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Sometimes I get caught up in the darkness.
I whine and complain and get lost in all of the Bad Things.
I was alright until this afternoon, and then I just got swallowed up and couldn’t even see anything.
Storms were raging and clouds were boiling and thunder and lightning.
And I think my heartache from writing about Joy caught up with me. And then my heartache for the time I wish I could have back with my other children started swelling.
And I kept trying to take deep breaths and think of things one at a time.
But that didn’t work. And then I worried that I was going to forget Important Things, because post-spinal meningitis/stroke/brain damage, I forget things so very easily.
And then I cried about that, too.
And then I worried that I would forget to remember that I forget things.
I was a whirling dervish. A discouraged whirling dervish.
I just didn’t like spinal meningitis today at all. I wanted it to disappear. I wanted it to never be a part of my life. And, as I called to make an appointment with my neurologist, I wanted to yell at the receptionist:
I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to have to call you. I don’t want a neurologist. I don’t want this. Please, can I just make a call to a travel agent and go to Bali instead?
Yes, I would take myself and my children to Bali, because I tell you–they are my loves. They are my happy thought. They are everything to me.
I love them fiercely and forever and that love hurt today because I kept thinking that I was the most horrific failure of a mother on the planet today because I can’t remember things.
Because I can’t always walk. Because my “gait” is still ugly.
Because I am limited in certain abilities and it frustrates me.
And I feel like I have failed in my vocation–my Holy Calling–you know?
It’s like if Mother Teresa one day just had decided to take a year off.
It just isn’t natural for me to be so bad at this.
Anyway, I thought a lot about all of those feelings and I got mad at my husband for no other reason than I was mad at myself (he is away on business right now), and I just wanted to get the ugly out of me, only I should have just said a prayer instead.
But no, I yelled at him like Bilbo growled at Frodo when he showed him the ring at Rivendell. (I won’t show you the video, because it is too terrifying and it’s late and I don’t want to give you nightmares.)
I was Bilbo.
And I felt lousy, and then I remembered that the darkness, it goes away.
There is the morning.
And with that, a fresh perspective. A new lease on life. A freeing feeling that even if yesterday was a failure, tomorrow can be brilliant. Or even just good. Or even just better than today.
And that is when I am most grateful for Jesus Christ.
When I pour my stormy heart and soul out to Him, and He helps me see. And He calms the storm and gives me a new heart full of light.
Christ’s Atonement makes the dark go away–He brings the morning with healing and balm and forgiveness and hope. He does that even on the darkest nights.
Through the power of the Atonement, Christ vanquished darkness and insured that for all of us, there will always be another dawn to try again and feel better and see truth and go forward with faith.
And, tomorrow I can try to be the person I wish I would have been today, because of Him.
Why dost thou weep?
What is thy longing?
Why art thou cast down and turned from the light?
Lift up your eyes,
Look for the morning,
Wait, for the darkness is only the night!
And sing Gloria.
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