***I wrote this post a few weeks ago and then didn't make time to post it. I've been feeling prompted to write in my blog more and felt really strongly this one needed to be shared this morning. So I cleaned it up, and here you go. :) We're all going through hard things, and just like I've always said in the past, if it helps even one person (even if it's just me), it's worth it.***
Even writing that doesn't feel real. Something doesn't feel right. I never thought it would happen. In a similar (but also different) way, just like I never thought I would lose a baby. In my moments of despair and hardship, I've asked the questions: Why is God putting me through so much grief? Why do I have to endure even more pain? Why does it feel like my soul is being wracked over hot coals, drug through gritty sand, worn down and wet and cold in dark and stormy weather, and tied up so tightly in ropes so thick I can't breathe. My soul is in shreds, broken into a million pieces, and cracked seemingly beyond repair.
"Our Heavenly Father, referring to His Beloved Son, said, "Hear Him!" As you act on those words and listen to Him, remember, joyfully and reverently, that the Savior loves to restore what you cannot restore; He loves to heal wounds you cannot heal; He loves to fix what has been irreparably borken; He compensates for any unfairness inflicted on you; and He loves to permanently mend even
shattered hearts."
(Dale G. Renlund, April 2020, "Consider the Goodness and Greatness of God")
I read something today that finally described grief in a way that made sense to me in just a few words: "Grief is like being extremely homesick without ever being able to go home."
C.S. Lewis also explains it like this (maybe not grief, but this unsatisfied need, kind of like homesickness):"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world."
The really beautiful thing is that as I keep reading my scriptures and praying and doing everything I can to be on the Lord's side, I can give him my whole heart, my whole soul, and He can heal me. He can heal my armor and make it even stronger. He can mend the rips, the shreds, the holes, the cracks, the pieces, the cuts, and the bruises grief has left on my soul. He can clean off the dirt and sweat, give me newer and stronger armor, and with a smile and loving nod of his head send me back to the battle with the sweet assurance I'm not alone. He is in this WITH me. And He can make this light if I just keep coming unto Him.
That grief, that homesickness, that ache, that deep down sorrow can be subtle and rear up at any moment.
A few weeks ago we were still living at my mom and dad's house, and my husband's family had planned a "diving off cliffs and swimming" trip. I was hurrying to pack and get everything ready before Jayze got off work. The towels were one of the last things I grabbed, and those ended up taking the longest. I stood in front of the open linen closet, trying to make sure I had the right amount of towels. "Okay, let's see, we have five kids, so I need seven towels, but we only have four kids here, so I actually just need six towels..." Then I grabbed seven towels anyway, had to put one back, then tried counting again. I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. I finally put all of the towels back and tried again. I counted as I grabbed the towels one by one, "Aidan, Kimball, Lincoln, Ryah, Jayze, Me." But even then, as I stuffed them in the bag, I kept counting over and over, thinking I was missing one. Which was true, I was missing one. We're always missing one. Simple moments like that can become complex in an instant.
Right after my dad passed away, I remember setting the table. I reached into the cupboard and mentally counted the plates we'd need. Then I realized we needed one less this time because my dad wasn't there anymore. It was a heartbreaking moment putting that plate back in the cupboard and seeing the empty seat at the table as we ate dinner.
To deal with the grief, I've been diving into my scriptures more. I've been on my knees. I pray all day long as I go throughout the day. I pray while laying in my bed at night even after praying on my knees by my bed. I read and listen to conference talks. I try to serve others. I've been exercising like crazy to keep my anxiety at bay. I've been doing all of these things, and I've still felt sad. I've still felt this aching and tightness in my chest that won't go away. I've still felt the realness of the fact that my dad isn't coming back. And I've thought, why? Why, if I'm doing everything right, why do I still feel this way? This grief is hard. I'm in the valley of sorrow right now, and I don't want to be here.
I was sifting through my old journal entries the other night and came across this beautiful and powerful image. I had forgotten about it, and I'm glad I wrote it down because I needed that image again. I edited some things out, but the core of it is there. God is here. God is near. God is with me.
1/10/18 - Today was rough. I've had a hard time wanting to get out of bed lately. Winter and dark, cloudy days do that to me. Or even sunny, but cold days do that too. Cold where it seems like I can't ever get warm...
And today wasn't even that rough - it just felt rough inside of me. I feel this heaviness and sadness. I had the thought today while I was driving the kids and myself to meet [our friends] for a walk that why? Why do I feel this way if I truly feel like I'm putting on the armor of God? Why do I still feel heavy and hurt?
I had an image come to my mind of me dressed in armor in battle. Arrows, swords, and stones came at me. And even though I was able to withstand them because of my armor, my armor still got dented. Those hits still hurt. I still got out of breath from the effort. IT WASN'T EASY. The thought came, "It's the way it's supposed to be. It's okay that it's hard. I'VE GOT YOU. YOU ARE OKAY."
I couldn't help the tears from falling. Heavenly Father has me. I am in His loving, protecting, sacred hands. I am His. It's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. And it's okay to have hard days. Everything won't be perfect or easy just because I have my armor on - it just means I can face my battles in the strength of the Lord. And I am grateful for that.
I couldn't stop thinking about that journal entry for days after I read it. About how my armor is a pretty hot mess right now. Satan and grief and life are throwing all they have at me, and I'm doing all I can to hold them back. I can feel the dents digging into the skin of my soul, the massive bruises forming, and the dirt and sweat stinging my eyes. I can feel myself getting more and more tired from the pain and the seemingly relentless power from the other side.
Yet, I cannot deny the peace that's buried deep down in my very soul. The flashes of joy I catch that help me bear the weight of sorrow. The trust I have in my higher power, even Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. The hope I have in better days ahead.
To deal with the grief, I've been diving into my scriptures more. I've been on my knees. I pray all day long as I go throughout the day. I pray while laying in my bed at night even after praying on my knees by my bed. I read and listen to conference talks. I try to serve others. I've been exercising like crazy to keep my anxiety at bay. I've been doing all of these things, and I've still felt sad. I've still felt this aching and tightness in my chest that won't go away. I've still felt the realness of the fact that my dad isn't coming back. And I've thought, why? Why, if I'm doing everything right, why do I still feel this way? This grief is hard. I'm in the valley of sorrow right now, and I don't want to be here.
I was sifting through my old journal entries the other night and came across this beautiful and powerful image. I had forgotten about it, and I'm glad I wrote it down because I needed that image again. I edited some things out, but the core of it is there. God is here. God is near. God is with me.
1/10/18 - Today was rough. I've had a hard time wanting to get out of bed lately. Winter and dark, cloudy days do that to me. Or even sunny, but cold days do that too. Cold where it seems like I can't ever get warm...
And today wasn't even that rough - it just felt rough inside of me. I feel this heaviness and sadness. I had the thought today while I was driving the kids and myself to meet [our friends] for a walk that why? Why do I feel this way if I truly feel like I'm putting on the armor of God? Why do I still feel heavy and hurt?
I had an image come to my mind of me dressed in armor in battle. Arrows, swords, and stones came at me. And even though I was able to withstand them because of my armor, my armor still got dented. Those hits still hurt. I still got out of breath from the effort. IT WASN'T EASY. The thought came, "It's the way it's supposed to be. It's okay that it's hard. I'VE GOT YOU. YOU ARE OKAY."
I couldn't help the tears from falling. Heavenly Father has me. I am in His loving, protecting, sacred hands. I am His. It's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. And it's okay to have hard days. Everything won't be perfect or easy just because I have my armor on - it just means I can face my battles in the strength of the Lord. And I am grateful for that.
I couldn't stop thinking about that journal entry for days after I read it. About how my armor is a pretty hot mess right now. Satan and grief and life are throwing all they have at me, and I'm doing all I can to hold them back. I can feel the dents digging into the skin of my soul, the massive bruises forming, and the dirt and sweat stinging my eyes. I can feel myself getting more and more tired from the pain and the seemingly relentless power from the other side.
Yet, I cannot deny the peace that's buried deep down in my very soul. The flashes of joy I catch that help me bear the weight of sorrow. The trust I have in my higher power, even Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. The hope I have in better days ahead.
"I speak to those who are facing personal trials and family struggles, those who endure conflicts fought in the lonely foxholes of the heart, those trying to hold back floodwaters of despair that sometimes wash over us like a tsunami of the soul. I wish to speak particularly to you who feel your lives are broken, seemingly beyond repair.
To all such I offer the surest and sweetest remedy that I know. It is found in the clarion call the Savior of the world Himself gave. He said it in the beginning of His ministry, and He said it in the end. He said it to believers, and He said it to those who were not so sure. He said to everyone, whatever their personal problems might be:
'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.'"
(Jeffrey R. Holland, April 2006, "Broken Things to Mend")
The really beautiful thing is that as I keep reading my scriptures and praying and doing everything I can to be on the Lord's side, I can give him my whole heart, my whole soul, and He can heal me. He can heal my armor and make it even stronger. He can mend the rips, the shreds, the holes, the cracks, the pieces, the cuts, and the bruises grief has left on my soul. He can clean off the dirt and sweat, give me newer and stronger armor, and with a smile and loving nod of his head send me back to the battle with the sweet assurance I'm not alone. He is in this WITH me. And He can make this light if I just keep coming unto Him.
"And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.
And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.
And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord."
I'm trying not to let this opportunity to come closer to God go wasted. I'm trying not just to get through, but to thrive while doing it. My husband and I were talking about Nephi last night. I love how even though they had left their home and were traveling in the wilderness and it was hard, as long as they kept the commandments, God led them to the more fertile parts of the wilderness (1 Nephi 16:16). They still had to work for their own food and work to walk. I'm sure they got tired. It was still the wilderness - not the promised land. But it was also the best parts of the wilderness. God can, and is, doing that for me as I keep coming unto Him.I know He can do that for anyone who comes unto Him.
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