Tuesday, December 5, 2017

On The Unknown


During different times of my life, the “unknown” has been hard for me. I like to have a plan for the future and be in control of what will happen next. Unknowns cause me to loose incentive because sometimes I feel like if I can’t plan for something that’s sure, there’s no point in moving toward it. A cancer diagnosis is like a wrecking ball to “known” futures. It’s like someone (quite literally) hands you a sheet of paper with a list of all the reasons why everything in your life is now unknown. Logically, if you were like me, this would be an incentive destroyer- an excitement extinguisher.

Last night I was rocking Cash to sleep, and I had this memory of what it felt like doing the same thing with Jax, or Jonah. With my other boys I sat with my baby, holding him with my healthy body- a healthy body that I could easily foresee functioning in the exact way I needed it to for my future- and I had this sense of premature loss. I was already missing the baby I held in my arms. Instead of soaking in my newborn, or nine-month old, or two-year-old, I was already devastated that life wouldn’t be like this forever- that within fifteen years, I wouldn’t have a baby to rock. I desperately wanted to freeze time and yearned for that fully-satisfied feeling; the feeling that I was getting everything I could, right there from that moment. Enough that in fifteen years, I wouldn’t look back a see it as a time that passed. I would see it as a time fully-lived. But I couldn’t feel that way, because I already knew what would come next. And thinking of my next was robbing me of my now.

The adversary has this clever way of manipulating thoughts. Planting perspectives so deep into our minds that we feel like they are just natural and right (and I guess they are natural- the natural man). But when we take a step back and think about them, they are the kinds of things we may want to take a second look at. For me one of those things is fear of the unknown. It seems natural and logical. Even undebatable. But why would I fear losing control of something I can’t control in the first place. That is where logic fails.    

As I sat in the dark last night holding my baby, I had this sense of enjoyment that was full. It was content. It wasn’t yearning, it wasn’t planning, and it wasn’t desperate. It was just full. It was still. It was peace. It was a feeling that this time in my life, this season I’m in, is being soaked up. Like drinking a milkshake and getting every last drop. You can’t enjoy a milkshake completely if you’re thinking about the next flavor you’re going to try. I was holding my baby and wondering why I could feel that now. Rationally, it seemed like it would be easier and definitely more enjoyable to feel that when my future felt more foreseeable. But that’s when I realized I’ve had a perspective change. And that change changed everything. I can enjoy what I have now because I don’t know what’s next. I can’t see what’s next. I can only see now. And the One in charge of the “next” is someone with a better plan than me.

I’ve always hated clichés. The one I hate the most is “everything happens for a reason.” Sometimes the way it's said just sounds like a nonchalant explanation for why a crappy thing is happening. In a worldly- “the universe is in control” sense, it’s very non-comforting. Its explanations are fluid and they conform and adapt to reiterate one phrase that just hangs in the air from nothing, in the first place. But on the contrary, in a spiritual sense- when we know that what happens in our lives is orchestrated by a loving Heavenly Father, it may be the only thing that brings peace. It is sure. It is unique. And it is designed.  Everything is part of His design for us to experience joy, peace, and progression on earth. Everything happens for that reason.

I love this quote by Ezra Taft Benson,

 “Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He can deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, and pour out peace.”

Not knowing the future allows us to fully live in the present. And trusting in Heavenly Father allows us to feel peace and excitement about what is to come. His plan is better. I’ve experienced each of the blessings described by President Benson at different times, more continuously when I make a conscious effort to realize them. Deepening joys has been an unexpected and extremely welcomed one. It’s contrary to our natural human instinct to feel deeper joy when the plan we have for ourselves seems unstable. But I realized that joy for things that are eternal- happiness for blessings that are heavenly, feels the most full and the most complete when heaven is the only constant destination in our foresight- the only sure “next” in our view. When our trust in Heavenly Father is complete, so is our fulfillment in our heavenly errands on earth; like rocking a baby to sleep.

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