Blessed

Life is just a struggle!

There are no methods of using the English language to describe this living that we do without recognizing that much. Life is hard. It tests you until you're bleeding and submissive. But what arrogant, narcissistic, (I'm not going to swear here, though I feel it's almost necessary) idiots would we be could we live without all of this? What kind of connections would we form without the ability to be humbled and open?

I feel that, though young, and sheltered compared to others' experiences, I've been through a lot. I've suffered so much heartache, so much pain (both physical and emotional). I've watched people I love leave me, people I needed be taken from me. There have been nights when I've prayed only to sleep without the images of my life haunting me throughout the night. I have felt abandoned. I have been alone. But here is what I've concluded.

My losses have made me acutely aware of others' pain.

I have sobbed openly into the arms of my sister, who said little but held me with a strength I could only describe as love.

I have watched other people, and have seen a glimpse of what my life would be like without the gospel; how completely hopeless this all would seem. It has enabled me to cling to my Savior with every ounce of strength I have left.

I have felt angels surround me. I have seen miracles; been witness to the great rewards of prayer and fasting. And without a bone in my body hesitant with doubt, I know that every single tear I've cried has been necessary. Everyone I lost, every chance I missed, every night I went to sleep dreading the ongoing progression of the mornings to come... every hour spent in misery was meant to prepare me; like a customized training manual, giving me everything I need to finish out my life in perfection.

I know this is starting to sound preachy, but I write here what I know; it's all I'm truly able to do. I believe that  everything in my life is preparing me for a future that I can make a happy one; I can make it the most joyous of lives. But it's my decision. I could wallow; I've done that. I've wallowed, and I've wailed; I've even almost got the whole gnashing of teeth thing down pretty well (Apparently I grind my teeth in my sleep). But life isn't meant to be hell. Life is meant to be wonderful. And no, I guess I can't say exactly how wonderful it's supposed to be. In comparison, I've only started living.

But I know that the depth of sorrow and pain is nothing compared to the depth of joy and happiness we can feel. And it's the difference that counts.

If I felt no pain, how could I enjoy the moment it ended?
How could I revel in the moment when I made it stop?
How could I feel that rush of joy when I defeat the darkness?

I am so blessed. In the midst of struggle, I have my family; I have amazing friends who have been with me through my entire life. I have new friends who I'm able to share my usual dysfunctional moments with of everyday life. And I have change.

I used to dread change. It hung over me like the blade the guillotine waiting to fall. But now I wait for it excitedly. My life could completely change in a matter of months. I could move somewhere far away. I could start a new, exciting job. I could welcome into our family a new little nephew (which I have luckily been able to do already this year).

Percy Bysshe Shelley said in a poem that I love dearly. "Naught may endure but mutability."

Nothing ever stays the same but the fact that things will always be changing.


This post went in a way I wasn't even expecting, and I don't believe that it really has a conclusion to speak of. But since when does real life (no, that does not include reality tv) have a conclusion? Any sense of finality?

So in a sense...