A friend of mine occasionally shares stories of her life that have led her to where she is now and how those experiences have shaped her testimony of our Savior and His gospel. I think it's such a splendid idea that I'm stealing it. :) I'm hoping to do it on Wednesdays, not only because "Why I Believe Wednesdays" sounds good, but mostly because it's in the middle of my week that I really need to reflect on these things the most. The world and all its cares can distract me far too easily, and I'm really looking forward to refocusing a little bit...not to mention getting these things out there for posterity.
So, the first experience is a long one, but one that I often come back to and share with others when I think about how the Lord doesn't always get you from A to Z, but rather from A to B, to C, to D, etc....and that is my hip injury.
During my senior year at BYU, I was going through a bit of a rough patch. Many of my close friends and roommates had moved out to get married, graduate, etc. My family was as crazy as ever and it was really getting to me. I was living on my own by then, and, working at a factory, I didn't have a lot of money for healthy food. I was teaching P.E. to homeschooled kids for coursework, walking several miles every day, and just physically and emotionally exhausted. Mostly, though, I started to feel more and more at odds with myself, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. At an age where I could go on a mission, I of course started thinking about it--but I didn't want to do it. AT ALL.
This feeling didn't just magically go away, though...in fact, it got stronger and stronger. I think it was only three or four days that I seriously wrestled with the idea, but it was the kind of wrestling that Enos had, and those days seemed much, much longer. In the end, I prayed to Heavenly Father, and in that prayer I told him all the reasons I did not want to go on a mission. But I told Him that, in the end, I would do whatever He wanted, and if a mission was part of the plan for my life, I would serve and serve gladly. As has almost
never happened in my life before or since, I immediately felt a peace and a clarity that was
so strong, I knew without a doubt my prayer had been answered. I thought, "Okay, I'm going on a mission!" And in that one moment, my heart changed and I was suddenly super excited to serve. All I could think about was how to make it happen.
This was November 4th.
November 11th, I fell down and literally couldn't get back up.
My good friend Sara took me to her chiropractor. He asked about headaches (which I had all the time), nausea (which I had been experiencing for a week or so, but thought it was just nerves or the flu or something), and all the pains I didn't even realize I'd been having. It was expensive to go, but nice. I felt better for a day, but the pains came back. I did my best to deal with them, but they got worse and worse. There were days I literally could not move a single muscle without pain shooting down my back and into my legs (and when you're teaching P.E., that's not good!). I stopped going to some classes. I tried my best in others, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Out of my six classes, I failed art, unofficially withdrew from math and child lit, got an A in P.E. and drama, and a B in Writings of Isaiah. Not a winning semester.
I went home for Christmas, and couldn't find much of a reason to go back. Except for that pesky lease thing, and my friends. I just kept thinking about that mission I was going to serve, and that hope kept me going. In January I withdrew officially from BYU (which also meant I lost my job, since it was for students only) and tried to figure out what to do. My limp was terrible at this point. The pain was almost unbearable. And then, early in January, I again fell down and couldn't get back up. And this time it stuck.
I went to a (different) chiropractor in January and started intense physical therapy. Three times a week for four months, although at this point I was bedridden most of the day, I had to make the trek down two flights of stairs and over to Orem for some painful stretching, massaging, and chiropractic work. What was supposed to be a fifteen-minute visit was always at least an hour, because moving around on the chair alone was awful. (Side note: It was through an x-ray at this place that I also found out I had a mild case of spina bifida--three holes around my tailbone.) But the good man was patient with me. He said that I had one of the worst cases of piriformis syndrome he'd ever seen, and he couldn't figure out how I got that bad since usually it was something only people in car accidents or big falls had. Basically, somehow (stress, the repetitive motions of working at BYU textiles, the lack of nutrition, the over-exertion of myself in P.E., etc.) my hip bone had twisted, and as my spine and all the muscles related to it adjusted, 7 vertebrae became out of place (which was causing a lot of my side effects) and the piriformis muscle (the one that connects your hip to your tailbone) became hypertonic (spasmed a lot), which caused the sciatic nerve (which ran right through it) almost constant and severe pain. I had fire shooting down from my middle back to my feet. I couldn't even laugh without hurting. In short, it was a very, very painful time. (And when I was at my thinnest! So I couldn't even enjoy being slender.)
Anywho, this should have been one of the worst times in my life. And in a physical sense, it was. I was on those crutches for a month, then on a cane constantly for two months (and then off-and-on-again for over a year...I still keep it handy for cold winter or rainy spring days when I'm achy). But I also learned how to rely on the Lord completely. I still taught Sunday School, and I spent much more time reading (this is when I fell in love with reading again). I read my scriptures and wrote in my journal every day. I spent more time with friends. I learned to ask for help, even from complete strangers, which has never been a strength of mine. Most of all, I learned to feel the peace of mind and peace of conscience that comes from a life lived right, and I looked forward to a mission. That hope kept me going on the really dark days.
Then I ran out of money and had to come home. And home I stayed. I never in a million years would have come home on my own. I had a hard time transitioning to the YSA ward here, and the family I lived with didn't really want me around. I was still in pain, although I could move around much better, and I worked odd jobs but never anything steady. Just as I started to finalize things for a move with some friends that summer, my dad and step-mom kicked me out of the house. (They said I was depressed and I wouldn't get better unless I had to...and I guess they thought that was the right way to make it happen, since they still credit themselves and kicking me out with my life "getting together and turning out so good.") It and other things caused a strain in our relationship that has been forgiven but has yet to be repaired.
Then I worked in a factory for a year, which is when I realized that my mission was here. At home. I had much to do here with family and friends and professionally and I realized something amazing. When I had prayed (almost two years ago at that point) about a mission, the peace and calm and clarity that came afterward wasn't because I was supposed to go on a full-time mission (although thinking it was is what kept me going), but because I had humbled myself enough to say "Thy will be done." That's all the Lord really wants for us. In putting my fears and desires aside and promising to listen and do His will, I was getting led by Him from school to recovery to home to friends to on my own. And His plan for me, my mission, included studying at Purdue and meeting Paul. I had classes, professors, and most of all STUDENTS, who touched my life in incredible ways, and I never would have had them if I hadn't gone to Purdue. In having my education taken from me for a while, I stopped being so burned out with schooling or taking it for granted and started to really thirst after it, which made me work so much harder when I started over (and my GPA can prove it!). I learned to be compassionate and to rely on others as well as how to serve even when I think I have nothing to offer, which is what Paul says he first noticed about me.
The point of all of this is this: I may still struggle with many, many things, and especially since I'm prone to depression it can get pretty bad some days. Some days I may not feel the Lord's love. But never once have I doubted that the Lord has a plan for me. I may not know what it is, and I may not be able to see the end (Z) from where I now stand, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. Sometimes if we knew all that path would entail, we wouldn't go down that road willingly. So the Lord only allows us to see the next bend (A to B to C to D), and offers us His hand as we step into each unknown chapter. And while that is at times maddening or frightening or painful, it's what's best for us. I know without a doubt that I was led here for a reason. The crazy path I was set on has changed my heart and my life and my marriage for the better. Whenever I think about how the Lord has guided my footsteps, I am filled with gratitude to my Father in Heaven, and it helps me look forward to the next journey He has in store for me, no matter how scary it might be. And that is why I believe.
