Often, I find myself looking for proof that a loving Heavenly Father exists. Unfortunately, in my head, this sometimes means that I start telling myself how this is my time. I've dealt with things, horrible things, and so naturally this is my time to get what I want, what I need. In some ways, I know this is a small part of why I've really put all my effort into finding an agent. In my head, I'm thinking this is finally going to be my break. A montage flashes across my mind of me accepting publishing offers and feeling the joy of writing and the satisfaction of sharing it with the world. And for some reason the Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head song is always my backup music, though that is nearly unimportant.
There is so much in this world that frightens me. On a global level, I cannot even begin to detail the crazy, awful things happening in today's world. On a personal level, I'm fearful that all the heartache I've felt will mean nothing in the end. See, I try to figure out in my head why all this happens to me. However, because I do not posses divine knowledge, I can't see that far ahead. On a personal level, I see the people around me dealing with their own lives as well that are all too often full of the same pain and uncertainty. On a personal level, I fear living in this world where so many live to hate and tear each other down. On a personal level, I'm scared I will waste my life away believing I am one thing when I am another completely. And yes, I know that again I'm making absolutely no sense.
So why do I read my scriptures and kneel in prayer? Why do I continue to attend church and sing hymns about love and peace and redemption? I could not answer in any way that would prove anything or make sense to anyone but myself. Feelings cannot be shown on paper on even written eloquently enough in this instance to describe just what I mean. But I know without a shadow of a doubt that He lives and has a plan for me. I have seen time and time again flashes of understanding, moments when even I can see a reason for a certain trial, for a necessary task.
I read books. I watch movies. I talk to people. And I cannot begin to comprehend the torture of living without any faith in a plan, in a God, in a loving being who watches over us and perhaps even cheers us on at times. And I should really be content to live the rest of my life in failure because I DO know that He lives. And I would not trade that knowledge for any number of published novels or Pulitzer prizes (Just for the record, however, I would be willing to take both).
A few chapters into my second book in the Jhevalia series, one of my characters asks the other if they believe in a divine creator. In response, the other looks out at a beautiful living world and responds that he doesn't know, but imagines sometimes that there is a reason and an explanation for the beauty that surrounds them all, for the glory of living and laughing and crying and loving.
In conclusion, I would like to list the things that I KNOW:
I KNOW:
Heavenly Father lives
He has a plan for me
He has a plan to use me for the benefit of others
There are angels watching over me
Oftentimes, my dreams are much more than just that... dreams
The scriptures will be a guiding tool for the rest of my life
There is really so little that separates us from those beyond the veil
We are given people in our lives at certain times to catch us when we fall
That which is good never ends... not really... not life and certainly not love
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
When It Rains...
This is personal, probably more so than anything I've written here to date. I just feel compelled to say something. It rained today. The skies clouded up and the rain fell, soaking the world below.
Rain is so unpredictable. It falls in buckets. There is no way to shelter the world from the drops descending rapidly from the sky. At least in the case of snow we are left with a soft layer of pureness, of white. But when the rain falls, no such beauty is left behind with us. Instead, we find ourselves with drenched clothes and dripping hair. And this time, as in any other time, the rain seemed to fall only for me, only to bring back all that it reminded me of and that I had tried to forget.
Rain is heartache to me and not only that, but it is the essence of what a breaking heart feels like. My heart broke while the rain fell. I wasn't ready for it. I was much too young. And yet, the rain didn't seem to care. I sat there that night and watched it fall, that first night when I was completely alone. But it wasn't the clouds or the darkness that compelled me to stare, but the thoughtlessness of the rain that fell. It did not seem to care whose life it would tread upon. All was fair game. And I cried that night as I realized that just like the rain, my life was breaking apart and falling to the ground just as those individual drops.
I don't mean to bring a spell of a melancholy kind to any reader who may read this at some point in the future, but I can't help it. The rain always reminds me of an April nearly five years ago... five years. The rain fell that night and so many afterwards as a thirteen year old girl tried to piece together the reality of death and loss and imagining the rest of her life without the one person that made hers worth living.
The rain has no compassion. It's likely the rain will make us stronger. It's probable that because of it, our lives will flourish into new possibilities that may not have otherwise existed. But once it falls, there is nothing that can take it away. And so much can be lost forever... so very much.
So I sit here and watch the rain falling in its peculiar way and a part of my heart aches. See? I promised many of my blogs would be of little or no interest to you. I simply felt compelled to write. To smile, I often sing. To smile, I often strum my guitar. But to feel joy and often alive again, I write!
It is still raining...
Rain is so unpredictable. It falls in buckets. There is no way to shelter the world from the drops descending rapidly from the sky. At least in the case of snow we are left with a soft layer of pureness, of white. But when the rain falls, no such beauty is left behind with us. Instead, we find ourselves with drenched clothes and dripping hair. And this time, as in any other time, the rain seemed to fall only for me, only to bring back all that it reminded me of and that I had tried to forget.
Rain is heartache to me and not only that, but it is the essence of what a breaking heart feels like. My heart broke while the rain fell. I wasn't ready for it. I was much too young. And yet, the rain didn't seem to care. I sat there that night and watched it fall, that first night when I was completely alone. But it wasn't the clouds or the darkness that compelled me to stare, but the thoughtlessness of the rain that fell. It did not seem to care whose life it would tread upon. All was fair game. And I cried that night as I realized that just like the rain, my life was breaking apart and falling to the ground just as those individual drops.
I don't mean to bring a spell of a melancholy kind to any reader who may read this at some point in the future, but I can't help it. The rain always reminds me of an April nearly five years ago... five years. The rain fell that night and so many afterwards as a thirteen year old girl tried to piece together the reality of death and loss and imagining the rest of her life without the one person that made hers worth living.
The rain has no compassion. It's likely the rain will make us stronger. It's probable that because of it, our lives will flourish into new possibilities that may not have otherwise existed. But once it falls, there is nothing that can take it away. And so much can be lost forever... so very much.
So I sit here and watch the rain falling in its peculiar way and a part of my heart aches. See? I promised many of my blogs would be of little or no interest to you. I simply felt compelled to write. To smile, I often sing. To smile, I often strum my guitar. But to feel joy and often alive again, I write!
It is still raining...
Sunday, March 14, 2010
L-O-V-E
Love. It must be the most defined, analyzed, thought upon topic in the world today and maybe rightly so. People swear it off, pray for it to come, and feel just about everything in between about it. No one is immune from its grasp, however, even in the most wall-building soul.
I want to say right up front that I'm not only speaking of the marry me and share my name, ride into the sunset on my white horse, and I was never complete until I met you dear kind of love (yes, you know who you are). At least not singularly. I'm speaking about the love shared between family members, close friends, and often people you've met only a short while ago. When I was in the hospital on one occasion, there was a little boy who occupied the room next to me. Of course, I didn't know what he had but could see it was serious. He was only probably about six years old and already had yellowed skin. And apparently he had been admitted for three months when I came into the hospital. Did I love this little boy? Yes, and not only because we shared a wall or similarly horrible hospital food, but because my heart went out to him just as if he were my own child or nephew or brother. And what else is that but love?
So love, we know what it is. And yet, perhaps the eternal question of life is why do we set ourselves up for it? Even in the relationships in families or between friends, love always brings about heartache and pain. Love is the sole reason for people becoming lonely. If there were never any love, they would never know compassion and the joy of sharing time with another individual. So why do we continue to seek after it, even if we pretend not to? Even if we build these pretentious walls around us to somehow protect what we are, we still want it and are ready to snap it up when it comes our way, sooner or later.
We can't live without it. It is the force that keeps people in tune. They say that when you exercise, the number of endorphins increases in your body, making you happy and clear-minded. When we interact with others and share our lives with them, I believe the exact same thing happens, only on a hundred-fold scale. This blog has little purpose more than to assure the world that loving others, even if it means being separated from them, is so vitally important. Without it we are lost. If we lose that human connection we all share, we have little hope left. I take that back. We have no hope left. No Hope...
I want to say right up front that I'm not only speaking of the marry me and share my name, ride into the sunset on my white horse, and I was never complete until I met you dear kind of love (yes, you know who you are). At least not singularly. I'm speaking about the love shared between family members, close friends, and often people you've met only a short while ago. When I was in the hospital on one occasion, there was a little boy who occupied the room next to me. Of course, I didn't know what he had but could see it was serious. He was only probably about six years old and already had yellowed skin. And apparently he had been admitted for three months when I came into the hospital. Did I love this little boy? Yes, and not only because we shared a wall or similarly horrible hospital food, but because my heart went out to him just as if he were my own child or nephew or brother. And what else is that but love?
So love, we know what it is. And yet, perhaps the eternal question of life is why do we set ourselves up for it? Even in the relationships in families or between friends, love always brings about heartache and pain. Love is the sole reason for people becoming lonely. If there were never any love, they would never know compassion and the joy of sharing time with another individual. So why do we continue to seek after it, even if we pretend not to? Even if we build these pretentious walls around us to somehow protect what we are, we still want it and are ready to snap it up when it comes our way, sooner or later.
We can't live without it. It is the force that keeps people in tune. They say that when you exercise, the number of endorphins increases in your body, making you happy and clear-minded. When we interact with others and share our lives with them, I believe the exact same thing happens, only on a hundred-fold scale. This blog has little purpose more than to assure the world that loving others, even if it means being separated from them, is so vitally important. Without it we are lost. If we lose that human connection we all share, we have little hope left. I take that back. We have no hope left. No Hope...
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