The Auther who finishes our stories
19 March 2017
I found this post buried in my drafts today. I re-read it, and my thoughts are exactly what I needed to hear today, exactly one month later.
Written February 19.
During church, I had a flow of thoughts within me that wasn't synced with any talk or lesson I heard that day. Something my consciousness has been mulling over lately. And as Charlotte and I each occupied a chair in the mother's lounge. She in one, and I in the other, facing each other, with my boots pressed up on her chair, rocking us both, I let my mind wander into this flow. (Charlotte was busy wondering why her crib was not packed with all the other hundred items we brought to church with us).
I thought about how a lot of our greatest pains are largely gut-wrenching because they leave unwritten stories. A loose thread that is left unwoven. A spare wire that is exposed. A protruding nerve that is very, very vulnerable. It's the open-endedness of our stories that can cause so much hurt year after year. Still waiting. Still wanting. Still needing. It's an open orbit - circling and circling around us, never having a launch pad to finally retire, gear down, and power off . So the embers of old wounds stay smouldering for a long, long time.
Several weeks ago in a BYU devotional speech, I heard the presenter said boldly: "Take hold of your life and order yourself to be valiant." Like he was stating boldy, "You're the accountable one for you! So take control of yourself and be better." Love that! So I jotted that quote down on a sticky note and added it to the collection pile of influential sticky notes in the drawer of my desk, which come to recall when I need them.
Then several days ago, I thought back on this quote, relating it to the side of ourselves that is weighed down with grief. Instead of a motivated declaration: "Take hold of your life and order yourself to be valiant," it became a hopeful, comforting plea: "Take hold of your mind and write a new story." Once again, calling myself to accountability; this time for my sorrows. Self, you can take control and find a new way to see things.
We have the power to rewrite any story we please. Every circumstance has a hundred vantage points. If our vantage point is dissatisfying, we can pick up our feet and move to a new one. Same with our stories. If we dislike how one of our life stories turned out, we can pick up our feet and lay hold to a new ending.
So I thought today about the reason the Gospel bears so much hope and light for us is because it helps us either finish writing our unwritten stories or re-write a past story from a better vantage point. The curtain hasn't fully closed on any part of our lives, because we haven't returned to our Maker and wrapped anything up yet. But, we get hung up on pains and sadness that keep orbiting around us, and we just keep seeing them the same thing over and over. Truth be told, we aren't very good playwrites sometimes. So Heavenly Father sent Christ down here to us, because we all need a co-author.
Christ helps us finish the story.
He promises that we will receive the love we want - or that acceptance, or that child, or that health, or that security. We will get the lost piece to our story. His promise is so sure that we can rewrite our story now with His ending. In a way, we yield our pen to faith, to what will come, and our stories can balm themselves now. We can land our orbiting places of grief now.
Now when my sadness rises to an open-ended story, I remind myself that this story was rewritten. The story is sealed with His pen. Remember, self, what Christ told me that ending is? The Plan of Salvation and celestial life and all the joy and love and blessings that He has promised beyond any of my best imaginings. My story is re-written and closed with faith of what is to come.
I take hold of my mind and allow myself to be healed with faith.
Upward and onward,