From Weakness to Strength

**this is a quite informal post as it began as a Facebook post.**

The scriptures, both Bible and Book of Mormon, contain promises that God can/will turn our weaknesses into strengths if we turn to Him in humility and faith.

I decided to test God. I figured this was okay, since in Malachi chapter 3 He basically says "Try me and see...."

As my friends and family and anyone who has ever been in my presence know, I have a larger-than-life weakness of disorganization. I hate it. My brain is not organized and therefore my life is not organized. I have ADD as well as a sorta-phobia of schedules and lists (like the idea of them makes me almost hyperventilate), and organization is just not my BFF. It's basically my worst enemy. I have tried MANY things to combat this weakness on my own. I have tried lists and schedules- both electronic and paper, reminders in my phones, self reward systems, therapy, medication, etc. Nothing helped, ever. I figured I will always be this way, and my life will always be extremely difficult because of it. But, as I said, I recently decided to test God on His promise.

I approached Him in faith and willingness to accept His will. If He wants me to suffer this weakness till I die, fine. I will. I went to Him with my weakness and basically said, "Father, this disorganization weakness is a real life-detractor. I disappoint people by forgetting. My house is a mess. I lose things all the time. It affects my parenting because my weakness prevents me from being consistent. You promised to turn weaknesses into strengths if we come to You in faith. Here I am. Please help me. If it's Thy will, turn this weakness into a strength." And I have been so praying for the past few months.

And, well, over the past few months, I have NOT become organized. But I can testify that I AM *becoming* organized. And it is blowing my mind, my friends, it is blowing my mind. I have made charts and calendars and goals. I fail them daily but I succeed daily also.

The biggest, hugest, most remarkable change is that charts and schedules and lists don't scare me anymore. As I write that, I become a little weepy because it's a HUGE change! Our good Father, who is a God of miracles and a God of consistency who keeps His word, has shown me, little by little, that I have the ability to create and maintain structure. He has shown me, little by little, that I can try and fail and try again, and every time I try again, I get a little closer to my ultimate goal of organization. Things that seemed so impossible and terrifying before, now actually seem doable to me. I feel like I can. I can become an organized person. I would have never said that 3 months ago, but I can say it now because I truly, deeply believe it. I can become organized, because God can turn this weakness into a strength. And I think He will, because I know He is.

I am not organized. Compared to mankind's normal capacity for organization, I am not even close. But compared to 3 months ago, I'm basically Martha Stewart! God is giving me the motivation I need to maintain the schedules and ideas He is helping me create and begin. This is such an enormous miracle. Maybe it's one that only I can understand and appreciate, because at this point, my new-found organization skills are not really visible to anyone but myself. However, keep watching, friends. Keep watching, and you will see me become organized. And you will be amazed.

What does this have to do with addiction, you may ask? Well, what doesn't it have to do with addiction? Is not addiction weakness? I know we may have some of our weaknesses till we die. Elder Jorg Klebingat said “Acknowledge and face your weaknesses, but don't be immobilized by them, because some of them will be your companions until you depart this earth life.” But that doesn't mean that God won't help us with even those. I don't know if I'm going to be an addict for the rest of my life, I really don't. I wish I could say that I know God will heal me of this weakness. And-- I really do know that He will-- eventually. In this life? Maybe. But if I am not healed of addiction before I die, I am promised, as are you, that we will be provided a way to make it through. Jesus bore already the weight of our burdens, and when we let Him carry it, when we yoke with Him, we can make it through anything.

Some of my favorite verses of scripture are found in Mosiah 24:

 13 And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.

 14 And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

 15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens
with ease,and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

I love it because it's a dose of reality. It's like, hey, you know what, you may still have these rotten circumstances to live in (the people referred to in the above verses are essentially slaves), but as a result of your gratitude and faith, I'll make your circumstances feel less burdensome. They're still there, and it's still rough, but I'll make it so easy you can bear up your burdens with ease. Trust me. I don't always take the circumstance away, but I will always reward your faith and prayers. 

And so I go. I go forward knowing that if I'm an addict till I die, God will help me as carry the weight of addiction as long as I trust Him. I go forward knowing that if it's His will for me to become organized (and I feel that it is), then, according to my faith and work, I will become organized. 

It's a beautiful thing to have so much access to so much Truth.

(you guys, I don't know how this font changed color and size, and I don't know how to fix it.)

It's Not About the Performance

I am a musician. Well, I guess that depends on how you define "musician," but I am a musician by my definition. :) And I participate in several music events a year, wherein I practice and then either play the piano in front of people, or sing in front of people. Some people would call this a performance, and sometimes it is.

As a director of a choir that sings at our local prisons for their LDS Christmas and Easter church services, I always tell my choir that it's less important that we "perform" than that we invite the Spirit. I tell them it's less about how we sound than it is about our testimonies. I don't want to discourage practice or effort, of course, but it's important to me that my choir not get hung up on performance and, essentially, perfection. I don't want them to feel bad if they miss a note, because the Choir's purpose is not about flawless execution.

It's about the journey. It's about authenticity. It's about connecting to our brothers and sisters in the prisons and bringing them messages of hope and love, not messages of musical flawlessness. It's about mutual growth; it's about baring our souls and sharing our faith. It's about service and sacrifice. (This is not to say we don't sing well. We are a quite talented group, if I do say so myself.) And, honestly, for being a total perfectionist myself, the Prison Choir (as we affectionately call it) is one thing that, for whatever reason, doesn't demand my perfection in my view. It's one of few (indeed, I can think of nothing else) of my endeavors for which I don't demand perfection in order to not be a failure. I am able to forgive myself for my mistakes during the practice season and for the mistakes I make at the prisons, because, somehow, God successfully gets it into my head, every year, that it's not about me. And, for reals, the dear offenders just don't care if we miss a note; they're genuinely grateful we're simply there.

Because... It's not about the performance.

I have seen addiction recovery as being totally recovered, like, not even having a desire to sin and use dangerous methods of coping. Like, recovery isn't recovery until recovery is complete. And that the journey from active addiction to constant sobriety is something that is a means to an end, and basically a sin in itself for as long as complete, eternal sobriety is not attained. So every slip is a huge setback and a huge disappointment, because it indicates that recovery has not been reached. And recovery seemed to be the ultimate and only worthy goal. Essentially, in my mind, total recovery was the performance; the perfect, flawless, rigid performance.

So yesterday was Thursday which means it was the night of my PASG meeting. I didn't want to go. I felt I had nothing to contribute, so why go? But I felt compelled to attend anyway, as I usually do, and I went, as I usually do. And it was seriously an amazing meeting for me. While I had little to contribute, I had much to learn, and learn I did. Many things. The Spirit was strongly whispering to my heart beautiful truths about me and my relationship to God.

And then, toward the end of the meeting, someone said, about addiction recovery, "if it takes a lifetime, that's okay." Sometimes when I hear stuff like that, I get discouraged. A lifetime? Will I be fighting this, slipping, hoping, failing, crying forever? I just can't handle the idea of fighting this till I die! But, yesterday, "if it takes a lifetime to recover, that's okay" sounded like comfort. It sounded like hope. It sounded like grace. It sounded like this quote by Elder Bruce R McConkie:

. . . everyone in the Church who is on the straight and narrow path, who is striving and struggling and desiring to do what is right, though is far from perfect in this life; if he passes out of this life while he’s on the straight and narrow, he’s going to go on to eternal reward in his Father’s kingdom. – “The Probationary Test of Mortality,” January 10, 1982

"It's okay if it takes a lifetime" sounded like "be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself." Instantly, my choir came to my mind and how I focus more on the Spirit than on our performance. And it hit me- just like my choir isn't about the performance, neither likewise is addiction recovery about the performance.

You guys, It's not about the performance!
 It's about the process.

It's not about 100% success. It's not about completion. It's not about finishing addiction recovery because, honestly and truly, it may not ever be finished. Some people have depression their entire lives. Some people have diabetes their entire lives. Some people have Down's Syndrome their entire lives, or any given illness or disorder their whole dang lives, and sometimes, illness-- even psychological/emotional illness-- is lifelong, and that's okay, because it's not about the performance. Sometimes people have the disease of addiction their whole dang lives. It's about living life to the best of our abilities with what we have and what we know, to the fullest of our faith and hope. It's about learning the music as we go and sharing it, perfect or not, with those around us. It's about connection, faith, growth, and inviting the Spirit into our lives. Just like my choir, it's not about perfection; flawlessness. It's about finding joy and truth. It's about the process.

When my choir leaves the prisons, the inmates aren't going to hold in their hearts the memory of missed notes or forgotten lyrics. They will hold in their hearts the memory of our testimonies, of the Spirit invited by sweet, sacred music, of the messages of hope. They will hold in their hearts that we showed up, with something prepared, just for them.

And, also, not to compare God to an offender, but He also isn't as concerned about our execution as He is about the fact that we're here, that we prepare and try and work, that we allow the Spirit in our lives to guide us. If we slip or relapse- miss a note- well, that's just not as important as that we keep singing.

And if I don't "recover" tomorrow, it's okay. If I'm not "recovered" next year, it's still okay! Because . . . say it with me . . . it's not about the performance. 

I'm so inexplicably grateful for the Addiction Recovery Program. I'm profoundly, inexplicably grateful for my Savior and my Brother and my Friend, Jesus Christ, who patiently teaches me my worth, and stands ever before me with His arms open to scoop me in and keep me safe. Oh, how sweet is His grace. How sweet is His love.

When I Try to be my Own Jesus

So much for writing daily! oh well.

Through my several years of addiction recovery, I have learned many important lessons. Many of these lessons have been engraved in my heart, never to be forgotten. Many of them reside in my heart most of the time. There is one, however, that repeats itself over and over again. It is crippling! Not that lesson, of course, but that I haven't learned it yet.

I am not Jesus!

How often I try to be my own Jesus. When I look back on my most recent slips, there are a few common themes: Stress, fear, and a desire to, and a belief that I can, save myself. 

I come to believe that I am powerful enough to overcome my hardships alone. I come to believe that I can rely on my own self to make it through moments of temptation. I come to believe that I am in charge. I got this. I did this. I'm doing this. It's my job.

I put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders when I get that way. No wonder I get stressed!

I have written about this before, once in 2012 and once last year. I hope I really learn it soon.

Some ways that I try to take Jesus's power away from Him are:

Beating myself up. When I abuse myself emotionally, especially following a slip, it's because I feel like I "deserve" to be punished. Well, that's not my job to decide! My job is to get up, repent, and move forward. When I take the reigns of punishment, I take Jesus's job. The chastisement of my peace is upon Him. Not me. He tells us to repent. He doesn't tell us to destroy ourselves with unkindness. When I beat myself up, and try to tell myself how I'm supposed to feel, I am not able to sincerely repent anyway. I can't feel godly sorrow when I'm making up my own version of sorrow.

Ignoring the Spirit. The day I slipped last, almost two weeks ago, was the day that I was going to go to the temple. I knew I needed to go. I knew, even, that I was supposed to go. I had planned to go that day for a week or so, but that day came and I was tired and I wanted to sleep in. I said to myself, "I'll go Thursday instead." and a teeny, tiny but perceptible voice warned me "you might slip before then" and I said, "Please. I can make it two days. I know I can. Of course I can!" and then the voice nudged me. And I nudged it back. "I got this." I can't say that I would have avoided the slip had I attended the temple. But, as my bishop kindly but firmly reminded me today, I would have been strengthened. I would have been strengthened by obedience to the Spirit, and by the sweet spirit and peace I would have experienced in the temple. And maybe it would have been strength sufficient to offer awareness of what was really coming at me Tuesday night, and I could have fought it.

Slacking in the Little Things. When I put off reading the scriptures, attending the temple, having FHE; when I don't prepare for my calling, pray with sincerity, have family scriptures; when I avoid Visiting Teaching because I don't really love it-- when I slack off in these easy but monumentally important things, I am essentially telling God, "I don't need You." "I can do this on my own."

I got this.

It's strange to me how readily and easily I reject being saved. When I surrender, and when I give myself to my Father, that's when I feel amazing. That's when I am confident, and powerful, and capable, and secure, and happy. There is nowhere warmer or safer than in the arms of Jesus. Why am I so easily distracted from that sweet security by things of the world? I need to amp up my faith. My bishop reminded me today that if I have faith, I will be given strength, and I can have the Priesthood power to make it through any time temptation or trial.

Why should I insist on saving myself when I have Jesus?

I pray that Heavenly Father will teach me to truly learn this lesson. I know that if I don't, I will continue to struggle, continue to slip. The moment I depend on myself is the moment I, mockingly, step away from my Savior, and if I continue on that self reliant path, I will slip again. I'm a little scared about that because I know myself. I know I will cease to trust God and once again put my trust in myself. I hope and pray that I catch it in time to avoid the pit that awaits me.

I feel like beyond this great wall of pride is a freedom I've never known.

When I look back on my months-long period of doubt, I see so much humanism! So much self-reliance! (there is a very good kind of self-reliance, and a very damaging kind of self-reliance.) This is a serious problem and I really, really think I need help overcoming it.

Oh, happy Easter, Friends. This is the commemoration of the most important, sacred, holy day in all of history! Jesus is risen! He lives, He is my Savior- not me. He earned that title- not me. And because He rose from the grave after the darkest nights of the world, we can also rise from our trials and sins into triumph and glory and eternal life! What a beautiful day. How I love my Jesus!

Your Faith Will Make the Morning Come

Just a song that I dig so much, especially now. This man is truly talented!

Don't cry, don't cry though hope seems gone.
Don't cry, This battle still can be won
And all these tears, that blind and cloud your days..
Will fall to the ground, your bitter fears will fade away.
Hold on, until the journey's end.
Hold on, this broken heart too will mend
Reach out, I'll come and take your hand
One day, Your darkest seas will lead to promised land.
Hold on, let it pass you by ;
Hold on don't quit, you've got the angels by your side
Your heart is strong enough to see this battle won
Your faith will make the morning come.
Don't cry, I'll see this journey through
Don't cry, I'll cross through storms to find you
And carry you home, to never go away...
To rest from the storm, and find a joy that passes healing to the pain.
Hold on, let it pass you by ;
Hold on don't quit, you've got the angels by your side
Your heart is strong enough to see this battle won
Your faith will make the morning come.
Your faith will bring the rising sun.

Our God is a Fourth-Watch God

Life is somethin' else, isn't it?

Do you ever feel like Life sometimes starts beating the crap out of you for no apparent reason? Blow after blow after blow, Life throws at you. And it gives you no warning, really. There you are, walking along with Life, and the path is a little rocky, but things are mostly okay. But then, suddenly, BOOM! A fast fist to the face. And another, and another, and a kick to the gut. You're trying to stay upright during this beating, but you fall to the ground and then you're trying to catch your breath, but Life's like, NO WAY! You don't get to breathe! and then Life stomps your face in. And you're like, I wanna die. I'm lying here trying to breathe. I'm bleeding everywhere, and I can't find a place on my body that isn't hurting. Life has betrayed me, and I wanna die. And then, sometimes, it seems for a moment that Life is easing up. You think you can get up if you can just open your swollen eyes. Finally you blink open your eyes just in time to see a seagull above you as it flies away after dropping its feces, which now blankets your bloodied, beaten face. Like frosting of acid over cupcakes of carrion. And the bird poop on its own wouldn't be so bad, but after you've been beaten to scraps, it feels like Hell. Have you ever experienced something like that?

That's been my life over the past few months. Blow after blow after blow. These thoughts have been common:
Why can't things go smoothly, just for one day? 
Will this ever end?
I am sure I can't take any more of this.
Where is God? Is He even listening?
It's not fair!
I need Marsha!
Nobody understands.
I hate my life (and that is a very unusual thought to enter my head).
I want to give up.

God has finally eased some of my burdens. However, the lifting of some burdens have caused a seesaw effect, and some different burdens have become even heavier. But, my perspective is a little clearer.

It was really hard there for a while. And, already, I'm looking back with the understanding that it really didn't last that long. When you're in it, though, and you cannot see the end, it feels like forever. I feel like I'm still in the sea in the storm, but at least I'm floating, on a raft, even. I'm breathing. I can see hints of dawn on the horizon.

I attended a local mid-singles fireside on Sunday evening. The speaker talked about trials and the one thing he said that really stuck out to me was "our God is a fourth-watch God." I really let that play out in my head. I have noticed this myself. I have noticed that when I am in my trials, and it feels like God isn't there, it also feels like He doesn't really come in for the rescue until just before the moment of surrender to hopelessness. It always feels like Heavenly Father waits till the second before ultimate disaster to intervene. And, sometimes, He doesn't intervene at all, and ultimate disaster becomes reality. That's when you go on past the 4th watch and it's STILL dark. Time for dawn has come and gone without the sun. That's another post for another day, however.

I'm grateful to report that I'm at the tail end of my fourth watch. My Savior has come and rescued me, again, from drowning. Miracles and tender mercies have been my companions, even in the black, turbulent sea. The rescue raft was always on its way even though I couldn't see it until it had reached me.

Anyway, I have noticed in my own life, that the end of the 4th watch is often when I can finally see the possibility of light. I have also noticed that, for every new, great trial, each watch is longer than it was in the last great trial. Each storm is more terrifying than the last one. Each rescue raft begins farther from me than the last time. Each dawn, however, is brighter than the last one.

Through the last few months, I noticed I was drawing from the strength I gained from previous trials. Remember, that last trial ended? This one will, too.
Remember how I wished I'd relied more on the Savior last time? I'll rely on Him more this time.
Remember how Heavenly Father was really with me the entire time, and I just couldn't see Him because I was too close to the pain? He's here now, as He was then.
Remember how He didn't abandon me even when I thought He did? He will not abandon me now!

So I would take a deep breath, brush off the dust and blood and bird poop, and face the dark storm.

Sure enough, there was my God in the fourth watch. I thought the 1st watch was the fourth watch, frankly! It was so hard even then!

Today, I found this talk by S. Michael Wilcox, and in it, the following paragraphs:

There are times in our lives when we toil, rowing against the wind. We are trying to make progress and sometimes it seems that there are forces that are against us. There may be some great blessing that we deeply desire. There may be some trial that we want deeply to be over. And it doesn’t seem like we are making any headway against the wind. We wonder if the Lord is listening. Now we need to understand something about our Father in Heaven, and that is that He is a fourth watch God.
The Hebrew night was divided into four watches. The first watch—six o’clock at night to nine [p.m.], second watch—nine to midnight, third watch—midnight to three in the morning, fourth watch—three in the morning to sunrise.  Sometimes that creates a bit of a problem for us, certainly for me. I worship a fourth watch God. One who tends to feel that it is good to let His children toil in rowing against the wind to face a little opposition. My problem is that I am a first watch person. Now there is something inside of me that understands that it is good for me to toil in rowing against the wind. But certainly by the second watch He would come. And when the second watch has passed and He still has not come. Sometimes I forget that as Mark says, He is watching. He watched them toiling and rowing.
I began to make some assumptions that are often dangerous to make—maybe you make the same. We begin to assume that, number one, He is not there. That is why He’s not responding. And then we calm down and understand that He is there; He is always there. Then the second assumption is if He is there, He must not be listening. And then again, in calmer times—He always listens. Well then the third assumption is He must not care. No—He’s there, He listens, He cares. Maybe the most dangerous assumption, the fourth assumption is I must not be worthy. Now that fourth assumption we are probably correct on. But when has that ever stopped Him from responding; we are as worthy as we can be. We must assume that we have not yet reached the fourth watch; and He is a fourth watch God.
The scriptures are full of fourth watch stories: Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove—“At the very moment I was ready to sink into despair” (JSH 1:16). Do you ever feel that way? “Just at this moment of great alarm, I saw a pillar of light” (JSH 1:16). It was when the widow of Zarephath was gathering two sticks to make a final meal for her and her son that Elijah came walking through the gate to save them from the famine (1 Kings 17). It was when the water was spent in the bottle and Hagar had placed Ishmael under a tree because she did not want to see his death, that the angel came to say, Hagar, what aileth thee? and showed her a source of water (Genesis 21:17).
We worship a fourth watch God. So when the trials aren’t over and the blessings don’t come, don’t assume that He is not there, or He is not listening, or He doesn’t care, or you’re not worthy. Always assume you have not yet reached the fourth watch.

God is a kind and ever-merciful 4th watch God. I know there is wisdom to the winds He allows. I know I will be wiser and stronger at the end of this trial. I am grateful for it! I am grateful for the miracles I have seen during it. It's interesting because our trials are really customized to fit us. I know that my trials would scarcely be trials for some others. At the same time, some others would be literally unable to bear what I have born. I have heard that quote that says something like if we could dump our trials in a big community bucket and choose whichever trials we wanted, we'd take back our own trials. I really believe that! I'll take what I have, thanks. You keep your health issues, I don't want them. You keep your nightmare of a childhood to manage, I don't want it. I'll keep my divorce, I'll keep my single parenthood. I'll keep my loneliness. I'll keep my past with an emotionally abusive, adulterating husband. I'll keep my seemingly endless poverty. I'll keep my ADHD, and my son's Asperger's. I'll keep my addictions. You keep your loss of loved ones, your isolation from family, your homelessness (I've been homeless, actually! But I'm not now.) I'll keep all my trials, thank you very much. I like them better than yours.

And I'm so grateful that dawn is coming, and that He never stopped watching me during it all.