The title of (well really, this whole post) is inspired by a devotional I went to last night. It was given by a well known LDS blogger named Al Fox Carraway, better known to some as the Tattooed Mormon. I think that title is a little cheap, considering she is SO much more. Her energy was refreshing, especially in the YSA world where we often get firesides from older men who, while being spiritually uplifting (MOST of the time...) are stiff, and fail to really capture your attention. She made excellent use of humor, and yet had moments of heartache and heartbreak in her story that translated onto the congregation in a palpable way I've never experienced before.
Their was one moment where she had us all close our eyes, and picture the Savior in front of us. And then, she said, He Smiles. The spirit was felt strongly, and the room was absolutely silent. My thoughts during this experiment were literally, "I have never heard it this quiet at a YSA fireside." Seriously, it just does not happen. There is always someone talking, or whispering, or making noise. But not this time. We were able to relate to her, and I think that's something we so often miss in the people we are taught by, and it was invigorating.
But I didn't write this post to review the fireside (5 stars, by the way. Hell, 100 stars.) I wrote this because of 2 specific moments in the fireside where I knew she was talking to ME. 2 moments where she received inspiration from on high to speak to my needs.
The first came as she described a situation wherein she was absolutely frustrated, and angry at God. Where she yelled at him. SO much so, in fact, that she lost her voice (probably a vocal fold hemorrhage, but that's not the point.) The point is, she was forced to listen. And that's when she heard what she needed to hear. I relate to that. It reminded me of my own conversion, where I would yell at Him. "I'm doing the work, I'm trying my best, why am I getting nothing? Where are you? Do you even care?" Obviously, writing this, and having done that whole mission thing, I got my answer. But it touched me.
The other is more relevant to me now. As she made her journey from New York to Utah, she stopped in Chicago to rest. She told us that while there, she sat on the ground, and was just emotional and physically drained. She thought, "Why? Why keep trying? I've done all I can... I have nothing left. I'm tired of trying."
That hit me. Hard.
Ever since coming home early from my mission, thinking my depression would get better (and it getting worse), I've had that thought so many times. Why? Why should I keep going, why should I keep trying? I've done everything I can, I have nothing left. I just want to be done.
I want to give up.
On this town.
On the gospel.
On life...
Life is hard. Granted, it was never meant to be easy. But why did it have to be this hard?
Then she said, "Never give up. Choose whom you follow, and follow Him."
I needed that. It was a reminder: was I truly following Him, or was I simply going through the motions? I can tell you, I've simply been going through the motions since I returned, with intermittent spots of true discipleship.
But no more.
I'm not giving up.
Not on this town, not on this gospel, and not on life.
I'm trying, I'm fighting, and I'm moving forward. I refuse to let lucifer win. I refuse to let the destroyer take my joy, take my freedom...
Take my life.
So here I am. On July 13th, 2015, I'm rededicating myself to Him.
And it won't be easy. I had to remind myself to read my scriptures first thing this morning. I had to choose to ignore the flashing blue light on my phone that holds the promise of online interactions. I had to refocus, many times, as I read to make sure I was paying attention, and actually studying, not just reading the scriptures. I had to force myself to close all other tabs on my browser, so I could write this uninterrupted, and ignore all the bloops and pops of social media calling me away.
But it's worth it. I remember that much. I remember when I would wake up at 6:30 to study everyday before school, and then at 6 so I would stop being late. I remember what it was like to go to the temple every week, sometimes 3-4 times a week from the day I was endowed to the day I left on my mission.
I remember what it was like to be happy. Truly, truly happy.
And it came not because the things of the world... but because of the presence of the Spirit. And I want that again. And I want to learn how to be like Al. I want to figure out how I can use my experiences, my weaknesses, and my imperfections to uplift, and inspire others. I want to learn how to be a tool in my Father's hands, to serve His children.
I want to turn my story into a story about not giving up.
And, if by some miracle (or, ya know, social media interaction) you ever read this Al, I want to thank you for your example. For your love for the gospel, and your love of the Father and the Savior. For your excitement, your enthusiasm, and your story. Thank you for reminding me who I am, and what I know to be true.
