my fatal flaw is worry.
i'm always trying to look too far ahead--
further than needed, though need is relative.
worrying about knowing what will be
or how it will be, for me and for others.
always trying to create a perfectly-considered plan.
i mean, i even have a playlist that i aptly labeled for this purpose:
when i need to worry.
(i know. i really do have a problem.)
worry and concern.
taking control to keep myself from ever being trapped.
trying to see too much, though i already see so much.
therein lies my fatal flaw.
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| a sinner like me, caitlin connolly. |
i once made a miniature study of worry. did you know that if you look up worry in the scriptures, you'll be directed instead to fear? "
worry, see fearful." and that pretty much says it all, doesn't it? to be worried is to be filled with fear, not faith. with worry, faith is left hanging out to dry in the bitter winds of winter.
i wish i could say that experience taught me once and for all--that i have mastered any worries or attempts to know or see or plan too much. i wish i had gained mastery over this concept that to have worry is an antithesis of faith. that if fear and faith cannot coexist, then neither can worry and faith. that now i always choose faith. but. honestly speaking, i'm still learning.
the last few months, i feel like i've been lacking in the soul-enlarging cosmic insights that used to be a part of me in greater abundance. a lack at first unnoticed that grew to concerning. mostly because my soul hasn't had much time for processing, or even pauses for thinking and writing together. and because--sometimes the words just won't come, you know? sometimes they just won't come and we are simply left in a rut.
last year, i had a roommate write a beautiful collection of thoughts about
a decision she made for lent: for forty days, asking nothing in prayer. that last semester of our undergraduate studies was particularly rough on all of us, and for her, she decided something must be done to regroup her soul, so to speak. as i read about it, i remember admiring her, but thinking little more of it after that moment. that is, until now.
january and february of this year initiated some lessons in faith and trust--in letting go. january, especially, was nearing on the point of excruciating. and by mid-february as things calmed again, i knew i needed something. i knew i needed to re-center my soul. to regroup. to figure out how to really let go and calm my soul down from what was nearing on frenzied. during that time, i couldn't stop thinking about greer's experience from last year. not always consciously, but always present. just this little thing in the background. thirty-eight days ago i decided i should probably try it, which was, at the time, an uncommitted idea that i hadn't yet planned. in a clear confirmation of what i needed to do, though, thirty-seven days ago i unintentionally stumbled into a particularly poignant study about gratitude and
the lilies. about not asking, but thanking
in all things. that to truly
come unto christ and thereby be filled with love, grace, and power--
to really grow like the lilies--first and foremost
i must give thanks.
and so i did. until easter i concluded that i wouldn't request or demand anything of God.
for just under six weeks. thirty-eight days, to be exact. that's how long i went.
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| looking for light, caitlin connolly. |
here i must insert an important proviso, of sorts: i'm not ignoring the importance of asking. i'm not discrediting the ever-present charge to
seek, and ye shall find. there's most certainly a place for asking. in fact, we're asked to do so over and over again. but for this short time. for me. i needed to not. i needed to approach my relationship with heavenly father in a different way.
when we ask, we are first to
study it out. we ought to ask consciously with intent to discover and act accordingly. whatever our questions, it's about so much more than just asking. how many times do we let out a short,
please bless so-and-so, before swiftly moving on and hardly giving it a thought again before we pray again, letting out that same short phrase? for me--i needed this time to step back from just asking. from living life in rote, learned phrases like an echolalic child. i forced myself to think consciously about the words i uttered in prayer--about what i was really asking for when making a request for heavenly father to bless someone i love.
now i must also insert my caveats. first, i included several exceptions: placing the names of others on the temple prayer roll, requests made in repentance as a maintenance part of life, and asking for the Spirit to be with me. oh, and also praying for the sisters we visit when visiting teaching in their homes. i allowed that, too. but. everything else was statements only.
i don't want this to sound self-righteous. it's anything but. and though sometimes i wondered for a moment if anyone would even notice when i offered prayers in group settings, over meals and the like. would anyone notice that i never said,
please bless this food to nourish and strengthen our bodies? i'll tell you what--they didn't. well, if they did, no one ever verbally acknowledged it.
and if we're being honest, while there was much i learned in this time, it wasn't all
berries and cream, either. sometimes it was frustrating, and i felt left in the dark so desperate for light and insight that i felt i had no place to request during this time. sometimes, i must admit, i was less inclined to pray at all. because it took so much effort and thought when my soul was already drained. sometimes i felt it wasn't worth it and God became even more silent during this time (i'll return to this concept). because if my options were limited to expressions of gratitude, there were some days i felt i had little--if anything--to say. (i know, i'm a terribly ungrateful and feisty child sometimes.) but i pressed on, and i am glad.
the most important thing you can do is to learn to talk to God. (harold b. lee)
i know there are places in which we should ask. i know there are blessings contingent upon our asking for them. that asking questions and seeking insight into the mysteries of the universe and the smallest of our daily inquiries are all important things. that's why i chose to do this for a limited time frame. but you know what happened as i gave up the asking? prayers became conversations in greater frequency than ever before. it was about a discussion, not just providing a list of helpless requests to accompany a handful of thanks.
as if right on cue, a few short days after i made this decision, i kept being made aware of circumstances that requested the need for prayers on behalf of others. real, earnest requests for incredibly serious difficulties and uncertainties. if ever there were a time to pray--this would be it. i won't go into specifics, because specifics don't matter. that was just it--there was more than one person on more than one occasion with more than one circumstance. all at this same time. and this burst showed me even more reason why i ought to press on anyway with my decision not to ask. and so i didn't. and this--this was the most profound lesson i learned.
i prayed. because sometimes you just need to pray. but. i couldn't say
please bless so-and-so. instead i was left pondering what i'd even be asking for on their behalf. i was left pondering what
i could do to be the means by which that person received the blessing i would have requested on their behalf. i made no requests, but instead discussed the situation or person with heavenly father. instead of saying,
i'm grateful for so-and-so, i told heavenly father all the specific reasons
why i was grateful for that person.
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| she became herself with tears, caitlin connolly. |
i took my lucky break and i broke it in two, put on my worried shoes.
took me so many miles, and they never wore out--my worried shoes.
i march further and further away in my worried shoes.
my shoes took me down a crooked path, away from all welcome mats.
i looked all around and saw the sun shining down,
took off my worried shoes.
in a true extinction burst, there were moments that i worried even more than before. remember that fatal flaw? when we pray for others, so often it's because we're unsure of what else we even could do. it's an act that makes us feel like there's some semblance of control amidst complete helplessness. after my burst of worries, though, in the next moment, upon realizing there was nothing i could do to change what would or wouldn't be--i let go. i considered the lilies who grew and thrived without a thought for the morrow or toiling over worries.
me. emily janette. emilyj. em. krem. i let go.
i took off my worried shoes--and that has made all the difference.
if there was something i could do to help myself or others, i did it. and otherwise? i let it go. i couldn't do anything about it anyway. you can't change the circumstances of others. you can't take away the agency of others. my worry and concern wasn't actually going to change what would or wouldn't happen. and so i left to God to order and provide. and you know what? He did. He always does. just like those lilies of the field, He will provide. and in some circumstances, it was as soon as i let go of what i was trying so hard to clasp onto, that real growth was able to take place. in gratitude, i am filled with His love and grace. in gratitude, i can obtain new insight. in gratitude, i can speak
with Him. the most honest of conversations.
however. you know what else? sometimes He
was silent. a purposeful, though admittedly frustrating, silence. but then i realized--in worry, anger, or fretting, would it really help if we were granted exactly what we're requesting? maybe. but i know that for me, it's often not about what i would or wouldn't ask for. often i don't know what i want--i'm just frustrated. often, i just need to let it out. to sit inside that emotion and let it take its course. and heavenly father--He can take it. my most profound conversations with Him often come
after i've been in a tizzy and worked through it.
after He simply listens to my frustrations. He's there, of course, just as He is now. He is here, but sometimes chooses to be silent. because He can see better than we, that, after all, perhaps silence is the best response.
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| she awoke from a bad dream and realized a sudden feeling of hope, caitlin connolly. |
i wanted to lift the tiredness up out of mama with my thinking.
i wanted powers like that.
if i could walk through the world and just touch people,
and lift their pains right out of their bodies,
i'd never stop walking.
(feathers, jacqueline woodson)
it's hard to let go, did you know? i wish so badly that i could take control of every situation i've ever been involved in and make it right. that i could ease the burdens of those who surround me daily. it was so hard for me in ukraine, and still is to this day, when confronted with so many sorrows that people live with and being without power to do much more than love. unfortunately, i can't solve everything. but i can love. i can serve. i can throw words of affirmation all around and validate people in their earnest efforts. but. if i want to do so. my worried shoes won't take me there. to really, truly love and serve, i must put on my sunshine shoes instead.
i'm all for planning and taking control, where possible. there's hardly a member of the hales family who doesn't--unconsciously at the very least--have a tentative five-year plan. but sometimes, i think it is better to bask in a tolstoyan ideal of perfect presentness. consider the lilies. the sustenance and light that our photosynthesis necessitates will always be delivered. there is no need to toil upon tomorrow when there's nothing to be done about it, anyway. where love is, there God is also. and with gratitude, we find love. with love, we find God. we become more like Him. and with everything else, we do what we may and leave the rest to God to order and provide. and God? well, He takes care--much care--over the rest.
i don't know that i've ever been so conscious of the sanctity and reality of God's presence and light--that presence and light has been adopting new meaning these days. the privilege and gravity of temples. a hopeful heavenly father and a loving elder brother. as was quoted at the provo city center temple dedication last week,
some people believe in jesus, some people don't believe in jesus. i believe in jesus.
because of that reality, i can look ahead and see light. i can hold a vision and perspective without needing to know the details. there are still worries. (oh, how the worries still exist.) i still have my moments of getting frenzied and trying to look too far ahead into the future to figure everything out (three+ years before i need to do so). but i really am trying to be better. and at the end of the day, it's all about
where you look, you know? i am (striving to) always look up. to look into the light, soak in a deep breath and say,
hi, jesus.
it's real. it's true. all of it.
what more can i say?
happy easter. христос воскрес.
ps. aren't
caitlin connolly's paintings stunning? i am completely obsessed these days with her work.
