image by gail pomare
The days are getting darker. I don’t even consciously think about her, but it’s quite apparent that my body and brain and soul are inextricably connected to Amelia Lynn.
I keep getting a voice in my head. It’s gentle, but firm: stop listening to your fears and begin to trust in the Lord. I often ponder on Elder Holland’s talk this past April, about first affirming your faith, to “hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes.” I’ve taken the first step in squashing those fears by seeking for blessings and mercies given unto me; essentially affirming the good that I already know. I’m writing them down, I’m pondering them deep in my broken heart. I’m hoping all that is bright and delightful and good will radiate from within me and further heal my soul.
He also tells us it’s okay to ask for help. How fortunate I am that God can - and will – send help from both sides of the veil to strengthen my belief. This, undoubtedly, is why I’ve felt her so close lately.
We are interwoven, she and I, and this flustered mortal brain of mine can’t seem to make sense of it all. As we approach the year mark this next week, I seek for rest. I seek a deeper, perpetual relief from the burdens that weigh heavy on my mind, a relief from the anxieties that plague my soul of all that could go wrong.
I almost forget what it’s like to be light and free, to have one’s path unobscured and unhindered by anxiety. It must be nice to not know. It must be nice to have your eyes unopened to the dangers and afflictions, to think once again that the world is a forgiving place. I know it’s possible for things to be good and whole and right again. So today, Lord, I believe; please help thou mine unbelief.