THIS IS LOVE

Rereading blogs like these is always incredibly embarrassing. In the instant the words leave my fingers, the sensation can only be described as relieving. A weight set down for a moment. Often times, the messages just come without a conscious thought. It is said that writers bleed onto the page, and I have found that to be true. This was me, bleeding on the page.

However, a few days later, one goes back to find that what was once freeing feels slightly overdramatic.

And yet, I can't drop the prompting that I need to share these in-depth looks into my very hyperbolic soul. Because, sometimes faith looks like this. Sometimes faith looks like holding on by the very last bit of something you have to cling to. Sometimes it is an active choice, one that the back of your mind tells you is a wrong one. Sometimes faith looks likes screaming and yelling and begging for understanding.

But it's still faith. God doesn't look at it as less than, or unworthy, or wrong. I can't count the number of times that has been my viewpoint on the subject, and if my words can do nothing but teach someone that such is not the case, I will feel proud of what is written below. It is raw and real, and it is faith.

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A few weeks ago, I discovered that my sweet Oakley had a sore on her foot.

Feeling like a horrible owner for not noticing her pain before, I began to apply medicine to the spot to try and help it along in the healing process.

Unfortunately, Oakley Anne did not see my actions as one of aid or concern. Or something that would help. Rather, she felt she could heal the wound all on her own, with just her saliva.

Despite her stubbornness and unearned confidence, I did not allow her to take care of things on her own. Chasing her down, cornering her in the kennel, or offering her a treat, I found a way to make sure my girl got the care she needed. And, within days, the sore was gone.

I know that I often compare my attitude and demeanor to Lulu, but this time around, I am Oakley Anne, 100%.

The next little bit of the blog post might be hard, and as of yet, there hasn't been a resolution. All we can do is have faith and hang on until the dawn breaks, praying the light it casts causes everything to make sense once more.

If I had to describe my mental state as of late, it would be...fragile. Frustrated. Lost. Confused. Hopeless. And above all, bitter. Just oh, so bitter.

The past few years have felt like a shipwreck, that is the only way I can accurately describe it.

The ship of my life has been overturned in a choppy sea, and I have been thrown out into the waves without a board or a life preserver or anything to grasp on to. With no aid around me, I am consistently fighting against the tide and current, and more often than not, I am tugged beneath the surface. On rare occasions, I am able to break through the barrier and receive a gasp of air, only to be dragged back below seconds later.

For what feels like ages, I have been stranded out there alone, with no one to help me. Not that others haven't tried to help. Those I love have tried to toss out flotation devices as they cruise by in their own ships. Ships that are just as battered as mine was, because they have been through just as much as I have, if not more. Yet, they can stay upright. And I cannot.

With hope and faith, they shout to me from the bow of their boat, "He loves you. He has a plan. Things will get better, I promise."

Through the salty water that drips into my eyes, against the wind that whips at my cheeks and hair, beneath the dark clouds that constantly cover my skies, I glare at them. Because those words sound like lies.

He loves me? He, loves me? This is love. This, right here, is love?

No. This can't be love. This hurts too much. This is too painful. This is too lonely. This is a trial that I didn't bring on myself. I did not take the actions that led to the circumstance. And yet, I am suffering. I am suffering beyond belief, and keeping my head above the waves of trial is becoming more and more difficult. I see no dawn on the horizon. I see no hope. I see no turn in the road.

Because, it hasn't come before. No matter how much I have prayed, fasted, read my scriptures, fulfilled my callings, served others, any of it, it has not relieved any of this. I am still stuck here, treading water by myself. And you want to tell me there is somehow love in this. In this?

I'm sorry, I don't believe you. I really, really don't.

But it's the only choice I have. Believing even when I don't is literally the only thing I have left to grasp onto. If I don't, I know the waves will get me.

Just like Oakley Anne, I am having trouble seeing how this burning pain could possibly be of aid to me. It hurts. It stings. It is aggravating. And no matter how much someone tells me it is for my good, I can't seem to see how that could possibly be.

But I'm choosing to do so. I'm choosing to believe in His love, even if I don't see it or believe it or have any hope in it right now. Just like Oakley, I have been made aware of that love before. I have witnessed when He cares for me through others, have felt Him sit beside me when I am struggling, have felt His pride when I do something exciting or make a good choice.

At some point, I knew this was love. And even though it doesn't feel that way now, I have to trust it. I have to trust that He is chasing me down, cornering me, offering me a treat or a moment of reprieve, and that when he rubs what feels like salt in the wound, it will ultimately be for my good. He is doing it out of love, not out of anger or irritation or unrighteous justice.

I have to believe that. I have to believe that the chase and the care and the times I can gasp for breath are evidences of the truth.

I have to trust that this is love.