One step back, two steps forward

I was reading in the Book of Mormon about one of my most favorite prophets - Nephi. He had to try three different ways to get the record of the Jews to take into the wilderness with his family. He tried three times. Two failed. The third was successful.

I wonder how many times I have set out to accomplish what God asks me to do, only to decide that the task is just too hard and I should give up trying? 

Hopefully I don’t permit myself to do that very often..

I have learned many valuable lessons from my journey over this past year, one of which is that when the pathway becomes more difficult, that doesn’t make it the wrong road. It just means it’s going to take faith and trust to make it to the finish line. I hope God can always count on me to run his errands for him. 

But that’s just it....what is He asking me to do right now?

Inside, I’m hurting, aching, longing to move on, wishing to forget...and I believe God has provided me a way to do that. I’ve tried on my own to get past the pain, the sorrow, the deep abyss of grief...the abyss that never ends. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder why I had that nightmare, why I feel fear, why I screamed in my sleep, why I felt the physical pain again from experiences when I was married...and I wonder when will it end? When will I stop hurting? 

The flash backs hurt. The little triggers bring back the sorrow I’ve fought to hide, and the tears I’ve refused to cry. Every time I feel the heartache return, I feel like I travel two steps backwards.

Like today, I discovered that my brother wears the same deodorant that my husband wore. I remember that it was my favorite smell in the world because when my husband would wrap me in his arms, it was the smell of safety and love.

But then the awful memories return. It isn’t love that I feel anymore. The wound gapes open again, and I take two steps back.

Then I see a man who dances the way my husband did. I wish I could dance again: West Coast Swing, the Charleston, a riveting Cha-cha or a calm Night Club two step... I wish I could spin into my husband’s arms and fly across the floor as my dress swings in harmony with the swaying of our bodies to the music of a Viennese waltz...

And then I’m crying. And it’s like ripping open a wound again. Two steps back.

My friend...he says something I never wanted to hear about again, for it uncovers forgotten memories that I never wanted to revisit. And though my friend did not know, his comments all of a sudden uncover pain. And I catch my breath and close my eyes.

Two steps back.

Sometimes, a song comes on that we danced to on our wedding night. Oh, how it hurts to think of that magical night. I picture it for a split second, catch a tear that falls, and then?

Two steps back.  

I can’t hardly describe it, the ongoing roller coaster of moving forward and falling backward.

It’s a roller coaster that I don’t want to be on, and I need help getting off. I’m trying to turn to Christ. I’m trying to give the pain to him as soon as it comes. During days and moments like this, I remember a favorite phrase that Nephi wrote. When talking of his experience to retrieve the plates, he said of his third try, “I was led by the spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do. Nevertheless, I went forth.” 

I guess in the words of Elder Holland, I did not come this far only to come this far. Life will get better.

People say that time will heal my wounds, but I beg to differ. Time does not heal wounds. Christ heals wounds. Time is killing me right now, and some wounds go too deep to just cure with time. Christ will heal me, help me move forward, and hug me when I cry. Christ will be my constant companion. 

And with his help, I’ll soon be taking two steps forward rather than backward. 

Road trip warrior

I’ve been thinking about road trips lately. You know, the kinds that you take either spur of the moment or after having planned months in advance. There’s something about them that I have pondered for a while.

My most recent road trip was from Utah to Tennessee. I came to spend a month with my mom and my dad and see my siblings and surprise my brother on his 16th birthday, and that was such a happy moment for me. It was really quite fun to plan a secret road trip to come and surprise him.

I saw many wonders and beauties as I drove. From strange bugs in Texas to beautiful rocks in Moab, it wasn’t as boring as I thought it’d be. I did almost get hit - more than a couple of times, one was so close that I don’t know how it didn’t happen. I also got tired and sore along the way, but I packed some amazing snacks like tomatoes and cheese and chicken and applesauce and water and water and water.

However, I’m thinking about road trips with a different perspective. I’m thinking that road trips are just another way of saying “life experiences.” Road trips seem to be the short and long, expected and unexpected experiences in life. Sometimes it’s a spur of the moment, adrenalin rush experience. There are ups and there are downs, and we may get sore and see an occasional accident and potentially be in one. Road trips take us somewhere - usually. Most road trips have a purpose, whether that be pleasure or actually intending to arrive at a specific destination. Whatever the purpose of the trip, life is much the same in an odd sort of way. I think about this past year of my life and wonder why I ever embarked on such a road trip. And I can’t even say that it was worth it.

I think I feel trapped.

I think I feel like this road trip was supposed to have a purpose, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like it does.

I know that God provided me with the gas to go, the people to stay with, the money to pay for it, and the ability to survive it. And at the same time, I just can’t seem to believe that it happened.

Sometimes I wonder if this road trip has taken me to a place that I’ll escape from soon, or a place where I’ll be living in forever. And I guess I’ll never know... At least until I look back and realize that I learned whatever it is that Heavenly Father was hoping I would learn.

Perhaps I’m still driving. Perhaps I haven’t reached the destination yet.

All I know is that God can’t steer a parked car, and so I guess even if I don’t know the purpose of this road trip yet, I know He does. I know He can see the end from the beginning. And I know that I am still alive today because of him.

He truly has been so, so good to me. I don’t know what I did to merit the knowledge that I have; the truth that I have a Heavenly Father and Mother who help me and guide me as I turn to them. I don’t know how or why I was blessed to be born into a life with this truth taught in my family not why I was blessed to have the gospel of Jesus Christ in my life when so many do not. All I can say is that I was.

And boy, some days I just wish I could turn the cruise control over to him, but alas. That would require no work on my part. :) so here I go, feet on the gas, ready to break and blinker to change lanes. I trust Him to be the best road trip warrior friend I’ve ever had.