The last few months have been filled with some devastating difficulty. Drifting apart from friends I never thought I would lose, watching other family and friends struggle with heavy challenges and sickness and then last month receiving news that my health is still far away from where I would like it to be. I didn't realize how these things were slowly chipping away and the surety I had in how my Savior and Heavenly Father feel about me.
My breaking moment came sitting in the doctors office last month, detailing the excruciating pain I was experiencing, the lack of energy and the disappointment in my body which was still not performing properly. I was frustrated to be dependent on bio-identical hormones, supplements and time consuming every-day tasks just to keep me from ending up in the hospital every few weeks and frustrated that even with all the work I was putting in, it was only just barely keeping me afloat. Even today as I write this, I'm missing yet another day of work because my body is at war with itself. I broke down and cried, "It's like God doesn't even care what happens to me!"
It's interesting the way the adversary perfectly plans these attacks on our faith. I'm not very good at making friends. I'm too shy and too introverted and I have a hard time trusting that others really want to even be my friend. I was already feeling so worthless and down because of the distance between me and my close friends and then when my health took a turn for the worst, it broke me. I have worked so hard to know the character of my Father in Heaven and His goodness and love that the adversary couldn't say anything bad about Him to me. So instead he attacked me with who I am to my Father in Heaven. I had made too many mistakes in life for Him to want to bless me. I wasn't trusted enough to bring one of His children into this world. My life and my dreams and my wants and desires didn't matter to Him, I'd lost my chance at happiness. My husband deserved someone better. If He would have married someone else he would have the chance to be a father. Over and over and over these and similar thoughts rolled through my head pulling me deeper into darkness and further from the peace of the Spirit.
The hardest part was that I did everything right during this time. I prayed, I cried, I fasted, I went to the temple, I took the sacrament, I read my scriptures, I tried to help others, I asked for blessings, I worked and tried not to let myself slip into depression. Peace completely eluded me and solidified the negative voices in me saying that Heavenly Father didn't care about me and I was worthless. Depression, despondency, discouragement and despair have been my constant companions.
I want to share two experiences which spurred me to write this post today. First, my beautiful, wonderful Muslim angel Zainab. This incredible woman is old enough to be my mom, and yet she feels more like a sister to me. A kindred spirit. The day I broke down at the doctor's office I happened to run into her at my work. She could tell something wasn't right and when I told her I received bad news about my health she started to cry with me. We don't know each other outside of running into each other at my office. We've talked occasionally about her religion of Muslim, my religion of LDS and the shared lineage of Abraham's sons we both come from. We've said before that even though the world sees us as different, the Father's of our faiths make us sisters. She hugged me and kissed both my cheeks and told me to remember "insha'Allah" which is Arabic for "God willing or we are in God's hands". I know from our conversations that this statement is the ultimate expression of faith for her. She told me her story of escaping from her country with just the clothes their backs. Making it to America by God's grace. She concluded by saying again "insha'Allah", "my life is in God's hands." Two days later she brought me a gift. It was a small silver bowl, similar by slightly different from the one pictured above. This was found in her former home and secretly sent to her by family members back in her country. It was a family treasure. Inscribed on the inside were expressions of faith from the scriptures she loves. She explained this bowl was an expression of faith, that each day I was to fill it with water and drink it in faith that "God would fill me with His will and design for me." To be honest, I didn't know if I would do it. However, not wanting to offend my friend or this gift she had given me, I decided that each day I drank the water I would offer up a prayer of gratitude for my friend and the ray of light she has been in my life even with such different backgrounds. It helps me remember each day that there is good.
The second experience was solidified this morning. Over the last few weeks as I've struggled, different thoughts and teachings would come to my mind. I grasped on to these and tried to use them as a life preserver, but each time, the depression would swallow me again and I would lose sight of the truth. This morning a quote from a book I read a long time ago was brought to my mind.
"If affliction calls into question our friendship with God, then affliction is an opportunity to answer that question with faith. It is easy to say 'yes' to discipleship in well-lit chapels and in good health. But, as in getting married, the first yes launches a long relationship filled with opportunities to say yes again. We repeatedly confirm our loyalty until there can be no question. The second yes, confirming the first, is not usually spoken in words. But however spoken, the demanding language of loyalty makes clear what and whom we love."
The spirit whispered through the darkness, this was my time. This was my chance to challenge the lies of the adversary with my loyal discipleship. It was my time to say yes again to my covenants, to my faith, and to my Father in Heaven. No, this yes was certainly not spoken in a well-lit, spirit filled chapel. It was ripped from my heart with gut-wrenching cries. It was pulled from my soul with all the agony hell could send. It was whispered in the dark when I couldn't see the light anymore and I couldn't feel the sweet assurance that He was there. But the eternal part in me cries YES! Yes, I will continue to fight the adversary. For truly when I am weak, my God is able to show forth His mighty strength. Yes, I will trust in the promises He has given that one day there will be no more tears and all losses will be compensated for. Yes, I will fight this world, for I am not of this world. I am of the eternities.
Throughout the scriptures, righteous men and women have followed their first yes with many many more. Moses said yes in the light of the burning bush, but echoed that yes through the 40 years in the wilderness. Samuel's mother said yes in the light of the temple when she covenanted that her son would be given to the Lord if she could just bring him to this world and she echoed that yes when she turned her little boy over to be raised by the priest Eli. But above all, our Savior's first yes was spoken in the light of heaven, "here am I, send me", and never has a second yes echoed as loudly as His when he cried, "nevertheless, not my will, but thine" in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Nothing about my circumstance or situation changed. And I don't know if it will. But I do know I can change. I refuse to give place any more to the "enemy of my soul". I will not let him tempt me to say no any longer.
"God accepts the early yes, the one that gets things started. But the latter yes, uttered in discomfort, is the convincing one. Our second yes and the ones that follow will stand forever as monuments to our lives. Perhaps they are the only things we came here to say."
God is good. He is kind and loving and He delights to bless those who serve Him. Trust Him, for He is trustworthy. Love Him, for He is love. Honor Him for He is honorable. Above all cry to Him, for He is your Father and we are all "insha'Allah" in God's hands.
In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
All my love, Taryn
Ooh! I love this. The second YES! Thank you, Taryn!
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