my broken heart
Tonight is among the first chilly nights of Fall. I decide to wear the almost-too-warm but irresistibly soft zebra stripe pajamas my mom just sent me with my purple jacket as I lay under the stars on my lawn. Just thinking. Wondering. I give myself a few hours to try to feel better...and then it is 11. I go inside and lay on my bed. I don't know what has been wrong with me lately. I ask Heavenly Father, or maybe I'm really asking myself, "What is the source of all this pain I feel?" I have everything to be grateful for. Everything. But I still feel this gnawing pain for something I can't escape and can't identify. I feel my mind slipping over a certain emotional place every time I try to pin-point it. It's hard to describe. There's something there making me sad and someday I'll figure out what it is.
A tear slips out of the corner of my eye, so slowly that it dries before it falls to the pillow. I mentally scan through all the places I could go or people I could go to that might bring me Peace. The Provo Temple snaps into my mind. Before I can think another thought I throw off my covers and slip out of the house.
Sitting below the temple feels too crowded, too cliche. Being surrounded by couples in cars seems like I am trying to be like them. I am not. I feel lonely, and alone, and oh yes, lonely. The kind of deep loneliness that company can't fix.
I drive around back, turn off my car and sit in the silence marked by window-muffled crickets. I ask again, more exasperated, "Where is this feeling coming from?" I don't really expect an answer to that question, I just don't know what else to ask. Would it be better to ask "What am I supposed to learn from this arbitrary pain that enters and exits my heart like it has a life and mind of its own?" It sounds like PMS, I know. But when it happens to you, it feels like your world is ending.
A white car pulls up and parks close behind me. A beautiful girl with long blonde hair gets out and pulls something out of the back seat. I watch her carry it awkwardly up the hill and sit down. It's a car seat...with a baby in it. People don't just bring their babies to the temple at midnight.
I knew it right away, in my heart and in my mind. I knew this was my mission tonight, to help her be aware of the love in the world.
After debating for a few minutes about the impression my zebra pajamas might bestow, I decide to go sit by her, mentally noting not to wear these particular pajamas in public ever again.
"Hi...I saw you come out of your car...are you ok? Do you have somewhere to go tonight?"
I start awkwardly but with all the sincerity in my soul.
"I'm...in a lot of pain. The baby's dad told me he didn't want to be with me anymore."
The sound of both of our hearts breaking is nearly audible.
This girl had prayed that Heavenly Father would send her people that would help her be ok, and He sent me. Specifically, directly, immediately, He sent me.
She brought out a hymnbook and we sang together. There were a few people sharing the lawn with us. At first, I wondered what they thought. Then I didn't care. This beautiful sister of mine was singing her lament to our Heavenly Father and if she didn't care who heard, neither did I.
We talked. Well, I just listened. She had a lot to say. She said wearing zebra pajamas made her think I was courageous and approchable. Everything about tonight was divinely orchestrated, right down to my pajamas. We hugged, we agreed to meet again to sing at the temple.
I felt something magnificent when I walked away. Something about what had happened was much greater than I could understand. I stand all amazed, be still, my soul.
The whole night reminded me of this hymn.
A poor wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whereto he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love; I knew not why.
Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side.
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.
p.s. Mom, I LOVE these zebra pajamas :)
(picture courtesy of Amazon.com)
A tear slips out of the corner of my eye, so slowly that it dries before it falls to the pillow. I mentally scan through all the places I could go or people I could go to that might bring me Peace. The Provo Temple snaps into my mind. Before I can think another thought I throw off my covers and slip out of the house.
Sitting below the temple feels too crowded, too cliche. Being surrounded by couples in cars seems like I am trying to be like them. I am not. I feel lonely, and alone, and oh yes, lonely. The kind of deep loneliness that company can't fix.
I drive around back, turn off my car and sit in the silence marked by window-muffled crickets. I ask again, more exasperated, "Where is this feeling coming from?" I don't really expect an answer to that question, I just don't know what else to ask. Would it be better to ask "What am I supposed to learn from this arbitrary pain that enters and exits my heart like it has a life and mind of its own?" It sounds like PMS, I know. But when it happens to you, it feels like your world is ending.
A white car pulls up and parks close behind me. A beautiful girl with long blonde hair gets out and pulls something out of the back seat. I watch her carry it awkwardly up the hill and sit down. It's a car seat...with a baby in it. People don't just bring their babies to the temple at midnight.
I knew it right away, in my heart and in my mind. I knew this was my mission tonight, to help her be aware of the love in the world.
After debating for a few minutes about the impression my zebra pajamas might bestow, I decide to go sit by her, mentally noting not to wear these particular pajamas in public ever again.
"Hi...I saw you come out of your car...are you ok? Do you have somewhere to go tonight?"
I start awkwardly but with all the sincerity in my soul.
"I'm...in a lot of pain. The baby's dad told me he didn't want to be with me anymore."
The sound of both of our hearts breaking is nearly audible.
This girl had prayed that Heavenly Father would send her people that would help her be ok, and He sent me. Specifically, directly, immediately, He sent me.
She brought out a hymnbook and we sang together. There were a few people sharing the lawn with us. At first, I wondered what they thought. Then I didn't care. This beautiful sister of mine was singing her lament to our Heavenly Father and if she didn't care who heard, neither did I.
We talked. Well, I just listened. She had a lot to say. She said wearing zebra pajamas made her think I was courageous and approchable. Everything about tonight was divinely orchestrated, right down to my pajamas. We hugged, we agreed to meet again to sing at the temple.
I felt something magnificent when I walked away. Something about what had happened was much greater than I could understand. I stand all amazed, be still, my soul.
The whole night reminded me of this hymn.
A poor wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whereto he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love; I knew not why.
Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side.
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.
p.s. Mom, I LOVE these zebra pajamas :)
(picture courtesy of Amazon.com)
Comments
Ps. I want zebra pajamas!!! :)