Tiny Little Ropes, Deafening Silence, and a Choice

I'm going to really really honest here.

I hit the ground this weekend.

I went to a place I hadn't been in years. A tough, dark place.

And as I tried to figure out how I got there, I couldn't pinpoint one or two big things. It was a combination of small things that have accumulated over the past months and some over years.

I think of Jack Black in Gulliver's Travels, lying on the beach, tied down by tiny ropes.



That's what things have felt like for me. It wasn't just one big thing that weighed me down. It was a thousand little things. Responsibilities, obligations, job, the needs of others, callings...

But, there were more ropes than those.

Expectations I put on myself. Experiences that didn't turn out like I'd hoped. People not being what I thought they were. Me not being what I thought I should be. Getting hurt. Perceived failures...

A thousand tiny ropes that, in of themselves individually couldn't hold me down, but collectively had the power to take me to the ground.

Over the past couple of weeks I've had a few more ropes added to the bunch. Not big ones, but just enough to give all the ropes the strength to pull me down.

And down I went. Hard.

I could feel myself going down, and I decided I wasn't going down without a fight.

Saturday morning I got up early and went to the temple. Surely I would receive the strength, validation, and perspective I needed there.

But I felt nothing.

I drove home empty and confused.

I talked with my husband that night for a long time. I shared with him all that I was feeling. I talked about each little rope, and he listened patiently and lovingly.

I explained how I was failing at so many things. And how I was hurt by some things. And how I was afraid of some things. And how I really was just so tired of not being enough.

So tired of that.

And what made it worse is that I'm an inspirational writer and speaker.

I'm not supposed to feel this way. I should know better.

I mean, the project I'm working on now is about not believing the lies Satan tells us. So my guilt was even greater. And so was my shame.  I know the gospel. I teach it. I shouldn't struggle like this. And yet, I was.

According to my husband, many of the things that troubled me weren't reality, but my perception.

I can see that as a real possibility.

But still, down I went.

I went to church Sunday morning. There were reminders all around me and in my mind of my ropes--of hurts and unmet expectations and my failures by comparison. I managed to make it through Sacrament meeting without tears, but the moment the closing prayer was said, they started to come.

I secured a ride for my girls, then left church early, the tiny ropes all running through my head.

There was no room for anything else. They were consuming. And painful. And suffocating.

I cried and prayed. And cried and prayed.

Still no answers.

Silence.

That is what has seemed to be the heavenly M.O. for the past few months. Silence.

It was deafening.

And scary.

Most of my life has been with companionship of the Holy Ghost. I almost always received inspiration on major decisions, peace when I asked for it, direction when I sought it, help when I needed it.

But, for whatever reason, the past few months it's been gone. I've felt very alone.

And Sunday, I plead for it. I plead to feel the Spirit, to feel something. To hear something.

And nothing came.

A thousand tiny ropes and deafening silence.

Out of exhaustion, I feel asleep.

When I awoke, I didn't feel better. No miracle relief. No sudden strength or perspective.

Just heaviness, failure, and pain.

I kept the tears at bay the rest of the day, but my thoughts ran freely.

I had plenty of proof of my failures, my not-enough moments, the rejections...I had real reasons to feel the way I did.

I also had false reasons to feel the way I did, too. My own misinterpretations of God's will, my unrealistic expectations of myself, etc.

I spent the day trying to decode the real from the false. It was exhausting and brought me down further.

So many ropes. And still, so much silence.

Then, that evening, I had to ask myself some questions: If the ropes stayed, and the silence remained, could I still believe? Could I trust in myself when I felt so weak, so not-enough? Could I believe the positive things my husband told me about myself when I had so much proof otherwise? Could I trust in God when the heavens were so quiet for so long? Could I be okay if my circumstances didn't change?

Could I lie beneath a thousand tiny ropes under a silent sky and still be all right?


I realized I could.


But it would have to be a purposeful decision. A choice. My choice.

So, that is what I did.

I chose to be okay.

Now, it hasn't come all at once, the good feelings.

And the bad feelings, the pain, the fear, and all that crap, haven't left all at once.

I still feel hurt from open wounds. I still have some fear. I still feel bad.

BUT- a couple things did change.

First, hope entered in. I will feel better. I always have, and I will again.

Second, my eyes began to look away from the ropes to other things...to other people, people I can help. And that always helps me.

Third, as I awoke and went to work this morning, I realized that the sun did, indeed rise again, and that it will tomorrow and the next day and the next day. And I will be okay.

Fourth, I understand that the Atonement can work in my life if I choose to let it, even if it works in a way I don't recognize or am used to. And I choose to believe it's working in me right now.

I've felt this bad only a few other times in my life. But the significant lesson here was that even if many of the ropes are still there and I haven't felt the Spirit reach out to me,  I can choose to try to get up.

I can choose to believe. I can choose to be okay. I can choose to get up.

And I have. At least, I am trying to get up.

I cannot believe I am the only person in the world that has felt this way before. There must be others who have felt suffocated by the weight of a thousand tiny little ropes.

Maybe you're impacted by the deafening silence of heaven right now.

Maybe you have an arsenal of "proof" that you've failed.

Maybe you've been hurt by others.

Or maybe you are simply tired of never being enough.

If you feel this way, I get it. I get you.

It's awful.

And scary.

But it's not permanent. And it's not all real.

You have the power in you to choose what you will believe.

You have the power to choose to be okay.

And you can.

You will.

I am feeling better today. Not 100%. But getting there.

I'm slowly working to recognize and address each little rope.

I'm trying to adjust my life to give myself the space I need to get up again.

And, rather than waiting for the heaven to open up,  I am going to open up to the heavens today.

I can't hear God right now, but I choose to believe He hears me.

And man, do I have a lot to say.

Tiny little ropes. Deafening Silence. And a choice.

I'm going to be okay.

And so can you.


FOLLOW UP:

It's been a couple of days since I wrote this post. I've had time to reflect on it. I've had moments when I thought I would take it down. I mean, who wants to share their sucky times? Their struggles? Their weaknesses?

But then, I think we are so often willing and eager to share the successes that we begin to think that's what life is made of. And that moments like these, where we struggle or cry or doubt or hurt, that these are the exception.

But not only the exception, a bad exception. An embarrassing exception. A weak exception. A wrong exception.

And we begin to hide our struggles and apologize if they show, embarrassed as if we just accidentally mooned a crowd of tourists.

Now I'm not advocating we all share every pain and fear we feel. There's risk in vulnerability. Not to mention, the deep and tender things of our hearts are sacred.

BUT- we should not feel shame because we hurt or struggle or feel.

WE ALL HAVE TIMES LIKE THESE. It is normal. It is human.

It is healthy and good. A cleaning out of closets of sorts. An inventory and even reckoning.

A cleansing and opportunity for choice and a new chapter.

This is what this experience was for me.

I shared some deep feelings. Not all of them...I kept the very personal, sacred stuff to myself. But I shared enough to worry what readers would do with it.

Would they judge how I felt? Would they judge why I share?

But then, the driving force behind sharing was stronger than the fear of sharing.

We need to know that

• everyone struggles sometimes
• hard emotions--even pain- are not always bad
• we have the ability to sort through rather than stuff
• we have more power than we realize over how we feel
• and we can hurt and struggle, and will still be okay.

I am feeling much better. I knew I would. Optimism helps. Looking back at history helps. Perspective helps. But so does my determination to be happy--my choice to be happy. Even when conditions are not perfect. (Are they ever?)

I really am okay. 

No, I am good. 

I'm a bit tired. Still hurting a little. Still thinking a lot.

But I feel strong and balanced again. I feel optimistic and hopeful.

I feel happy.

And I hope you are too.

When faith doesn't seem to work. . .

We are taught from primary that with faith, miracles can happen.

The scriptures are replete with stories of faith bringing about mighty miracles.  Enos was made whole from his faith, as was the woman with the issue of blood.

"True faith brings miracles, visions, dreams, healings, and all the gifts of God that He gives to His Saints" is the promise given to us.

I believe this.

During the routine physical I had in preparation for my mission, my doctor found a lump in my breast big enough to concern him. He asked me to come back the next day for further testing.

I was scared.

I talked to my parents about, and we decided to fast and pray. I knew that God has the power to heal me.

The next day I went in for the ultrasound. The technician looked quietly for quite some time before she called the doctor in. He looked at the monitor then did a physical check himself. To his amazement, the lump had disappeared. There was no explanation.

But I had one.

Faith.

I served a successful mission, came home, married and started a family.

My second child, Paige, became very sick on her second birthday with the croup. Her body's response to the illness was terrible breakout of eczema. It covered her forehead, her arms, her feet, her back.

And it never left.

For the first year we had to wrap her hands at night so she wouldn't scratch herself raw when she slept. We tried changing her diet, using medications, feeding her only whole foods, allergy testing, oatmeal baths . . . everything we could think of. Nothing seemed to help.

One day when she was four she came into the house from playing in the backyard. The back of her shirt was covered in blood. I jumped to my feet and asked her what had happened. "My back was itchy, so I scratched on the tree."

I felt sick. And heartbroken.

Why would this sweet little child have to endure this discomfort and pain for so many years? I wanted her to be healed. I wanted her to have peace. And I wanted peace, too.

Then an idea came to me. I needed to exercise my faith!

I would fast and pray specifically that she would be healed. Why hadn't I thought of this before?!

I was excited that I'd found a way to help my daughter. I had complete faith that God had the power to heal her. He was just waiting for me to ask!

I hadn't felt that optimistic or elated in years.

I set a day to fast and spiritually prepared myself. I would pray fervently until and through that day of fasting, the have my husband give Paige the blessing where she would be healed.

The day came. My faith was strong. I felt the Spirit. I felt peace. I was excited for my daughter, that she would soon find relief.

My husband gave her a blessing that she would find relief and be strengthened, but no specific timeline was given. And that was okay, because I knew it would work. I didn't expect it to disappear during the blessing, but by the next morning, I knew she'd start to look better.

I knew it because it's what I'd prayed for with more energy and faith than I'd prayed for anything in a long while. I knew God could do it. And I knew He would.

But, He didn't.

The next morning she was still raw.

And the next.

And the next.

The next 600 days she woke up raw and itchy.

Somewhere in her sixth year it began to fade. Somewhat. But it never went away.

She is 20 years old now, and still has patches of eczema here and there.

My daughter wasn't healed. 

Or more bluntly stated: the Lord did not heal my daughter.

I was devastated back then. What about faith?! What about the promises? Why would He not heal her when He's healed so many others, including me?

I was heartbroken again. And confused. Did my faith not work? Was I not righteous enough? Did I not try hard enough? Did I not believe enough? Was I not strong enough for my daughter to be healed?

It was a difficult time for me. I found myself feeling not only confused and hurt, but embarrassed. I began to second guess my ability to unlock the power of faith, and wondered if it was wrong to have even tried. Hoping for miracles these days? Was that a silly thing to do? I began to feel like it was.

When my husband was a bishop a member of our ward fell very ill. His family asked him to come and give him a blessing. They knew he could be healed by the power of the Priesthood. But, after the blessing, my husband told me he knew healing wouldn't come. He passed away, much to the surprise and devastation of his family.

I knew a woman who was haunted by mental illness. She prayed in faith for relief, but it never came.

Why does it seem that sometimes our faith doesn't work?

Why are there times we pray and fast and seek Priesthood blessings in the hope and faith of a certain outcome, and the Lord simply chooses to stay His hand? What does it mean? Is our faith not strong enough? Are we not strong enough?

I echo the words of Elder Donald Hallstrom from the October 2017 session of General Conference: "My limited knowledge cannot explain why sometimes there is divine intervention and other times there is not."

I don't know why sometimes God heals and other times He doesn't.

But, when He chose to not heal Paige, I had a choice to make: I could stop believing in Him, or I could continue believing in Him.

I didn't know why He didn't heal Paige, but I did know Him. I knew that He could if He felt it was the best thing for her not just then, but in the eternal scheme of things.

I knew that He loved Paige and He loved me.

I knew that He saw my hope and faith and efforts and pleading and would bless me how He saw fit.

I KNEW HIM.

And I chose to continue to have faith in Him, even if my faith didn't produce the results I wanted.

Because that's not what faith is.

FAITH IS ABOUT OPENING UP OURSELVES TO THE RESULTS HE WANTS. NOT WHAT WE WANT.

That was an eye-opener to me.

In a 2013 CES devotional, Elder David A. Bednar shared a story of a young couple that came to him for a blessing of healing. In talking to them, he felt the impression to ask a question he'd never asked before: "Do you have the faith not to be healed?"


Elder Bednar went on to say, "We recognized a principle that applies to every devoted disciple: strong faith in the Savior is submissively accepting of His will and timing in our lives—even if the outcome is not what we hoped for or wanted. Certainly, John and Heather (the couple he talked to) would desire, yearn, and plead for healing with all of their might, mind, and strength. But more importantly, they would be “willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [them], even as a child doth submit to his father” (Mosiah 3:19). Indeed, they would be willing to “offer [their] whole souls as an offering unto him” (Omni 1:26) and humbly pray, “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42)."

Did I have the faith for Paige not to be healed?

Yes. It turns out I did. Not by chance, but by choice. 

Since then (and even before then) there have been many MANY times I asked for something good in complete faith and I didn't get it.

1. I prayed about marrying Ricardo. And he dumped me.
2. I prayed for a strong singing voice. It never came.
3. I prayed to go on a mission. I got sick and was sent home ten months later.
4. I prayed to go back out on my mission, but was suddenly extended an honorable medical release.
5. I prayed for a large family. I had a medically-necessary hysterectomy after two children.
6. I prayed about living in Washington and then was told (by Him) to move to California.
7. I loved California and prayed about staying and was told (again by Him) to move back to Washington.
8. I prayed to find a way to publish my words, then after one book I was told my ideas were gimmicky and that door was closed.
9. I prayed to speak at TOFW, then was rejected.
10. I prayed I could be a stay-at-home writer and mom, then was told (by Him) to go back to work.

And that's just ten off the top of my head. None of the things I prayed for IN FAITH happened.

But, then, looking back, I can see His wisdom. And I'm so grateful.

1. Because Ricardo dumped me, I served a mission and later married the love of my life, Jerey, whom I've been happily married to for 23 years.
2. Because my singing voice wasn't as strong as my ambition, I avoided choosing a life of singing in bars and pursuing the life on stage, which wouldn't have been good for me. Lol (But it sure was a dream of mine. I think God sometimes withholds things to save us from ourselves.)
3. I remembered later the blessing I received when I first got home where the Lord told me I had done all He wanted me to do in that short time. (I think sometimes we think our experience isn't valid or "right" because it isn't typical. I learned here that it was exactly what God needed it to be.)
4. If I had been allowed to go back and finished the other ten months, I would not have moved to Utah and met my husband.
5. If I hadn't of had a hysterectomy, I wouldn't have considered fostering or adopting, and I wouldn't have had Grace come to our family through adoption 9 years after the operation.
6. Because we moved to California, Jerey took a job that started him on the career path that's allowed him to take care of the family to this very day. Also, we added a lovely foster daughter to our family, whom we never would have met if we hadn't have moved there.
7. If we hadn't have moved back to Washington, we would never have had the chance to bring our sweet Grace into our family (we adopted her through the system here.)
8. The words were tough, but the were, in part true. And I have learned to be a better writer and speaker because of them and other magnificent doors have opened up for me that I'd never have thought possible.
9. Ummm. Still trying to figure this one out. Lol!! But, I'm sure He has a plan:)
10. I love being at home, but recently He has called me to work out of the home for a season. I have already seen small ways He's worked through me, and as I use much of my time now focused on other people, I am discovering a sense of joy and fulfillment I hadn't before.

So, you see, the times when my faith seemed to not work wasn't that at all.  My faith in God allowed Him to work in my life, just not in the ways I'd expected. With every rejection I gained an opportunity or a lesson.  With every change I gained growth or a surprise benefit.

The family that I love has come to me through unexpected (and sometimes seemingly unwanted) answers to faith-filled prayers.

But, what about Paige not being healed? What is the blessing there? What good came from it?

Well, that is one of the things I still just don't know. I think I--and she--learned a lot from it. But, perhaps I am still too close to it to see the full purpose of it in hindsight.

Perhaps the purpose, for me, is that the understanding that sometimes it is simply our lot in life to have afflictions, and the lesson isn't in having the faith to get rid of them, but having the faith to endure them without bitterness or anger. Even in the face of not understanding why.

Because we understand WHO.

I am grateful my faith hasn't worked in the past in the ways I wanted it to. My life would look VERY different now. And I really love my life.

I wonder, if I received everything I prayed for in faith, if I would begin to feel that it was MY faith, not His will, that made things happen.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons we don't get everything we ask for, even in faith. Because it's not our power that makes anything happen. We have no power. We simply turn over our hearts and will to Him so He can release His power in our life. And because it's HIS power, He uses it how He sees best.

Everything we are given (and often not given) is from Him. Even the unhealing of my daughter.

But, what I did gain from that experience was a more solid testimony of God. It gave me the opportunity to choose to trust Him and continue to believe in Him. I grew stronger and happier.

And Paige made it through. She's tough--like, uber tough. She's spiritual. And she's amazing.

You know, back then I fasted and prayed that she'd be free from the eczema. But, it never occurred to me that it was because of the eczema she'd prayed harder to God for help, or that I kept praying harder to Him as well. We both grew closer to Him and to each other because she wasn't healed physically. We felt Him in our lives, and we felt peace.

So, in the end, I guess He did bless her and me with what I asked for: peace.

Perhaps, then, my faith worked after all.