On Friendship, and Preparation

Proverbs 27:9 Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend by hearty counsel.

I'm not a friendly person. I take that back. I'm sufficiently friendly. I'm even nice. I'm just not all that personable. I have one good friend, and I'm happy with that. I love her with all my heart, and she is there for me. But . . . she doesn't know about this. It's embarrassing, you know. I've never been the social type. I don't enjoy the journey of making friends. And so, I have very few. The bad thing about that is, I don't have a lot of people to talk to about important things. I'm learning that friendship is important. Relationships are vital. And I'm missing out.

Though I wouldn't delegate him a friend in the way we think of most friends, the above verse applies at this time to a mostly-stranger, but someone who is, because of his "hearty counsel," a dear friend. Here's something he told me today, something that applies to each of you who are reading or ever will read this blog: "You are a choice [child] of God, as such, you are worth so much more than this world has to offer in the ways of joy and happiness, sullied or pure."

He's right. I am worth more than the world's pitiful offerings. I'm God's daughter. Even in the depths, in the rusted chains, of sin, I have great worth. If I could just see that all the time, perhaps, as this friend suggested in a comment, I wouldn't feel the need to treat myself like a worthless particle by participating in vile, destructive behavior.

It's hard to see that worth though, when, as a child, I was shunned by my peers. When, as a child, my feelings were meaningless to my parents, as was evident to me, the child, when I was promptly scolded simply for crying. It's hard to see that worth when, as a youth, only some emotions were ok. Like when someone died, I could be sad. But, even then, I scarcely dared cry in the presence of my parents, or siblings- not for fear of how they'd react, but for fear of how they wouldn't react. I remember at my grandpa's funeral, I was 18, and I was shattered. All my tears had to be so private. And I remember as my cousin passed my grandfather's dead body, she had a public little meltdown. And I was so embarrassed and afraid for her, but then her mom, my aunt, scooped her into her breast and whispered compassionately in her ear, and I was so jealous that it was okay for her to feel however she felt. I've never had the compassionate arm of a parent wrapped around me.

But, that was childhood. I should be over that. Then I got married. And when I cried, he yelled. Or laughed. Or simply ignored. So I stopped crying. Even my best friend aforementioned has never seen me cry. And I'm a girl! :)

I have never been allowed to feel. My feelings have never counted. Never mattered. And so, yeah, it's hard to see that worth in me.

I intended for this to be a short post. Haha. Guess I had more to say than I thought.

And so, friendship is hard to come by; I've been trained all these years to hide and ignore my own emotions. But now I see how much I'm missing. If I had the encouragement of friends, close friends, I could beat this. I mean, I will anyway, with or without, but thanks to the hearty counsel of this commenter, I am learning how sweet it is to have someone rooting for you, someone who's not mocking me for feeling. Friend, I thank you.

And on Preparation:
I'm like the Lamanites in Alma 58. There were tons of 'em. They outnumbered the Nephites by a lot. They wanted to overtake some cities and kill some Nephites and they thought they had this one in the bag. The Nephite warriors were starving. The government had not been keeping up on provisions. So, not only were they fewer in number than the Lamanites, they were also weak. The Lamanites had all the food they could possibly need. So the Nephite leaders prayed. And they were assured that the Lord would, yet again, deliver them. They tricked the Lamanites and defeated them. Twice, really. The first time, the Lamanites were like, mah, it's a fluke. We'll get 'em tomorrow. But they were tricked again.

The Lamanites weren't prepared. They assumed that it would be an easy win. Easy. They assumed that they were ok. They didn't prepare, because a lion doesn't have to prepare to defeat a mouse, you know? The Nephites, on the other hand, despite their glaringly obvious disadvantage, prepared for war. They knew they were severely outnumbered. They knew the Lamanites had strength and energy from food. Yet, they prepared, as if they could be saved, regardless of the unlikelihood, nay, the very impossibility, of such a victory.

I hated these boring war stories in the Book of Mormon till this year.

I want to be the Nephites. I want to go against my enemy and his legions as if I can. I want to go against the sin in my face, with all its power, against all my weakness, as if I can conquer it. I want to prepare for this war as if I can win it. Because I can, I already know I can. It's just that I doubt it every so often, because I don't always remember that I'm worth the fight it will take to get me through, to get me past the overwhelming odds against me.

But I'm tired of being the Lamanites, who don't prepare because they think they're good enough, who don't rely on the Lord because they think they're good enough.

I just now saw that contradiction. I do forget to rely on the Lord because I start to believe I'm ok. At the same time, I rarely believe I'm good enough.

Yeah, I don't get it either. Anyway. I'm still pretty put out about this last incident. It was worse than usual, much worse. I slapped my Savior across the face with this one. Here's hoping it was that "rock bottom" where people turn around for good.