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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