Does that sound vague? Cliche? Something you've heard before? Oh well if it does.
I am eighteen years old and I know what I am going to do with my life. This may sound like a plan--but I can assure you it is just the opposite.
I don't do well with plans. I like them far too much. I like knowing exactly what order I'll put the groceries in the bags before they make it to their vessels. I like times and dates and places merely for the purpose of subsiding silly nerves and anxieties that may arrive. But in truth, I much prefer to call upon nature right when she is least expecting me--I'm just a sucker for surprise visits, I guess. I kind of revel in unplanned escapades and new adventures everyday, despite "popular" belief. Spontaneity is truly a gift we can only chase after and never really wait for in the mail.
That being said, I am anything but immune to fear and uncertainty and scrutinizing things to a fault.
I've cried about my future. I've tossed pillows in my sleep over it many a times. My knees are bruised from kneeling in ardent prayer to Father and I confess I was never expecting to hear His Divine voice so clearly as I did in reply.
Let me be very clear when I say: I heard my Heavenly Father's voice only four days ago.
I asked Him a question.
He answered.
But first, let me back up.
Sixteen days ago I graduated from high school. I wore the tacky cap. I was drowned in a hand-me-down gown. The tassel successfully moved from left to right (or was it right to left?). All in all, with my two-piece dress--with pockets--and astonishingly perfect floral heels, my name was read and my diploma somehow made it home and has been dusting on my small bookshelf ever since. Now it may be beginning to sound like I don't like graduation ceremonies and if that is the cause then you my friend are entirely correct.
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| "We did it!" |
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| My lovely, lovely twin. |
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| Rach, Mad-dawg, Jench, Kierst |
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| Twins |
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| Sisters |
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| - Graduation 2015 - |
Hm. What an interesting day.
I love traditions. I really, unequivocally love traditions. My friend, Katy and I were talking about this just this morning and I'm convinced by the end of me telling her all the wild ideas I have for traditions in my future family, she's thinks I'm a lunatic. But I find traditions binding and powerful in the influence of identity, not just within a child, but all of us. Traditions make. Traditions build. I love traditions.
I understand, therefore I endured.But honestly.
A square cap? An unflattering gown? And a three hour ceremony without filmscore music?
That's just murder.
That is lunacy.
Strangely fun? Perhaps.
But the people? The accomplishment? The last hoorah? Lovely. Lovely. Lovely.
But I'm getting off track here.
The point is, I am moving on with my life.
Though I am still very young, I am not a kid anymore. Nor can I act like one. To me, when you are "grown up" and you still act the same you did as you were not, it's almost an insult to modern nature. It's cruel to be apart of a world and bring absolutely nothing to it. Don't you think? Modern nature deserves something from all of us because I believe every single creature has something to bring and that something matters. It's crucial. Vital. To have a something is like having a secret--you don't always understand why you are keeping it inside you, but the moment you release it great things begin to happen, whether that is good or bad.
But I wasn't feeling that. In fact, after graduation I began to feel...worried, and confused more than anything. I felt as though my entire life was at a crossroad. But the issue was I couldn't read the signs supposedly telling me where I should go. I was scared.
Then something happened.
I was presented a book.
A very, very good book.
Then again, most books are.
But this book was different. (Hint: it was most definitely a something.)
The greatest part about it? I didn't even ask for this book--it literally landed in my hands from my dear friend Katy without me asking for it or even voicing the struggle I was currently in.
This book changed my life.
Right in the moment of the trying, and failing, to decipher the ambiguous signs, my prayers began to be answered. There were three prayers, too.
First: The prayer of Question
Second: The prayer of Confusion
Last: The prayer of Peace
And I shall explain them to you, dear reader.
On the first prayer, I have little to say only an experience very quaint, but reverent to share. It goes like this: There is a girl with long auburn hair that once did not know what she was to do with her one "wild and precious life". However she never gave this much thought until a day, as she remembers it as a Tuesday, her uncertainty changed. With her hair slashing water down her back and her small knees kissing the bathroom floor, she bravely asked her dear Father, in a moment not to be tucked away into a drawer for another day, what He would have her do. And to her deep surprise, an immediate answer came. It was but one word: Oregon.
What?
She did not understand.
But she also did understand.
She thought of her book, how the girl within it also did not understand, but did all at once. Then it hit the girl with the auburn hair what exactly was happening. Her calling, as most refer to it, that was what was happening. My calling. The very thing we mustn't run from but too often we do.
"Oregon?"
And she said it again.
"Oregon."
And again to be sure.
"Oregon."
She wasn't sure.
"Oregon."
But somehow she was.
The second prayer did not come until a few days of contemplation. Of course I told my mother of the answer to my prayer and I explained to her that while I didn't understand much of why or when or what about my answer, there was one thing I was certain about: My Father listened to me and He answered. Of that I am certain.
But Satan also cares.
He cares only about destroying my answer, distracting me along the path I must now pave and creating doubt I do not want, nor need. But he cares deeply about those things and that means a lot.
He's so very tricky.
But not enough for me. Though I felt fear, though I prayed and contemplated and felt more confused than ever before in my young life, I always knew it was him. That old serpent trying to deceive me.
You see he delights in doing that. Whenever something good happens or you finally feel as though you know what you must do he loves to slide into your bedroom and while you are sleeping peacefully in the dreams you are yet to have come true, he slides beneath your pillows and knocks them to the floor! He wakes you in your slumberous planning and distracts you with fears and signs and fear all leading anyway but where you are destined to be.
Fear.
The only thing we create that destroys by default.
We can create anger and sadness, worry and disgust. But, if they are left unattended they will shrivel away and die.
We can make joy and laughter and love and with small, but good effort wondrous things will grow.
Fear is the only thing we create that destroys by default.
I admit I was afraid.
So much so, I didn't know what else to do and so I began to pray in my heart fervently as I painted a board of inspiration for my new calling.
Tears came.
Trembling fear never left my heart.
Words of comfort didn't seem enough.
Only thoughts of money and living and loneliness plagued my heart.
I listened to guiding Conference Talks and tried to distract myself. (Ironically, each talk I heard seemed to be tailored to helping my fears.)
I was confused.
But somewhere in my confusion there was a prayer. I remembered my book, but I also remembered a calm Comforter that was sent to help me in situations just like this. The Holy Ghost knew my turmoil and He wouldn't allow any more of it for a time. So He let me paint.
I painted my dreams, I painted my plans and my ideas!
I felt free.
I fell asleep peaceful that night.
The last prayer I gave came two days later, my prayer of Peace. It began when I was searching online for apartments in Corvallis Oregon, as I'm most likely moving there. Scroll after scroll, everything seemed too wrong for what I was searching for. Then I heard a small noise behind me. A trickle of sorts...it sounded like...like...rain.
Could it be?
Indeed it was.
Swiftly I ran to the backdoor and swung it open to the delectable element falling from the sky!
Oh it was so beautiful!
Yet it was so much more than that. It was an answer to a prayer I did not even know I was asking.
It was the very essence of Oregon--the rain, my backyard, the entire weather that week was just so. How could I ever deny such a sign from my Father? Truly I couldn't!
Some how I did...
But the moment I opened that door, I asked if this was right for the last time and sank to my knees in humility the second a rolling wave of thunder from my Father in Heaven came in reply.
Roll after roll, they vanquished every doubt.
I know it is what I a meant to do even if I do not understand all of it now.
I have trust because, after all, that is all faith is. Trust.
It's only trust from here on out--just so.
- k.p.b.
June 23, 2015
Tuesday
10:39PM
