Glittering Haven

I'm one of the most casual people I know. I hate formality. But I've also always had quite a bit of anxiety. Even when there's nothing pressing going on, I often feel rushed to get things done so I can go on to the next thing. Sometimes I miss out on truly enjoying myself because I can't relax my nerves. 

But today, I am abandoning such ways. Today is mine. 

Okay, not really. I drove a van-load of girls way up into the Sierras to Young Women Camp for church. But once I finished helping them get all their stuff to their cabins, I was free. 

There's a picnic area just a few miles down the road from there. I'm by myself now. I don't do much by myself. When I was younger, I was too codependent. Now I just don't have many opportunities and it feels awkward. But I wanted a place to stop and eat my lunch. 

There's a small river running through this spot. It's deliciously cold and soothingly bubbly. A small beach alongside it is covered with butterflies of various sizes and colors. My favorites are the tiny periwinkle-colored ones. The outside of their wings are moonlight-silver with little black specks, so when they land, they close their wings and are instantly camouflaged on the glittering sand. 

The water in front of me flows around some large boulders and a few fallen logs. These obstructions cause the murmur and bubbles and trickles that make the river so musical. 

The sun is high and the scent of the forest is thick in the warm air. If it's this hot way up here, it must be sweltering down in the dusty, smoggy valley. But here the sky is a deeper blue than the valley ever sees, and my lungs are grateful for the respite. It feels clean. 

I've sat along the bank long enough for my feet to dry and for the butterflies to forget that I'm here. There are people down in that valley who await my return, and I probably ought to get going. But this is my moment, and I will not miss out on it out of anxiousness. I will drink in the gentle sun and sweet forest breeze and song of the little river until I'm ready to leave here.  I will not miss this moment by worrying about the next one. Right now, I am here. 

If Religion Doesn't Uplift You, It Isn't Religion.

As my son humbly and worthily blessed the Sacrament bread in church, I gratefully felt the Spirit ensconce me. My heart wanted reach out and bring everyone I love into the room, so that they might sit and feel be washed over with peace.

It makes me ache to realise how so many people have been turned away from Christ and from religion itself by the inappropriate attitudes and actions of those who do wrong, claiming to do so in the Name of the  Saviour.

Christ has never condoned such atrocities. Cruelty, lack of compassion, unrighteous judgement, abuse, and other such sins and misdeeds could never represent God in any way.

I glanced up at my teenage daughter  as the Sacrament bread, blessed by her teenage brother, was passed. Her eyes were closed in reverence, and I was enveloped in the sweetness of the Spirit that dwelt there.

I would that all might partake, not in a spirit of religious conquer or to save their souls from hell, but to uplift them in their quest for happiness and to battle the evils of the cold world. We're all fighting. We're all struggling to get by in one way or maybe in several. We're all in this together. Let us come together, then, and be strengthened in the peace, love, and goodness that will work miracles in our lives and change the world.

www.Mormon.org

The Road Lengthens

The sun lowers on another beautiful day.  That's actually a problem where I live; we have too many beautiful days each year, and thus are usually in drought conditions.  But somehow we still manage to have green (or sorta green) lawns and ripe orchards and lush vineyards and happy cows. So it takes actual effort to appreciate the beauty of another lovely day, since we have an overabundance of them and overabundance leads people to take things for granted.

But today, I've noticed the depth of the clear blue sky and the richness of the fat green leaves and the sparkle of the little ripples the gentle wind created on the canal water.  I felt the balmy air and was grateful.  And maybe that's the first step.

Because I've forgotten what makes me really happy.  I've been neglecting friends and duties and responsibilities, because weariness of soul creates weariness of body.  And thus, I'm always tired.  I need more sparkle.  I can give light and love and nourishment to others; I can soothe their souls and save their lives and help them to remember that they matter; I can rock them to sleep and be the starlight that watches over them in the night and the sunlight that smiles them awake in the morning. And I deeply love doing those things.

But I can't remember what makes me really happy.

I love baking cookies and seeing them being devoured voraciously.
I love the sea and the bubbles that kiss my feet as I brace myself upon the windy shore.
I love the silence of the sunrise as it bravely creates a new day full of hope and promise.
I love the brilliance of the sunset as it mercifully carries the glaring brightness away.
I love the still coolness of the night, lit by magic and woven with mystery.
I love the silver moon and it's gentle light, sweet as a song only my soul can hear.
I love the trees in full leaf, rich and strong and alive!
I love the wind that blows carelessly, playfully, tauntingly, through the branches and through me.
I love the clouds that decorate the sky, the stars the glitter in the night, the smell of fresh-mown hay.

But what makes me happy?

What am I missing?

My God is not missing.  My faith is not missing.  My family adores me.  My purpose is clear.

So what pulls me down to the dark recesses of my soul, dims the light within even while I shine it for others? I know not, save that the demons resent my work and my light and the love I give so easily, because those are my gifts.  Perhaps that is actually the only answer.

I don't know what i'm missing. But if you find it, please give it to me.

In the meantime, it is my duty to see the blue sky and the green leaves that shine against it, to drink the breeze and sing the night.  For gratitude is the beginning of happiness, and that is the road I choose.  I can't promise to arrive very soon, but you're welcome to come along for the journey.  We'll get there eventually, and my hand is soft and comforting.

Inside the Surf

After two days in bed, too sick to shower, change clothes, or even brush my hair, I was up early this morning and immensely relieved to have finally accomplished all of those things successfully.  It feels great to be clean and ambulatory again.  Yesterday, even sitting up made me pretty dizzy a few times.  I have to remind myself, as usual, to not work myself into a fever from pushing myself too hard.

It's so quiet here with the kids all finally back at school.  I love the peace and tranquility, although they were very sweet over this long weekend.  They're genuinely wonderful children, and their love for me is deep.

Have you ever been playing in the ocean and been knocked under by a wave?  As it crashes and roars and bubbles around you, your whole body is battered while it tumbles around wildly in the swirling currents. (Wear a well-fitting swimsuit!)  Within a fraction of a second, you have utterly no clue which direction the sun is in and which direction the deep sea is in, nor where the sand right beneath you is.  It's kind of frightening, since your ability to inhale ever again relies entirely on your ability to figure out where the air is. 

Sometimes life does that to you.  You aren't exactly suffocating (yet), but you're entirely disoriented and you aren't sure whether to laugh or panic.  Perhaps you've simply been bombarded with far too many happenings, which can make you feel like a piece of flotsam in a pounding surf.  It takes a lot of strength to stand your ground, an act that is literally impossible until you can determine where the ground is.  Sometimes, you get it right and rise up, laughing and tossing your dripping hair back.  Sometimes, you are too dizzy to get anything right, and the waves wash you up on the beach like seaweed, leaving you there to shiver in the cold breeze as the earth spins far too quickly.  Sometimes, very occasionally, you can't get out until someone jumps in and rescues you.  

I guess I'm still underwater.  In some of my dreams, I can breathe down there (I've read and adored too much Percy Jackson), so let's just hope that's the case.  I'm not a strong swimmer in real life, and I can only hold my breath for a terribly short amount of time.  Blame it on Central Valley Asthma, which nearly everyone who has lived here as long as I have is blessed with.  At any rate, I think the sun is shining somewhere above the confusion, and the water is sparkling and beautiful, despite my complete inability to figure out where, precisely, I am.  Too much is going on.

Please, Father in Heaven, grant me strength and breath and clarity.  Because I'm dizzy under here.

Themes and Demons

When a new year arises, many people start talking about changes, goals, and resolutions. Most of it annoys me. Such matters should be dictated by individual situations, rather than the calendar. I roll my eyes. I mean, sure, it's truly positive that people want to improve their lives! But the sudden New-Years-driven obsession feels more like bandwagon mentality than actual wisdom to me. 

That being said, a year ago, someone I know to be anything but shallow or false introduced me to an idea I had never heard of before. Instead of setting unattainable goals, which would be abandoned before February, he chooses a theme for the year. A buzz word that represents what the coming year will mean, which can be focused on easily throughout. So simple. So profound.  That word can then house as many subcategories and related goals as needed, which can change and progress as the needs themselves do. 

It's brilliant. 

So I gave it a shot. Last year began for me with horrific anxiety, unspeakable heartache, and many other lovelies that accompany such treasures. So finding a theme for 2013 was a matter of prayer and contemplation. 

Two words came to me, to be used hand-in-hand: VALOR and VICTORY. Wow, that's kind of pushing things, isn't it? I thought.  I was far from victorious, and valor was a distant dream. But it felt like my best chance for survival, so I latched on, nursing as an infant, taking in all I could derive from these ideals. I may have started out far from secure in valor or victory, but I wanted to grow into them. Time moves forward anyhow, so we may as well move in the right direction as it carries us along. 

Let me repeat: I didn't feel valorous, and victory was a bit of a joke. By the start of that year, I had progressed from a cowering, simpering ball of mess into someone who could actually stand up in public and go places, but I was still a pretty big basket case. So valor was a desperate hope. 

It worked. I did it. Although still not anywhere near perfected, I'm braver than I've ever been before. I can stand taller, walk more bravely, and hold my head up, knowing that the demons which plague me are pathetic liars whose evil will someday crumble and die into nothingness. I am a warrior. 

Don't laugh. Doesn't the world need more people who have the courage to stand out, even when they desperately want to blend in? More people whose banners are love and compassion, whose swords are sharp against despair and hopelessness? More people who are willing to risk their safety for the sake of another's well-being? More people who swallow the huge lump of terror in their throats and go forward in doing what they feel is righteous, true, and uplifting to others?

I thought so. You may not know my story. You may not have any idea of the mucky swamps and dark dungeons I've been in and the lions I've had to spiritually fight, or the demons of hell which yet plague me, and the twisted horrors they have spoken. Of the measures they took to destroy me. Or maybe you do. 

Each of us needs light, hope, courage, love, virtue, and a hand to hold when we're scared or feeling weak. We may not be able to conquer all of our darkness right away, but we'll keep forging ahead, seeking that light and shining as best we can. 

2014. A new year requires a new theme. This one came to me as soon as I reached my mind out in prayer to seek its identity: TRIUMPH. It was soon joined by its partner, DAYBREAK. I'll leave it to you to determine how triumph is any different from victory. That's just what came to me, as clearly as though someone whispered it into my ear. 

Only time will tell how daybreak will finally shatter the heavy chains of a seemingly endless night, or how I will triumph over that which I must fight against in order to survive. But I'll get there. 

Wanna come? 

Fear? No more for me, thanks.

At some point, you'll grow tired of the fear.  I don't mean in the "I don't want to be scared anymore" way; that was there all along, anyhow, wasn't it?  I mean sometime far later on, when the fear has been there for so long it's as much a part of you as your own skin, it begins to feel tight and stale, like a shirt that shrunk in the wash.  Oh, you're still scared.  But you're also used to it. And eventually, you will realize the most important thing: fear doesn't alter your circumstances.  Nothing is different when you're frightened; it's just a million times harder to deal with.  The facts are still precisely the same as they would be if you were fearless. The threats are no less threatening.  The dangers are no less dangerous.  You're just more screwed up.  And that's when you realize the truth.  The terror is merely decorative, like fringe.  The real substance is what lies within you.  Don't underestimate that substance within you.  You are far more powerful than your fear.