Nothing

Nothing can dim the light which shines from within. - Maya Angelou

I recently went outside my comfort zone and made a three-hour commitment at church to be with my son during his priesthood ordination. My hesitations about having him ordained by Ben on a Sunday morning at our church on the first day of March all were abruptly silenced by three words, “I need this.” You see, my friend, words and music offer me refuge. With hope spreading like my grandma’s arms, I feel understood and un-alone in that space. I knew that hearing men and women speak their truths would be like an I.V. of pure goodness flowing straight into my blood stream. Sure enough, the experiences and revelations these kind people shared from a pulpit, pride tossed to the side, made me laugh out loud, and cry unashamedly. But when I went to Relief Society and the teacher was asked what advice she’d give people trying to be the best parent, person, or human being they could be, I became completely still. Ruth said, “Find something that fills you up and then do it.” During a painfully low point in her life Sister Johnson followed an intense urge to sit at her easel and draw for hours and hours. She realized that sound, that smell, and that feeling was vital to her ability to thrive. She knew that she needed to sit by her canvas' edge once a week and so that is what she did … that is what she does. “Find beauty that is just for you … find beauty that will fill you up,” she encouraged. 

Much to my dismay, the lesson came to an end. I began to stand up when someone tapped me on my shoulder. “Excuse me, I wanted to tell you what a difference you made in my life when I was a teacher in primary.” Behind me was this beautiful woman I had not seen for five months —and she had tears falling from her eyes. “I did?” I asked as I held out my arms. She nodded, and for several glorious moments we just held on to each other. As I hugged this sister who didn’t feel like a stranger, I thought to myself: I need this. My friends and I ended up talking for quite some time. I felt an instant ease in their presence as though I could just be me—no hiding, no explaining, no apologies—just me. With them, the laughter and truths came easy. We were delighted to discover that we all feel fairly close to one another. 

I had just texted my friend Sharon before the lesson ended. "You have no idea how much I needed that." We made a plan to go ride our bikes for Little Red—my version of “Filling Up” that Ruth spoke about just a few minutes prior. On our second round of texting, my old friend felt compelled to tell me why she cried when she got my text. She explained that she had not had the kind of day at church that I described. Then she used the word soviet in a way I’d never heard before. “I don't even try to endure relief soviet here!,” she said. It was a typo from auto-correct but after she sent it she realized and said that it is kind of soviet here in her new ward. She said she would love to come listen to a guest speaker with me later this month for the 173rd annual relief society celebration. 

Love as a verb … as an action … as a gift we can give ourselves sounded so powerful … and so hopeful.

We are all worthy of love, acceptance, kindness, respect and encouragement. But even if no one says those words to you now...or ever...I can say them, you can say them. To yourself. I am forty-two years old and I have ownership of that little voice inside me. I started by saying these empowering words a few years ago:   

• I am worthy
• I am a good person
• I am enough
• I am strong   

I wrote them on sticky notes and placed them on my mirror or inside my school folder. I will keep repeating these soul-building words to my boys until they become their inner voice. "Can we come to church every week now that you don't work on Sundays at the hospital?" Markus asked truly seeking. "The bishop didn't know I had been going with dad and he got mad at me at my priesthood interview." As I promised my son we would come here anytime, celebratory tears filled his eyes. Only love today, sweet Markus. I immediately thought of Morgen, my bright and courageous nineteen-year-old son. He told me that his greatest day was when he received the priesthood and I asked him about his feelings, thoughts, interests and opinions. When I treated him like a human being. He said just this week, that some people comment on his weight, grades, hobbies and short haircut and he realized that was not the way he wanted to treat other people and that he felt like he was coming out of a grave. All at once, Ruth's advice, my friend's admission, and my encouragement to Markus came together to form a tangible ray of hope that I felt. That I needed to feel. Nothing...nothing can take away the light from within. Our divine nature as human beings, or sons and daughters of God.

No matter the degree of emptiness we feel, we can be filled. 

No matter the extent of brokenness we see, we can build. 

No matter the weight of the burden we carry, we can move forward. 

No matter the level of condemnation we face, we can rise above. 

We can be the answer to someone's prayer. And to our own. It is not too late for us. It is not too late for our children, or too early. It's the perfect time to fill the longings of your worthy soul...and possibly inspire others along the way. We were only two minutes after his ordination when Markus exclaimed, "I love this day!" He stretched his hands toward the sky as if trying to collect sunbeams in the sleeves of his white shirt. He's learning how to fill himself. He is learning what soothes his soul. He's learning what he needs to thrive. There have been many things I have wanted to give my boys, and knowing how to love and be loved in return is one of them. Now it makes so much sense. 

Let me take you to church. 

Let me take you to running streams. 

Let me walk with you, beside you, not in front of you. 

Let me play this beautiful song for you. 

Let me fill your ears with soulful words like: Did you know that I love you? 

Let me pray for you. 

Let me bring you hot soup when you are sick. 

Let me tell you how incredible you are in a note you can read again and again. 

Let me sit beside you in your fire - you don't have to talk. 

Let me take time to read the pages of this really good book.

Let me visit this blog where I find hope and understanding. 

Let me cry --- I don't have to be strong all the time.

Let me encourage myself...who I am for real.