A personal note

Not too long ago I woke up happy every day. I was grateful to be alive, happy for the chance of a new and brighter future. I was excited (or at least positive) about my work and my progress. I was grateful for my wife (whom I loved) and our children (whom we adored). 

I felt loved, too. On top of that, I belonged to a church filled with friends and "family" I had known nearly all of my life. We strengthened each other. I had "community" and "fellowship" and "friendship" with them. My life had purpose and meaning.

I was profoundly grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I woke my wife and children early each day and read the scriptures with them before I left for work. We talked about God. We prayed. We had a big family hug afterward. That was our tradition. That was our ritual. That was what I looked forward to most. At night we'd do it again! And our lives were richly blessed.

Oh, we had our struggles! I faced tremendous temptations and trials and challenges at work and at home. My work (as a teacher) was very difficult. I had an "important" job to do. I saw this world as a great battle between light and darkness, good and evil, right and wrong. My "job" was to overcome evil and improve myself each day (helping my family and others to do likewise). I was on the Lord's side and errand and He had my back. He equipped me with EVERYTHING I needed to be happy. 

And I was. Terribly.

Unto whom or what can I liken my happiness?

I met a man in the Bahamas (when I served in the military). He had a "salt farm". His job was to let in the ocean water (at high tide), filling a large, flat, shallow pool, then close the gate again. As the ocean water evaporated, salt crystals formed. Those crystals -- some as big as golf balls! -- were then gathered and processed. 

This man was "poor" by U.S. standards. He lived in a shack with his wife and children. I visited his "house". It was built on stilts. You could see the ocean through the floorboards! (You wouldn't want to drop your wedding ring in that living room!) As the man tried to open his "front door" -- just a plank, really, secured by a loop of rope -- the "door" hit something. Looking inside, the man discovered his 2-year-old son, asleep on the floor. (A human door stop!) The boy had drifted off right there, waiting for his dad to come home. Our "poor" host offered to make us, his guests -- perfect strangers, really! -- sandwiches for lunch.

I thought to myself: "THIS is the RICHEST man in the world! He has a house to call his own, an "important" job to do, clothes and food sufficient, a wife and children who love him, whom he can love in return. He has EVERYTHING he wants and needs!"

I went home from that visit, determined to gather this man's "wealth" in my own life. It took me nearly 30 years. In time, I had a house. (Or two!) An "important" job. I was married to a beautiful wife and had seven wonderful children with her to call our own, to love and adore!

I had EVERYTHING! (Or so I thought.) My heart was full! My cup overflowed!

Then I lost it all. 

My job. (Even my career!) My religious affiliation. My home. My wife. My children. 

Oh, you can still find them out there, somewhere. Someone else now has my job. Someone else will have my wife. My children still walk around. (They just don't love or care about me anymore. I might as well be dead to them.) The church still stands on the corner where I helped build it, attended by all my former friends (who demanded that I leave them). 

I might as well be dead to them, too.

That really would make it all better, wouldn't it? I pray for death. (Doesn't someone have cancer out there, who needs to trade his health for mine?)

Please, God, please! Can I just die and not have to suffer this loss?

While somewhat older now, I'm still in terribly good shape (physically). Death, it seems, for now at least -- though certainly preferable to me -- is not my lot. Why did I come here? I didn't come here to die. I came here to live! To face new challenges! To exercise my faith in Christ! To keep His commandments (or strive to learn to do so), to overcome this world! 

Here I am...to become like Jesus.

I can't do that if I "wimp out" and cheat life and pray for death! Or do nothing. I can't bury my talent.

Jesus said "Let this cup pass from me." He wasn't begging to die! He was pleading to live! 

His Father had something else in store for Him, however. Jesus knew that. (And believed!) That's why He willingly submitted to His Father's will. He loved His Father! He trusted His Father. Even unto death.

And I trust mine. (Plus I love Jesus.)

I don't like this cup that's been handed to me. I HATE IT! I don't want to drink it! I want my "old" life back! I want my loves! My wife and children! I want my family and prayer and scripture study and hug time again! I want my house, my job and my religion!

But it's all gone now. And I don't see ANY of that coming back anytime soon. Not in this life. 

I've lost it all. And I only have myself to blame. If I were different. If I hadn't made certain mistakes. If I hadn't taken risks. If I hadn't been tempted. If I hadn't been who I am. If I didn't know better. If I'd made other choices. If I hadn't "rocked the boat." If I hadn't "jumped ship"!

So now what? Now what do I do?

I don't know. I honestly don't know.

I just have to keep living and somehow find meaning from the broken shards of my broken life. I have to figure out how to love those who don't love me anymore and bless those who now curse me. I must do good to those who hate me and pray for those who now despitefully use me and persecute me. 

It's not easy. Sometimes -- a lot of times! -- I just want to lash out and fight back, not turn the other cheek or bow down under this heavy load which, from all appearances, seems destined to crush and destroy me. I have lost everything I ever wanted or loved in this world. So now what? What do I do? What do I have left to live for?

I don't know. I have many tools and a marvelous "car" to get me almost anywhere else I want or need to go, to do almost anything else! But my "car" has been flung into an ocean of sorrows and now rests at the bottom of the sea. What good is a car, even filled with tools, at the bottom of the sea?

I've been pierced with many wounds. A barbed arrowhead now lies near my heart! It pains me terribly, but I can't pull it out! Anything I do only makes it worse! Sadly, it appears the only way I can get this arrow out is by pushing it all the way through! (I don't want that! But what other choice do I have?)

I'm not coming out of this alive. I'm going to be a bloody mess by the time we're all "done" here!

Enough of my ranting and self-pity. I'm just bereft and don't know what to do. I call upon Heaven...and wait for His answers. But I don't want to "move on." I want to stay right here with my friends and family. I don't want to leave them behind! 

But they want me to go. They urge me to go...to "move on" with my life...without them.

If my life has no value to them, it has no value to me.

Let the Lord's will be done. Blessed be the name of the Lord.