From awhile ago.

This Place

Angles in the sunny daylight
That were once soft and rounded
In the dark of the night turn
Sinister and hard.
My head aches, my heart aches,
Sleep just shakes its head
And refuses to come to me.
My breathing turns shaky as
Memories of the sleepless nights
Of my childhood come back
With their ugly thoughts
And tired hallucinations.
My clock in the corner is
Merciless as the hours drip by,
Blending into the frigid air.
Slowly, the sounds of the night
Quiet into a terrifying silence
And again, I'm left alone.
Warm, golden thoughts shimmer
Faintly under my closet door.
I try to grasp them in my fingers
But they always seem to allude me
Just an inch or two or one hundred.
Somewhere around 3:00 am I start
Sinking into my deepest self
The place I hate most to go.
Why do I hate to go to that hell?
Within there I'm trapped with my
Thoughts of doubt and self-pity.
Down there I'm never good enough.
Now as I'm here watching the clock
Willing the fears to go away
I'm slipping ever down, down, down.
When will those rosy fingers of dawn
Rescue me from this place?


Success Redefined

My last companion, Sister Goble, taught me a very important lesson my last week on my mission. I was really struggling in many aspects, two of those being self-worth and self-respect. Finally I think Sister Goble got sick of my whining. She took me to the church where she sat me down in front of a chalkboard. From that point on, she didn't talk but wrote. I was instructed to tell her the first thing that came to my mind.

Mission: worthwhile
Depressed: me
Family: I miss them
Hope: hopeless
Success: achieving goals
Jesus Christ: the only one who understands
Failure: me

   At that point, she stopped and asked me to try again. "Not succeeding." Wrong. "Failing." Wrong. "Losing." Wrong. "Giving up." Right. Next word:

Success: achieving goals. Wrong. "Winning." Wrong. "Being the best." Wrong. "Being perfect." Wrong. 

Then she wrote down a sentence for me to finish:

I am ______________.

I thought about that one for a solid five minutes. I didn't know what to write. My first instance was: "I am a mess." But that didn't quite sum up where I was at. Almost, but not completely. Finally I wrote:

"I am trying."

Sister Goble erased the sentence and wrote:

"Success = trying."

Now I don't quite know what made Sister Goble decide to do that activity with me, (probably the Spirit) but I have pondered on it a lot since. Success is trying, and as long as I am trying, I am succeeding. 

That was hard for me to accept at first, but it makes sense. This earth isn't full of perfect people, and Heavenly Father doesn't expect us to be perfect right now. He expects us to try. He knows all too well that we will fall short of our expectations, but His expectation is for us to try our best. It absolutely amazes me that a perfect Being could love the imperfect me so perfectly. And you know what? He loves watching me succeed.