What My Lord Reads Me.

04-14-23

During the evening of January 19th, I heard my scull thud against the hardwood floor during dance rehearsal, little realizing that that moment would bring on the greatest trial I've ever faced before and change the course of my life. Three months later, my health has decreased tremendously, and I find little purpose in each day, rejoicing in the moments I can talk fluently, discover a personal envelope in the mailbox, delight in the thriving bouquets beside my bed, and have the energy to walk downstairs. I admit, it's been so, so hard. Many nights are restless, days are long, and I've had my fair share of tears. Next to my family, abiding angels, and cheerleader friends (& my dog who is currently snoring on my lap), my bed is my closest partner, and I'm lucky to have such a pink, luscious room that keeps me company so generously every day. All my pictures of Christ, joyful memories, the temple, and my future dreams abide with me in all moments, muddy and beautiful.

Holding to scripture, poetry, quotes, cards, flowers, and music, my soul is still alive under the broken frame of my body. However, amidst each trialing week of new events and endless symptoms, there's a point where I bury my head in my hands and mumble, "I can't do this anymore. I'm not strong enough." My future becomes a black darkness, a wall of despair. 'Lord, save me,' I cry. Then, somehow, someway--I don't even recognize how--I pull myself out of the torment, and I survive another day. In my mind at that desperate moment, as I struggle to catch any dream, I hear this poem come into my thoughts, and I cling to it pitifully with my weak, frail hands, and press it--hold it--with all my might, to my bosom as if it could touch my lowly heart and somehow make me whole again. Slowly and surely, I hear:

Tremulous, little dear,

Won't you let me dry your tears?

Won't you let me take away,

All the pain you hold today?

What a wrench your body's in,

All twisted, wracked, and bent within,

Your face is folded, tense, and sore.

But don't you know, all this I bore?

I know the pain inside your chest,

The hurting, broke, and guarded mess.

I know the stabbing in your soul,

The stabbing tells: 'You are not whole.'

I know the fear around you sweep.

This fear you do not have to keep.

This darkness that within you groans,

You never have to bear alone!

The jolting pain you hold today,

The awful ache that in you sways,

This is your trial--you bitter meet--

But still inside, your soul is sweet.

I see your heart, the tender thing,

Whose gracious rubies mark no sting.

Your spirit glows, and soft consoles

The faith that yet will make you whole.

How beautiful you are today,

It is your soul that beams this way.

You are my daughter, fair and strong,

I have been with you all along.

At last, when you have done your part,

To trust my time with will and heart,

I'll say, "Arise, take up your bed."

I have a plan for you ahead.

---

May we all have the faith to hold on a little longer in all our turbulent times, and trust that the Lord will make us whole as we do our part. Thank you for what light you have given me during these months as I ultimately rise above and overcome this trial to become the woman of Christ I was always destined to be and fulfill the mission God has so granted me in my very near future to usher in His second return. For now, I conquer another day.

I REFUSE TO SINK.

Makenzie Monson <3