Poetry and musings of a zany Mormon girl who is very proud of her Erda roots.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Single Lessons Come One at a Time

You know how things feel pretty great and life can just be put on cruise control and allowed to coast on by -- but then you hit a hill and start to loose momentum?

Today is a hill day.

It's been coming for up for a while. Things were just too happy. Too care-free. Too many good things in a row. Not to say that today was any less wonderful or awful than normal. In fact it was exactly like every day for the last several days in a row. But today it felt like all of the stress and exhaustion settled in. Today it felt like doing anything was five times harder because I'm on an incline and slowing down. Today I felt like I used to feel all the time. Before I learned how to live better.

Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will conquer this hill. Tomorrow I will start coasting downhill.

But tonight I want to share a little of what can be learned by being on the hard side of attitude adjustments.

 During the preamble to a pity party I decided to check in with a friend. We had some things to go over for this weekend and eventually our conversation drifted past the niceties that clothe insecurities and dove right into the gooey stuff.

It seems that some of my deepest insecurities have been prodded at with sharp, pointy sticks while associated dreams seem too far for realization, yet on the cusp of possibility. It's aggravating and hurtful, and lonely -- with just enough hopefulness to make me weep from helplessness. When well-wishers express the validity and purity of my dreams and say that I "deserve" to hold them, I feel smaller under the weight of their endorsement while simultaneously being buoyed their hope in me. Their hope that I can do something big. Something bigger than I've ever done.

That's when I remember: the Lord has given my dreams purpose and confirmed that they are worthy to be held. And that makes me feel responsible. Every choice counts. Timing is imperative, but not at all in my hands. My actions count, but so do those of others. I cannot hope to do this on my own. I need help.

That's when I feel small.

That's when I remember: the Lord has helped me before to do things I thought I could not do. He has made things possible I never thought could be. He has been gentle with me.

When I reflect on relationships that almost happened I am glad that they did not. I have been sheltered from more heartache and disappointment than I have suffered under the shadow of loneliness. I am stronger on my own  and more compassionate to those who struggle.

Tonight my friend complimented me. She said that while I may not be patient with myself, I have learned patience for others. While I may be aware of my sorrows, I am also aware of how they shape me into the Lord's understanding my potential. While I may curse my ill timing, I foster hope for what is to come in the Lord's timing.

She shared her trials with me and as she wept I realized that our suffering is the same. Every feeling of helpless inadequacy and hopeful yearning exists in both of us; only the nouns differ. That's when I realized: the Lord sees us all like this. Suffering is universal. The only way out is to be lifted above ourselves and see our fellow beings with clarity and compassion. I have been where you are, you will be where I am, we are here together.

Today is a hill day.

Maybe I won't make it to the top by tomorrow but I sure will try. I will enjoy feeling wind on my face at the peak.