Tuesday, April 5, 2011
I sit inside this decaying mortal body. I've been trusted with its care. It functions well. But every moment is precious. Although there is strength and physical hardiness to be found, my gift is fragile. Any moment could find me flying back to the presence of my God, leaving it behind.
My beautiful perfection has been marred by some of the things it does. I feel bits of me being chipped off by the sheer depression of a mortal mind and the weak faltering of a carnal nature. I try to stop it. To warn it but while I am in this body, my voice goes unheeded a lot. My voice. It used to ring through the halls of heaven, but now it's small and quiet, barely a whisper.
Words of encouragement drizzle down on me like warm summer rain. There is nothing else comparable to this feeling. The voice of the prophet of the Lord carries in it the voice of my Savior. My Redeemer speaks to me through his servants, words composed to lead me through the darkness into His everlasting light. The love and light in their eyes reminds me of moments before this life. Of a Heavenly Father and Mother. I swell with happiness and fill the shell that holds me here.
To become what my Father is. Light.