I'm Tired

It's Finals Week, and after my William Blake project, my senior scrapbook, losing my French materials for the project I have to re-do, the Calculus final I don't have it in me to care about anymore, and participating in the great Mormon past-time (helping people move) all day Saturday, only to discover on Sunday morning that my adopted older brother (long story) was leaving for Marine Corp boot camp on Monday and he hadn't said anything to me about it; I have to admit, I'm tired.

I realize full well that my problems are inconsequential--that's actually part of why I find them so tiresome. To be so busy with so many things I find so tedious, when there are so many better uses for my time--I don't understand how people can possibly be content with this constant state of going nowhere. And I feel no satisfaction in any of it, because as soon as one crisis is handled and conquered, two more fall into my lap.

I thought about all of that this morning with the empty two hours I had in English, and I knew I needed to sort through what I was feeling before I attempted to do anything else. So after hacking at a few pages with poetry that got increasingly more cynical the longer I tried to write it, I finally pulled my book of Mormon out of my purse and opened it to a random page.

3 Nephi 8 was about the most destitute chapter I could have turned to. The first verse I saw began by describing darkness, and followed with the pleas of a damned, forsaken people that were trapped to their own iniquities. And of course, I had to give a dry laugh at what I felt was sarcasm from Heavenly Father; See? I can be depressing too. You know better than this.


But it still wasn't enough. I took out my MP3 player and tried to drown out my negativity. After a few songs, this talk from my first General Conference came on, and I finally felt the fog in my head began to lift.

Honestly, I don't know how I ever survived without having the kind of faith I do today, just knowing how I get sometimes with doubt, worry, and cynicism about myself and everything around me; just like Elder Perkins mentioned in his talk. But what should strike me even more--and it's finally starting to get through to me--is how foolish it is to continue trying to do everything on my own.

Sure, Heavenly Father gave me experiences that have taught me to be more self-reliant than most, but that doesn't mean my hands are capable of everything I put them through. That's why Jesus Christ has the nail prints in his hands and I don't.

So here's to enduring better than I have been lately--less sullenly, and with more optimism amongst my opposition so I'm less likely to miss opportunities to hear the guidance of the Spirit. Otherwise, Heavenly Father might just smack you with scary imagery from the Book of Mormon. Because if there's one certainty I've learned to trust, more than anything else, it's that He'll do whatever's necessary to make a point.

The Cast Party

The cast party for Children of Eden was over a week or so ago, the experience I had has stayed with me--especially since prom was this past Saturday, and I consider again the decision I made not to go.

The cast party was a blast. Even though I'm pretty much a wallflower at parties, I still had a good time feeding off of other people's energy and laughing at their antics. The food was great--but I suspect food always tastes better after a show. Two of our teachers were with us, and we tried to convince them to a Guitar Hero face off (without success), only to migrate upstairs for the biggest (and shortest) game of Cranium I've ever seen. With all of us going in a million different directions, it felt like being in the middle of a storm of falling stars; even my more reserved friends were glowing and ricocheting off of each other in ways I had never seen before. And I, a wallflower in full-bloom, sat beneath the technicolor rain in silent awe.


Especially when these stars began to dance--a giant, gyrating orgy of lights rubbing and kindling each other with with an intensity so fierce and free, they seemed untouchable.

And I admit, as I basked in their light, I wished--if only for a moment--to set myself ablaze and join the dance... never had a fall from grace seemed so graceful.

But I turned to see another girl standing to the side... not a wallflower like me and the small handful of others who could only watch. No, she was our Eve--both in Children of Eden, and in real life. These stars danced around her, but she held her place with poise and certainty.

"I have church tomorrow," she excused herself softly, speaking the silent thoughts of one particular wallflower who still--after all this time--needs a sun to turn to.

And like the sun, our Eve lifted her eyes and rose. A sunrise in a basement, a miracle I won't soon forget--and like a moth to a flame, I followed her up the stairs so I would not become a withered wallflower in darkness.

Even though the party continued late into the night, I left soon after I went upstairs. Our Eve had already illustrated to me the vulnerable nature of wallflowers--how sensitive they are to light--and the importance of being the sun to a garden of wallflowers in a basement when it really, truly matters.

I needed to go home and think about why I was a wallflower, and not a sun, when I know better.

And despite how much I've thought about this since it happened, I still do not have an answer.

But I do know that the metamorphisis from a wallflower to a blazing sun is just the kind of miracle Heavenly Father expects from me.


(P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I found this hilarious website: The Brick Testament. Have fun!)