This is my story

Special thanks to all my sisters who came out to hear me speak about personal revelation this last Saturday… As promised I will be putting my notes up here. I will start today with this story that I shared… it will all come up.. but remember it took me 6 months to get it all together… I hope to have it all up here way sooner than that… but here is todays:

I have learned to everything there is a time and season. A time to serve and A time to be served. But of course I never learn anything the easy way and so the Lord would take me to a low low low place. One where I was almost incapable of providing my basic needs.

 

I could enter a room and identify it was messy but I couldn’t go and pick up the sock on the floor or get the book. I physically couldn’t will myself to do it. It was overwhelming and impossible.  I knew it was abnormal but I found a coping mechanism. I would sweep everything into a pile in the middle of the room and then I could address each individual piece. I remember questioning my sanity as I would take my broom and collect everything into the middle of the room. I thought everything was just hanging by a thread.

I remember talking to God. “Father my mind is really all I have left. If you take that away from me it will be test over. I will be free from the trial of my faith. If you really need to take it. Then I will give it to you.”

I sincerely meant it. By this time I had discovered that life is easier when I submit and stop trying to tell God how my life should go and start trying to let Him guide me where he wants me to be.

“Thanks for the submission but this is not the path that I have for you. What I do need you to do is start asking for help. You are suffering alone and I have so many supports that you can use. “

“But I don’t want to ask for help. I am too embarrassed. I don’t want anyone else to know. If they truly knew then I wouldn’t have any worth.”

“Oh, my dear little child. You are of infinite worth to me. Don’t you remember I remind you every chance I get? It’s mentioned in almost every priesthood blessing, remember that day in your bathroom so long ago? Nothing has changed. You are mine and therefore you are marvelous to me. I need you like this “that the works of God should be made manifest in [you].”

“Okay, then I will start to ask. But I don’t even know who.”

“Your bishop is a safe place, so is your family… I will provide friends and leaders trust and I will lead. “

So I did. I had already shared my burden with my bishop. My visiting teachers were not a safe place to land and so I didn’t share with them. But I was moving wards and had learned that the more we share our burdens the easier they are to bare. Just like a physical box that you are trying to lift on your own. It’s tough and the weight can be crushing but as I ask someone else to take a corner and help me carry it sometimes I have to ask myself are you still lifting?

So when I moved to my new ward. I prayed to my Father in Heaven to give me two good visiting teachers and he did. I shared my burden right away. When the bishopbric came over to meet our family I told them exactly where we were. I said, “Bishop we could be divorced tomorrow or we might just make it but porn has entered into our family and we aren’t sure how this story ends. But we are hoping for the best.” I don’t think they were ready for quite that much honesty and they did look a little shocked but they were kind.

I told the relief society president. I told her if she needed me to share my story with anyone else struggling I am okay with that. I learned that the more people I had praying, and working for me the more successful we were going to be at fighting this. I decided to remove the shame right out of my story. Whether shame was there or not it was my story and I was living it. I guess I was a little like mother Eve saying. Satan, you are right. I did eat the fruit. But I wont cover my nakedness anymore with fig leaves. They don’t last, they aren’t comfortable and it’s too exhausting. Instead I will take this to my Savior. He will comfort me. He will clothes and comfort  me in skins of animals. Comfortable warmth paid for with a heavy sacrifice but one that he was willing to bare.

So ironically as I shared my wounds they began to heal. and I began to see how my story could change others. I began seeing how the truth shall make you free. The more comfortable I got in asking for help, the less I had to ask.

There are still times where life gets overwhelming and I start feeling a little stressed and I hear a voice say “just ask” and I fight it and say “No I am fine”

“Do we need to go back to the girl sweeping all the junk into the middle of the room?”

And I quickly get the point and quietly think who can I share this with that might ameliorate the problem or at least alleviate the stress. Often the answer is to get down on my knees and share it with the only One who can understand completely and fully the complexity and heartache of my problems.

I know that God is no respecter of persons and that he loves and care deeply for you and for me. I know that he wants us to help our fellow men. I know that as we do he heals and helps us and gives great meaning to our suffering. I am grateful for a Father who loves me enough to cut me down that he may build me back up in a way that I can be laden with fruit, that others may eat through my experiences too.

This is hard for me to write. There is a part of me that prays so hard that the Lord will use me in all my weakness to bring great things to pass… but I see the slowness of my speech. I feel the awkwardness of the words. I feel the distractions all around me and sometimes the heartache that comes in reliving these moments. But I am happy to get this down. I feel like the Lord really guides me in a way that keeps me choosing and growing but in ways that I never believed were possible.I mean look I am writing a blog and I never considered that in a million years.  I wish writing came easier to me and I could rattle out pages effortlessly .. but just like engraving my own plates I have to wrestle and fight for each word and paragraph. I just pray that through this struggle and sacrifice that you can feel the heart behind my words and know that I know of His love and belief in all of us, for we are His children.

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This is my story

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