Learning from the Pain

I remember the moment distinctly. I was sitting on the back of a four-wheeler and I cried to the heavens. I asked the Lord why he would take this boy away from me that I loved so much. Weren’t there other people who could do the work? Did he really need my Daylen to go on a mission? But of course the answer was yes and I knew that. And I have always wanted to please the Lord. I told him that I was willing to make this sacrifice for Him. In fact He was the only reason I would willing let Daylen leave for two years.

But boy did I grieve. I was so upset when Daylen left. I was willing to make the sacrifice but I had no idea it would affect me this badly. Where were the blessings? How was the Lord allowing me to be this upset when I was willing giving him something so important to me? I prayed and I prayed and I was reminded that Jesus loved me. And He helped me find Jaron.

I never told Daylen I would wait for him, but I never really planned on having Jaron either. I did not believe that I could find somebody so amazing who would want to be in my life. Jaron wasn’t planning on getting into a relationship either. We both had finally decided to stop grieving about missions (Mine being Daylen’s absence and Jaron’s being his own mission) and decided to get back into the dating world. When I met Jaron he was very much still a missionary. He listened to church music and slipped into Swedish and we would go on dates to FHE and read the scriptures together and he made me so happy and he was exactly what I needed.

Jaron told me the Lord had prompted him to marry me and that same week Daylen told me the same thing. Suddenly I went from a girl who was convinced no one would ever want to date her to a woman with two marriage proposals in the space of several days both of which came by spiritual prompting.

So I came back to the Lord and prayed and prayed and prayed. What was his plan for me? Was Jaron my blessing from my sacrifice? Or was I supposed to marry Daylen? In a way I felt like Joseph Smith, praying to know which to choose without realizing that the answer may be, ‘none of them”.

But I was not receiving an answer. I talked to my parents. I talked to Daylen. I talked to Jaron. I talked to the Bishop. I even talked to strangers and yet no one could give me the answer. My dad gave me several blessings and the Lord always offered comfort but no answers. Finally, I decided to take a leap of faith. I told the Lord that I was planning on marrying Jaron and if that was not the right answer to help me know it.

But my heart was hard and I don’t think I was really willing for him to say it was wrong. I loved Jaron and I wanted to be with him forever. But again, the Lord had another plan for me and again I had to learn about sacrifice.

Do I know why Jaron wasn’t right for me? No. But I do know one thing. I came to this earth for two reasons: 1. To get married in the temple and have a family 2. Be willing to choose the Lord in every situation. In a way it’s kinda like the fall. In my little mind the two were contradicting each other. I tried to get married and start a family but then I wasn’t willing to follow the Lord or I tried to follow the Lord and I wasn’t able to start my family.

So I took a step back and I looked for an eternal perspective.

The Lord knows me. He knows what my challenges and strength are. And he alone understands how much I want to get married. I’m sure when I was up in heaven I looked at Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother and longed for a relationship similar to theirs. I’m sure when they were introducing the plan I smiled wide when He spoke of eternal families and temples. I always wanted to be married. And so I came to earth and choosing the Lord was the easy part. I wanted to please Heavenly Father and I knew doing the right thing made me happy too. But I had to prove that I would always pick him even when I didn’t understand why. I had to prove that I wasn’t just doing what I wanted but that I was actually doing what the Lord wanted. When I think about it long enough it almost makes me laugh that I hadn’t seen it before. Why wouldn’t the Lord try to strengthen my faith in Him while I searched for my companion?

The Lord always needs to be the most important man in my life. And I think I’m not too that point yet. I ask the Lord why I have to sacrifice for him without even thinking of the sacrifices he has made for me. He loves me. He knows me and even when it may seem otherwise he wants me to be happy because he knows how to make me happy. He know way better than I do!

So do I miss Jaron? Yes. Do I miss Daylen? Yes. But I think I miss the Lord too. Of course I’m not happy. Of course I want to be married right now. But I’m glad that the Lord trusted me enough to let me pick him. And I learned so much about myself and you know what I’m going to be ok someday, meaning not this day, but soon. And it’s hard but I know when I focus on the Lord he can make my burdens light.

Dancing

I threw myself to the floor again, it’s not a typical thing for ballet but I was playing the part of Mulan and it was definitely necessary. I got up as awkwardly as I could, but it wasn’t enough. I had learned too well to throw myself around gracefully. “You look like a ballerina!” my sister Kacy called from her seat at the mirror. I gave her a look; I am a ballerina.
    I went home and practiced falling over and over, by this point my knees were collages of purples and browns but I had to get this right. I had been selected as the main dancer in the production number, and I was going to do it to my best ability. The tops of my feet scabbed up as I continually rolled through them to try and take the blow off my knees. In my front room, I practiced my landing over and over, trying to force my body out of the habit of being graceful. I’m sure anyone who saw me through the window would have thought I was insane: falling, getting up and doing it again in an even more horrendous fashion, I must have looked like a nutcase.
    At the next rehearsal the choreographer added to the number, and with the new addition came more falls and more pain. Near the beginning, the other dancers were supposed to fling me to the floor. While I’m sure they meant well, their efforts never did enough and I was forced to slam myself to the ground harder than humanly healthy. On these occasions I would often get a good gasp from the younger girls in the room. They looked in awe at me, the lead, just giving all she had to her part. Each little girl saw me, purposely putting myself in pain, and they envied me. I know, because I had been one of them.
    I had seen the older girls taking off their pointe shoes, and I wanted them more than anything. Yes, I knew my feet would bleed, that if I landed wrong once I would break bones and never be able to dance again, that I had to commit to the art. I chose that path. I lost all outside friends, I had my studio girls, the ones I would dance with for hours on end. Of course I loved them, even though all I knew was their first and last names and how many pirouettes they could land from fifth. I knew what it was like to look into the mirror, and see only the imperfections: knees too bent, leg turned in, bun too far to the left. It continued on: butt too big, neck too short, arch too low. But it was the life I choose. It was the life I wanted.
    The first performance of Mulan came closer and with it so did the tension. Regardless of all the practices, the pieces were not ready. That day, I had fear beating through me; it happens sometimes, I just fear the shoes, the floor, the teachers. This was not a good time. I tried my best to do my dances but I literally shook with terror. I would not look at myself, I would not eat the pizza they brought to rehearsal, I just continued to dance. The studio director pulled me aside. She told me I was not doing well enough, that if I didn’t step it up, I didn’t deserve the part. She told me to fake confidence, even if I had none. I told her I would try harder, that I would live up to her expectations. I went home and cried, for my own faults, for her harsh words, for the fear that I would ruin the performance for everyone.
    Then it came, the first number. No one else cared as much as I did, this wasn’t a life changing event. Just another dance, we had done thousands, why was this one any different? I stood backstage, full of happiness. I know it sounds crazy, that after all of that, I still loved to dance. I still looked forward to getting on that stage. I rolled through my pointe shoes one last time and took my spot in the light.
    I danced. I smiled. I lived the part. I was Mulan, I was that girl who no one thought was good enough, who didn’t even recognize her own reflection. I lost myself in the dance, and I loved every second of it. My heart was pumping and my face was beaming. I was doing what I loved.
    We won first place with a 99%. I was thrilled, but it was nothing to compare with how it felt. That moment changed my life, it shaped who I was. It made me happy, it reminded me why I danced. It made it all worth it.

Just Another Writing

I wrote a "poem" (I'm not sure if I would call it that) the other day, but it's very sad, like always.

  The meadow had always been a place of refuge, but this time was different. 

                       I'd matured now. 

                  I couldn't hide from the problems. 

                                                                         That were inside me. 

 If only I had known sooner, before it was too late. But I didn't. 

 I picked a small flower. I didn't know what kind it was and I didn't care. I pulled off each petal, tearing the small plant to pieces just like the cancer would tear apart me. 

 The wind blew through the trees and the leaves rattled in laughter. Even nature found my misery amusing. I fell to the grass trying to calm myself in its familiar scent, but comfort would not come. 

 I lay there, just laid there; on the dying grass and felt myself go numb. Tears did not emerge; anger did not spread. I felt nothing. I just stared at the gray sky, wasting what little time I had left. 

 The clouds let out their tears but I would not be phased. The droplets hit around me and I welcomed them. Hoping I would drown in the sorrows of the sky.