A single pearl.

It was all I could do to smile. Hold back the tears. Keep walking.

And I failed.

As soon as I saw my parents, my sisters, the posters, the "Welcome to Tennessee" signs, I couldn't hold it in. I should have been happy, and I was! And inside I was still a wreck. The divorce had been final for only about three weeks, and I was still feeling quite raw from it all.

I was there to see my sister - my beautiful little sister who I hadn't seen for a year and a half! It was marvelously wonderful to see her again. And magically, it happened to be my birthday that weekend. So. There I was in Tennessee.

My family decided to surprise me with some presents - which I wasn't expecting at all. I was just excited to be there. And I got to see the dog again, which, let's be honest, was one of the most important parts ;)

Holding back tears, I opened a small pouch that contained a beautiful pearl necklace.

"It's because you are a pearl of great price!" my parents told me. What a sacrifice they made for my pearl.

My single pearl. My pearl of great price.

With their sentence still ringing in my ears and flowing through my watery eyes, I thought, "Me? A pearl of great price?" And then I decided to believe them.

I was actually quite proud of myself for believing them, or at least wanting to. I was worth something? YES.

I have learned that pearls are formed when an oyster gets a piece of sand or another irritant stuck inside under it's mantle. In response to the pain or the irritation, the oyster secretes nacre - a fluid - that helps to sooth the irritated area and keep the irritant from irritating further. Over time, the nacre forms a pearl.

I felt that my parents were trying to help me see something I didn't really believe about myself. Yes, my heart hurts. We all hurt from time to time. Everyone has pain and sorrow in this life - no one is exempt. And from these trials, if we trust in the Saviour's atonement to heal them, the trials will turn into pearls, blessings, treasures, moments of building and learning and opportunities of faith. So what do my parents see? Well, I think they see beauty, a girl that's trying her best, a daughter who knows she is loved by her family, and a woman who is slowly getting back her shine.

And so, I wear my pearl because someday, that's what this trial will become. And because that is what I hope to be now. A pearl against a black background. After all, that's when you see them the best.

“The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths, it has its pearls too.” – Vincent Van Gogh

Surrender.

Several years ago, I was laying in bed one night reading my scriptures when, as I was cross referencing something, I came across this story. It's told by President Thomas S. Monson in his talk entitled, "In Search of Treasures."

"In late 1892 Benjamin was asked to travel to Salt Lake to audition for a place with the territorial orchestra. For him, this was a dream come true. After several weeks of practicing and prayers, he went to Salt Lake in March of 1893 for the much anticipated audition. When he heard Benjamin play, the conductor, a Mr. Dean, told Benjamin he was the most accomplished violinist he had heard west of Denver. He was told to report to Denver for rehearsals in the fall and learned that he would be earning enough to keep himself, with some left over to send home.

"A week after Benjamin received the good news, however, his bishop called him into his office and asked if he couldn’t put off playing with the orchestra for a couple of years. He told Benjamin that before he started earning money there was something he owed the Lord. He then asked Benjamin to accept a mission call.

"Benjamin felt that giving up his chance to play in the territorial orchestra would be almost more than he could bear, but he also knew what his decision should be. He promised the bishop that if there were any way to raise the money for him to serve, he would accept the call.

"When Benjamin told his mother about the call, she was overjoyed. She told him that his father had always wanted to serve a mission but had been killed before that opportunity had come to him. However, when they discussed the financing of the mission, her face clouded over. Benjamin told her he would not allow her to sell any more of their land. She studied his face for a moment and then said, “Ben, there is a way we can raise the money. This family [has] one thing that is of great enough value to send you on your mission. You will have to sell your violin.”

"Ten days later, on March 23, 1893, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “I awoke this morning and took my violin from its case. All day long I played the music I love. In the evening when the light grew dim and I could see to play no longer, I placed the instrument in its case. It will be enough. Tomorrow I leave [for my mission].”

"Forty-five years later, on June 23, 1938, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “The greatest decision I ever made in my life was to give up something I dearly loved to the God I loved even more. He has never forgotten me for it.”

This passage so inspired me that I felt to write a poem. I started the first stanza and promptly forgot about it.

One year later, I finished it.

And shortly after that, I got married . . . and my life began to change. It wasn't until I was in the thickness of it all, alone and afraid, that I remembered the poem.

It saved me. 

For a long time, it has had no title, but I think now I know what to call it.

Surrender.

I fall to my knees at the end of the day,
The tears leave my eyes, and I have nothing to say.
I feel overcome by the darkness inside.
It tortures my spirit, and I just want to hide.
My heart has been torn and it won't seem to heal,
And I long for the happiness that I used to feel.

I question my faith as I kneel by my bed:
Do I truly believe Christ will do as He said?
This pain overwhelms me and aches in my soul!
Do I truly believe Christ can make my heart whole?

How can I let go of the things I hold dear,
How can I give place for faith over fear?
When the future is dim and I can't see the light,
How can I keep walking when I'm afraid of the night?

The Truth is that sometimes we experience pain
because that is the only way to obtain
The joy and the happiness we were sent here to have,
Amidst all our anguish and days that are sad.

Though cry as we will, God numbers our tears.
He answers our prayers and he quiets our fears.
Quite simply the truth is in order to feel
The love He extends for our hearts to heal,
To Him our will we must surrender up,
And sometimes must drink from the small bitter cup.

But He promises blessings and joy through the tears,
So I'll continue to trust and believe that he hears
The pleas of my heart, though weak I may be.
He won't leave me comfortless - He will come unto me.

Quietly, gently, peace comforts my soul
And beside me I picture my loving Saviour.
As I choose to act in the way that Christ did,
As I say what He'd say and live as He lived,
I cannot completely partake of God's gift
Until I have given the one thing to give.

My desires and passions, though right they may be,
Are nothing compared to what God wants for me.
As I freely will choose to follow His son;
I'll give him my will so that we can be one.
His purpose, my purpose, His will is now mine,
He knows he can trust me with errands divine.

So here is my faith, my desires, my dreams.
I'll give them to thee, though hard it may seem.
I'll give what I love and the life I adore,
Surrender my will to the God I love more.


And that's what I feel that I have done - I gave it all to God. I surrendered what I wanted. I surrendered my control, at least the efforts to control. I never really controlled anything in my marriage at all, for better or worse, I'll never know.

The hard thing about surrender is that it has to be a daily thing for a while. Sometimes hourly. But it is getting better.

Let me rephrase that - I am getting better. 

I. Me. Alissa Murdoch. 

"How do you go on . . .

 . . . when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep.” J.R.R. Tolkien

Lots of people tell me that time mends wounds. Time heals everything. I guess that's where the need for patience comes in, but I also would say that because some hurts go too deep, time alone cannot mend them. For me, that's where Christ comes in. He can heal what time cannot.

The reason this is significant is because I am learning how to surrender. Surrendering some of the saddest things that have ever happened to me. I never imagined that I would be divorced, but here I am. :) Wounded, but willing to go on.

Except, the battle still rages in my head. . . . It's hard to accept the reality.

I cannot go back. I cannot change him. 

I cannot go back. I cannot bring him back. 

I cannot go back. I cannot love him more than I did. 

I cannot go back. . . . He probably wouldn't take me back. And that hurts. 

Yes, it happened again today. That moment when someone calls me by my last name that isn't part of my identity anymore. When someone assumes that I have just gotten married, so that's why I have two last names. When the reality is that I have done just the opposite. 

Yes, it happened again. That moment when I am walking down the stairs and all of a sudden I've got tears in my eyes, tears that burn and hurt and are hot because they've been held back for too long. The trigger today was that my mind took me back to my rings again. My beautiful rings...the ones he made me, the ones he bought me. The one he embellished with mother of pearl, the one he bought that was my dream. I have long since known that one of my love languages is gifts, and therefore it is understandable that I would be so attached to my rings, so attached to something that I so purely and innocently loved. I loved them. He showed love for me when he gave them to me, right? 

Right? Doesn't that mean he loves me? 

It's not about the rings, Alissa. It's not about the rings, my mind whispers.

I cannot go back. I handed them to him, that terrible day that I went to get all my belongings. I left them securely in that box, that beautiful mahogany box...my beautiful rings that I loved.

Yes, it happened again. That moment when my mind flashed back suddenly and without warning to the last time I ever saw him. The look in his eyes, the darkness inside me, the burden.

I remember the last time I ever saw him. Oh, how heartbreaking it is that our marriage got to that point.

In all of my pain, I must say that it is healing and I am getting stronger. 

I read a book recently entitled, "Out of the Ashes," written by Ruth Davidson. She writes something that really struck me, and really validated all my pain, ultimately helping me to not feel guilty or obligated to go back to him .  She says, 

"How will I know when my spouse is on the right path? What does the picture of a 'humble' spouse look like?" 

"Many want to know if their spouses have reached a point where true healing can begin to occur. Some of the guidelines to watch out for are : 1) complete and open confessions of sins with nothing witheld. If there are sins not fully confessed, those sins will inevitably resurface in recurring falls, bringing in continued contention into a relationship; 2) a willingness to bear the burden of fixing the broken relationship. If any statements by a transgressor begin with, "There are changes that you should be making, too; this isn't about just me" or "You'e not handling this as you're supposed to be handling it," true humility has not yet occurred. Other signs to watch for are: 3) a willingness to listen and understand an injured spouse's anger and feelings, which entails putting aside personal agendas while concentrating solely on helping the wounded spouse; 4) ongoing apologies for behaviors of the past. Mark H. Butler (a marriage and family therapist) said that he's seen truly repentant spouses continue to apologize for past mistakes, even when the injured spouses feel like they're "over it." Another sign of true repentance includes: 5) increasing love and devotion toward a spouse, including expressions of gratitude for any forgiveness that has come and for a spouse's willingness to work through the devastation that has occurred."

It was incredibly validating to read this, realizing that while I loved the man with all that I had, the love was rarely reciprocated. And if it was more often than just rarely, I didn't ever interpret it as that.  It is hard to go forward, simply because I saw the good side of him, I saw the amazing man that he is, and I saw his potential. I felt God's love for him - that is a feeling I have never forgotten. I was blessed to be divinely aware of just how much God loved this man. 

And yet . . . the hurt goes too deep. 

And so, I go on. I go on because I cannot go back. 

A new life.

We always hear those stories, you know, the ones about the return missionaries that can't figure out how to speak in English again, let alone wear normal clothes. These stories reach my ears so often that I sometimes begin to wonder, "Was I really like that?"

Now don't get me wrong, they're not bad stories. It's just . . . they don't really tell the whole truth. True, for months after I got home I still had urges to contact people in the street and talk to them about faith and happiness and their hopes and dreams in this life. I still wanted to study my scriptures for an hour every day, and I often keep an eye out for missionaries so I can offer them any help they may need.

But what those stories don't tell you is the emotional battle a missionary experiences when he or she returns home. The stories don't ever mention the spiritual attacks we have, or the emotional stress that comes from having nothing to do for long periods of time. They never tell about how a return missionary will think of her mission every day, and feel a small ache in her heart that really never goes away.

I say "her" because I'm describing what happens to me. I feel such an ache and a longing to be back; I want to serve those people again; I want to feel like I'm doing something to help someone, every day. I want to take away the heartache and the pain that exists in the world and proclaim that because of the restored church of Christ on the earth, they can find true and lasting happiness. Families are eternal. God is real. Christ did die for all of us. And we really will live again. These are the timeless truths my soul longs to study.

There are days where a return missionary may think she is useless, and there are days she may feel completely alone because she can't see her "companion" next to her at all times. The pain I feel when I can't physically see someone by my side is difficult to describe. But it's as tangible as anything.

A return missionary has just spent a long time understanding what it truly means to have a broken heart and a contrite spirit. You don't have to be a return missionary to feel this, but because of what I went through, it's a part of my life now. I can't bear the thought of one of my siblings rejecting the truths I try so hard to defend; my heart breaks when I hear of others who have gone astray, or experienced trials I would never dream of having.

And then there are days where I feel like I have not progressed at all; like somehow my new life is so dramatically different than the one I lived for a year and a half that I have reached a spiritual plateau. How do I ever get out of the plateau and start continuing upward again?

While we all experience times like these in our lives, I know that it's especially more difficult for me now; not that my new life seems so self centered and so filled with meaningless tasks.

I have to learn how to put meaning back into the routine of college and work. I have to relearn how to wear jeans and enjoy doing nothing. I have to teach myself how to walk alone to and from class, with no one by my side. I have to relearn what it's like to cry over my homework and a failed exam. It's not a bad thing to be a return missionary. It's just not like it was before.

It's just a new life. New in the sense that I've learned so much in the past 18 months . . . now what do I do with that knowledge?

Don't get me wrong - I love being home. But there is definitely still a part of me that wonders where I am going, and who I really am, and why do I feel so deeply the pain and anguish of having left something so dear to my heart behind? I do not wish to say that I'm having a more difficult time than others who may not have served a mission and are feeling the same thing, but I do wish to say that there are many trials we go through in life. And if anything, that's what makes it new. Every day we can have a new life because of the trials we experience.

And I guess this is just one of them. One of the many "new life"'s that I will live.

Where your heart is, there will your Treasure be also.

Once upon a time, a girl made a decision. She struggled with it because she realized, in a small way, what it would mean to her; to her family; to her friends.

But mostly she was happy with her decision because she knew what it meant to her and what it would mean to God. And that's what really mattered.

So she finished college, bid her roommates and FHE brothers a "Farewell until we meet again," and she began. She started by shopping for clothes - a winter coat fit for negative forty degrees, lined and water-resistant warm boots, thermals, two skirts at DI, and a couple odds here and ends there. Part of her thinks she is ready, and part of her says she couldn't be further from being just that.

She had quite a few trials as she prepared, many of which taught her valuable lessons, and all of them witnessed to her how important her responsibility was. On one such night, she felt inspired that the Lord was hastening His work, and she was blessed to be a part of it. She knew she didn't have to be called on a mission to be a missionary, for all of us have been asked to "Stand as a witness of God." But seeing as she had been called on a mission, she realized she was going to dedicate, or rather consecrate, a year and a half of her life to God. In essence, she became a part of an army of youth, each having the same desire to teach the Gospel of Jesus Christ, whether they'd been called on a mission or not. With this impression weighing on her mind, she was inspired to write these words:

 

The Army of Helaman

Our Heavenly King is calling to us
To come and join the fight,
To bring our shields and helmets, too,
And come with swords held tight.
For lo, the numerous enemy lines
Are marching, thousands strong.
Yet we have faith in Christ our King,
And He upholds our arms.
Although weighed down with what we face,
We know that we will win.
For Christ is fighting on our side:
We are His Army of Helaman.
We come with faith in the living God,
As missionaries do,
And we will go with courage strong
To bring the world His truth.
It matters not where we are sent,
For God protects us still,
And we, with hearts firm in the faith
Shall stand with iron will:
We won’t give up, we won’t let up
For the God of miracles.
We will press on, we will hold on
As the Hope of Israel.
And though we struggle to face the foe
In the fight against all sin,
There is no sword that slays the truth
Or hurts the Army of Helaman.
The call is to come, to not give in,
Be loyal, strong and true,
For that is what the Saviour did
When He died for me and you.
So courage, friends! Come join the ranks
Of missionary men and women
Who stand with testimonies firm.
In the God of the Army of Helaman.


And now, there are two days left until she leaves.

She is leaving a lot of small things - her fluffy pillows and warm blankets; her awesome high-heels that made her feel like she really was tall; her violin which had been her comfort on some of the hardest days of her life; her education which has been a constant trial, but a constant blessing; her phone and her ipod, each of which were used as tools to do good.

But more than these small things and others, she is leaving a lot of treasures:
She is leaving a lot of friends - people she really cares about; people she loves with all her heart.
She is leaving a lot of family - seven of which are the most blessings amazing blessings in her life, and each of which of which is sacrificing for her.
Every person will always be a treasure to her.

And yet, there remains one more treasure - one that she can't touch, put in a back pack, or place in her pocket.

This one is found in her heart.

And this one she's not leaving behind.

This one, this treasure, she is taking with her. And that is her testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This is where her heart is. This is what means more to her than many things. More than a post on her blog and more than a text on her phone. It ranks up top with some other special treasures.

She hopes to share this treasure with the people in Montreal, Canada. And she will sacrifice all she has to do it.

As one final word to her friends and family who read this blog, she wishes to say something, because it's her last post for a very long time. But don't worry, she'll be back.

And so, with happiness in her heart and bittersweet tears in her eyes, she would like to tell you to
Remember who you are
Trust in the Lord
Treasure up the word of God in your hearts
Rely on the Spirit
Lean on your friends and family
Sing with all your heart and soul
And never forget the ultimate goal of life: to make it to the Temple, for from there you may learn how to gain eternal life - the greatest of all the gifts of God.

God be with you till we meet again.

Love,

Sister Murdoch

 

or, maybe just Sunshine today.