In the Book of Mormon, there is a telling passage that means a great deal to me right now.
Alma 30:22 speaks of an anti-Christ coming among the people of God who are worshipping Jesus Christ and who has begun preaching false doctrine among them 'to interrupt their rejoicings'.
Lately, I have felt several times as if my emotional instability and hypersensitivities have stepped in to 'interrupt' my rejoicing.
I can't lay this at the feet of other people and their actions because regardless of what ANYONE else does, I am the ultimate arbiter of how I choose to take it . . . indeed, I can refuse to take it at all.
But I do.
Then I let my emotions boil and fester and ruin my OWN day.
WHO CARES what someone else says or does?
I do.
And I am frustrated by my own lack of control when it comes to caring what other people think, say or do in my presence.
It shouldn't matter.
I should be more duck-like and let it all roll off of my back like so many drops of water. Except that I haven't learned how yet.
The word "yet" is employed simply because there is a tiny spark of hope that seeks to become the brilliant light of experience that will turn "yet" into understanding and knowledge. So far, that hasn't showed up.
I desperately want to become the kind of person who isn't troubled by life and the people who inhabit this world, but I know that isn't possible.
If any syllogism is true, then it follows that I annoy the hell out of a ton of people because a ton of people annoy the hell out of me.
It's only fair I guess.
But lately, my emotional maturity guage is sorely lacking in actual on the road maturity and instead has been replaced with the petulance and thumbsucking of a toddler who can't understand why "everyone doesn't love me".
Thankfully, I KNOW who loves me and the truth is, I am not only thankful for their love, I am blessed by their very presence in the chaos that passes for my adult life.
Some are related to me and have no choice in that particular matter, but that they choose to love me despite the reality of my imperfections is a blessing that is greater than I can adequately describe.
Then, there are the people who have become family through circumstance and personal choice.
Because you make choices to love someone besides yourself, there is a very real possibility that one day, you will let them down, forget to live up to your God-given potential or in other ways just plain screw up.
But they love me anyway and for that I am deeply humbled.
They could have made the choice to walk away.
Though I wallow in a pleasant pool of marinated pity, I truly know that what I struggle with won't last long unless I allow it.
Some days are just plain harder than others.
And those hard days just suck.
It's like discovering that you forgot to choose happiness and indeed the self-inflicted misery IS your own fault.
Which is sort of how I am feeling right now.
I want to be brave like Martha Washington and declare to the world the understanding that it's disposition and not circumstances that makes the difference in attitude.
But there are days that I have allowed too many dings in my personal armor, whether externally or internally applied, and I am struggling to remember that I can overcome all of this through Christ and come out the victor over self and personal ego.
And isn't that just an UGLY word?
EGO.
Someone once said 'ego means EDGING GOD OUT'.
I believe that. Because when I am having a day like this, it's because the rejoicing in God and His Christ have been interrupted for whatever reason and I just never got back into tune with their frequency again.
I so desperatly want to cry out to the heavens to be saved from this misery! I have done so many times today as part of my emotional baggage and fasting and prayer.
While it is true we can't always choose our particular trials, it is equally true that I can choose how I'd like to deal with the hand I'm dealt.
I can't and won't fold, for to do so would be to lose out on the greater opportunity that comes when new cards and new options are allowed.
But some days I'll admit to wanting a pass.
It's an issue of perspective and the allegedly mature part of me knows that. But the thumbsucking toddler is almighty tired of having my good time squashed by some well-meaning person, whether my adult self or someone outside my skin.
Is there hope for me?
Christ said there is. And right now, I am hanging on to that hope with all I have.
I only hope the music that will surround me soon will bring back that feeling of rejoicing.
Because right now I'm running on spiritual fumes that are fading fast.
