It's Finals Week, and after my William Blake project, my senior scrapbook, losing my French materials for the project I have to re-do, the Calculus final I don't have it in me to care about anymore, and participating in the great Mormon past-time (helping people move) all day Saturday, only to discover on Sunday morning that my adopted older brother (long story) was leaving for Marine Corp boot camp on Monday and he hadn't said anything to me about it; I have to admit, I'm tired.
I realize full well that my problems are inconsequential--that's actually part of why I find them so tiresome. To be so busy with so many things I find so tedious, when there are so many better uses for my time--I don't understand how people can possibly be content with this constant state of going nowhere. And I feel no satisfaction in any of it, because as soon as one crisis is handled and conquered, two more fall into my lap.
I thought about all of that this morning with the empty two hours I had in English, and I knew I needed to sort through what I was feeling before I attempted to do anything else. So after hacking at a few pages with poetry that got increasingly more cynical the longer I tried to write it, I finally pulled my book of Mormon out of my purse and opened it to a random page.
3 Nephi 8 was about the most destitute chapter I could have turned to. The first verse I saw began by describing darkness, and followed with the pleas of a damned, forsaken people that were trapped to their own iniquities. And of course, I had to give a dry laugh at what I felt was sarcasm from Heavenly Father; See? I can be depressing too. You know better than this.
But it still wasn't enough. I took out my MP3 player and tried to drown out my negativity. After a few songs, this talk from my first General Conference came on, and I finally felt the fog in my head began to lift.
Honestly, I don't know how I ever survived without having the kind of faith I do today, just knowing how I get sometimes with doubt, worry, and cynicism about myself and everything around me; just like Elder Perkins mentioned in his talk. But what should strike me even more--and it's finally starting to get through to me--is how foolish it is to continue trying to do everything on my own.
Sure, Heavenly Father gave me experiences that have taught me to be more self-reliant than most, but that doesn't mean my hands are capable of everything I put them through. That's why Jesus Christ has the nail prints in his hands and I don't.
So here's to enduring better than I have been lately--less sullenly, and with more optimism amongst my opposition so I'm less likely to miss opportunities to hear the guidance of the Spirit. Otherwise, Heavenly Father might just smack you with scary imagery from the Book of Mormon. Because if there's one certainty I've learned to trust, more than anything else, it's that He'll do whatever's necessary to make a point.
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