Rise Up

I'm a simple human being. Normal. No spectacular talents. No memorable features. Nothing that stands out and demands attention. And that's good. Because I like to blend in. I'm not perfect. I have flaws. Many. And even though I try to rectify them, I still fall short from time to time.
I was told the other day that my home is perfect. That everything is neat, organized. Perfect. It's true, I like to have organization. It's one reason we bought our home. It has great storage and details that enhance organization. But our floors are not always clean. Sometimes we walk around with our shoes on. Things spill on the living room carpet and make stains.
Blankets will fall haphazardly on beds. Pillows will be pushed to one side. They may go unmade for days, only to be tucked neatly in for the next week.
Toys are scattered here and there. Books are tipped to their sides. Pictures crooked in their frames.
The dishes get done every night. And there's a routine. Sort of. We like to break our routines occasionally. We don't want life to get too dull.
My husband loves analogies. He does an amazing job at teaching, talking, making people laugh and feel at home around him. It's one of his many talents. He amazes and surprises me every day, and we've been married for eight years. It's no small feat to surprise me, because I'm a details person. I notice things. Too many things sometimes. But back to analogies. I've made a few in my lifetime...but a couple really make sense to me. You can tell me if you agree or disagree, but I feel like the car we drive represents what's going on within ourselves and how we like to appear to others. The make, model, year...all that doesn't matter. But the condition does.
For example: The outside of my car is not always clean. It gets dirty from the road grime and sometimes I like to take long drives down dirt roads that lead to nowhere in particular, just to feel the energy of the earth and admire it's constant state of beauty. So, just as my car, I don't really care about what I wear all the time. Sometimes I get dressed up. Date nights. Girls nights. Whenever I feel like I need to make a good impression. But I'm not afraid to go out in sweats. I love jeans and pullovers. I like makeup, but not too much. Less is more. Flip flops or cowboy boots. Heels...rarely. Flats are good too, but usually too fancy. And with those boots, there's scuffs and tears, because I like wear.
But the inside of my car is clean. It was immaculate before I had my little guy. No garbage. No stray papers. No left over items, like receipts, sunglasses, or water bottles. The trunk was organized. I had the necessities (still do). I vacuumed it regularly. I washed the windows and had it detailed. If there were items that needed to be there on a more permanent basis, they were organized. I try to keep this up, and usually fall short. Because I mean, come on, I have to have the diaper bag left in there all Hesston's toys find hiding places that even I can't imagine. This is like the inside of me. I'm always trying to clean out my brain. Organize thoughts. Put them into file folders. File them away for another time. Keep focused on the big picture. Keep things simple. Stay away from drama that clutters and confuses. Try to be positive. Optimistic. Fear, contention, anger all make the mind a whirlwind of confusion. I cast them out. Don't let them stay. My life is full. But I still have lots of time. Time to serve and help those in need.
I remember someone saying that if you want something done, assign it to the busiest person you know. They know how to make time. And it will get done.
I don't understand when people say that when they "find" time, they will get something done. Time isn't something we find. It's something we make, create. You always have time for what's important to you. You make time. You don't find it.
I like to make time for my family. Sometimes I fall way short. I get my nose stuck in a good book, get lost for a day or two in a world that enchants me. Pulls me in and won't let me go. I'm stuck in a washing machine. Getting my mind tossed and turned and wrung inside out. Sometimes I like to be too social. I have a hard time saying no. I overschedule myself, because I feel like I can do it all. Usually I can fit everything in, but sometimes I fall short. And I hate falling short.
I've been raised to perfection. Taught to be perfect. From the time I was able to walk, I've been combed through, braided into something that knew all the right things to say, do, and feel. Programmed. Critiqued. Judged. Found worthy. Or not. I've failed. Many times. As I said before, I'm not perfect. But I was taught how to be perfect.
Sometimes I see myself expecting perfection in myself. It's those days that last forever with unhappy thoughts. I don't compare myself to others. I used to. But I find that useless. We all have different strengths. Weaknesses. Mine are written all over my face. I have the hardest time remembering names. Facts that actually matter. I commit as much as I can to memory. But my memory card is only two gigs.
I like to be surprised. I am in a constant state of learning. From those around me. Fellow moms. Friends. Children. Especially children. There's something so simple about children. Pure. I think I've learned more about myself and those around me in the last two years than I learned my whole twenty seven years before. Children have a way of opening the eyes. Valleys form. Mountains open up. Tunnels carve their way through your heart. The mind is blown on a daily basis.
Sometimes I wonder how God does it. How does He send His precious spirit children that He created to us? We're imperfect. We make mistakes. We judge. Criticize. Expect perfection. We're prideful. Hateful. Mean. Outright stupid. Yet, somewhere, deep inside, there's something pure. Touched, no, created. Carved out of matter so precious, by the Hand of God.
Yet here, on this earth, we forget all that. We forget that the beautiful baby in our arms that keeps us up all hours of the night is the most precious gift. A gift directly from God. We forget that life is precious. We forget that as we grow, we become more marred by life and the direct hits of the blatant adversary. We forget who we are. Why we're here. What the meaning of this life is all about. We become caught up in a life that's temporary. We try to hold onto things that mean nothing. Possessions that only serve the natural man. Things that please for moments, but not eternally. We forget about our ancestors. The ones who made our lives possible. We forget about God and how He created this earth and everything on it. Everything. Including our homes. Our cars. Our smart phones. Sure, maybe someone's hands put it together, or some machine assembled it. But, where did it come from? The earth. Matter. Chemicals put together in a very distinct way to create.
Maybe that's why we humans enjoy creating things. Because it's what we're made to do. Create. To bring to life. To make things pleasing. Why do we mow our lawns? Wash our cars? Cut our hair? Brush our teeth? Put clothes on everyday?
I'm a very simple human being. I believe in God, our Eternal and Loving Heavenly Father. I believe in Christ, our Savior and Brother. I believe that They love and care about us. I know They do. I've seen Their hands in my life many times.
The neighbor who shares a screwdriver with me so we can fix a bike. The lady who brings me dinner after I've been sick or had a baby. I've seen it in the smile that my friend shares. In the kiss my husband shares with me as he walks through the door. In the hands that have lifted me up when I couldn't stand on my own. In the light that shines through my son's eyes. The conversation the stranger in the store has with me while we're waiting in line. The people who rush to help someone in need. I see it. Everywhere.
One of the hardest things I've had to endure is when my father passed away. It was like the solid rock I'd built my life on had been shattered. Crumbled. Changed in a way that my mind couldn't process. Shock is a strange and very real thing. Grief is as potent as a knife to the chest. One that's dull and tears the flesh, wringing it, until there's nothing left.
I'm surprised I didn't die from a broken heart. If I didn't have Ted, I probably would have. We were young. Only married a year. Barely knew each other. We didn't have the strongest foundation. It took a year for me to wrap my head around the fact that life had moved on. That it hadn't truly left me behind. The seasons changed. I didn't notice. Not until one day I woke up and didn't recognize the face in the mirror. I'd lost all sense of who I was. Lost a part of me so deep that I didn't feel like I could move on. I wanted to curl up and succumb. Life wasn't worth living. So I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Until there was nothing left to write. And the crazy thing is, I wrote about a character that was me. Broken. Bruised. Beaten on the inside. And I wrote about Ted. Sweet Ted. My hero. In every story. I can't help but put Ted into every sense of the hero. Because he is my hero.
He smiled. He held me. Picked up the pieces and put them back together when I was ready. I know there were days when he just wanted to fix me. Hit me on the head with a fix it hammer. I felt broken, but I wasn't really. Just needed time. And love. And reassurance. And friendship. And help. Help to find a way back into life.
He took my hand and slowly guided me back to life. I couldn't have done it without him. He saved me. He's still saving me. Because each day I wake up, I know he's by my side. He makes me want to do my best. To be a better person. To love him more each day. To appreciate the small things he does. To pick him up when he's down. Because it's the least that I can do for him. After all he's done for me. And I see God lifting him to new heights. And I want to be there too. Next to him.
So I try a little harder. Be a little better. Recognize God's hands in every day details that used to go unnoticed. I take time to listen to that small whisper. Intuition. Whatever you want to call it. Instead of getting in a big rush, I relax. Take my time. Listen to the promptings. And I've seen His hand guiding me. Lifting me. Using me to help others in ways I never knew I could.
I keep thinking that nothing is an accident. I know it's easy for me to say, because life is so good for me right now. It is. Truly. I'm overwhelmed with how many blessings I have. I can't say I've always felt that way. When bad things happen. Especially suddenly, it's hard to see through the pain. Hurt. Torment. But, when all that becomes unbearable, there's a silent strength that carries us. Some people think it's just going through the motions. Survival mode. Numbness. But I like to think that it's God's way of helping us deal with the pain we can't survive through on our own.
When people say that God only gives us what we can handle or live through, I laugh. It's not true. God gives us more than what we can handle. He's giving us opportunities to prove ourselves. Will we trust Him or curse Him? Will we rely on Him or give up on Him? We're here to be tested. Proved. We need to learn. Learning hurts. It stretches us. Make us who we are. The trials really do make us stronger. The mistakes we've made make us relatable and increase our capacity for empathy. They mold us into something more.
I'm not saying we should all go out and do things we know aren't good for us. Shoot, err on the good side. But we all make mistakes. We all fall short. He who is without sin, cast the first stone. Nobody can. We're not perfect. Thank heavens. If we were, why would we be here? We wouldn't. There'd be no purpose. I love how our imperfections and trials either move us closer or further away from God and Christ. They make us make a choice. What will we decide? What will we do?
Our thoughts shape our actions. Our actions become our habits. Our habits become our destiny. What's your destiny? What's my destiny? I don't know. But I want to know. I want to know that if I do all I can in this life to prepare to meet God someday, that I will. That I will stand face to face with him, like Moses, and know that I am worthy of that momentous occasion.
I know I will fall short. I know I will look away. I know I'm not nearly perfect enough to be in the presence of such a divine being. But I will do everything in my power to be ready and worthy for it. Because I know that it will happen. Someday. Maybe not now. Maybe not in this life. Maybe not until I've been dead for thousands of years, and the earth has changed into something completely different. But, I want to be ready for that judgment day. The day when God and Christ decide it's time to bring all their children home to be judged according to their hearts, wants, desires, thoughts, and actions.
I love the scripture about faith. Faith without works is dead. I try everyday to live my life like I should. As I said before, I know I fall short. Several times. I could always be more patient. Loving. Kind. Thoughtful. Helpful. Doing more to better those around me. I hope that as I continue down this path of life that I can somehow, somewhere, do a little better. Stretch a little more.
Moving to North Dakota has been a big change. A good change. One that I'd never want to take back. Not in a million years. It's taught me that some of the best things in life come at the hardest price. Humility. Submission. And diversity.
I've had a huge mind shift since moving here. People, in general, are nice. They are trying their best. They want to be good citizens. They know God and try to emulate His example in their words and deeds.
It's just that Satan only wants us to see the bad things in the world. He only wants us to dwell on the bad things. Haven't you ever noticed how something bad stays with you? It lingers. It doesn't go away unless you command it to go away. Make it go away. Put a very strong effort into it.
But the good things go right in the mind and right out the ear. Comes and goes so fast. We don't appreciate them. Not really. We take them for granted.
But it's the good things that we really need to hang onto. To cling to. To cherish. Those are the things that matter most. Once we start seeing the positive and not the negative, life becomes much easier. Accept the compliment. Accept the invitation. Share your talents. Your voice. Your opinion. Be nice. Be thoughtful. Help others. Say thank you. Follow Christ's example. After all, He is the perfect example. He even left us with a nice Bible, filled with stories and miracles in his life. He also left us with a second witness of Him, the Book of Mormon. What a huge blessing!
I've seen miracles. Experienced them in my own life. After paying tithing, all the bills get paid, even if the money isn't there, it'll appear. There have been many times when I've balanced my checkbook or checked my mint account, only to find that the numbers don't add up. That there's more money than there should be. It's also happened the opposite way...but that was my own error.
Or there's been times when I fed those in need, thinking I had only a small amount of food left, then went back and found my shelves full. They've never been bare. Never. And I use my food. I cook. And we eat. We share. And there's always more there. It's a miracle. One that I will always cherish.
When I donate my time to help those in need, more time is provided to do the things I need to get done.
You see, God is everywhere. He sees all things. He's omnipotent. He can do more than we'll ever be able to comprehend in this life.
I just can't wait to meet Him again someday. Just as I'm excited to see my earthly father again, to talk with him, reminisce with him, I have a feeling we'll all do the same with our Heavenly Father.
A parent's love is indescribable. At least it should be. I know all circumstances are different, but in my life, I've been blessed with amazing parents who emulate God's love for us.
I wish I could put into words how much love I have for my son. But I can't. It's just a feeling. Something rooted so deep that there's nothing in the world that could uproot it. I often say that my heart is walking around on the outside of my body. It is.
I've given pieces of my heart to my family. Friends. And most of all, God and Jesus Christ. I just hope that I can live up to my potential. Live up to what I'm expected to do here on this earth. I want to share my love with the world. Love is such a powerful and tangible thing. The love we share between each other is what makes the world a better place. As I look at people, I don't see strangers. I see fellow brothers, sisters, moms, dads, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, grandpas and grandmas, aunts and uncles.
Every single person around us is loved. Not only by someone here on this earth, but by someone in heaven. Lets remember that and treat each other a little better. It's okay to smile. To slow down. To not cut that person off in traffic. The hold the door open. To let someone pass you. To take the higher road and say I'm sorry. I'm wrong. I love you. You're special. You mean the world to me. You're my sunshine.
This is for you, Andy. For you, Grandpa and Grandma Hales. For you, Grandpa Hancock. For you, Uncle Bill and Brent. For you, Gracie LeMae. For you, everyone else that I've known or will come to know. And especially for you, Dad. I love you. I miss you. And I'm doing my best to do what I'm supposed to do here on this side. Please help me. In any way you can. As you know, I fall short. Help me to rise up. Through God's grace, all things are possible.