I finished work early today and felt completely unmotivated to do much at all. So I slowly climbed the stairs to my bedroom and climbed under the sheet, and closed my eyes.
However the brief nap I had thought I might be able to take...never materialized.
Instead my brain suddenly switched on and I came to realize that my fear of planning ahead, and my inability to commit to much beyond work...and a little of my calling...were merely attempts to silence the march inside my head. I craved silence, stillness, and yet they continued to evade me. I realized as I lay there that my real fear was that in those coveted and occasional moments of quiet, the reality of what I had been through with Bryce's attempt clawed at me- demanding to be believed, and shared else I feared they would eventually squeeze the very life out of me. I didn't want the quiet as much as I wanted the reality of suffering to be silenced. However today I realized, I had to give this reality a voice. I needed to keep writing, until all the words had been expressed. Not only did I hope by doing this, that I would achieve peace...but I knew the responsibility of speaking this aloud continued to weigh heavily on my shoulders.
I had stopped writing because I couldn't do it any more. It seemed like my desire to write had just evaporated. I was so emotionally spent. When I began to blog about Bryce, I thought it would be a way to disseminate information because I didn't think I was capable of telling the graphic details repeatedly. And yet somehow now that we were living in this new normal with Bryce...somehow something felt incomplete, undone..unfinished.
And suddenly I felt a shift within my heart and head, and I knew I had to write again. Images of that fateful night came in to such perfect clarity, how the events unfolded took my breath away. Suddenly I knew they were not only real, but Divinely guided. Every step of this journey has been under His gentle guidance. Events that have no mortal explanation, stand as a living testimony to a God who loves each one of us. They testify of His divine plan for each of us. And that alone gives me hope, again.
Each of us carries heavy burdens at times. No one is exempt from mortal trials. There is meaning and reason behind them, if we can look at them as opportunities to grow.
Recently a dear friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer. As she began her chemo today, it caused me to reflect on other dear people who have also struggled with this insidious disease. My heart aches for them all. Then my dear Bishop came very close to losing his sweet wife last week, in a freak post-surgery problem. As I have prayed for her recovery, and watched him and his family rally to her side, I am again reminded that mortality is for our trials. No trial here follows us across the veil...they are only for this life.
How grateful I am to learn and grow by not only my trials, but in watching others struggle with theirs. And then my heart aches for all of those whose pain and struggle is just as real except I may be completely unaware of it. Those who water their pillows at night with the tears of loneliness, frustration, shaken faith, and heartache for things they cannot change.
How our pain must fill Heavenly Fathers heart, for He loves us so! I think of how our dear Savior paid the ultimate price for all our sins and suffering! How often do I think I can handle my life and trials myself. How my suffering or struggle is too insignificant to trouble the Savior, creator of the world. How wrong I am. As I watch my children and grandchildren struggle...I often wish I could take away their pain. We all do I am sure. But we can't.
Only one of us can...The Savior of the World. The Son of God.
The ultimate and perfect mediator, for us. Jesus Christ.
And so as I watch the sky grow darker, foreshadowing the close of yet another day, I am grateful for the insights of this day. I am so grateful for the desire to write again. I love to write. And slowly I will keep adding to the book I have been told to write, the light I need to shine on the reality of addiction, drug abuse and suicide. I am grateful to be an instrument in the hand of God. He has blessed me with many gifts, and so I must go forward blessing others with the gifts I have been given.
To each of us who hurt, please know you are not alone. Many from the other side of the veil stand near and are more willing and able than any of us realize to intervene and lift us all.
God is good. We are loved. Every one of us.
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