Never Alone

Do you remember my soap box about vulnerability? Well I'm here to tell you that vulnerability doesn't really get any less scary. But I continue to keep faith that it's worth it.

I was compelled to post this after having an experience tonight that made me grateful I had written my thoughts down on the afternoon of September 20th. I hope they may be of some use to someone who might stumble upon this post someday. As always, life is still good and all is still well.

September 20, 2012

Life sent me a toxic little care package today--the kind that regardless of reality (this won't really kill me), feels like it is going to absolutely destroy me. And you know what's interesting? Nobody knew it. My Mom didn't know, because I didn't break down and call her. My sister didn't know, because when called her, I couldn't come up with the any words to say how I was feeling so I blamed a cold for the sniffles that were coming from my end of the phone and went on talking like it was the most normal of days. My professor didn't know, even though I went up and talked to her after class thinking that I might unload some of this burden on someone I trusted because darn it, I just couldn't carry it on my own anymore. The ones with the best guess may have been the people I passed in the RB or Tanner Building as I was making my way to my car parked at the Marriott--an observant person may have noticed the welled up, this-dam-behind-my-tear-ducts-is-about-to-break-in-a-violent-way, red-eye look.

I got home and cried uncontrollably for an hour straight, feeling so alone and so in over my head that I thought I might die. I wanted to end it--all of it. End whatever I was feeling, end whatever expectations I felt, end the snot dripping out of my nose and into my mouth, end the way my gut just hurts when I cry that hard and how it makes me afraid for the baby in my stomach. But I knew I had to keep going. I knew that this too, would pass; this horrific moment wouldn't last forever. They never do. And it was comforting to know that just as much as no one here knew of my struggle, endless concourses on the other side knew, and they were doing all they could to provide support and relief to a girl who felt as much like a helpless child as she ever had in her life. I imagine a loving Father and Mother hugging me and holding me and rocking me as much as the veil would permit. I imagine my brother and grandparents sitting next to me--stroking my hair, telling me to take deep breaths, and just understanding because their spirits would understand mine. I imagine my unborn children slipping their chubby hands in mine and patting my knee saying Don't worry Mama, it's all gonna be okay. I imagine still rivers running alongside green fields with soft meadows. And somewhere between the hell and where I am now, the crying slows to a stop, the nose quits dripping, the stomach stops aching, the momentary terror passes, and I feel safe. Passing through an hour like that makes me feel numb and exhausted and gives me a headache, but I'm grateful I press forward because truly, "the only way out is through."

Why am I telling you this? Because I want you to know that you're never alone. Even if you don't have moments exactly like mine, I know you have your own moments. You have your own unique load to carry, and I know that it's not easy. I know that God will not leave you comfortless--He will come to you in your darkest hour. Even if you think you can't feel Him, try to pause and part the pain you're feeling just enough to feel the love of a man and Savior who suffered every searing, aching emotion that you yourself feel. He took that upon Himself so He could know how to help you and stand with you through these moments. He knows the thoughts and hurts and emptinesses that know one else in your life knows. He knows that even though you're tough and happy-go-lucky and smiley to all of the world, that you still cry. Sometimes really hard. He knows it even though nobody else does. He knows. He understands. He's been there. And I know that He stands with His arms stretched out, ready for you to run to them:

"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Psalm 23

"And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. . . Behold, I make all things new." Revelation 21:3-5

 "I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up." - Doctrine and Covenants 84:88

"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you." - John 14:18

He will come to you. He's already here.