Its a new year. I have never been philosophical regarding a new year. I don't set myself up with ways to fail....what are those called? Resolutions. I mostly just keep going and don't really think about it. Greg did say last night "Maybe we will make it through this year without a surgery." And then we both laughed and laughed. That has never happened. I don't know though, anything is possible.
There is a Mormon Ad out there about the New Year and looking forward. I watched it. I liked it. I read only 3 blogs of people I don't know. One is written by a woman who lost her daughter in 2008. She inspires me. So I read her New Years blog about finding things. Finding keys and lost treasures and how, if you are lost, you can be found as well. I've been thinking about it.
The last three years have been hard. Sometimes harder than I thought possible. I have laid on the floor in complete and total hopelessness. I have cried and begged and pleaded with the Lord, and then finally gave up on Him. I gave up on all the religious jazz. I felt betrayed and forgotten. My faith ran dry and my hope was gone. And when that happened and everything was still falling apart around me I became stubborn. I often said to myself "I can do anything. There isn't anything I can't do." It turned into "I can pull my family through anything. I can get us through it." And I did.
I became bitter and my heart began to get a little hard. I struggled with a sense of being treated unfairly. I became envious of others who had it easier. I lost all the joy I had in my children, in my family. I began to tolerate everything. I tried to make all the decisions in my family and call all the shots. It is my way or the highway. I had such a precarious hold on everything and I became obsessed with control over it all. I became mean. I said the most hurtful things I could think of. Desperation for change was driving me to drastic and harsh measures.
But then, there was an opportunity. A fresh start. And I thought a lot about what I wanted that to mean to me. What did I want? Truly. I wanted more happiness. I haven't been happy for a long time. So I decided that perhaps the religious vacation I was on should maybe come to an end. It didn't happen immediately. I'm still not completely there. But I've begun.
I'm not sure how to come to peace with the questions I struggled with in the first place. I haven't had some miraculous experience that explains the mysteries of why things happen. And things are not all better. They may never be. But I am finding that when I take the humble step to look for faith, I have found it. Where my bucket was once completely empty, there is a supply. And the bag of hope makes a little noise when you shake it. I can't explain how I feel at church because I mostly don't feel anything, but I cry constantly. I think it's peace. And stillness. In my flurry of effort to get my family through hell in one piece, I had forgotten what that feels like. I did it. I was able to carry that load that was almost unbearable and I became strong. But do you know what? I don't think I ever did it alone. I didn't want help and I refused everything that had to do with the gospel. Yet He was still there (out of my sight) carrying part of that load. I think it's probably time to turn around recognize what was happening all along and give thanks.
