Seasons

Despite the title, this post is not about seasons of the weather.  Though it could be.  We're enjoying winter full force. After a 20" blizzard last week, it's snowing and sleeting some more today.  And is supposed to continue.  It's beautiful!  And I'm so grateful that I don't drive anymore.  And since it's been ages since I've blogged, I could also include the pictures of a gorgeous fall.  But, like I said, this post isn't about those seasons.  It's about other kinds of seasons.

I'm quite aware that I've been MIA on the blog world for quite awhile. And even though there are dozens of things I could write about, we all know that's not going to happen.  Instead I want to briefly recap this fall and go from here.  And the best way I know to do that is to frame it in Seasons. Before I go into this, let me say this to you, recognizing that real people are reading this (my personal version of this is in my journal).  If you don't know me, you're welcome to read any way (I just spent 2 hours last night reading an incredible, personal blog of someone I don't know--and I learned from it).  If you know me and love me, I think you'll understand.  If you kind of know me and/or don't love me (:)), know that this isn't to disparage myself or to brag; it's just honest.

A few times over the past year or so I've thought about Ecclesiastes 3 and reminded myself that even if this is a time to weep or mourn, there will come a time to laugh and dance (vs. 4).  So, over the past month or so, as I have repeatedly felt prompted to read the chapter, I've thought to myself, "yes, I know. It's coming time for rejoicing and I'm so glad. So ready."  But the Spirit was persistent and finally, during church last week I opened up my scriptures and read.  And there I found the verse that was the true answer:

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-3,  "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born [and, I add, reborn], and time to die; a time to plant, and time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up."

A Time to Break Down:
Have you ever wondered why there should be a time to kill?  And is that just a bad translation?  Well, related to the rest of what will be in this section, I'm thinking it's just a matter of asking, what are we killing? 

This fall (as a continuance of the past year) was a time to break down.  I like to think of it more as tear down.  As in, tearing down a wall or a house, in order to remodel.  Let me tell you, it is painful to be broken down.  I felt pain in so many ways that I often wondered if I could truly survive.

Physical. I had a really hard time eating; almost every time I ate, I wanted to throw up. Which made me quit eating.  Which made things worse.  I couldn't run because of incredible pain, and after almost two years of enjoying running, it was gone.  Then there were the side effects of the physical and emotional things: I was constantly exhausted (because of not eating, I feel certain).  I had headaches and other stress related back/body pain.  And I got "regular" sick (cold, fever, etc.) a couple of times. Physical could have been worse, but it was still not fun.

Emotional. I cried, sobbing, aching crying so many times I couldn't possibly number them. Some of the time I knew why--there were a wide variety of relationships and interactions that created pain; there was the continued pressure and wondering if I will ever find a job to support myself and pay off loans and feel like a productive human being; and all the other things I can't categorize.  I felt an especial lot of pain for all the things that I've given so much of my life to that seemed to be so purposeless--Spanish, law school, homemaking skills, and the list goes on.

Depression. It's physical and emotional.  I've experienced it before.  And it wasn't the main cause of anything.  But during the already hard times, I went through a couple of weeks when I was also depressed. Which was really rotten timing. The benefit of it was being able to recognize that whatever else was wrong with me was not depression.  I think I would have known anyway, since depression is something I periodically deal with, but since I felt it up close and personal during this time, I was sure that most of what I was feeling was not depression.

Spiritual. I have always loved the scriptures. (I would link to the amazing post A Love Affair that I composed in my head the summer of 2009--only I never did post it.) But during this time, kind of like the physical food, I was only stuffing it down my throat because I knew I needed it and that I couldn't survive if I didn't. Which not only was unappetizing, but hurt my heart because I'd lost one of the most important things in my life. I also seriously doubted my ability to receive revelation--including past revelations--and as a result felt more lost and debilitated than I have ever felt in my life.

But the hardest part--without doubt--was not knowing what was wrong.  Just like with my body, I was very aware of the effects, but did not know the cause(s) and that was the scariest, hardest part.  Around me, with me, were people suffering who had reasons--the end of a very deep, serious dating relationship; the loss of family members/friends to death or spiritual death; serious illnesses; etc.  I could pinpoint nothing.  Oh, my subconscious tried. There were a variety of hurts and concerns that I would fixate on.  But that would pass after awhile, because I knew (or received) the answers to those things and I knew that X or Y or Z wasn't the real problem.

Also, during this, there were wonderful things that happened. I was teaching great classes. I moved into an excellent living situation. I was able to support myself and work on paying off loans. I turned 30 and enjoyed celebrating it (one of the best weeks of the fall). Rachel came to visit.  I became an ordinance worker in the Boston temple. I did fabulous things with Family Home Evening.  I was surrounded and supported by incredible, incredible friends--women and men who are truly disciples of Christ. I found out I passed the MA bar exam. I enjoyed Boston in the fall. I took a quick, fun trip to Dallas. Etc.

But I felt broken inside. I was not the person I had been before.And I wondered if I would ever be whole again. I knew, as I know, that Christ is a healer. I felt the truth of that over and over. But I didn't know what was causing the wounds I felt and so I wasn't sure how to let Him heal.  The saving grace during this--although I felt the power of my family's prayers and was so grateful for the adopted family around me--the real thing that got me through was prayer. I conversed with Heavenly Father as I never have before. He was my, well, my world.  My everything.  Knowing, feeling, that He was listening as I cried and talked and just felt, it got me through each day.  I wish I could explain, express, that during all of this--all, because this was a build up from 2009 to the present--I felt an incredible love. I was in pain, but I always knew I was not alone. I felt the presence of God's love surrounding me, aware of me. I thought often of cleansing wounds--when it is necessary to dig out gravel or clean infection--but you know there is purpose and caring behind the pain.

Some of that awareness of God's love came from texts, emails and calls from dear people--some of you reading this--who had no idea what was going on, but in hours of deepest need reached out.  I felt your love, but more especially I felt God's love and his awareness of me and was so, so grateful that you (and others who don't read this) were in-tune to receive his messages to reach out to me.  It is joy to have righteous friends and family.

As the weeks moved on, I dug deeper layer, by layer, trying to figure out what was causing me so much pain. At first I mostly eliminated.  But then, beginnings of November, I finally started finding the parts that really hurt.  And finally, a breakthrough came.  And I understood, finally I understood, what was causing the pain.  It's personal and I'm not really going to discuss it here, but basically all the pain really emanated from imperfections in my nature that put me at enmity with God. Everything else was just an effect of these imperfections.  I'm not sure why this was the time to address them, but time it apparently was.  And with that realization, I could recognize that God was truly working for a purpose. Through the months I had felt the love and trusted there was a purpose--but it was vague, nebulous.  Suddenly, it was clear why it needed to be.  One day I was watching my roommate tenderize chicken breasts with her meat tenderizer and I thought to myself, "That's me. And like that poor chicken, it's painful, but it's absolutely to create a better result.  And it won't ruin it, but make it better. Me too."

A Season to Build Up
Like I said before, there were many good things helping me all along, that continued to sustain me as I got to the turning point. But there were a few additional things that came along to first, comfort and heal and then eventually to build.

My mother is a mother who knows. She always has been and I'm so grateful for that.  And I was especially grateful for that this fall.  She listened to me cry way too many times.  She called at hours that were too early for her, to make sure she caught me before I was working, to let me know she was thinking about me or had felt especially impressed to call that day. I knew that she and my father prayed for me daily. And then, she asked for her Christmas present.

Every few years Mother will ask for an unorthodox, but "knowing" present: Memorization of The Family or the Living Christ, acts of service to others, whatever.  This year, mid-November, she asked that we read Jesus the Christ by Christmas.  I don't know if it was specifically for me or not, but it I know that God knew it was for me.  I read Jesus the Christ many years ago, as a teenager.  I enjoyed it.  But that enjoyment pales to what it was during this season. My understanding of the gospel has matured so much that it was a different book.  And to my wounded soul, reading of the Savior's life and teaching was balm that healed as few things could.

President Monson's talk. I could, and probably should, write a whole post on this.  But suffice it to say, when I heard his talk, I thought, as Naaman of old--Why can't the prophet give me something that will heal me? Fortunately, I quickly recognized that that's how I felt and, thanks in large part to Naaman, knew that dipping in Jordan is about faith.  And so I dipped.  From Pres. Monson: "Notice that the Savior gave thanks for what they had—and a miracle followed."  Yes, and in my life too, a miracle followed. I credit that talk and trying to follow it with the break-through that finally came mid-November. How very, very grateful I am for a prophet!

Almost immediately after I realized the problem, my "appetite" for the scriptures returned. I loved them again.  And I feel so much hunger for them, almost daily.  Also, within a short time, I once again recognized divine inspiration--promptings little and big.

Eventually I got to go home for a wonderful Christmas vacation.  More time for healing and building.

And then, the Sunday back, I read Ecclesiastes.  "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to break down, and a time to build up."

I can see, quite clearly now, how the Lord was tearing down.  The things in me that need to be changed, replaced, are completely integrated into who I am.  Like old, faulty wiring, there's no real way to get it out without tearing down, even to the foundation.  So, in His love, that's what he's done.  And then there was a time for healing.  And now it's time to build up. Only, it scares me a little, because I'm afraid if I build up that those things will sneak in again.  They're such a part of who I have been.  I don't completely know how to let Him build me up so that things are right this time.  But I'm trying very hard to listen daily to know.  In prayer, in scripture study and the accompanying pondering, I focus on receiving instructions and following them.  That's the only real way (for me, for this!!) to be built up without the same problems.

I also recognize that this is just the focus for now.  There are other areas that are imperfect and some day will need attention.  But He doesn't fix us all at once. I know that someday this process will repeat--in a completely different way, I'm sure--but I try to not worry about.  Just focus on now.

Few more thoughts, then I'm done.  I'm not sure what He has in mind for building up, but I am so grateful that in the temple I can learn the blueprints.  I don't know the details, but I do, do, do know the ultimate goal.  Also, there, I can rest from the process and enjoy peace for a time.

Yesterday I finished Jesus the Christ. (right, not by Christmas, but who cares?)  I cannot wait for the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.  I wish it could come next week.  And I was reminded how I can help it come.  My new creed for each day:  "May the kingdom of God go forth, that the kingdom of heaven may come..."*  Isn't it glorious that each of us can help with that, in very real ways!!  Through raising righteous families, through sharing the gospel with everyone, through prayers for leaders of nations to soften their hearts, through family history, through so many efforts large and small. It's incredible to me.


So, friends, I'm working on rebuilding.  It's an interesting season. I still have a very tender soul, like a fresh scar or the weakness as you get over the flu.  But I am healing.  And I am finding joy.




*D&C 65:6. If you read it you will see that the next "that" clause is also very important."