Did You Think to Pray?

The last week has been a gathering storm full of blackening skies and threatening winds. The consequences of my foibles have boomeranged back to me in various ways and seemed to outweigh anything I might have to offer in compensation. Yesterday was so intensely dark, it was physically hard to breathe.

Felicitously, Chris and I had a counseling session last night and light broke through to displace the gloom. Of the many things we discussed, our counselor suggested we include a daily mutual meditative ritual to help us get in sync whenever we settle in together at the end of the day, or in other words, that we pray together.

I used to pray on a regular, regimented basis. I would have been one of those Athenians Paul addressed when he told them that in all things they were too superstitious. Religiosity pervaded my life, draining the vitality from spiritually-centering rituals, and I struggled to find my spiritual self. Many potentially helpful acts were abandoned. The counselor’s suggestion last night was the equivalent of reminding me I needed a spiritual V-8. Cautious hope stirred.

This morning, before I left to go running, Chris and I knelt down to pray. The sweet relief that flooded my soul from our simple prayer was immediate and profound, soothing my life-scalded consciousness like sweet salve. Tranquility distilled upon the both of us and, in that moment, concerns we expressed last night lost their urgency. As this day progresses, peace centers my soul and forgiveness for myself and others lightens my heart. Amazing grace, indeed.

“Ere you left your room this morning, did you think to pray?” queries a hymn from my youth. “In the name of Christ, our Savior, did you sue for loving favor as a shield today?...

When your heart was filled with anger, did you think to pray? Did you plead for grace, my brother, that you might forgive another who had crossed your way?...

When sore trials came upon you, did you think to pray? When your soul was full of sorrow, Balm of Gilead did you borrow at the gates of day?

Oh, how praying rests the weary! Prayer will change the night to day. So when life gets dark and dreary, don’t forget to pray.”

Day of the Dead was Yesterday!

You're a day late. Ghosts are supposed to be back in their graves by now. Your voice on the phone is untimely. Why is it that every single freakin' time I hear your voice my being responds like it's been hit with an electric charge? It takes me hours to calm back down and forget again.

Yet, you are never gone. You color everything - my thoughts, my decisions, my feelings. I was reborn through you and then you left me to fend for myself. There are times now that I want to see you again and say and do all the things I had repressed in the hopes of getting you back. I wonder if you would still haunt me like you do if I had gone ahead and purged you like everyone told me to. It's only in moments like these that I become aware of how bitter I am. I chose not to hate you so my soul wouldn't be cankered with your betrayal but the feelings are still there regardless of my ignorance.

Go away now. Sleep now. Leave me with my hollow peace.

Blue Light Special

My first official relationship was really rocky. He pulled me out of the closet kicking and screaming, thinking I'd be grateful for the liberation he offered me. As he began to realize I wasn't going to give him what he wanted, he started saying things to me, trying to break me open - trying to break me, period. At one point, he called me 'damaged merchandise.' It was the first time I'd heard that expression, and the truth of it stung.

Like most of us walking around Battlefield Earth, I am indeed damaged, a screaming Kmart blue light special. This damage has left only pieces of me that are functional; I rarely function as a whole unit, especially when pushed to full throttle. I'm entertaining at times, but ultimately frustrating or deeply disappointing. Buyer beware!

The Lightning Scar

I have decided you are Voldemort and I am Harry Potter. Whenever I'm near you, the scar you left on my heart burns and I lose all composure. I can't think, my heart races, adrenaline courses through my body, and I start to sweat. I stammer and say stupid things. I'm incredibly self conscious and feel myself shrink in the estimation of your gaze.

It's been six years. I thought I was healed, and I am in a way. Love is all around me. I'm so lucky...so blessed...to have such amazing people to travel through life with. Especially Chris, who's so devoted, so loving. Yet, the memory of what I thought you and I had is buried inside me like a bullet, a shard, a splinter that works its way to the surface, pulled by your magnetism,  irritating everything in its course.

It's probably good you and I are no longer together. I would have done anything to please you, gone to any lengths to satisfy you. You were all that mattered. Family, friends, interests, commitments were all expendable when it came to you. It's good you left before I could complete the things I was doing to move everyone and everything out of the way for you. Had it gone on longer, there's no telling who and what I would have lost.

So, until the next time our paths cross, you enjoy whatever it is that puts that smug grin on your face. I'll go back to appreciating what I have and try to forget...again.

Pride and Proposals

The last two nights have been monumental for me. Saturday, February 14, I asked the love of my life to marry me and he said yes. Sunday, February 15, I told my family I was engaged. Because of their staunch LDS faith, this led to a discussion between my father and me about where this choice was taking me. It was a sincere, respectful conversation that left me in awe and gratitude at the amazing man I have been given for a father. (The rest of my family is pretty amazing, too.)

In the course of the discussion, my dad brought up the power of the teachings in Alma 5 in the Book of Mormon. I have to admit here that my views of the Book of Mormon have been dim as of late. I have been considering viewpoints that cast doubts on its provenance and its authenticity. Is it really the word of God?

This morning, since Presidents Lincoln and Washington allowed me a paid shift off from the library, I took a look at Alma 5. My father was right. Those words pack a wallop, and it’s because they’re true. They are true regardless of whether the Lamanites and Nephites really walked the American continent. They are true because of their powerful call to follow Christ. I am humbled by the words of Alma and, though my relationship with it might be a little different than it was before, I will not discount The Book of Mormon again.

This testimony isn’t the main reason I’m writing, however. I want to share what I found in Alma’s words and how I feel they relate to my current situation. The people that Alma was preaching to in the city of Zarahemla were descendants of the refugees from Noah’s kingdom. Wicked, fat King Noah (thank you, Arnold Freiburg) ruled his domain with the help of his priests who led the people to invest their hearts in riches and shallow relationships (“spending their strength with harlots” is how it’s phrased in the book). This allowed Noah to maintain his power and wealth. As long as the people didn’t turn to true religion, they supported his very lucrative form of idolatry. Enter Abinadai, whose powerful preaching converted one of King Noah’s priests, Alma, who in turn converted many others whose children and grandchildren eventually ended up in the city of Zarahemla.

Apparently, these children and grandchildren were falling into some of the ways of their forefathers because Alma’s son, Alma the Younger, hereafter referred to as Alma, felt the need to call the people to repentance. What were they guilty of? Verses 53 – 56 say they were “puffed up in the pride of [their] hearts” and persisted “in the wearing of costly apparel,” “setting [their] hearts upon the vain things of the world, upon [their] riches.” This pride led them to “persist in supposing that [they were] better than one another” and “in the persecution of [their] bretheren” who were humble and trying to follow Christ. These prideful people turned their backs upon the poor and needy, withholding their resources from those around them. Does any of this sound familiar? Isn’t this going on all around us right now?

So, it seems that Alma’s main concern was to get the people to swallow their pride and start caring about each other again. He wanted them to look past the blinding influence of materialism and heed the future Christ’s call to love one another as He loves us. (In regards to the harlotry in King Noah’s time, lest anyone accuse me of ‘slut shaming,’ this means we need to seek deeper relationships with those around us. It’s not so much about the casual sex as it is the fact that we’ve just treated someone like a Kleenex, which is so NOT how Christ loves people. It IS how we treat each other when we think we're better than them.)

For me, Alma’s words mean I need to stop spending so much money on entertaining myself, especially since I own more than I can ever watch or listen to. I need to support the Idaho Food Bank and stop ignoring the homeless man on the corner. I need to make sure I treat everyone with whom I come in contact as a child of God, loving them as purely as I am able. As far as Chris and I are concerned, Alma doesn’t really have much to say because as I told Chris Saturday night when I proposed, he teaches me to love every day.