Friday, February 26, 2016
I thought it'd be good for me to do some writing this morning. I've wanted to journal a bit more on this blog and I also sometimes really need an outlet to share my continual thoughts and experiences. It's therapy, I guess.
Now that Millie's getting a little older, I'm feeling a bit more order return to our home. Even though my every minute is still scheduled and full with meals, homework, lessons, tending to my parents, to Eric, and loving the girls, I'm feeling a little more predictability and peace. With this calm has come a surge of much thought and emotion that has long been simmering inside. The experience of bringing Millie into this world and enjoying the fulfillment she has brought to me and our family has reminded me of what a wonderful joy and blessing it is to bring a soul into this world and provide that spirit with a sense of love and belonging. I have been reminded of how much a little baby can bring a couple together and how it can solidify hearts and relationships. Having Millie has reminded me of the joy of motherhood--That it's not just about the responsibilities and worries. She's been so wonderful, in fact, that facing the reality that she is my last child has admittedly been a difficult fact to swallow. This isn't to say I haven't felt much gratitude, because I certainly have. I am so very blessed and that has become more apparent to me as I look back on the past few years and see how well my Heavenly Father has taken care of me. But all of this reflection has led me to contemplate my future in a way I haven't done so before.
Our family dynamics can oftentimes complicate these thoughts and can sometimes encourage an entire attitude of self-doubt. I know my ultimate purpose but I can sometimes trip up on all of the details. I know that in time, with each step, I will figure out my life's path, but I must admit this little journey of mine as a mother, a stepmother, and as a wife of two husbands, I sometimes wish for a more straightforward path.
A friend sent me a talk last week that I can't think was by accident. It was a talk given about 25 years ago by Elder Holland and his wife. I have read through this talk several times and I want to remember some of the words that really spoke to me. So for my own purposes, I thought to include some of these words in this blog entry.
Sister Holland said, "All of us face those questions about our role, our purpose, our course in life--and we face them long after we are children....Take heart if you are still asking yourselves such questions, because we all do. We should concern ourselves with our fundamental purposes in life. Surely every philosopher past and present agrees that, important as they are, food and shelter are not enough. We want to know what's next. Where is the meaning? What is my purpose?"
The last sentences there really spoke to me because that is exactly what it has come down to for me lately....My basic needs are met (and they are met very well, thank goodness for that,) but now that my life is a little more settled (for now at least), I feel the need to say, "What's next? What is my purpose?" I know there are many souls in my life--four in particular--that can certainly help answer these questions for me--and how grateful I am for that! But lately I feel I'm finally in a space to take it even a step further and really stop to think about my future and its meaning. Ever since Michael's death, I will admit that I have almost tried not to find meaning in my life's path simply because it was too painful. I often feel that people reach a little too far in trying to explain the twists and turns of life. On top of that, it has simply been too painful to try to come up with an explanation as to why our family has faced the tragedies it has. And in addition, it has not been the right time (especially the first 2 or 3 years after Michael's passing) for me to search for meaning when I must admit I have felt that much of my meaning and heart and purpose has been ripped away from me. --The loss of a best friend, the loss of a potential family, the loss of more chances at motherhood.
Sister Holland then says, "When asking these questions, I have found it extremely reassuring to remember that one of the most important and fundamental truths taught in the scriptures and in the temple is that "Every living thing shall fill the measure of its creation.....Every element of creation has its own purpose and performance. Every one of us has been designed with a divine role and mission in mind. I believe that if our desires and works are directed toward what our heavenly parents have intended us to be, we will come to feel our part in their plan. We will recognize the full measure of our creation and nothing will give us more holy peace."
So to summarize--After having Millie, I have realized that I've spent the five years before her in total survival mode. I think that's pretty understandable and also a sign of the great blessing she has been. She has been a catalyst to bring me (and all of our little family, perhaps) out of that mode of living. It is nice to be at the point of being able to evaluate the purpose of my new life's path and the future that goes along with it, although perplexing. It is this feeling of being perplexed that has led me to somewhat troubling contemplations the last few months, I have not gotten to the point of "feeling my part in our Heavenly parent's plan," as Sister Holland says. I know the general roles I am meant to take on in life, but I'm getting muddled up in all the details. I'm hoping I can feel a bit more guidance and peace as time goes on. Perhaps finding my purpose involves a greater ability to embrace my sorrows and heartaches and move forward with continual hope for the future.
Regarding all of this, Sister Holland says, "We are confined to the limited view of the tapestry where things can seem particularly jumbled and muddled and unclear. If nothing really makes very much sense from that point of view, it is because we are still in process and unfinished. But our heavenly parents have the view from the top, and one day we will know what they know--that every part of the artistic whole is equal importance and balance and beauty. They know our purpose and potential, and they have given us the perfect chance to make the perfect contribution in this divine design." She later says, "I want you to know that in my life when I have had disappointments or delays, I have lived to see that if I continue to knock with unshakable faith and persist in my patience--waiting upon the Lord and his calendar--I have discovered that the Lord's "no's" are merely preludes to an even greater "yes." I have learned in the twenty-five years since I was your age that the very delays and denials we worry about most, the very differences from each other that trouble our self-esteem, are the differences and delays are the very best for our happiness and fulfillment."
She ends with this: "To be all that you can be, your only assignment is 1) to cherish your course and savor your own distinctiveness 2) to shut out conflicting voices and listen to the voice within, which is God telling you who you are and what you will be, and 3) to free yourself from the love of profession, position, or the approval of men by remembering that what God really wants us to be is someone's sister, someone's brother, someone's friend."
This talk is completed with Elder Holland's contribution about God's will and what it means to submit ourselves to him. There was one quote in particular from him that I wanted to write down: "Any accomplishment of any kind is in vain if we cannot, in those crucial moments of pivotal personal history, submit ourselves to God even when all our hopes and fears may tempt us otherwise. We must be willing to place all we have--not just our possessions (they may be the easiest things of all to give up), but also our ambition and pride and stubbornness and vanity--we must place it all on the altar of God, kneel there in silent submission, and willingly walk away."
That kind of submission Elder Holland talks about brings me back to the first year after Michael's death. I found myself having to consciously, not without great effort, "kneel in silent submission" to my Heavenly Father. It was such a heavy, brutal time. But I knew what I had to do, and I can honestly say, that at that time, I gave it my best effort to submit to God and "willingly walk away." I hope to keep doing that, even when it's not easy.
