
1. Oversized towels
After a particularly difficult day in the mission field, all I wanted to do was withdraw, retreat. It wasn’t just the lack of progressing investigators, I was struggling with my companion. And, even though the language was coming along, the intense fire and desire to shout the gospel from the rooftops I had when I first came to the field was cooling, requiring constant effort to stoke the dying coals. I had a year left on my mission, and I didn’t know if I was going to make it through that week.
I dropped my backpack, heavy with pamphlets, books, and defeat, just inside the front door. I didn’t say anything to my companion. The slightest wrong tone could lead to another argument. In my state of mind, I could not trust my tone. I kept my coat on, the chill of a foggy February day still present in our little apartment. I burrowed out of my oversized boots and wriggled up on my little bed. I lay there, hugging my knees, wanting to give up, at least until sleep could offer safe cover.
As I longed for rest, I started listing all of the things that were going wrong. Like kindling, my faults caught fire and spread quickly to every aspect of my life. I was a complete failure. I was self-righteous, judgmental and a hypocrite. The road before me was too steep and unknown. I would fail. I started mumbling to myself over and over, “I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.”
And then, a single word pressed upon my mind so quietly, I knew it came from the Holy Ghost. “Alone.”
Stubbornly, I silently shouted to my knees, “I CAN’T do it!”
Again, I heard the forceful nudging of a single word. “Alone.”
“I can’t do it,” I said, again, but with an edge of curiosity. Why was the Spirit telling me that word over and over?
“Alone. Alone. Alone.”
And then, an understanding sigh, as I put the two phrases together and understood.
“I can’t do it alone.”
There are rare moments in life when learning takes place in an unearthly way. Where a principle taught is of such an eternal nature that it can only come directly from the Spirit. Such was this moment. I felt at once both the desire to jolt up out of my bed alive with new insight and the need to lay still, letting eternal knowledge etch its way into my spiritual DNA. The hot tears of frustration that were building up fell freely now, but they were tears of understanding, outlined in hope.
What a difference a single word can make! “I can’t do it” was the fruit of despair and discouragement, failure and forfeit. As I spoke those words, I was giving in to depression and defeat. However, “I can’t do it alone” represented humility and teachableness. “I can’t do it alone” implied that I could do it with help; that a solution was very possible. And it filled me with a desire to try.
I thought again of my current situation and realized not only that I couldn’t make it better alone, but also that I shouldn’t even try to do it alone. I needed the constant help of the Spirit. I needed the strength of my companion. I needed the power of prayer, always. I was completely dependent on others for any success. And, they were dependent on me. The Lord needed me to be His mouthpiece there. And I needed His help to want to be just that. I could not overcome my bitter feelings towards my companion without the help of the Spirit. But, with the help of the Spirit, that was entirely possible and achievable. The lessons and implications from that single word kept pouring in, and my soul opened up to receive them.
The very next morning, before the sun had even made an appearance, I apologized to my companion and, with a prayer in my heart, planted seeds of forgiveness. To this day, we are still close friends. And, not only did I make it through that week, I went on to enjoy my mission more than I ever thought possible.
Since that foggy February day so long ago, I have relied on the lessons learned dozens of times. Depending on the situation, I have cherry-picked the application of the difference that single word made. It has come as an impression to involve my husband in a particular decision. It has prompted me to teach my children household chores, knowing I do not have the time or energy to do it all alone. It has gently reminded me ‘they are called counselors for a reason’. And, more times than I remember, it has caused me to fall to my knees for a third or fourth prayer for help with a specific trial.
We were never meant to be alone in this life. We came as a part of family, immediately outnumbered by those watching out for us. Two parents for one child. We have siblings, friends, parents, and teachers. We are given the gift of the Holy Ghost as a constant companion as long as we are worthy. We have the light of Christ in us from birth to help direct our decisions. We have scriptures to teach us everything we ever needed to know. We have modern-day prophets to guide us with their advantageous viewpoints and insight. And, always, always, we have prayer and the atonement. Two reasons we are never, ever, truly alone. And, with those powerful tools, we can do anything that is right, anything.
A single word. Just five short letters. And, a lonely word at that. Yet, when coupled with the eternal knowledge of the Spirit, that single word has made worlds of difference.
In honor of my 100th post, I thought I’d just share a few things (no, not 100) that make an ordinary day a beautiful day for me:
I submitted this essay to a few online sites, and was rejected from them all. One of them said "It sounds too much like a blog", so with that in mind.... I decided to post it on my blog. Enjoy!
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The lights finally dim. For a split second there is silence. And then, the screaming begins. I can’t help myself. A shriek erupts from my throat, framed by a grin I dusted off to use. The teenager inside has come out to play.
I will deal with the dichotomy later. For the next few hours, I am no longer a stay-at-home mother of three, burdened with a mortgage, meal time, and mold growing in our pool. I have my black t-shirt on, the one I wear only once a year. I have declared my intentions. I have leapt on the Twilight bandwagon, Team Edward all the way.
Remember the roller coaster? At long last I am at the front of the line. I climb down into the seat and fasten the bar too tightly. After the usual “Keep your hands inside the cart at all times” warning, I lurch forward. Inch by inch it crawls up and up. The anticipation builds. I try to prepare my stomach for what is coming. The cart is slowing down now, as it nears the precipice. Any second now, I’ll be moving too fast to enjoy it. Remember that feeling?
I try to quell my shrieking, and keep my hands inside my cart. I’m 36 for crying out loud. I take a brief second to recognize that, and choose to scream anyway. Reality doesn’t matter in this moment.
For, in this moment I’m here to see the next of the Twilight movies. Some close friends have rented out an entire theater and hundreds of us moms and teenagers go nice and early, as if the better the seat we have, the more devoted to the cause we are. One of my friends has taxing trivia about the saga and we try to answer for prizes. I eat it up. I jump up and down, going through the trivia line multiple times, acting less than half my age. But, I love it. Every part of it. I’m not there for the movie. The movie is the rest of the roller coaster, that fast 45 seconds that races by too quickly. I’m there for that initial climb: that anticipation.
I’ve counted down the days to this event. As I shove peanut butter sandwiches and juice boxes into lunch bags, I walk past my calendar and think, “Four more days!” Then, I make sure my kids are dressed appropriately and send them on their way. Living life in the present and looking forward to something are not mutually exclusive feelings.
I went to the midnight release of Harry Potter #7 at our local book store. What a fun bandwagon through Diagon Alley that was. I participated in all the games, applauded those dressed up in extravagant costumes, hung out with friends and soaked in the experience for all it had to offer. After it was over, I simply slept in the next morning. Not a steep price to pay for a truly unique experience. Sure, I had to do the dishes that next day, and mop the floor, and didn’t even get a chance to read the book for several more days, however, for those few hours, I was in another reality. I was carefree, in the best sense of the word.
There are so many bandwagons out there, vying for my frivolous attention. No one has the time or energy necessary to jump on them all, but I have learned to choose a silly few, grab hold, and live out loud. These superficial rides that just go around in circles can make life so much fun. To those who condescendingly label these adventures shallow and immature, I have one word:
And?
Life is serious all on its own. There is nothing silly about getting that phone call from a college roommate saying she has breast cancer. There is nothing frivolous about helping family members deal with job loss, divorce, or problems with children. Life will provide the drama, the tears, and ample opportunities to be mature and sensible.
I could wait until the hype is over; until the books are out in paperback and the movies are on DVD. But that is like skipping from Thanksgiving to December 25th. I still get Christmas, but I miss the best part!
So, I’ll continue to jump onto a bandwagon. Or two. Or three. I can keep my hands inside the cart and my scream inside my throat. Or, I can dust off that grin, take a deep breath, and Just. Let. Go.