The Path Ahead

I don't pretend to be a good writer. I just try to make things interesting once in awhile and if it suits me, I share the thoughts and feelings inside me. Feeling very pensive on this fine Sunday morning, this is one of those times.

Sometimes in life the path ahead is unclear to me. Things that happen along the way make me pause and overthink all sorts of nasty thoughts.

The destination is clear.

But there are times when the path has been overgrown by a thicket of doubt or a tree has fallen in front of me that takes much effort and pain to clear.

Since General Conference (2) is coming up this next weekend, I have been pondering a lot of things in my life. God has promised me so many great blessings and given me many blessings that I have done my best to appreciate. But what an impatient creature I am. I want these blessings now. I have not the patience it requires. Because of this impatience...I falter. I stumble. I doubt and fear what is ahead. That maybe I'm not going to receive those blessings after all. 

But God is great. There is no one more trustworthy than God. It is my weakness that bars the way. But it is through His strength that I will overcome.

I may not know my pathway's journey ahead but I do know that God knows it. He is the Master who loves me and will lead me through all that I may encounter. He knows and understands my pain and in Him will I trust. 

D&C 24:8

"These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." -John 16:33

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Trains are mean

Train wrecks. Nasty business.

BIG TRAIN. little me.

I never know if I'll get run over entirely or just knocked out of the way. Terribly unavoidable either way. 

If I knew how to walk through life without following the tracks then I might not get hit so often. Or at all really. No matter. 

Being hit by trains all through life never killed anyone. Well...until it did.

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Sneezing gone awry

nose: Oh...that tickles...that REALLY tickles!! All I need is a small sneeze for this one. I'll have to call the brain.

nose rings over to brain

brain: Hello nose! How are things over there?

nose: Oh there's always the ups and downs. At the moment I've got an awful itch! Could you do me a favor? 

brain: I know exactly what you need! I'll talk to all the muscles needed for the job.

nose: Oh thank you! Thank you!

brain rings down to abs, pecs, and throat

throat: Hey brain! What's goin on up there? Neck told me he had a feelin something was goin down.

brain: Oh nothing big. It's just that nose has quite the tickle he needs getting rid of.

throat: Oh that's nothing. We'll take care of him. I'll get things started.

brain: Great. I'll just relay to pecs and abs.

pecs: Brain? What is it?

brain: A sneeze is in order. 

pecs: All right. I'm on it.

abs: Brain! I haven't heard from you in a few days. 

brain: Well things have been pretty quiet since the surgery. You up for a sneeze yet?

abs: Ummm... Lemme check. *grunt* *grumble* OUCH! Oh no...nope I can't do it yet!

brain: Uh oh...I'd better stop the sneeze!!!

The body winds up ready for the pitch. Every part ready for impact.

 brain over body system intercom

brain: CEASE FIRE!! CEASE FIRE!! Abs can't help yet. Nose...I'm sorry. But you're just gonna have to deal with it for now. Maybe next time buddy.

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Habit-killer

Change. It doesn't bode well for some people. The worst is when it comes and kills the uniformity of habit. Especially if it's a good habit. For example:

The Kitchen Garbage Can

The garbage can has always resided under the kitchen sink. Always. Forever. Since before time and even the creation of time. So growing up, I always walked into the kitchen opened the cupboard door without thinking and tossed the undesirable trash into the trash receptacle where it belonged. All of 23 years I've done this. Without too much complicated thought to the process either. 

Today, it got stinky as garbage cans are wont to do. Mumsy put it out in the garage, I suppose to make it think about what it's done. ;)

Every blasted thing I throw away I have to make the long trip to the garbage can. First to the kitchen to it's usual residence under the sink to where the frustration lies.

Every time I open the door and look in to find the bare spot, I curse (the clean kind of cursing of course) and make my way either to the laundry room or the garage where the garbage cans actually are. Twice the amount of effort for something I don't particularly care for. That's the point of throwing it away you see. Blasted change. No matter how much I tell myself I won't go back to the empty cupboard, the pure FORCE of habit makes me go and open the door again and again and AGAIN!

I guess it's good for the exercise in the least.

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Entrails become extrails

Okay not really. Just an update on my surgically removed lump.

After a drug-induced blackout and a hazy awakening, I found myself in one of those hospital rooms. Yep. One of those. All clean and white.

Clean. Or so you think. Everything has a pristine smell. But beyond the pristine is a reeking chemical smell. Medicines, Clorhexydine, bleach, starch. Leaves a weird taste in everyone's mouth. Beeping, wires, iv catheters, all the weird hospital things.

There's a difference between hospital clean and home clean.

Home clean has a warmth and coziness. Soaps smell of pretty and flowers. All sorts of loveliness makes the home clean like citrus smells, mint smells, lavender smells, even comet has a nice friendly home smell.

Hospital clean isn't warm or cold, it's very detached and isolated. No friendliness in this clean. If not for the nurses and their kindness it would be a grim experience.

Nurses are angels. No doubt about it. Forgoing their own comfort to constantly ensure the comfort and satisfaction of their wards.

If not for the effects of Insanity and P90X workouts and regular running, my recovery would be longer-lasting. With a foundation of abs of steel (insert a small amount of sarcasm...just a small amount though, my doctor said I was the healthiest patient he'd had and he could tell I took care of my body because my muscles were well toned...insert some pride here at this moment...) I am on a fast track to recovery. I think my inability to be an invalid for long and my stubbornness to do things on my own will contribute as well. My main thing now is to NOT overdo it.  Easier said than done.

In which case my entrails would become my extrails...

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Despicable Kidnappers

After a long grueling lab I decided to purchase a gallon of lovely fresh pressed apple cider.

Mmmmmm....

The rich copper color of the cider and the sloshing of the spiced drink made my mouth water. Oh boy! I couldn't wait to get home and drink the deliciousness.

But as is life, things came up: the car required some nourishment, a friend needed a vent session, and my tummy reminded me of its emptiness...and my cupboards' emptiness (i.e. a Lee's run was needed). I got sidetracked.

As I made a quick list in my head of the items I required for my tummy (milk being the main one) I recalled my recently acquired refreshment. Exclaiming foolishly among thirsty roommates of my apple excitement, their departure unluckily was quicker than mine.

My cider went missing.

Frantic, I searched the back seats, the floors, my dash, under the seats, everywhere! To no avail.

With the fury of Hurricane Katrina, I informed my roommates of their eminent death. Assuring them of this I began formulating my revenge.

It will only be returned to you with the return of love and affection...

Forgiveness for such a despicable crime was a far away thought for me. But with every intention of coming to real feelings of forgiveness I informed the guilty party of assuredly good feelings between us once again.

Or perhaps I should've asked for more from you. Like 'the Diamond!!'

At that moment the door opened and my precious freshly pressed apple cider was returned to my waiting arms. My throat is a happy thing again.

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Woe is me...

Many days had passed since my grand adventure. Laughter, good company, and great stories would never fade from my memory. But there is a small amount of remembering that fades with time. Specific wording to a fantastic joke, complete conversations that changed my life, or merely the look on Betsy's face when Jacs told her to change out in the wild...

But wait! Pictures can speak a thousand words. Written travel logs can replace the memory that fades. Pictures of good times, taken in the confines of a cabin in the woods, taken at the top of cliffs, taken in the three hours it took to reach that place, taken on horses and saved to the memory card for later viewing.

Alas, I cannot blog on this wondrous occasion as I do not have the pictures or the travel log to do it with. I am sinking into the depths of despair and woe.

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Wanderlust

My bag is packed. Selected and designed to get me to my journey's end.  I open the door. The first step is always the hardest, the leaving part. But yet not the hardest. The excitement for adventure in me makes it easy. I step onto the road to test my true endurance.

The road is long. I've known it for some time. Prepared in every way possible. But what awaits me, is beyond my comprehension. I've only heard stories and fairy tales of the place at the end of this road. I must get there. The desire in my heart and the strength in my soul begs me to reach out for it. Despite the promised dangers that lay in wait and the strain on my mortal body, I travel.

Thirsting and starving. Stumbling, weary, and travel worn. I stop. Only for a time. I am alone on the road. I find a stream heading the same direction I am. The cool water refreshes me and I eat my bread to strengthen me. The night is coming.

Much must be done to prepare myself for the long night. Shelter is thrown up and a fire lights a small circumference around me. I sleep for a time.

Noises coming from the dark. I've been taught to stay in the light. The creatures of the night don't bother with fire and its company. But sleep is hard to come by with the fear and anticipation of what lay beyond my eyes' seeing. The fear gathers inside me and I doubt the sun's rising. But just the slightest glimmer on the eastern horizon sparks hope in my heart.

The road stumbles me. My small torch only shows me so far ahead. Many times I climb huge obstacles and other times I walk sluggish through dense forest. But always my mind remembers where I'm going. And who will be there waiting.

I've reached the mountain. My destination lies beyond. With determination I reach up and take hold. My load weighs me down at times but it is essential for me to keep it close. Climbing requires all my strength and fortitude. Sometimes I run out. But Someone's hands push me forward or lift me up when I get caught.

Right now I must struggle on. The hardest part of my journey is stretched up before me. I have come a long way. But more is required if I am to reach this place. My heart yearns for it. Although my body is weak, strength will come.

Nothing can stop me but myself.

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Skyline

Euphoria. Flying, soaring, tumbling. Other waves crash all around me. But I can fly! I feel the air beneath me as I surge forward. I can almost touch the sky with his billowing clouds and huge blue eyes. Laughing and giggling I swerve away from his tickling fingers.

Dolphins leap and splash all around me as they play. They are a gift from my mother. She sends all sorts of creatures to her little ones. We might get lonely this far away from her.

I come close to my sister waves. We collide and bounce all around each other. Together we build higher and faster. Nothing stands in our way. Ships avoid us. Sea creatures join us.

Oh the power of our unity!

Surging forward, the elation drives me to the heights beyond the clouds. With those around me I feel secure and profoundly strong. I can't help but beam my happiness at the sun sitting up in his universal realm where all the lights play and dance. Sometimes they come and join in our frivolity down on the earth. Alighting on our wings and floating to secret places.

Cliffs. Our most challenging obstacle. At most our force combined can chip off small slivers. Pounding the hard surface of the earth is a grueling task. She is unyielding and stubborn. It is hard on all of us. But it must be done. It is what is required of us. We push and strain against her solid barrier. Some of my brothers and sisters can't make it. Our ranks never dwindle.

Some pull back for a time...

but the rest of us push forward even harder.

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And did not know it. What!

This little delight is me trying a hand at poetry. I spouted it out one day when I was feeling especially pensive about life and the "elusive future" (as Pres. Monson puts it) in store for me.  We all search for answers to what will happen to us as time goes by. Although I still sometimes worry about my future I know to whom I can turn for solace and comfort.

They say it like it's my choice. But how could it just be mine?
It can't be up to me alone, can it? That would be too easy.
The world isn't run on one girl's dreams.

And if it were up to me…would I choose the lighter road?
My decision weighs on the balance, not balances the weight.
Destiny doesn't change for one heart's high hopes.

In the divergence before me, I know what end I want.
Easy trails and smooth walking don't describe that road.
Life won't slow down for my feeble knees.

To take a step in one direction, I need to have courage.
But to reach that goal however, I can not walk alone.
He will walk beside me for my faith.

The world may not care for my dreams. He does.
Destiny may throw my hopes to the wind. He holds them in his own heart.
Life may push on without me. He won't move forward leaving me alone.

No matter the path I choose.

I usually have a hard time accepting the possibilities that life holds for me. There isn't enough solidity for me but that's exactly how God planned it. In order to progress I must take a step in the dark hoping to find ground beneath my feet. The solid ground of my Savior, who will always be there to support and succor me.

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Glowing inside

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.

First Presidency

These are the moments that regenerate the light within me. The channel that mortality hinders, opens up at their soft words. The more light my mortal lets in, the less I am pushed back. The abundance of light that this gathering and teaching has provided always stitches a part of me to my frame. This is why I'm here in this body.

To become what my Father is. Light.

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misericordia Domini inter pontem et fontent

The ground is hard. It hurt a lot when I fell on it. My mother had to let me go. I want to cry but I don't know how. I can't see her. I don't have eyes yet so life is dark around me. All I can do now is feel and listen.

My entire being shakes with the rumblings of the earth. Noises penetrate my protective shell. She gave me that protection when I was still with her. Days go by I think. I feel the warmth of the Big Light each passing day. He is essential to my growth. But I can't grow much right now. It isn't the right time.

It gets really cold for a long time. It's so hard to survive on my own. Luckily the Light still comes around. It's nice to have someone to rely on. Whenever He shines through the snow I know I can make it at least one more day through the bitterness. Sometimes I just wish that I could grow all the way and be done with this stagnation. But the whisperings of my genetic coding cautions me to continue my dormancy. I do not understand the world around me yet so in order to survive this frail existence I must abide.

I don't know how long that part of my life lasts but I feel the snow melt around me. The warming soil lets me sink down into its protective depths. The voice of my instinct nudges me and whispers encouragement for my future.

It's time to grow.

Time has no measurement in my life. But it is of the essence that I am timely. My size seems to expand and I press against the walls surrounding me.  The protection of my shell has always been such a comfort to me, but I must not be restrained. With all of my might I burst through and see warm darkness. The warmth is a promise of seeing my old friend the Light.  

My roots sink deep into the Light-warmed earth and I anchor myself here. I soak up the living water and essential nutrients that saturates the warmth. I can almost feel my body filling with light. I have so much growing to do.

The surface is near. I can feel the air touching part of my searching fingers.

I break the surface. I have eyes. So many eyes. To see the world and the Light and His brightness all around me. I can't take it all in fast enough. There is so much wonder. I stretch out my first arms and devour the brightness from the outstretched rays of the Light. My entire body leaps into growth almost like a fire burning! I grow as many arms and hands as I can. I want to be closer to Him. It seems like such a hard thing to do. But every little piece of my body yearns to get closer to the Light.

Sometimes huge creatures move past. I see them ingesting the bodies of some of my family. This scares me but I push past my seedling fears to keep growing. I can see that I am still smaller than my mother. Her familiar love provides a canopy overhead. I see in her my own potential. Can I really get that enormous?

The voice that is always with me, my guide and my protector, fills my tiny mortal with hope.  It tells me of my future. I look within and see...the possibility of Me.

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I dono

Where is it? Is it happy?

I wouldn*t know. I can*t seem to find it.

But surely it*s there. Everyone else has theirs.

I can*t feel it. I can*t see it. I can*t hear it anymore. I can*t remember what it felt like.

Where could it have gone? It*s impossible for it to just disappear.

Is it? Can you find it? It has to be gone. Otherwise I would be able to find it.

I*m not sure where to look. I got so used to it being there that I forgot to remember.

I feel like giving up now. How can we find it if we don*t know where to look?

But surely we can*t give up. That would be depressing if we lost it permanently.

I don*t think it would. It might make things a LOT less complicated. We wouldn*t have to worry.

If we found it though; we could lock it away where no one else could find it. It is so precious. We can*t leave it out there alone.

That*s what anyone else would do. Why can*t we just do what*s easy?

Because it means so much to us. I know that it can be full of sorrow; but there is so much joy found in it too.


That*s just it. How will we know if it still has any joy left in it? We might have used it all up.

I don*t know. But remember how much joy there was before we lost it? Perhaps we can replenish it.

Yes. Yes I do remember that. But where could we go? Who would know so much about something like this to be able to help with that?

I just...I just don*t know. There must be something we can do. I don*t like being without it. It*s uncomfortable.

I know. Me too. We can acclimate. It*s part of our survival instinct right? I know we can do this. 

It will be hard though. Maybe we should find it and let someone else take care of it. That way we wouldn*t have to worry.

Sigh. I don*t think you are understanding. It was our burden to bear. We are the caretakers and we lost it. IF we are able to find it then we would have to guard it lock and key. We can*t lose it so easily again. It belongs to a very important person. No one else can have it. It*s just not meant to be stretched out between more than one person. We*ve failed.

It*s just not there anymore. How could this have happened?

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Less timeless

I haven*t been here long. 

Just a little over a fifth of a century really. It*s timeless to me because it*s all I*ve ever known. I don*t have a specific beginning point to my memories; merely snippets of my past that shimmer in my conscious. It*s surprising that I remember as much as I do. So much happens in one day. More often than not; there isn*t enough time for it all.

In retrospect; time goes by like a pinprick. At the moment; it certainly doesn*t feel like it is. This is where regret falls. Maybe time isn*t as timeless as it used to be before. The closer I come to the literal meaning of mortality; the more I appreciate the time that has been allotted me. 

No matter how much I appreciate it though; it still has a way of slipping away.

So many silly aspirations flit about in my dreams. I hardly ever act on them. Fear. Doubt. Pain. I know I forget to live my life for fear of losing or for fear of change. Whatever the case may be; I feel like in all the 21 years I*ve been on this planet; I still haven*t lived the fullest life that I am able. I*m not a fearful person by nature. Any fear I may have; comes at another*s bequest. I*m really quite optimistic and laid back about everything. Which has proven quite worrisome to my parents many a time.

Time. What a small word for such an altering constituent of life. The best moments in mine; are the moments that I*ve spent doing what I love.

I love being with my family. But you and I both know that there is never enough time spent doing that. Every time I*m with them; I can be myself. No pretending; no facade; no tough face. But this is where life throws its curve. I never feel like I measure up. In a family where the genius and talented gene runs rampant; I never feel like I have anything to offer to the family name. I*m not dumb nor talentless; but my progress in life has been halted many times because of my fear of failure when compared to any of them. I wish that I hadn*t let all that time go to waste worrying about it because then I would have so much more confidence in myself whether or not failure was the end result.

Having so little confidence in myself; I can*t stand the thought of people thinking badly of me and that is my worst fear. Fear. It holds me back every time; even when I know it is ridiculously futile. 

If I spent more time doing things just for the heck of it; doing what I want to do; and less time fretting about others* opinions of me; I wouldn*t have so many retrospect regrets.

Fact; time isn*t long enough. But...

would I take the best advantage of it if it were?

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Hazy

I fall down from the sky and creep down the mountains through canyons and ravines. My fingers seep into every crack, every orifice as I spread my being across the valley. Darkness is my friend and best companion and we give protection to those who seek it.

My thickness blocks out the sun and the sky. I surround and cover everything beneath me. I take chill and ice with me wherever I go. In the winter time I leave marks of the fabled 'Jack Frost' along railings and windows. My breath slips through leaks in buildings and touches every living thing. I am relentless. I cling to every surface that I can, drawing the warmth out of everything I touch. I have no substance but I am a wall.

No one can see what I hide. I hide the lovers' trysts. I hide the thief's scheming. I hide the world from every eye. No one knows what can hold me. The sky can only hold me for so long. I am wild and free. No one can control me. No one can stop me. No physical hand has power over my spirit.

I am what makes lake's mysteries stay mysterious. I am what shrouds the countryside with charm. I am cause for a poet's passion in a poem. I am the listless feeling of the clouds. I am the cap of a mountain. I am the warning of an ocean storm. I am the yore of the Scottish glens. I am in the morning. I am in the winter. I am in the cool spring.

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The Worst

Grudgingly, I come to full consciousness. I readjust my position, trying to alleviate the discomfort my body is feeling. The new position offers no solace. My bare feet touch the coolness of the sheets where warmth has not been established yet. Warmth. My favorite part of being in bed during this cold season. Sigh. I must arise and go forth. Nature's call is hard to ignore when it's this insistent.

I roll out from under my covers, hoping that the warmth will be preserved in the miniscule amount of time I will allow myself to be absent. I toe my way to the bathroom and hold my arms out in front of my body, feeling the air for the existence of any object ready to jump out at me from the darkness. My fingers find the light switch and flip it up. The blinding light forces my weary eyelids to squeeze shut. I squint through one tiny slit to find my way to the porcelain chair.

My body closes the gap towards the seat and suddenly my mind screams at me "COLD SEAT!!!" My downward momentum is immediately suspended. What to do? I cannot continue to hold the gallons keeping residence in my bladder and sleep the rest of the night in peace. But how can I put my little behind on the freezing surface of the seat and not get hypothermia instantly? This was a major dilemma that I shouldn't have to mull through at this time of sleepiness.

The battle rages through my brain, seeming to take years of my life away but in all reality lasting mere micro-seconds. Discomfort was a factor in each option. One would last longer and seemed more endurable at the moment. The other was quite fleeting, as my body would warm the seat in a matter of moments but what miserable moments they were going to be. Ah!

Of all times of the year to wake in the middle of the night with this ridiculous need to make my way to the lavatory. The coldest night in all of the world's history and beyond, was the night it had to happen. Gritting my teeth and deciding that it was comparable to ripping off the bandaid, I almost fell on the seat.

What a horrible sensation. The freezing cold seat and me coming together was not something I was enjoying. I hurried my activity as much as I was able. Didn't even bother to sing the ABC's in my head as I washed my hands half-heartedly and as quickly as possible.

I shut the light off, for which my eyes are extremely grateful. The way back to my waiting bed is impossibly long but I finally crawl in between the lukewarm blankets and get comfortable once again. My mind wanders listlessly back to wondrous sleep...

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Camels and Humps

There are many tales and folklore revolving around camels. Camels. Yes I said, "Camels." What an interesting animal. Flat feet with toes, furry all over, split upper lip, prettier longer eyelashes than me (???), lurpy looking neck, knobbly knees, big old floppy ears, and oh yes...a huge hump (or two) on its back, of course. It wasn't always like that...

There is a telling of how the Camel came by his hump. In the beginning of the world, there was Man and to work for him, he was given Horse, Ox, Dog, and Camel. Horse, Ox, and Dog worked hard for Man but Camel always declined helping with a disinterested 'Humph,' so the hard-working three were asked to work double-time to make up for him. This made the three angry and when the Desert Djinn came upon them, they complained about their lazy compatriot. The Djinn went and found the 'scruciating idle Camel admiring his beautiful straight back in the reflection of a pool. Because all the Camel had to say for himself was 'Humph', the Djinn became angry and slapped a huge humph on his back. This was so that Camel could work for three days straight without food or water to make up for his indolent nature. Ever since that day Camel has been working hard to catch up to his lazy beginning.

-Rudyard Kipling

Although this hump will always be a burden, it is what makes him a Camel and what helps him survive on a trek across the long lonely desert. We all have burdens and we all must press on with them. They will be there whether we just sit down and wallow in pity for ourselves or if we buckle down and push through the heat and the sand storms that come. And that is what makes us who we are...camels.

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