On the way home from dropping off Amelia today, Eva asked me a question that got me thinking. She asked, "Mommy, is the sun the moon, or is the moon the sun?"
First I told her that she was silly. That she was asking the same question in two different ways. "The moon is not the sun and the sun is not the moon, silly Eva. But you can only see the moon because of the sun. The sun shines so brightly onto the moon that when there's a full moon it can light up the sky."
I was rambling, but somewhere in that speech to my four-year-old the symbolism hit me and a song came into my mind.
I Am like a Star I am like a star shining brightly, smiling for the whole world to see. I can do and say happy things each day, for I know Heav’nly Father loves me.
I thought to myself, while I have a light to share with others, it comes from Christ, the Son of God. Without Him, I would not shine. A star has its own light but the moon appears brighter than the stars because of the sun's light. Thus, the song should be rewritten to this:
I am Like a Moon I am like a moon shining brightly, smiling for the Savior's with me. I can strive to be as kind as Christ shows me, for I know Heav’nly Father loves me.
The sun's light is always shining on the moon but sometimes the moon doesn't show it's full potential. It goes through phases. From full to gibbous to crescent to new. If it were to stop going through phases it would be because the world had ended. We, too, will continue to go through phases of spiritual strength and phases of trial and darkness. Sometimes we have more light to give. And sometimes we can barely manage a smile. But Even when we can't see the Light of Christ, know it's there as sure as the sun.
So, Eva, the sun is not the moon, but maybe the moon is the sun.
I've been making a lot of art lately. Good Art. It's focused. It's purposeful. It communicates meaning. It's beautiful in its own sad little way. I discovered that there is a correlation in my life between heartache and how prolific I am in making art. When I was working on my final BFA show my two year relationship ended. Not only was our romantic relationship over, but our friendship as well. We didn't even see each other until he came to the opening of my BFA show a few months later. I didn't realize how much I used my art to work through the coping stages after that breakup until I saw him standing in front of my artist statement, reading it carefully.
Look at that little girl... She thought she'd been through a lot. Ooh, girl, buckle up! Art is such hard work ("I'm an art major." "Oh, that's fun." "Go die") Even recognizing her youth and naïveté, I look at her and can honor her for being strong and never giving up. I miss that girl sometimes (yes, that girl is me).
My show was strong and full of good Art. I was told it was at a level beyond that of a Bachelor student. It delved into the realm of talking about anxiety, before people were really talking about anxiety! When I graduated, I got a job teaching art. It filled my creative need enough at the time that I gradually made less and less art. I was also falling in love with the man whom I would eventually marry. Four years and two kids later I found myself married to an ex-mormon who stopped being the man who won my heart. At this point he had broken my heart with his words multiple times. Each time chipping away at the vision I had created for what I wanted my life to be like.
The first words that hurt me were when he told me he didn't have s testimony any more. With these he took the surety of having an eternal companion. Having a home where together we could teach our children the gospel. Having access to priesthood power.
Later he told me he didn't want anymore children and threatened to get snipped if I pushed it. These words murdered what I thought were the last of my hopes and dreams. Staying with him felt nearly pointless. My anger toward him grew and my patience with him dwindled.
The last words I let him hurt me with were when he told me he never loved me. I can see that his perspective was warped and that he was using tactics to push me away. Rationally, I could recognize what was reality and what was perverted with the darkness he brought into our home. I know he had loved me, but when he said those words, it shattered me. I mean, it ground the pieces of my heart into dust. I felt like my whole body was going to crumble.
I told him, "I didn't know there was any of my heart left to break." The pain from these words hurt just as badly as from any of the other words he had hit me with. There was no reprieve. There was no solace. All I could do was have him hold me. So he did. He held me and kept me from ripping apart from the inside out. I had lost myself. I was drowning in turmoil and gasping for air that had no respite. I needed to feel like me again. So I went back to making Art.
It was good Art. Different than I had ever done before. Or even liked before. I was painting desert landscapes. Looking back I can see why my paintings focused on the emptiness I felt they needed. I remember working on them and thinking, yeah, this desolate area is perfect and yeah the sky needs to be realistically dull, tapering from blue to yellow, and it should not be a beautiful sunset with perfect billowing clouds. I needed to focus on the plain, ordinary, ugly, and empty. At the time I thought it was because I was painting what was real, but looking back I can see that it was because I felt ugly, empty, and dull.
I titled one painting from that period of my life "Weathered" and it perfectly depicted how difficult it was for me to let others in. But it also beautifully illustrates the reality that what you focus on becomes all you can see. This painting is only a tiny part of the cactus, but I painted it on a very large scale. I magnified the ugly and rough parts. It's those details that create the more interesting story. It's the imperfections that create a more dynamic painting overall. This painting was, in its own right, a self portrait. These paintings and the Scottsdale Art Walk got me through my divorce.
Weathered
I have since found a great deal of happiness, friendship, and enjoyment from being single. I have opened my heart again, though not intentionally. And I have yet again been hurt, dang it. This time, the pattern was no different. I fell back on Art. There was a week of my life that I had a hard time getting out of bed, culminating in an emotional breakdown where I could no longer hold in the tears. The hurt bubbled up my throat and burst out of me like it was late for an urgent meeting. I thought to myself, I need to feel like me again, so in that moment of agony, I took a few selfies and proceeded to therapeutically draw the dramatic moment.
I felt better. But this was just the beginning of a new art series that focuses on emotion, vulnerability, and mental health issues. Things are very different for me socially. I was holding back before and not throwing myself into the work the Lord had asked me to do. He sent me strong, clear, undeniable direction, instructing me to write my story down and share it. While I've been writing it, I hesitated sharing it. I've been sharing it through my art as well. It's hard to write about this stuff. To show people the ugly parts of my story. But the truth is, that's the relatable part. That's the part that's going to help people. That's what makes my story interesting. And I am more productive when I'm alone, and I probably make better Art when I'm a little sad.
At institute this week, Brother Tom Christofferson shared a story from his mission about when Elder Gordon B. Hinckley visited. He made the point that the missionaries should focus more on God's work to be done than on the sights to be seen. Implying the question, "Are you here as a tourist? Or are you here as a missionary?"
It hit me like this: Are you here on earth as a tourist? Or are you here as a missionary? The Lord has a plan for me. It is different from the one I had for myself. It includes a divorce. It includes living in Arizona. It includes being a single mom. It includes a lot of vulnerability. It does not include (right now) an eternal marriage or an easy, straightforward path. The Lord's plan is for me to bring others to Christ. To help and lift and love and spread hope and happiness. That is the work I want to do.
God has a plan for you, too. It goes beyond your plan for yourself. Ask Him what it is.
I'm a portrait artist bringing attention to emotional health, vulnerability, and the willingness to let others into our lives. I'm a single mother of two. Instead of letting my divorce harden me or close me off, I am embracing the raw and real feelings that come from entering this new phase of my life. My portraits are created with pencil, charcoal, watercolor, and found objects, respectively. They are meant to push you out of your comfort zone and into a realm of vulnerability.
Gaslighting
These portraits powerfully provoke emotions that we can each identify with, ranging from sorrow and anger, to bravery and joy. There is a stigma around anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues. This body of work challenges that by bringing attention to emotional health, vulnerability, and the willingness to let others into our lives. The viewer is confronted with feelings which we each go through but rarely shed light on.
Found Objects
In todays society, it seems that feelings are frowned upon; but without them we'd all be sociopaths. We try to present ourselves as strong, independent, and perfectly content at all times. This is an outer layer, a shell, that we hide behind. It is a headshot, but a headshot is meant to be the best first presentation of what we look like, it doesn't tell the whole story. It doesn't show who we really are. Everybody has a story. There's more to each person than what meets the eye.
Watercolor
It's vulnerable to let people in, to see the real you. What you struggle with. What hurts you. What you fear. What you hope for. What excites you. What you truly feel.
Frustrated
I have an open space in my heart and in my life. Instead of thinking about it as empty, I'm thinking of it as open: open to opportunity, open to love, open to God.
I got a lot of feedback on my last blog post. People are saying that it was really sad. I guess it was sad but that wasn't my intention. I shared things that I've been through because I feel like God has directed me to do so. I hate every little bit of sharing this much about myself and my life. It makes me cringe. I feel like the skin is actually peeling away from my body, exposing me to the core. It's unbelievably vulnerable and it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.
I told Becky that I didn't feel so much "sad" about all of this stuff, just more like I'm showing everyone how broken I am -- that's not attractive. Hey everyone, look at all the hard things that I've been through and how they've affected me. Go ahead and run now, it's cool. She pointed out that there's still something wrong with my viewpoint because I perceive myself as being "broken" and I am not. She says the fact that I have overcome all of these challenges and trials proves that I am strong. That I'm a survivor. She lifted me by showing me that through being vulnerable and honest I can connect to more people on a deeper level. I have seen that this is true through writing and sharing my story.
Becky asked me what I like about Henry Ammar. He's honest and open, and mostly, he relies on the Lord and is sure of His guiding hand. I also thought of what I like about Kristina Kuzmic. She lays out the ugly and makes it beautiful. She brings light into a dark place. That's ultimately what I want to do.
I'm sharing my story because people don't know what I've been through. I don't think you would expect me to have gone through so many hard things in my life. In college one of my first roommates was a sweet girl but we weren't close. She had depression and she was on medication for it. She told me once that I couldn't understand how hard life is because I had never gone through anything hard. She didn't know me. She didn't know what I'd already gone through. She didn't know how hard my life had already been, even as a sophomore in college.
I decided to be happy. That's a choice I get to make everyday. I've always been more reserved and quiet (until you get to know me). But I think that I am a fairly easygoing and upbeat person. I may have inherited a short temper, but over the years I've learned to extend my calm and extinguish the fuse. As I've talked with my sisters about the generations of problems that may or may not have been passed down, we have accepted the call to break the pattern. It might be hard, but God won't give us a challenge that we can't overcome with His help. I know I am good with my kids and I was good with my husband when I was married.
I know I've shared a lot of the hard times I had with my ex-husband, but there were a lot of good times mixed in there, too. Especially the first few years. We enjoyed adventures, hikes, the temple, growing our family, and each others company. We supported each other in our goals and ambitions. We had fun together, we comforted one another and we made each other laugh. We both had dads who worked out of town and that was something neither of us wanted. We just wanted to spend as much time together as possible. We were so happy and made the other a priority.
I was really careful with who I chose to marry. I did not want someone who was physically aggressive and I did not want someone who didn't have a testimony. I found somebody who was a scriptorian, he knew the gospel, and we could have gospel discussions easily. That excited me and made me really happy. I grew up with a dad who was inactive for a long time. I wanted to make sure that I married someone who would be a good father to my children and would be able to give them priesthood blessings when they needed them. I wanted someone who could be a partner with me in teaching our children the gospel, especially the scriptures, since I've never been able to recall or quote the exact verse. I was satisfied with the man I found. He seemed to love the Lord as I did.
This should illustrate why it is so scary for me to think about moving forward with someone else. Why it is so hard to imagine trusting someone else. Or even, trusting myself with such a decision. Because even the best person that I can find, even the sweetest guy that I've met, even someone who seems like they have a real testimony, or someone who takes me to the temple weekly could change. There's no guarantee.
Austin and I actually had good communication throughout our marriage except when he would keep things from me or lie to me. Toward the very end of our marriage he told me there were still things he kept from me. I knew. How could I not know things like the fact that he was getting coffee everyday, when he came home smelling like it. I would even get the receipts emailed to me somehow. He would also tell me about when he met with the bishop and what they had to say. Austin was asked to return for more conversations while I never was invited to the visit with the bishop.
When I opened up to the bishop about all of this in an unrelated interview, he was surprised that I knew so much about what Austin had read and the direction he chose to take his life. The bishop shared an experience with me, one time while he was sitting on the stand in Sacrament meeting, he looked over at me, struggling with my kids (this was shortly after Austin stopped coming to church with me), and thought he should go help me. Let me say this: he should have. I felt so invisible and overlooked. I had no voice and no friends. I was so alone.
Yes, his place is on the stand. But it's so he can preside over the congregation. Part of that is to look over and after those who need help. He should have set the example and come to my aid. Yes, people would have noticed. So what. GOOD! They can see their leader serving in a simple, yet significant way.
I was surprised that he never reached out to me. It seemed to me that if he knew I had been living with an atheist he should have called me or touched base to see how I was doing and offer to give me a blessing or something! Especially since it would have been so easy for me to give in and let go. To leave the church, or at the very least just stop coming.
I also had in laws in the ward that could have helped me. And if we had been the friends I had hoped for when we moved there, they would have. I don't mention these stories to shame those people. I do it so that others will act, instead of sitting back doing nothing. Never suppress a generous thought. Eventually (sooner rather than later), my kids learned to sit reverently and we mastered a rhythm. First we would just sit quietly, participating fully in the meeting. Once the sacrament was done I would let them have their sketchbooks, dolly, or other quiet activity for the rest of the meeting.
I remember taking my kids to an Easter egg hunt at a ward members house. A bunch of moms with young kids were there. I lurked under the radar for most of the time. At one point, a sister asked me, not how I was, but how it was having my husband working from home. She didn't know he quit his steady, high paying job at a respectable law firm to sit at home in his underwear, alone in the back room, looking at garbage and playing free-cell, only occasionally doing actual work. She didn't know anything about the hell I was going through. Only one of the other moms had taken time to really know what I was going through. And when she heard the question she looked at me with such caring grace in her eyes that I knew she was a true friend. I knew she wanted to help somehow, but I also knew the rest of them wouldn't waste too much time talking to or about me. I answered honestly. I told them it was okay, but I wished he would get out of the house once in a while and not interfere with my job as a stay at home mom. I was right. They moved on quickly, redirecting the attention and questions to someone else.
I'm so much happier now. Being single has been good. I liked living with Becky before I got married, having all kinds of activities at my finger tips. This is the same now, though much is different, like I have kids now. I especially like having the people in my community of the mid-singles be like me. We've all been through hard things. Many of us have been divorced. I have a voice again. I feel less alone now. Even while I'm alone in my tiny house.
So yes, I have been broken. But God loves broken things, doesn't He?
My focus is a constant on the Lord and His will for me and my family, and how I can bless others. I understand the law of consecration a little better after going through what I've gone through. The point of this life is to come unto Him, and bring as many as we can with us. To lift and brighten. I think I did my part before, when I was naive of the deceptions of satan -- before my husband left the church. I was kind and service oriented. I had ambition in my career and learned at BYU to aim for the "capitol A" Art world. To be a serious artist. But I care nothing about that now. I want my art and writing to bring others to Christ. To be a strength for weary and tired hands. I hope to be an ally to those who keep on trying, and a guidepost pointing the right direction.
As you know, I love Calee Reed. Her music is truly a gift from God. I'm grateful she has gone through what she has because it pushed her to create some seriously real, spiritually powerful, and inspiring music. I learn from the words in her songs when I listen to them. When I got her Believer CD for Christmas my girls and I gravitated most to her song, Broken and Beautiful. She touched the brokenness of our hearts that were caused in part by our little families recent divorce.
As I reflect on the repercussions of all I've been through, I do feel broken. I feel broken in every way. Both good and bad. But somehow, I still feel hope. The first thing Austin told me after he told me he didn't have a testimony any more was to not hope. I have never given up hope. I hope that whoever I do choose to be my eternal companion will not just be okay with my baggage, but be willing and able to help me carry it, or better yet, to help me put it down all together. I hope to find someone I can truly trust. I hope to find a better relationship than I've had before. I hope to become more like my Savior and my Heavenly Father. I hope to teach my kids well, how to follow Him, always. I hope to be the best I can be, so that the Lord will be proud of me.
Through the hard things that break us down we can be made whole. When we're put back together it is in a more godly order.
Memories are interesting. They can make us laugh out loud in a public space. They can bring us to our knees with heaving sobs. They can shape who we are. I saw something that said, You don't know what a moment means until it becomes a memory. I liked that. I also feel like art imbued with memories or based off memories is a charming thing. I made a video in college for one of my classes with Daniel Everett on this topic. It's called Peanut People, and it stems from when I was a child and would go to a job site with my dad. I remember eating peanuts and putting the shells on my fingers as hair, personifying each finger.
When I was a kid I had a presentation at school in front of the whole third grade and my mom was supposed to be there, but she didn't make it because she got caught in Phoenix (I get it, I'm not upset about this). I remember sitting there looking for her, trying to stall because I knew she wouldn't miss it, she came to all of our things. I thought she would be sad if she got there right after I went. So when it was my turn I stood there, with my poster, looking over the audience, waiting for her to walk in. Silently. I remember a teacher standing close to me just behind the curtain, calling me over to her in a whisper. My mom was so reliably always supporting us that I knew she would come. But this time she didn't.
I think this contributed to the buddings of my trust issues. They weren't a big deal back then, they didn't interfere with my happy naive life. But as I grew older I learned to fortify the walls I slowly built around my heart. With each failed relationship, unmet expectation, or unforeseen bend in the road on the path my life is taking I added to the combination lock protecting my heart. I depicted this idea back in 2008 when I sculpted this self portrait. Back then the correct combination was L-O-V-E. I spent a lot of time planning all the options. I know H-A-T-E was an option. But if I were to create this again, I wouldn't use letters to spell out one word. I would use words that would represent qualities I need in a person before I can let them into my heart. Words like Trustworthy, Honest, Kind, Faithful, Open, Loving, Affectionate, Understanding, and Real would likely be on there.
I think most people who are divorced have trust issues. I certainly do. The person I trusted most with my heart, my hopes and dreams, my body, my challenges or failures, discarded his promises to me and his affection for me. He withdrew himself from our relationship, proving not to be the devoted spouse I thought I had found. He became someone I didn't know or want to know. I resent him because I have difficulty remembering that time of my life. It's like a picture in my mind that's too dark to see everything. I can see that it's a picture of a small family with a couple kids who maybe were in a dance class, but it's too blurry and hazy to make out the details. I feel like he robbed me of that time with my children. And I feel like he continues to take my time with my children from me because I have to share them with him every week. It's the worst and hardest thing about being divorced! And I feel like I am always the one sacrificing. I'm the one who has to hold my crying daughters when I tell them it's time to go to his house. I'm the one who hears they don't get to see me enough. I'm the one constantly having to see the good in the situation, even when it feels selfish.
I realize I have trust issues but I think it's begun to really affect my life and the way I perceive the world. Deep in my mind, I believe that once someone gets to know me they won't want to be with me. This has happened every time I've had a relationship. Or even an almost relationship. The last guy I've had real feeling for said he feels the same, but doesn't want a relationship. And this other guy seems like he wants to date me now, but I know that once he gets to know me better he will realize that I'm not what he's looking for. I don't know what it is about me that makes me undesirable. I've worked really hard on myself to be the best I can be. I know I still have flaws, but I am working on them. I have a clear and positive outlook most of the time. I keep Christ at the center of my life. Maybe I'm just boring.
I have a friend on facebook who recently posted about emotional abuse. She shared this article and some of her thoughts on it. I couldn't help but think of my own experiences with emotional abuse. One of the things my ex-husband would do throughout our marriage was make comments attacking what I said. He would make me feel like I didn't have anything worthwhile to say and that I should keep my mouth shut.
When I have a conversation with someone, interjecting with small comments or jokes is a natural part to add to the flow of it. This is how my sister's and I talk with each other and they are my best friends. So when I was clearly actively listening to him and engaged in the conversation with him I was taken aback, hurt, and confused when he declared, "this is why it's so hard to talk to you." I've been careful about what I say and when I speak ever since. I feel fear when I do talk or interject because obviously people hate that and therefore me. He would even get upset with me when we would admire the moon at the same time. He would point it out first and I would say something like, "Yeah I just saw that!" He would then ask why I didn't point it out to him -- at first I thought he was joking, but now I'm not so sure.
I had a friend tell me recently that I was funny. In my mind I was like, I'm funny? Wahoo! I've always been the funny one with my sisters, not that they aren't funny, but my silliness is beyond ridiculous. I am slowly learning that when I talk, 1) people do listen, and 2) what I have to say does matter, is enjoyable, and appreciated. Austin didn't value what I had to say. I know this because he would disregard my feelings and advice.
After he graduated from law school he didn't have a job lined up and it took some time to find the right place. While normal, this was understandably frustrating for him, and like many others I've heard about, weakened his faith. He worked with the ACLU in SLC over the summer as he applied for different jobs. When the gay marriage laws passed, his coworkers had a party and took a group picture to celebrate. He told me then that he didn't know how he felt about it, so he opted to take the picture rather than to be in it.
During that summer he talked with me about some questions that arose because he read the blog of someone who was recently excommunicated. This blogger used a public platform to ask questions that were difficult, perhaps with no clear secular answers. Asking questions is fine, good even, but not on a public forum. The problem here is that there are people who may find what he writes but aren't ready or capable of thinking about these or have the tools to truly understand God's plan and then they fall away. It's not faith building.
1 Corinthians 8:9 But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumblingblock to them that are weak.
When Austin told me about these questions that turned out to be the beginning of his way out of the church, I told him my view on them. I thought he was satisfied with what I had to say on the topic, but apparently he was not. When I learned he was still exploring this other blog I asked him to not read any more anti stuff. He actually told me okay. Obviously he didn't mean it. He had asked me to do (or to not do) specific things previously and I respected him enough to comply. He didn't respect me enough to heed my wisdom. Or talk with religion professors at BYU. Or Becky. Or his parents. Or the bishop. Or with me further about what he was really going through and thinking until it was too late.
It's like murder.
If you obsess over something with hate in your heart it will fester in your mind, creating a darkness that will overtake your whole life. If you talk to someone about it or seek forgiveness, you can be set free. You won't have to think about it any more. In my mind obsessing over what we don't, or can't know in this life is like this. Just accept that there are things God understands, that we cannot right now, and know He's got your back if you rely on and trust in Him. But if you plot and plan against Him, then sooner or later, you'll commit murder. And it will not be truth and light that is extinguished, but yourself. This is what happened. He wouldn't talk to me about his questions. He didn't talk to anyone. He just kept digging, finding more ways to hammer the wedge between him and God, whether they were founded on truth or just parading as such.
Then he flipped the switch and BOOM! He was gone. Like a suicide bomber. Like a vial of poison -- he swallowed the lies of anti and exmo. Like swallowing a bullet. Like jumping in front of a bus or off a cliff. He was gone. And it was his own choice. Because he didn't trust me or value what I had to say enough to listen to me. He didn't want it to be true enough to defend God and His plan. He didn't fight for his his family, or for me.
I have been feeling unheard and unneeded. I am grateful for the support I receive and for the inexpensive living arrangement I have. But I feel like I need and want more of my own space. I try to be as self-reliant as possible, but then I feel like my mom expects us to join them for dinner every night. It is easier, but easy isn't always better. It doesn't give me purpose. It's like eating together is part of what I pay in rent. I feel useless and underutilized. I miss cooking with Becky. I got to help cook the dinner for last nights book club. We had a four course meal. It was so fun cooking with someone. I just wish that if we're going to eat together regularly, that we could do it like a dinner group.
Monday: Mom cooks
Tuesday: Take-out
Wednesday: Lisa cooks
Thursday: Kimber cooks
Friday: Date night
Saturday: Solo
Sunday: Family dinner, where we can all contribute or we can do our own things
Last week when my parents were out of town for education week at BYU, I felt more of a purpose in life. I got to cook and clean and live independently. And it felt so good. I need more opportunity to be seen as valued and feel like I matter. When I don't get to cook or help or contribute or have a calling or ministering people, my gloomy thoughts of being alone tell me that if I wasn't around no one would notice or care.
Though I don't have a calling or anyone to minister to, I serve where I can. My friends on the activities committee in our single adult ward have let me help them with their callings. I have helped with food and shopping before, but this week I was asked to lead the discussion at book club. It made sense because we (finally) read the book I have been wanting to read. I thought it would give me purpose and let me feel like I belong, but it was hijacked and the notes and questions I spend a few hours preparing earlier in the week got tossed in the trash because no one would listen to me. I just wanted to serve, but I feel like I failed.
To make matters worse, I had to deal with someone who was once one of my best friends, flaunt that he is friends and friendly with everyone around me, but wont address me or talk to me at all. It really surprised me that he could be such a jerk. I really don't know what to do. I feel like I should keep giving him chances and the benefit of the doubt. This seems like charity to me.
Moroni 7:45 And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
(I really can't think of this scripture without thinking of Chelsea and her actions to help us memorize it.) But at the same time I feel like that could be foolish, and perpetuate the hurt that comes from his estranged behavior.
With the combination of these emotional battles I'm dealing with that are making me feel unwanted, I needed to destroy something. I got some of the left over vegetables, my best friend, and a baseball bat, and went out to the desert. We spent some time exploding mushrooms, squashing tomatoes, and giving the eggplant a beating. It was fun and silly, and it really did help to make me feel better.
I think everyone knows of Kristina Kuzmic. She has talked about how she felt after her divorce. It's a very difficult situation. But she shared a story about how she got out of her own depressed bubble by serving others. Service really is such an incredibly powerful tool. You don't do it just to feel better about yourself, but when you do it you do feel better. She had to remember what she was good at. And when she figured it out she was able bring joy to others, which in turn, brought her joy.
So I asked myself: What am I good at? I am good at art. I'm good at cooking. I'm good at recognizing the beauty around me. In fact, this week I witnessed an amazing sunset. The majestic and bubbling clouds were glowing rich with gold and pink and orange. As I stood gazing up at it with my kids we talked about how it must be what Heaven looks like. I remember watching sunsets in Arizona growing up and thinking the same thing.
The next morning as we listened to one of our favorite CDs from Calee Reed, the song What Heaven Feels Like came on. Eva commented that we should have listened to it last night while we were watching the sunset. I agreed. I love to focus on the good around me and find the Lord's hand in my life. I don't always do this. Obviously, considering how dark and dreary this post has come out. But when I do, I think that's as close to what heaven feels like as we can get on this earth, outside of the temple. I think this is something else I'm good at. I think this is one of my gifts of the Spirit.
As I was driving to church today I was thinking about the questions I don't have answers to. I was trying to dissect my feelings and figure out the Lords plan for me. We sang Where Can I Turn for Peace? for the opening hymn in Sacrament meeting. I related so much to this song today. It quieted my restless needing to know what I cannot and it brought me peace.
I like to think about all the Savior has done for me during the sacrament. It's a quiet time I have every week to honor His atoning sacrifice. I like to help focus my kids minds on Him during this time, too. I will lean over and whisper in their ear, "Guess what. Jesus loves you!" Sometimes we talk a little more about Him and how they know He loves them, and how they show their love for Him. I missed whispering that today because I got to go to my mid-singles ward. But we had a special musical number first thing after the ordinance and in the song, Gethsemane, it says, "Jesus loves me." I thought that was a powerful thing to declare. I focus on helping others know that Jesus loves them, and I talk about how much I love Jesus, but I don't know the last time I declared, "Jesus loves ME." But He does. I know He does.
I sat alone during this meeting. I feel like I am supposed to get comfortable being alone. Sitting alone in church, and in life, I look at other people who seem to be comfortable and confident in being alone. I think to myself, just act like them and no one will know you are lava on the inside. I realize no one is looking at me, thinking, she has no friends, or something, but I still feel self conscious and want to disappear. I am the kind of person who likes to have a friend or two by my side, and when I do, I am comfortable and happy. It's strange to me when I hear people talk about how they want to stand out. They do things to be seen, like wear something glitzy, post personal things publicly on social media, or even perform a musical number in hopes to get noticed. They enjoy being the center of attention because they think it will get them a date. I know multiple people like this. I don't relate. It makes me feel so uncomfortable. I feel like I'm the opposite, I look for ways I can blend in and not be noticed. It seems to me that if you can get to know someone without that extra stuff it would make for a more genuine and sincere connection. And a more honest and intimate relationship. I know this is a public blog, but I'm not posting to get attention, sympathy, or a date. I also think it's more private to post here. If someone wants to scroll past (which I imagine most people do) that's fine. If someone wants to get to know me better or if they already care about me (my mom) then they can click in. But mostly, I post for two reasons. First, because I cannot keep it in, and second, because I hope and believe it can help someone else.
Relief Society was also good today. The lesson was on the same talk I happened to listen to this morning, Look unto Jesus Christ, by Elder Kim B. Clark.
In this talk he tells the story of the woman with the issue of blood. She had so much faith in Jesus Christ's healing power that she knew that if she could just touch the hem of His garment she could be healed. The scriptures say that Jesus perceived that power had gone out of Him and He asked who touched Him. I would like to point out that He knew who had touched Him. She didn't want to be noticed, she didn't even want to be acknowledged or recognized by Christ. But He knew her and loved her! She couldn't realize her significance or worth to the Lord, but He did. She spoke up and He blessed her for it, saying, “Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.” He needed her to come to Him so He could fully bless her.
It was a lovely day at church, but my spiritual enrichment for the day did not end there. I had the last performance of Joseph Smith the Prophet tonight. I'm so grateful to have been part of this concert. Music is such a beautiful and powerful way to gently touch our souls and teach us truths. It reminded me of something Joseph Smith said, "I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it." This phrase went through my mind countless times while I was being challenged and pushed to my limits during the darkest hours of my life.
When I was married to someone who was against my beliefs, and therefore against me, I woke up every day and chose to believe. It was not always easy. I sometimes thought, it would be so much easier if I just let go. But then I would think about it and that phrase would enter my mind. I have witnessed miracles, from small to significant. I have been physically, emotionally, and spiritually healed through priesthood blessings. I have born children and felt the miracle that is bringing life into the world! I have felt the hand of God directing me in my life, and I have been to the temple. I know what I know is true. I know there is a God who knows me and loves me. I knew it then and I know it now. And I cannot and will not deny it.
Today I felt known by the Lord. I could feel that He is aware of me. There were lots of tender mercies that repeated thoughts I was having, answered question, or comforted my soul. I know He is there and I believe that He loves me.
I've had a lot on my mind lately. I've been wanting to write another post, but the words wont come. Here are some songs that I've been singing and listening to a lot.
First, this one is from a program I'll be participating in next weekend. I've loved this song for a long time - over ten years.
I sang it in a choir at a BYU fireside with Elder Holland. It's beautiful and hopeful, and lately, for me, heartbreaking.
"Fear not men, for they cannot hurt you."
Next is a song from one of my favorite plays. I have loved the movie since college, when my roommate introduced me to it. I fell in love with the play when my sister and I went to the high school production, also while I was at BYU. We purchased the Broadway CD that night. I saw the play again a year ago, and finished reading the book this week. I love everything about this story. I've been listening to this song on repeat.
