Isn't it true that sometimes, you have this constant peaceful feeling in your heart that you are in the EXACT place that God wants you to be, doing the EXACT things He wants you to be doing? I've had times of my life like that. Big chunks, even.
Then there are times like now, like, the past YEAR, where I feel like I am prayingprayingpraying everyday for answersanswersanswers to what I need to be doing. Times where nothing seems to "fall into place." Times where I feel restless and I try everything I can think of to keep myself anxiously engaged. I can't be restless for very long or else I start to go mad. And then I get mad. And then I act like a caged animal. I long to get out, but I gnash my teeth at anyone who dares open the door.
You should have seen me last week. What a mess I was. A big, bad, mean mess. I hated it. I really, really hated feeling that way. For some reason, last week, God had me look in a spiritual mirror. I heard the words I was saying and how I was saying them. I listened to my thoughts. And I had to ask myself: "How did you get like this? You used to be such a happy person."
I examined my mind, my spirit, my body.
That's when I found it, or rather, faced it. A small, but flourishing black seed of bitterness in the pit of my stomach.
I started to pray. I mean, I had been praying, but this time was different. This time, I stopped asking God what I could do and where I could go and how I could help and why I wasn't in control of ANYTHING ever.
This time, I told Him that I was sad. That I was resentful. That I was insecure. That I was tired.
I told Him everything. I poured my little heart out all day long. I realized that I hadn't read my scriptures all week (which is uncharacteristic) and I have a feeling that was a big part of the problem. I read a bunch of conference talks from April and I felt rebuked and reassured, guilty but hopeful.
Perhaps this is much too personal for what the blog world is now. I feel like I'm supposed to "wrap this up" somehow. I feel like I should give a big motivational speech and tell you the moral of this story is blank.
But I don't have the answers. I only have a loving Heavenly Father who patiently listens to me cry. I only have a merciful Savior who will help me pluck this black seed and throw it out for good. I am learning, slowly, how to not be in control of everything. I'm learning just how terrible I am at being still and relying on others to "take care" of me. See? I even have to put "take care" in quotes because the phrase makes me feel so uncomfortable and weak.
I am humbled, my friends. For I am being compelled to be so. For those of you who may also be on a similar journey, to you I say: you are not alone. Times like this can be really hard, but I think we just may come out of all of it more beautiful.