We crave closure.  We need to feel that satisfying resolution of those dissonant chords, or else we feel itchy and awkward; we want to distance ourselves from whatever bits of our lives are refusing to get in line and blocking up the way of whatever brand of happiness we have designed for ourselves. Welcome to Holland.  Get comfortable, this isn't a visit.

So much of religion teaches us about overcoming the natural man and enduring to the end in faith.  Maybe this craving for the finish line is another part of our natural selves that we are supposed to overcome.  Maybe letting go of that can enable us to better continue to serve and to lift long after the initial zeal for someone's situation has passed, to continue to offer hope and comfort even when there is no end in sight, to "be not weary in well doing."  My dear friend Amy wrote, 

"There may not be a finish line or a light at the end of the tunnel, but that does not mean you quit.  You keep going and you keep trying; a true champion never gives up, even if you can't finish the race."

Numerous examples of this principle have been running through my mind today.  In Homer's Odyssey, the sailor king Odysseus endures challenge after challenge in his effort to return home to his beloved wife on the island of Ithaca.  His journey at last brings him home after twenty years, he reunites with his family, only to face yet another long series of challenges in his homeland.  The poem ends without a tidy resolution, as he prepares for yet another battle, this time to win back the respect and fealty of his countrymen... and it just, stops.  As though the storyteller went to get a drink and never came back.  Maybe the phone rang, that's usually what happens at my house.  Anyway.  That ending would sooo not make the cut in American cinema.

In another story, there is an enormous boulder blocking a road.  The Lord shows a man this boulder, and instructs him to push against it.  The man diligently obeys.  For weeks and months on end he pushes on this boulder with all of his might, day after day.  He faces frustration and exhaustion in the process, but every day he just knows that any moment now that boulder is going to budge and he will be able to move it, because the Lord has asked him to.  Finally the Lord returns, and the man sorrowfully tells him, "Lord, I have pushed on this boulder day after day with all my might, and still I have not succeeded in moving the boulder. Forgive me, I have failed."  Then the Lord says to him, "Precious son, it was never my intention that you move the boulder.  I could do that myself at any time I chose.  But now, see how you have changed in this time.  Your back has grown brown from the sun.  Your arms have grown strong from the effort.  You have become what I need you to be. The strength you have developed has made you a warrior fit for my kingdom."

We are at a very difficult crossroads in Audrey's care.  This surgery was supposed to work, and it didn't.  I don't know what will work at this point.  I don't know when we'll be going home.  And we aren't the only ones.  I know other families in a similar situation, many who are now my good friends, who have come so close to one finish line only to be diverted to another leg of the marathon in this strange test of patience.  I love these families so much.  They inspire me and I'm so thankful for the comfort of their friendship and understanding.   Sometimes our journey feels endless. We climb over one mountain, only to discover another ahead.  This exhausting process has been repeated over, and over, and over.   The hope of home, the disappointment of discovering that more is in the way.  Sometimes, as now, it threatens to beat down my spirit.  Every time we make progress on her stricture, it returns with a vengeance, often when we least expect.  I feel as if the Lord is saying, "here's the lesson of patience and compassion, have you learned it?  ok.  Don't forget.  No really, don't forget."  Do you love me? Feed my sheep. Do you love me? Feed my lambs.


Allow me to interrupt my own philosophical rambling for a moment to give you a picture of how I have been writing these words.  I spent much of today in my pajamas just thinking and writing to release the thoughts racing through my heart, with a pressure inside so immense that it translated to a literal headache.  My husband and children allowed me the quiet time I needed, and life went on without me.  The sun came out and my husband took a break from work to go outside and play with the children, but I instead lay in bed, having retired there when my headache became too painful to write any more.  I could hear them outside playing, and one part of me longed to shut it out and nurse the pounding inside my head, while another part wept with longing to join them.   Tears prickled at my eyes and I felt I lacked the strength to get out of that bed.  And then, a scripture came into my heart with great power like a voice of perfect mildness, "You have but to look, and live."  I walked to the window, and this is what I saw.





Is that not amazing?  Sun rays and all.  I snapped this picture fast because I couldn't believe how beautiful it was.  Can you imagine a more welcome sight to me at that moment?  Or any better medicine?  I managed to pull it together and go outside to join them for a few minutes, and in those few minutes of golden light my burden was lessened.

Whenever I begin to get bogged down in discouragement, that is the moment when I have to force myself to count my blessings.  I force myself to look up and around, and those blessings are plain and evident.  I try to name each of them in my heart, and it is a bit like putting one foot in front of the other.  I can't see the road ahead.  I don't know where it will lead.  But I have to trust that in each moment there are things I can learn, things I am meant to learn.  Things to be grateful for and people around me that I can serve.  


The Martin handcart company was a group of Mormon pioneers who crossed the plains from Missouri to Utah in the late summer, without wagons because they were too poor to afford them.  They crossed the plains on foot, pulling their handcarts behind them without the aid of animals.  Although many handcart companies successfully made the journey, the Martin company suffered terrible casualties due to equipment failures, food shortages and severe weather.  A fourth of them died along the way, many more were permanently injured.  Despite these immense challenges, one survivor later wrote,

"Every one of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with Him in our extremities.

"I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it. … I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there."

Yesterday as I cut my son's hair, we talked about how some prayers aren't answered the way we want them to be.  We don't know all the reasons, but there is a reason nonetheless.  Even the son of God, facing death, prayed that the Father might remove that bitter cup, but in the same breath he offered this submission,  "Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done."  The Father did not remove the cup because there was a necessary, glorious purpose in his suffering.  But his suffering was great.  I believe he suffered greater anguish of body and soul than any man ever has, to the extremities of every kind.  That's how he understands and knows exactly how to comfort me, one blessing at a time.  One foot in front of another.  

And for those of you who've stuck with us this far, thank you. 

I wonder if Homer never intended for the Odyssey to have a tidy resolution, but instead meant to say that our adventures in life end only with the beginning of new adventures.  I believe that we are sent to Earth to learn and to grow in order to add to the glory of God, and that "men are that they might have joy."  I believe happiness and joy are different from one another.  If true joy is to be found in learning and growth of the deepest kind, the kind that brings us closer to him so that we may become better servants, then maybe in this case it's true in another sense what you always hear, that the joy is in the journey.  Our experiences, if not always happy, are strengthening us, deepening our appreciation for the blessings in our lives, opening up our world by introducing us to people in extraordinary situations, giving us more empathy for others, and teaching us a different side of joy.







 
"Our scriptures and our history are replete with accounts of God’s great men and women who believed that He would deliver them, but if not, they demonstrated that they would trust and be true.

"He has the power, but it’s our test.

"What does the Lord expect of us with respect to our challenges? He expects us to do all we can do. He does the rest. Nephi said, “For we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.” 1

We must have the same faith as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego.

"Our God will deliver us from ridicule and persecution, but if not
Our God will deliver us from sickness and disease, but if not
He will deliver us from loneliness, depression, or fear, but if not
Our God will deliver us from threats, accusations, and insecurity, but if not
He will deliver us from death or impairment of loved ones, but if not… 
we will trust in the Lord.

"Our God will see that we receive justice and fairness, but if not
He will make sure that we are loved and recognized, but if not
We will receive a perfect companion and righteous and obedient children, but if not
we will have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, knowing that if we do all we can do, we will, in His time and in His way, be delivered and receive all that He has."

(You can read that entire article here, and another one by Lance B. Wickman here.)

1 comment:

  1. LOVED this! THANK YOU for inspiring me to have more joy in the journey, and strengthening me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. :)

    ReplyDelete