Fire
Yesterday, I was finally able to get the rest of my belongings from my old home.
It's a beautiful home. My dream home, in fact. I designed it, with a very open floor plan, a huge pantry, a massive kitchen island. The colors are deep and peaceful and warm. There's a gas fireplace that's very cozy in the winters, and lots of windows to let in the natural light. The bedrooms are large, and the master closet is a walk-in wonder. The back yard opens up to the mountains, and it feels like a limitless play space for fun and exploration. I love that home. I put my soul into that home.
And now, it's gone
along with everything else connected to that life I once thought I was going to have.
Yesterday, as the amazing crowd of helpers swooped through and helped me box and load all of mine and the kids' belongings, I stepped into an empty bedroom and cried.
It hurts when dreams die.
There is a quote by Elder Holland that I keep going back to over and over and over again. It's a simple, but profound statement:
"You can have what you want, or you can have something better."
I wanted that home. I wanted a happy, peaceful life with my husband and my children. I wanted to be a mother of many, a teacher of more. I wanted good things. But God has something even better in store. I do not believe He designed or planned for my children and me to experience trauma. I don't believe He planned for me to get a divorce. I do not believe I am being punished for anything. I believe we all have our agency, and we all have to deal with other people's choices, as well as our own. I believe--I must believe--that, as long as I continue trying and working and not giving up, I will have something even better than I ever imagined I could have.
I may never have another big, beautiful home, but I will have the opportunity to create a safe haven wherever I go as I emanate the light of Christ. I may never have a calm, peaceful life, but I can find peace in the arms of the Savior whenever I need it. I may never have more biological children, but I am blessed with a gift of unconditional love for so many who are not my own. I wanted small and simple things, and He will lead me to go forth and do that which is great if I allow Him.
The Savior was homeless, yet he found peace and joy in serving those around him and doing His father's bidding. The Savior descended below all things and was accused of things he did not do and persecuted by those he thought of as friends. He endured so much, and I want to get to the space where I happily endure all I must because I recognize that to endure hardship is to be like him. To be happy and have joy is also to be like him.
The thing about a peaceful life, a life that does not include any trials, is that it also doesn't have much room for progress. I used to be one who shied away from trials and hardships, and now I am becoming one who embraces them because they mold me into who I truly am. Trials assist me in shedding my carnal nature to reveal the goddess within. Without the trials to tumble through and scrape against, I would stay stuck in the dry, crusty build up of the natural woman.
This is a lesson I learn and relearn and will continue learning over and over and over.
It's part of the refinement process.
A few days ago, before I finally figured out the why and was able to start digging myself out of the hole of depression, I laid in my bed sobbing and actually begged Heavenly Father to stop refining me, just for a little bit. I begged Him to let me be for a while so I could get my feet back under me again. Sometimes, I don't want to be better, don't want to help people, don't want to get stronger. Sometimes, I feel like I can barely survive. I berate myself for that, too. But guess what? The Savior sometimes didn't want his cup, either. He begged for his burdens to be removed as well. It's okay to not want to be refined all the time. The key is to keep going and keep trying and turn my will over to God again as much as I can. That's really the main difference between the Savior and me: I keep taking my will back again. Jesus Christ was always about his Father's business. In consistently and constantly doing God's will, he fulfilled his own true potential and became his own glorious, perfect, authentic self.
It's possible to truly follow and be like the Savior. It's possible to truly turn my will over to God. I want to get there, and God promises to grant us our righteous desires. I'll be refined because I want to be His, and that's how to become His. Sometimes I will get tired and overwhelmed and want to give up, but I won't. I don't know how.
It's a beautiful home. My dream home, in fact. I designed it, with a very open floor plan, a huge pantry, a massive kitchen island. The colors are deep and peaceful and warm. There's a gas fireplace that's very cozy in the winters, and lots of windows to let in the natural light. The bedrooms are large, and the master closet is a walk-in wonder. The back yard opens up to the mountains, and it feels like a limitless play space for fun and exploration. I love that home. I put my soul into that home.
And now, it's gone
along with everything else connected to that life I once thought I was going to have.
Yesterday, as the amazing crowd of helpers swooped through and helped me box and load all of mine and the kids' belongings, I stepped into an empty bedroom and cried.
It hurts when dreams die.
There is a quote by Elder Holland that I keep going back to over and over and over again. It's a simple, but profound statement:
"You can have what you want, or you can have something better."
I wanted that home. I wanted a happy, peaceful life with my husband and my children. I wanted to be a mother of many, a teacher of more. I wanted good things. But God has something even better in store. I do not believe He designed or planned for my children and me to experience trauma. I don't believe He planned for me to get a divorce. I do not believe I am being punished for anything. I believe we all have our agency, and we all have to deal with other people's choices, as well as our own. I believe--I must believe--that, as long as I continue trying and working and not giving up, I will have something even better than I ever imagined I could have.
I may never have another big, beautiful home, but I will have the opportunity to create a safe haven wherever I go as I emanate the light of Christ. I may never have a calm, peaceful life, but I can find peace in the arms of the Savior whenever I need it. I may never have more biological children, but I am blessed with a gift of unconditional love for so many who are not my own. I wanted small and simple things, and He will lead me to go forth and do that which is great if I allow Him.
The Savior was homeless, yet he found peace and joy in serving those around him and doing His father's bidding. The Savior descended below all things and was accused of things he did not do and persecuted by those he thought of as friends. He endured so much, and I want to get to the space where I happily endure all I must because I recognize that to endure hardship is to be like him. To be happy and have joy is also to be like him.
The thing about a peaceful life, a life that does not include any trials, is that it also doesn't have much room for progress. I used to be one who shied away from trials and hardships, and now I am becoming one who embraces them because they mold me into who I truly am. Trials assist me in shedding my carnal nature to reveal the goddess within. Without the trials to tumble through and scrape against, I would stay stuck in the dry, crusty build up of the natural woman.
This is a lesson I learn and relearn and will continue learning over and over and over.
It's part of the refinement process.
A few days ago, before I finally figured out the why and was able to start digging myself out of the hole of depression, I laid in my bed sobbing and actually begged Heavenly Father to stop refining me, just for a little bit. I begged Him to let me be for a while so I could get my feet back under me again. Sometimes, I don't want to be better, don't want to help people, don't want to get stronger. Sometimes, I feel like I can barely survive. I berate myself for that, too. But guess what? The Savior sometimes didn't want his cup, either. He begged for his burdens to be removed as well. It's okay to not want to be refined all the time. The key is to keep going and keep trying and turn my will over to God again as much as I can. That's really the main difference between the Savior and me: I keep taking my will back again. Jesus Christ was always about his Father's business. In consistently and constantly doing God's will, he fulfilled his own true potential and became his own glorious, perfect, authentic self.It's possible to truly follow and be like the Savior. It's possible to truly turn my will over to God. I want to get there, and God promises to grant us our righteous desires. I'll be refined because I want to be His, and that's how to become His. Sometimes I will get tired and overwhelmed and want to give up, but I won't. I don't know how.
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