Three months.
That's how long it's been since I last wrote on here. Well...three months and one day.
I have a lot on my mind right now. Several different things are toying with my brain and with my heart. Because of the public nature of this blog, I'm choosing to keep the details to myself. It's not that I don't want to talk about them - I do. Just...not here. Besides, they aren't the main purpose of this post anyways. Their mention is merely a preface written to explain just how the following came to pass.
As I was sitting in church today, I began to contemplate the things troubling me. Testimonies were spoken of God's love for us - testimonies I felt I needed to hear. Now this shouldn't be terribly surprising. I've learned that Sacrament Meeting is a place where coincidence is commonplace. I imagine God's thought process as follows: "Oh, you have something on your mind? I shall inspire someone to speak of it."
What did surprise me was a certain memory that came back to my mind - an old mission story of mine. I guarantee that you have never heard it. I myself had forgotten it. I didn't even write it down. And I certainly haven't told it. Why? Because this is not a story of great moral or physical strength. It is not a story of boldness or courage. It is a simple story of human weakness and the need for reassurance, especially divine reassurance.
I was a new missionary. How new, I cannot remember. I had not yet gained the courage to be bold and speak openly. I was still shy - even more so than I am now. Each door was a challenge and at that point forming a coherent sentence was a small personal victory. I still missed my family and my friends. They were the only tangible support structure I ever had and they were no longer a constant in my life. It was a bond I had not yet developed with my fellow missionaries. This went on for some time and I struggled to keep it from showing. One night, after my mission companion had fallen asleep, I broke down.
I cried.
Through my tears, I spoke to my Father in a barely audible whisper. I couldn't just think it. I needed to say it. I told Him of my struggles, my challenges, my fears. I told Him of how pathetic I thought it was that I had to consider coherent sentences a victory in order to keep going. And when I had run out of things to say, I posed the simple question "Who am I? Why am I here?"
Then He spoke to me and my soul burned as the Spirit flooded my very being. The words were simple. The delivery was divine. "You are my son. You are here to do my work. Now go. I will be with you."
And He was with me.
Now why did the Lord remind me of this? Because once again I feel the weight of the world in a way that I have not felt in a long time and, while I do not feel the urge to cry, I do feel the need for divine reassurance. A need which was answered with a reminder of a time when my Father told me exactly who I was to Him. I am a son of God - the very same God who is the source of inspiration for all things related to family and love.
With that said, I could still use someone to talk to.
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