A Feeling of Hope

Words have different meanings to different people.  Some are more special or known, so they are used more or in different meanings/senses.  Nicknames, for example.  Some people have the most random, get-a-funny-look-from-those-that-hear-it-because-it's-off-the-wall-and-they-don't-understand-the-meaning ones, and some are cute, etc., etc. 
Tonight I saw a small portion of another word.

Tonight I talked with someone who recently lost her husband.  Heartbroken.  That's the word on my mind tonight.  Accompanying Heartbroken is Pleading, Working, Endurance, and living life in such a way that comprehension of how this person is tremendously carrying on is still in the works.  This feeling and contemplation of events tonight has caused me to want to somehow wrap this person in a blanket of security and love, and just hold them and allow them to let go. 

The entire time I talked with her, I also thought about the Atonement.  Christ has offered us such a miraculous blessing.  He has offered us Hope.  He is always there to listen, all hours of the day and night.  He has the power to bring us the Blanket of Peace, and hold us in it as long as we need.  He is there to help wipe our tears, give us a drink and steady and lighten the load as we climb up the road of life, and will give us hints through the Holy Ghost about what's coming up around the next bend that we can't see, because he's already traveled it.  The thing is...you have to be humble and ask for it, and be even more humble to listen. 

A while ago I finally/truly understood the phrase "broken heart and contrite spirit" when it happened to me...and I realized that Heavenly Father listened to each and every one of my other prayers I've ever offered in my life, even though when I was asking I may not have truly been pleading.  Broken heart...I was very sad.  I had no other ideas or strength left in me, and it was all I could do to kneel in the middle of my floor and pray.  Contrite spirit...willing to listen to whatever was said.  Willing to wait for as long as was needed.  Humble.  Rather sheepish in how long it had taken me to stop trying myself and ask for help.  It's like as an eight year old when you are so excited that you finally have your model airplane, and you accidentally snap the propeller in two.  Horror that you've broken this thing you've wanted so badly, and knowing that it won't work now.  You may sit there for a minute trying to put it back together and make it work, and inside is a voice telling you that you've really messed up bad this time, way to go, it's never going to be fixed.  Tears stream down your face as you put your head in your arms and sob that you could've done this.  Then you may finally get the idea to ask someone for help, but actually addressing and completing that idea is scary enough that you have to draw on all of your 8 year-old strength to get the pieces and get up.  You walk timidly up to your dad, a few tears are probably still on your cheeks.  Afraid, hoping against hope you open your hand and show him the problem.  He, in all of his deep love he has for you will look at your crying face, the pieces in your trembling hand, and back at your face, sincere concern showing.  He'll carefully pick up the pieces and examine them, and can say one of many things.  One may be, "I think we can fix this", and another may be "I think we may need to get a new piece".  With the first one your eyes light up, and you offer a small, weak smile as he takes your hand and leads you back to the plane and helps you with the rest now that you've come to him.  What you didn't know is he was watching you the entire time from the chair he was sitting at in the next room, waiting and wishing to be with you to help you.  But loving you all the same for coming.  That is how I imagine a broken heart and contrite spirit, as you walk up tearfully with the broken pieces in your hand to show your father, and ask for his help to fix it, and him lovingly giving you the best solution to the problem.  Not always the most convenient, but the best.

Anyhow, I want you all to know how deeply and sincerely I love you.  I am still heartbroken for this woman and friend that is carrying on in a world that is...the world, and for the most part, doing it alone.  Her strength amazes me.  Then I think of hymn 193.

I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me.

Confused at the grace that so fully, He proffers me.

I tremble to know that for me, He was crucified-

That for Me, a sinner, He suffered, He bled and died.

Oh, it is wonderful, that He should care for me, Enough to die for me.

Oh, it is wonderful! Wonderful to me.

The whole song, all the verses, I mean, are comforting, along with hymn 194.  They offer a sense of Hope.  Hope for something better, Hope that you can make it.  I didn't mean to make this a whole preaching thing, I mainly needed to sort out some feelings, and this is the outcome.  I hope it can help you if you ever need it, and that you can realize that this is something very dear and special to me, almost private, but not, at the same time.  Make sense?  I don't know... If you've ever had Bro. Woodward for seminary, This is my Special, Favorite Sky Blue Crayon.  I know at least one of you will understand what I mean.

All I can say is, I'm grateful and thankful for family that love me, and care for me, and that they're alive.  I'm thankful for friends that listen to me and laugh at my jokes and help me when I fall.  Most of all, I'm deeply and eternally thankful for my Heavenly Father that knows how to fix the things I may break, and comfort me along the way.  Thanks.

The gospel is true.  If you are ever wondering...It's wholly and undoubtedly true.  I am saying this with every fiber in my entire being.  You are loved. :)

Love, Me.