Church Culture vs Christ's Character

Artwork by Yongsung Kim

*I wrote this post in 2022 when I was living in Pennsylvania. I'm not quite sure why I never published it, but I came across it today and am publishing it now*

Last week I shared a post that someone wrote about toxic church culture. It seems to have resonated with a lot of people, as it did with me. 

A few days later, I shared another post that addressed the church culture issue from a different perspective and shared some of the incredibly positive things that we see in the church. This ALSO, resonated with me.

*I'll share both posts at the end in case anyone is curious. I wasn't able to link the posts*

Since then, I've been thinking about those two posts a lot and decided that I wanted to try to write a post that discusses both points of view.

For those who don't know, when people talk about "church culture", they are usually talking about the members of the church that are especially judgey, hypocritical, and unkind to those who don't fit what they see as the good disciple mold.

These are the people who treat missionaries who return home early like they are second class citizens. The ones who don't let their kids play with kids that aren't members of the church. The ones who act holier-than-thou and talk badly about people that don't dress as modestly, speak as cleanly, or live as righteously as they think that they should.

This seems to be especially prevalent in communities where there are a lot of members (good luck finding friends for your kids in a community where they are the only members), but can be found in many congregations and individuals. For the purposes of this post, I'm thinking predominantly of members of the church in the United States as I do not have experience with congregations in other countries.

The problem with church culture is that it uses the gospel to justify the behaviors.

Well, all worthy males are supposed to serve full time missions. So if they don't, then they must not be living the gospel. They'll never find a spouse. Who would want to marry someone who failed to rise up to such a sacred call? (I wrote a lot about this in one of my earlier posts)

Our bodies our temples. We're supposed to dress modestly. Shoulders covered, skirts and shorts to the knee, nothing too tight or low cut. Tattoos defile our temples. So if someone is wearing something too short or has a tattoo sleeve, they must not care about what God thinks of them. They must not respect the gift that He has given them.

We're supposed to surround ourselves with good things and influences. If my kids hang out with non-members, they'll pick up bad habits.

The first sentence in each of those paragraphs is true. But the following statements are missing something very important; charity, the pure love of Christ.

Christ spent not just most, but ALL of His time with the imperfect. He pulled His apostles from every day men. He dined with sinners. 

Yes, He rebuked and called to repentance. Yes, He drove it home to Peter that he needed to be serving a mission. But He is perfect. He has a right to judge that we do not. And with that right, in almost every single circumstance that we study about in the scriptures, He leads with love.

The woman taken in adultery was first saved from stoning and offered forgiveness. Then she was told to sin no more.

The woman at the well was treated kindly and respectfully even though she was a Samaritan. Then she was told to stop sleeping around.

Christ didn't stand for Peter cutting off the soldier's ear, even though that soldier was taking Christ to His unjust death.

Christ "broke the Sabbath" and healed on Sunday.

Christ didn't spend His time with the holier-than-thou Pharisees. He ministered to the meek.

Christ did indeed tell Peter "get thee behind me Satan." But He also spent hours and days and weeks with Peter, teaching Him and building a relationship with Him.

Yes, the church has a lot of "rules" that we have been asked to follow by prophets of God. And I absolutely believe that we should try our very best to follow them. But the two most important commandments are to love God and to love others.

When it comes to the rules and standards of the church, I think that it is best that we focus our time and energy on how we ourselves are doing. On whether we feel that we are giving our best efforts to live in accordance with the will of God. 

We can leave the judgement and worry about everyone else to the One who knows each individual and their circumstances best. It's not our job to do that. It's our job to love.

And you can disagree with someone's choices and still love them. You can be concerned about someone's lifestyle without shunning them.

I've thought a lot recently about the 11th article of faith.

We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.

This doesn't mean that every way of living or worshipping is in accordance with the will of God. But it does mean that just as we are able to worship in the way that we feel is best, we also allow others that same privilege.

It is not for us to decide who is doing it right or wrong. 

I think at the final day, we'll be shocked to see how much of the great and spacious building is filled up with self righteous members of the church and how much of the fruit of the gospel has been eaten by those who struggled and fought to cling to the iron rod.

Okay, that pretty well addresses my thoughts and feelings about the initial church culture post. Now I want to shift gears and talk about the second.

While the "church culture" that is often referred to is incredibly negative, there is an opposing culture in the church that is overwhelmingly positive.

It is the culture of service, learning, growing and helping and allowing others to grow. It is the culture of support and finding an instant family in the church wherever you go.

I have moved around quite a bit in my adult life. I have been a part of 10 different wards in as many years. And in each one, I have found individuals and families that have blessed my life in a variety of ways. People who have helped move in and out of apartments and houses. People who welcomed me into their friend groups. People who helped me sign up for classes and financial aid for my first semester of college. People who have come to my aid when I was sick or having a panic attack. People who were by my side at my absolute lowest points. People who brought us meals after my son was born or during particularly trying times in our lives. People who came over to hold my newborn so that I could sleep, and one who even stayed the night and helped me wash pump parts every few hours when I was struggling to get my son to breastfeed.

In each of these situations, these were people that I would not have met in any other way. I only met them because they were in my local congregation.

Wherever I go, I can look up what congregation I'll be in and get in contact with the bishop and/or Relief Society president and they will find people to offer help if needed.

The only time I was unable to get the help that I needed from the leaders of the congregation was in my married ward in Idaho. And even then, I ended up receiving so much love and support from a handful of regular members with no callings. 

It was a random girl in the ward that approached me one Sunday and told me to call her if I needed anything at all (because I was clearly almost ready to pop) that ended up going to our apartment the night that my water broke and gathered our things for us and brought them to the hospital.

It was my ministering sister in that ward that slept over so that I could try to get some semblance of rest during the first couple of weeks of my son's life when he simply would not eat and I was getting (quite literally) zero sleep.

It was also a member of the church that helped us find that apartment in the first place when we were striking out again and again.

Back here in Pennsylvania, my little congregation is filled with people who don't seem to uphold the standards of the church. People with tattoos and short skirts. People who drop F-bombs during conversations in the car on the way to the temple. People who skip church to go fishing or to sporting events. 

And yet it is here in this little, highly dysfunctional, imperfect ward that I know that I can call upon almost anyone here for help. It is here that I regularly hear about teenagers, and even kids, going to help someone out with yard work or moving in. Not as a church service project, but just as a family helping out another family.

It is here that the bishop has taken hours out of his day to walk my husband through changing the brakes in our old car twice. And here that another member has helped us with other things concerning our vehicles.

It is these imperfect souls that often take on multiple callings and still help out where needed because there simply aren't enough people to go around sometimes.

These people that I'm talking about are all flawed. They're all dealing with their own personal circumstances, mistakes, and sins. But at the end of the day, they love God and they love others.

It is in people like these that we find church culture shoved aside and replaced with Christ's character.

It is through faithful members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints that I have felt the love of my Heavenly Parent's the most. The saints who love first instead of judging first. 

And I have absolutely felt that love outside of the church too! I have felt it from Christians of other denominations, Jews, Muslims, and atheists. But I have only felt it from those who love first.

But I do firmly believe that there is something special, and even sacred, about the gospel culture; Christ's culture. 

The thing that I have missed most about both my mission and living in Idaho is being surrounded by members of the church. Being surrounded by people who can give a blessing at a moment's notice if needed. Being surrounded by people who will stop everything to comfort a stranger.

In my earliest posts I talked almost solely about my experiences with life surrounding my ex's arrest. And I know that I talked about the vast amount of love and support that I was given.

I don't know how much I talked about the strangers though.

The strangers out at BYUI that would see me struggling to keep it together and would hug me, even though they had no idea who I was or what I was going through. I remember feeling so much love from absolute strangers at various points in those first few months of my life imploding.

I remember talking to a guy from my dance class that I didn't know one day because he could see that I was hurting and him giving me a big hug. I remember sitting and crying on the steps outside my apartment and someone giving me a hug, asking if I was alright, and then just walking away. I still don't know who they are.

I remember sillier instances like the chain getting crossed on my bike and me getting my hands absolutely covered with bike grease putting it back in place, and asking a random citizen if they could lock my bike for me. Or similarly, wiping out on my bike and no less than 5 strangers stopping on campus to pick me and the bike up and make sure that I was okay. 

Those are things that are so much rarer in communities with few members.

In the church of Jesus Christ should be found people who do their best to love their neighbors. And I do think that there are people like that in every congregation.

So yeah, just about every congregation is going to have those "church culture" people. But they will also have people who help foster a culture of Christ.

Where church culture says "I'll only love you if I think that you are worthy," Christ says "I love you because you are my brother/sister and are of infinite worth."

May we all do our best to embody the character of Christ so that someday, "church culture" will be synonymous with "Christ's culture."

These are the Facebook posts that I shared:

First

I HATE Mormon culture, and I LOVE being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

How are they different?

Mormon culture: “I can’t believe she would wear that, so immodest!” Or “She has tattoos, she must be falling away.”

Actual doctrine: 3 Nephi 14

3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother: Let me pull the mote out of thine eye—and behold, a beam is in thine own eye?

5 Thou hypocrite, first cast the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast the mote out of thy brother’s eye.

Mormon culture: “Be exactly obedient brother, the Lord will love you more if you are perfectly obedient.”

Actual doctrine:

Elder Holland “My brothers and sisters, except for Jesus, there have been no flawless performances on this earthly journey we are pursuing, so while in mortality let’s strive for steady improvement without obsessing over what behavioral scientists call “toxic perfectionism.”

Elder Christofferson “God’s love is all-embracing….”

Mormon culture: serving less (or not serving at all) than 2 years or 18 months should be shamed.

Actual doctrine:

D&C 71:3 Verily this is a mission for a SEASON, which I give unto you.

You get my point? There are so many cultural beliefs, expectations, judgements, etc. that have zero doctrinal validity. The culture of judgement, shaming, and toxic perfectionism is dated. And that is not the gospel.

Using religion as the validation for attacking people and families, or through shaming and hating, or through taking away rights is not “the pure love of Christ.”

So while I proudly have a testimony of my church and my religion, I do not for one second support the “Mormon culture.” So please consider me as a friend if you are in the LGBTQ+ community, have had an abortion, are no longer religious, or curse, are a minority, etc.

You’d be amazed at how many people are shocked to hear what denomination I am a part of, simply because I am nice to them without judging them. We all can do better.

Yes someone pissed me off at church today. Yes I still believe. Yes I will be drinking an energy drink today with 200 mg of caffeine. Yes I dropped the f bomb this morning.

Thanks for reading this far, I don’t usually post this rant but today showed me that some people could use it. Just be nice.

Second

General Conference Prep

 Hey! I looked into things to do during General Conference so that I could give some things to the youth today and I wanted to share what I found/made!

I made General Conference bingo for each of them using this website and a list of options that I partially came up with and partially got ideas for online.

This is how I made mine:

First, delete B I N G O, give your cards a title,
and label the free space if you want

Click "Paste in a list of words" to add a list of
the categories that you want

I put Gospel of Jesus Christ as the
center space because it's a given

Specify how many cards you want to have generated,
unclick "include call list" and
click "show bingo title" if you want the card to say
General Conference Bingo at the top

Then hit download or print. I doesn't really matter which you choose, either way it will download a PDF with the bingo cards. They'll be randomized so no two cards are the same.

I let the youth pick which categories they wanted on their cards and downloaded individualized 1 off bingo cards, but you can also do a bunch at once with all the same categories, just mixed up.

In the list of options that I linked above, there's also an activity sheet where you color in the ties of each speaker and write down their name and the theme of their talk. You can pretty easily make the tie into a dress if needed by adding sleeves to the top of the tie. I counted about 32 speakers in last Conference and there are 15 ties to a page, so if you print 2 pages, you'll be close enough probably.

This link takes you to some General Conference Activities on the church website, which also has bingo!

Finally, I wanted to share something that I've done in preparation of many a General Conference since my mission.

Grab a notecard/sticky note.

Then close your eyes and imagine that you are sitting across from Heavenly Father. It's just the two of you, no one else.

Now think of a question that you would ask Him, with the knowledge that He will answer you and you will be able to hear it.

Keep thinking about that as you watch this video and then come back to this post when it's over.

Write down your question on your sticky note/notecard. 

Now every day from now until Conference, ask Heavenly Father that question when you pray. Ponder the question. 

If you do this and then sincerely listen to General Conference this coming weekend, you will receive an answer to your question. 

I've done this many times over the past decade or so, and received answers when I have diligently prayed and listened.

I believe in personal revelation. I believe that you can receive the answers that you seek as you listen to the inspired messaged in Conference. Someone doesn't have to say it directly for you receive it. I have many notes in my study journals about things completely unrelated to what the speaker was talking about because, for some reason, the train of thought was spurred by one little thing that they said, or just a thought that came to me out of the blue.

I hope that you are able to feel of God's love for you this weekend and know that He knows you as an individual.

Happy Conference everyone!

Not Your Family, Not Your Business

Picture found at:
https://www.the91rewind.com/blog/2015/11/23/do-you-want-more-kids

As my son is getting older, I am having more and more instances of people asking if/when we are going to have more kids.

I know that they mean well and are just curious, but can we go into 2023 with the idea that unless you are really close to someone, you don't ask about that? That it should never be an offhand question? Because that can be a massively loaded question. Some people simply don't want (more) children for reasons that are completely their own. But there are also SO many people that desperately want (more) children but for a multitude of reasons, they might not be able to right now.

Here are a few off the top of my head:

Infertility issues

Miscarriages that you don't know about

They are in an abusive relationship and don't want to bring a(nother) child into it

Mental/physical health issues that they are trying to get a handle on first, or make pregnancy completely unbearable, or would make the newborn stage incredibly difficult to handle

Trauma surrounding a previous pregnancy/childbirth

They have been trying to adopt and have hit obstacles (and there are many)

If someone feels comfortable enough with you to tell you their reasons, they probably will, in their own time. But at the end of the day, it's not really your business.

I know someone that was severely bipolar and couldn't take her meds while pregnant. Being off of her meds was incredibly detrimental for herself, her husband, and her children. And that is an understatement. Her and her husband worked through it, but if after one pregnancy it was clear that another would be way too much (especially now that they had a kid), then it would have been completely valid for them to decide not to conceive again, no matter how much they may have wanted to. They had more than one, but there were significant age gaps between them because of their situation.

I know another person who gained a TON of medical problems because of getting pregnant. Things that I didn't even know could happen. Like that she now has food allergies that she had never had before. She loves her child dearly, but because of how much of a beating her body took, she and her husband decided not to have any more.

I know countless others (including myself) that are in one (or more) of the situations that I listed above.

It's hard enough to desperately want another child but not be able to for some reason. 

I already get a pang in my heart when I see so many of my friends that had babies around the same time as me have a second one be pregnant.

My son is older now than I had ever planned for him to be before getting pregnant again.

I am not getting into my reasons right now. That's kind of the point of all of this. This is incredibly personal for me.

So if you're curious (and I get it, I'm an incredibly curious person) but either you are not super close to the person and/or the answer has no effect on your own life, then please take a beat before asking and ask yourself "Do I really need to know?" Because if you don't, then there is no reason to put someone in the awkward and potentially painful position of answering.

This also goes for making comments about someone getting pregnant again or anything of that nature.

At the end of the day, bringing children into a family is a sacred decision that is ultimately between the family and God. There are many, many factors to consider and it is not a decision that most people take lightly. Such a weighty topic should not be addressed in the flippant way that many people seem to do it in. So please keep that in mind next time you think to bring it up. And then... don't.

Piece by Piece

I am feeling a lot of frustration right now.

With my PTSD, I really struggle to focus on things. As such, I was feeling really proud of the progress that I made on a puzzle that I got earlier this year. It's not crazy elaborate and it's not thousands of pieces. It's a Charlie Brown winter scene. 

But it's still plenty difficult for me. 

I put the edges together a few weeks ago and separated pieces out into a few little bowls. I've worked on it a teensy bit here and there, but finally sat down and worked on it for about an hour last night. I got all of the characters put fully together. I had a bunch of pieces grouped together on the table in approximately the spots that they would go. I fixed a bit of the edge that had been pulled apart by my toddler at some point. There is a single edge piece missing. Just ignoring it for now and hoping that it shows up at some point.

I was really, really proud of my progress. It wouldn't be a big deal for many, but it was for me.

And then tonight I heard my dad say something to my son about the puzzle and I rushed over to find this:

Pieces on the floor. Pieces on the chair. All of my cute little characters torn apart and the pieces all mixed together. My carefully organized bowls and sections on the table have all been mixed together.

I felt less mad than just... defeated. 

I sat my son down and told him that I had worked very hard on it and reminded him that we have all been telling him not to touch the puzzle. He seemed fully unconcerned. He did help me pick some pieces, but that's about it.

He knows that he wasn't supposed to do what he did, but he doesn't really understand what makes it so bad, so I'm not too mad at him. But I am frustrated. And as I looked at the ruined puzzle, I had this thought;

This is what life feels like a lot of the time.

I feel like puzzle analogies for life are pretty well known. Something about how piece by piece, things come together. Something about not being able to see the bigger picture. Etc.

I don't know that I've ever heard an analogy about a puzzle being fully destroyed though.

So here's mine:

If you've been following my blog for a while, you know that I was in a pretty good place in life after years of struggle when my life fell apart.

I was piecing the puzzle together. For a long time, nothing seemed to be coming together. There were a couple of connected pieces here, a few there, but no more than maybe 5 were put together in any one section. And then things started to come together. I started being able to see the picture. There seemed to be more and more sections with 10+ pieces connected.

And then trauma.

That was a moment when a toddler came along and busted it all apart.

I think that my healing journey has very much felt like this too. I've worked hard to piece things back together after trauma. There are sections that have never been fully restored. Many with missing pieces. But there are also sections that I didn't have together before that I have since brought together.

But occasionally something happens that feels like a toddlernado. 

This time of the year is really hard for me. I had a major trigger day last week and am still struggling on and off now. It feels a bit like some of the sections of the puzzle that I have put back together are being slowly taken apart.

There was a toddlernado when I restarted therapy a few years ago. Ripping open wounds that I thought that healed but hadn't. It felt like progress was lost before any was gained.

There was a toddlernado when I became pregnant with my son. Pregnant brain mixed with PTSD brain was horrendous and a lot of trigger anxiety came back with the rush of hormones.

I guess what I'm saying is that life isn't always just slowly piecing a puzzle together. Sometimes it's starting the puzzle over. Sometimes it's realizing that the picture that you're putting together is a little bit different than you thought. Sometimes it's hoping that that missing piece wasn't eaten by the dog and will still show up at some point.

It can feel tempting to just scrap the puzzle; toss it all back in the box. 

But I'm not going to. I'm taking a break for now, but I'm going to do it all again. Sort through the pieces again. Redo the border. Put characters back together.

And I do have an advantage this time. I've done a lot of it once before, so I have a better idea now of how things look and go together. I was a little bit confused when I was working on it yesterday because the colors look pretty different on the actual puzzle than they do on the box, so I wasn't always sure what part of the puzzle certain pieces went to. Now I do.

So yeah, I'm pretty much starting from scratch. But I know a little bit more now.

Every time there is a toddlernado in my healing, I at least still have the knowledge that I've gained through this messy process. And I know that progress can be made because it has been in the past. 

Honestly, I don't think that I'm going to finish the puzzle of my life during THIS life. I think that there is going to be a lot of starting over. There are going to be more missing pieces and more destroyed sections. 

By the end of this life, I think that it will (hopefully!) be pretty well together. You'll be able to see the picture. I have faith that it will be beautiful. And I have faith that when I am back with my Heavenly Parents and Jesus Christ, They will fill in the missing pieces and we can superglue the puzzle together.

So tonight I'm frustrated. Tonight I'm feeling a bit sad about my silly puzzle. About having to start over. About all of my hard work being indecipherable. 

But I know that it will be okay. I know that I can always start over. 

And I know that my Charlie Brown winter scene will be just as nice when it's finished this time as it would have been last time.

Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ,  there are no trials, sins, or other upsets in life that can make it impossible to put things back together.

So I will always choose to start over. Piece by piece.

And you know what? The closer I look at the destruction, the more I see that maybe it isn't as bad as I feared after all.

An Impossible Choice

 

It's been a while since I've felt like I needed to write without having any idea what I'm supposed to be writing about. But here we are. I even looked through my drafts and the notes on my phone where I have jotted down thoughts for the blog over the years. But nothing is sticking out, so I'm doing what I've done before and just... starting.

******Please be kind and civil in anything that you feel that you need to say to me about this post. This has been very difficult for me to write and I still feel like I haven't done any of this the justice that it deserves. My heart, my very spirit is aching and heavy******

I have very mixed emotions about the events of today. Most of the relevant posts on my timeline are mourning/outraged about Roe v. Wade being overturned. A handful, though, have been jubilant. 

I don't really know how to express how I feel about the subject, mostly because I am unsure of it. I feel like I have conflicting thoughts and emotions. 

On the one hand, I do feel that an unborn baby has every right to live. I can't, in good conscience, condone killing an unborn child. My very being is repulsed by the thought.

On the other hand, I also can't condone forcing a woman to give birth to a child that is threatening her life or was never meant to be in her womb. I am absolutely all for using contraception, but am also aware that rape exists. And that sometimes pregnancies happen even when there was a condom, or birth control, or whatever else in play. 

In the case of an unwanted pregnancy, I huge part of me is screaming "put the baby up for adoption!" But another part of me, the part of me that understands the mental and physical effects of pregnancy and child birth, is tempering that. 

I, personally, cannot comprehend killing an unborn child. 

But I also have never personally been in a situation where it would ever cross my mind to do so. 

My life has never been threatened by the child inside of me. 

I have never carried a child that was not planned for, or even if not planned for, fully welcome.

I have so many friends that struggle with fertility. Friends who would give anything to be able to conceive and carry a child, no matter the cost to mind and body. Friends who would adopt an unwanted baby (or one who's bio parents feel unable to care for) in an instant if they could.

But their struggle does not negate the struggle of women everywhere that are facing an unwanted or dangerous pregnancy.

I am so grateful that I was on Medicaid both through most of my pregnancy and through labor and delivery, because doctor's appointments, birth, and hospital stays are EXPENSIVE. And yet abortion is often free.

I am grateful for the clinics out there whose purpose is to help those that cannot afford healthcare, but there are not enough and they usually don't have all of the necessary resources and staffing.

The changes to a woman's mind and body during and after pregnancy are varied, but often extreme.

For me, my IBS and insomnia worsened. My PTSD worsened, including not only my anxiety and depression, but my ability to focus/remember. Pregnancy brain is very real, and add that on top of a brain injury (which mental/emotional trauma is) and you've got a huge mess. 

I was often in pain and pretty much always in discomfort.

I struggled with bad nausea through my entire pregnancy. My second trimester brought little of the relief that I had come to expect.

My gallbladder quit on me as a result of my pregnancy, so I dealt with extreme pain in that region both during and after pregnancy. Post birth, I had my gallbladder removed and now deal with a huge spike in reflux on a regular basis.

My arms and hands became extremely weak. Lifting a pan to pour out the grease would put me in a ton of pain and I would lose strength before finishing. The strength never fully came back.

I ended up with knee problems for most of the first year of Liam's life.

I'm still struggling with pelvic floor weakness.

I hardly lost any of my pregnancy weight and have by now gained it all back.

And the medical problems that I faced/face are tiny compared to many women that I know.

I know someone who came out of the birth of her son with allergies that she'd never had before that now effect her every day of her life, 9 years later. 

I know women who LOST weight during part or throughout all of their pregnancy.

I know women who have ended up on bedrest for a good chunk of their pregnancy.

I know women that had hyperemesis gravidarum and puked their guts out through their entire pregnancies.

And these are all women that chose to put their bodies through this.

I would struggle to look a woman in the eyes that did not choose this and tell her that she has to continue. And that she has to pay financially, physically, mentally, and emotionally to do so.

With all of that said, I do feel that there are many related areas of society, law, etc that absolutely need to be made into higher priorities.

Children in "the system" need to be better provided and cared for. Adoption needs to be more accessible to those who are choosing to take another person's child into their hearts and homes. Birth control needs to be more readily accessible. Healthcare needs to be more readily accessible. Men need to be held just as responsible for a pregnancy and childcare as women are. A decent paid maternity needs to be standardized. Accessibility to breastfeeding and pumping need improvement. And so many more things than I can think of off the top of my head.

I think that when we think of abortion, we often think of men and women who are being careless and use abortion as birth control because either they don't want the inconvenience of messing with their hormones with a pill or with the quality of sex with a condom. That idea makes my stomach turn. But I feel like I can pretty safely say that it makes most women who have had abortions stomachs turn as well. Because more often than not, that is not why abortion is chosen. 

I really believe that the majority of women that have chosen abortion did not come to the decision easily and did not take the matter lightly. And while some may regret their decision, most probably don't. And even the ones that don't probably hated doing it.

I am eternally grateful that it is not up to me to judge the women who have had, or would be willing to have, an abortion. Because I could never have all of the facts. I could never comprehend the fear and uncertainty that was present. I could never fully understand the circumstances that led to an unwanted pregnancy. I have never been in a situation where I have had to choose between my own well being and the well being of an unborn child. 

I am so incredibly blessed to have grown up in such a way that abortion has never had to be, and never would be, an option for me. Blessed with loving, supportive adults in my life. Blessed with good education. Blessed with the gospel that has helped me to honor the both the sanctity of life and the sacredness of intimacy. Blessed with a body that was able to safely bear my child. Blessed with a life that has never seen the type of sexual assault that would result in a pregnancy that I wasn't ready for. 

Not everyone has been as blessed as I have been.

All in all, do I think that there should be policies put in place to preserve the lives of unborn children? Absolutely. 

But those policies should address not only abortion directly, but everything that goes in to the decision to abort. And the life of the mother, not only whether or not pregnancy/childbirth will directly kill her, but also whether she can mentally, physically, and financially handle pregnancy and childbirth. We should be doing all that we can to set our children/teenagers up for success so that they never have to face this situation. And we should be doing all that we can to support those who do face it. 

And I believe even those who are rejoicing right now should also be mindful of those who are hurting. I believe that we should all have compassion for those who are feeling trapped in their situation. 

If we could all do more for humanity, then maybe we will someday live in a world that sees very few situations where abortion would even be considered.

All of this to say that my heart hurts both for those who have died via abortion, but also for those who have lived through it. It hurts me deeply that our society is struggling so greatly that abortion is even an issue that needs to be so thoroughly discussed. 

I look at my own child and my heart shouts prolife. But I look at the lives of those who would even consider taking the life of an unborn child because that legitimately seems to be the best option to them and another part of me whispers prochoice.

The scriptures say "thou shalt not kill" but also say "mourn with those that mourn" and "comfort those that stand in need of comfort."

I have to believe that there is a way for me to love and care about the life of both an unborn child, and the one who carries them. I can only hope and pray that I figure out how to properly do so in a way that feels acceptable to my heart and soul and to Those who gave us life.

I'm sitting here, terrified of posting this. Feeling like I'm about to bawl. Worrying about what people on every side of this issue will think and say. 

I'm literally not even sending this to my friend to be proofread like I do every single other time I post because I'm so anxious (so please excuse any grammatical/spelling errors).

But all I know is that this is the first time that I have felt so strongly like I needed to write something in a while, and this was the only thing that I felt like needed to be said right now in the midst of so many other important things that I could write about. 

I try very hard to stay out of politics as much as I can. Partially because I often do have a very in-between stance on things, as with this, but also because I absolutely loathe confrontation. And I especially hate the thought of confrontation about a subject that I feel so incredibly unsure about. But I do feel that this is what I was supposed to write about right now.

I am aching to my core for the unwanted souls within the wombs of women everywhere. I am also aching for a world that feels the need for abortion. I am aching for those whose circumstances have made them feel the need for abortion. I am also aching for those who would give anything to be able to carry a child in their womb and in their arms. 

And I am sitting here wondering how my Heavenly Parents feel about what I am feeling and that is only ramping up the anxiety. 

But I'm trying to trust that this is something that I have been prompted to open up about. I am trusting that They know and understand my confusion and fear just as much as they understand the confusion and fear of those that this all effects. 

So now all I can ask you do to is to try your best to be understanding and compassionate too.

Let's Pick Back Up From...

Artwork by Emily Shay

For Easter today, I wanted to share something that happened to me last Sunday. 

But first, a bit of background. For those of you who don't know, I sing. I'm not a professional by any stretch of the imagination, but I have a good voice and have worked hard on my singing abilities throughout my life. 

While my voice is good, my brain can only process so much music theory. I can't sight read. I can approximate, but I mostly learn new songs by listening and going over the piece over and over again. And each time I sing there are things that I have to get used to all over again, even if it's a song that I've sung before. 

The biggest issue for me is being able to follow the accompaniment (I spell that wrong every single time 😅); knowing when to come in, when to end, when to breathe, etc. So when I practice with a pianist, there are many times that one of us will stop and ask to go over a part again. "Let's pick back up from ______". And then we'll practice that a few times until we feel comfortable with it.

Sometimes it's because I got the notes wrong or didn't feel 100% sure about them. Other times it's because I messed up the words, or missed the entrance. But every time, either I or my accompanist will pick a place to pick back up and try again.

With all of that said; last Sunday was our stake Easter devotional. I had asked to perform a song a month or so ago. It took me a while to pick a piece because I was initially hoping to do a duet with my husband, but then we finally decided that that wasn't going to work out, so I decided to sing my favorite song, For Me Alone by Sally DeFord.

I haven't had many opportunities to perform in the last few years since I left BYUI, so I take every chance I can get. It has been especially tricky since moving back to Pennsylvania because there are no accompanists in my ward. As such, I asked a sister from another ward to accompany me for the devotional. But then I was sick for the better part of three weeks, so we never got together to practice.

The week of the performance, I was doing a lot better, but still had some post nasal drip going on in the back of my throat, so singing would sometimes make me cough and sometimes my voice would cut out when I sang. I was trying to decide if I should cancel my performance or if I needed to contact my accompanist to see if we could get together to practice when she texted me and told me that she couldn't play for me after all but had already talked to another pianist who said that she could play for me. 

Through the rest of the week I kept almost cancelling my performance. I was unsure of my voice, and Sunday was going to be a super busy day anyway, so thinking about all that I had to do throughout the day and then going on to perform that evening was a bit daunting. And then when I tried to set up a time to practice, the sister told me that her kids were sick, so she wouldn't be able to meet with me until the day of, before the devotional. I almost backed out. 

But all through the week, every time I picked up my phone to text the pianist and the stake music coordinator to cancel, I kept feeling like I needed to keep the performance. So I did.

I was going, going, going all day and then arrived early to the stake center to meet my pianist for the very first time and practice the song. Practice went well! Luckily I knew this one well enough that I was able to get used to the new accompanist without too much of a problem. It had been a while since I'd sung the song, so there were a few parts that I kind of needed to be reminded of, but overall it was good! 

When I got into the chapel and looked at the program I discovered that I was to be the very last performance of the night. I swear I'm always either the first or the last. I'm never somewhere in the middle. For the Christmas devotional, I was the first, so I suppose it was time. 

I sat through the devotional until it was finally my turn.

The performance was going well; my voice had cut out once, but it wasn't too bad. And then all of a sudden as I was singing the last verse, my brain just shut off on me for a moment. I was looking at the upcoming measure and got confused for a second, thinking that the notes were different than they were or something and I just stopped singing. 

Full stop. 

In the middle of the performance.

That has never happened to me before. I wasn't quite sure what to do. The pianist continued playing for a bit, waiting for me to come back in and I didn't. So she stopped playing.

I didn't feel like I could turn to her and say "let's pick back up from _____", so I took a breath, and then started singing the next line, hoping that I was singing the right notes. After a moment, the pianist came back in and we finished the performance. 

For Me Alone is a very poignant song, essentially saying that even if I were the only person who ever sinned, Christ would have still suffered the Atonement, just for me. 

As happens most of the time when I perform this song, I became emotional at the end. 

I finished the song, gave a nod to the accompanist, and then walked off the stand and right out of the chapel. I was a bit embarrassed, but I left because I was so overcome with the message that I had just shared. I spent most of the rest of the devotional out in the foyer with my two year old, who had been watching me from my dad's arms in the doorway.

After the devotional, I was blown away by how many people came and spoke to me about my performance. Everyone was so kind and complimentary. 

I was embarrassed, but overall proud of how the rest of the performance went, and extremely grateful that I was able to perform at all after all of the craziness of the weeks and hours before.

As I've thought about my performance this week, I have been struck by something. When the music stopped, the accompanist was ready and waiting for me to start singing again. She didn't say anything, she simply waited until I was ready and then picked up where I did.

It seems to me that there are many, many times in our lives that we falter. Where we feel stuck, lost, and confused and not quite sure where to go from here. There are times when we stray from God. But no matter how long we've stopped, Christ is always there with us, waiting for us to use His enabling power. And when we do, He is ready to pick right back up, where we are, and continue leading us to heaven.

He never leaves us. He is a quiet, constant presence. Always there. Always loving. Ever patiently waiting for us to allow Him to lift us up and help us to finish our journey home.

The song that I performed last Sunday ends with these words:

But if I alone had stumbled; if I alone had strayed

If I alone had wandered from the straight and narrow way

If I alone were foolish; if I alone were frail

If I alone had faltered when the power of hell assailed

If I alone bore guilt for which my all could never atone

He would have come for me

For me alone

I truly believe that that is the kind of love that Christ has for every single person who has and will ever exist. 

The tricky part is believing that that is the kind of love that He has for me. 

But I believe that He loves me. I believe that He waits patiently for me to pick back up when I fall so that He can brush me off, take me by the hand, and lead me to my personal salvation.

This Easter, I hope that this story will serve as a reminder to you that the magnificent Being who rose again on the third day did so for you. And that He would have done it if you were the only one who needed Him to.

He is with you. He loves you. And no matter what you do, no matter how far you may fall, He will be right there with you, silently saying to you, "When you're ready, let's pick back up from..."

Happy Easter everyone!

Also by Emily Shay

Being a Mirabel

I know, I know. There are Encanto posts EVERYWHERE right now. Sorry not sorry for making another one.

I have been slightly obsessed with this movie. It is rare that a movie- especially a kid's movie -hits me so hard in so many different ways. But this one has been a doozy for me and I have been fascinated to learn about all sorts of different nuances to the movie from the way that We Don't Talk About Bruno is written to the colors that the Madrigal's wear. And I have been analyzing the heck out of all of the characters and their relationships to one another. But what I want to talk about today is how I personally relate to characters in the movie and the insights that that has given me into how I feel about myself.

I asked a couple of my siblings recently which sister from Encanto they related to the most and was fairly unsurprised to hear their answers of Louisa and Isabella. But my sister seemed surprised when I told her how much I relate to Mirabel. 

My whole life, I have felt less than. I have never felt that I'm the best at anything. I don't just feel second place, I feel like I'm not even in the running in most aspects of my life. This was very prevalent all through my school-age years. I was never good at sports (except for gymnastics, which I had to quit fairly young because of finances), I couldn't cook, I had a hard time making friends, I wasn't great at acting, I never did very well playing piano, etc. And I always looked up to my sister who seemed to be good at just about everything in my eyes. She was funny, could draw well, was generally good at sports, played the piano sufficiently, was good at cooking, had lots of friends, and had cute handwriting. Beyond her, it seemed that everyone in my family had something. Each of my brothers did sports at one time or another, a couple of them were very imaginative and wrote stories, etc.

I remember many a tear-filled conversation with my mother revolving around me feeling like everyone had a talent except me. She would always tell me that my talent was being compassionate, which like, was great and all, but I couldn't get up on stage and be compassionate for a talent show.

When I was about 12 I finally found something that I was good at; singing. I not only loved singing, but I was actually pretty good at it and only got better when my Mom finally gave in and let me start taking voice lessons. 

I also found that I was pretty good at English. I had always loved reading, but found that I was decent at writing and analyzing books as well.

And then my younger brother started taking piano lessons and pretty much immediately surpassed me in his skill. And then he got into singing and got a lead in my senior musical that I finally got a part in. And he was super smart and was way better than me in English. And he was just generally more likable. I legitimately went from being (middle brother's) sister to being (younger brother's) sister in high school.

And I took AP Music Theory my junior year or high school and it simply did not click with me the way that it clicked with my friends.

And so singing, the one thing that I really felt that I had going for me, didn't feel good enough either.

And English, the other thing that I was pretty good at, wasn't either. 

And I could tell you about how people always thought that I was good with kids, but then met my older brother that is fantastic with them.

Basically I have grown up feeling very much overshadowed by my siblings. And not only them, but my friends, classmates, and pretty much everyone else. 

I remember commenting to a sister in our ward one day about how she seemed to be good at everything. She made some kind of comment about being a jack-of-all-trades, like that was a bad thing. But I realized in that moment that maybe I would never be the best at anything, but I would honestly have loved being a jack-of-all-trades because then I could help out in lots of different ways.

And this is where some of the other Madrigals come in for me. As much as I feel that I relate to Mirabel the most, there is definitely a dash of Louisa and and a pinch of Isabella in there for me. Mostly just a couple of the lines that they sing.

When Louisa sings "I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service", it hit me in the gut. And then when Isa sings "What could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect? It just needed to be?"

Let's explore Isabella briefly first.

For as much as I have never felt great at anything, I have been a perfectionist. And, well, being a perfectionist while also feeling like nothing that I ever do is very good at all, let alone "good enough" is kind of the worst feeling in the world. Like I am incapable of not falling short. 

Which, in turn, makes it really hard for me to become good at anything because I struggle to allow myself to do something badly at first. I could be a lot better at the piano than I am right now, but I would get so, so frustrated during practice when I kept making mistakes that I struggled to practice much at all.

I can't become a jack-of-all-trades if I don't, you know, learn any new trades. I tell myself that I don't have to be great at things, just good enough. But I have a hard time allowing myself to get to a "good enough" place without getting irritated and down on myself for not being better.

Now Louisa.

I have related to her the most I think during my mission and then after my ex was arrested (5 years ago yesterday. Isn't that crazy?).

I was constantly sick while I was on my mission, which then led me to constantly feel like I was letting everyone down. My companion, the members of the ward that I was serving in, all of the people in our area that I could have been bringing closer to Christ, and, you know, God Himself. 

If I couldn't be out there serving the Lord, then what good was I?

And then when my ex was arrested, I was doing so poorly in so many different ways. 

And yet, when I started opening up about my struggles, and especially when I first started this blog, I felt like I was genuinely helping people. People saw me as strong (even though I explicitly told them that I would spend way too much time laying on the floor staring at the ceiling) and even inspiring. 

The tragedy of my life was all of a sudden an opportunity to make a real difference in people's lives, and I was pumped about that! I hated what happened to me, but I was so grateful to finally feel like I had something to contribute that maybe no one else could at the time.

But then, as time went on, I seemed to stop seeming strong and inspirational to people. At the beginning, it was impressive to people that I kept pressing forward despite not being able to work a regular job anymore because of my PTSD mixed with chronic illness. But when literal years have passed and that's still the case, it stops being praiseworthy and starts seeming pathetic.

Not that anyone has ever said that to me. But it's what my mind tells me every day. 

You should be doing so much more. You should BE so much more. 

My blog posts have become few and far between and get the smallest fraction of views that they used to. 

I struggle greatly to sit and write them, even though I have ideas swirling around in my mind.

I often feel too weak to exist properly, let alone help anyone. And if I can't help anyone, then why do I exist anyway?

And my mind keeps telling me that I'm a terrible mother, that I'm not a good primary president, that I'm ruining my parents' and brother's lives by living with them in such inadequacy and being so needy. It tells me that I will never, ever be good enough. I will never be strong enough, smart enough, financially well off enough, to be a help to anyone, let alone my own family. 

And I do my best to tell my mind to shove off. And I keep trying to slog forward, even though I feel like I've been falling behind for a long time now. 

And Mirabel gives me hope that someday, my seemingly small and weak efforts will make all the difference to someone. And well, hopefully all the difference for me too.

This post isn't here to make you all pity me and tell me all of the great things that I know that you see in me that I struggle to see in myself. I guess it's just here to say, I suppose it is okay for me to "just be" sometimes. And I know deep down that I am helping people more than I realize. And that I do have intrinsic worth that isn't attached to my accomplishments (or lack thereof). And that trauma doesn't just disappear with a sudden poof of healing. I mean, Abuela is clearly still affected daily by the trauma of losing her Pedro and all of a sudden feeling responsible not only for herself and her infant triplets, but also- because of the miracle that she was given -the entire community of refugees. But even she is eventually able to recognize the weight that she has been unwittingly distributing to her loved ones. 

And I hope that it doesn't take me 50 years to sort through my trauma, but maybe being aware that it is still affecting me so much is the first step.

Okay, honestly, I'm not really sure what the purpose of this post is at all.

I'll end with this though;

I hope that I can press forward with the determination of Mirabel. While she is obviously not perfect, she is such an incredible example to me of humility, empathy, and bravery. She doesn't let being "ordinary" stop her from giving her all to help support those that she loves. She takes what she does have- the ability to persevere no matter what -and rolls with it.

May we all be a little more like Mirabel. May we have the ability to take notice. To look around us and see behind the strength and talent and seeming perfection of others to see people who deserve love simply for being.

Keeping the Spirit of Christ All Year Round

December and January are rough months for me. My ex's birthday is in December, he re-proposed in December, which means that he recorded me in the bathroom for the first time in December, and he was arrested and my world turned upside down in January.

What helps the most during this time period is Christmas. I absolutely love Christmas. I love the lights, the excitement, and I especially love how everyone seems to be a little bit kinder to each other during Christmas time.

But is seems that as soon as Christmas is over, when we all go into couch potato mode until New Years, I get hit with an extra dose of depression and anxiety.

I've been thinking a lot about one of my favorite Christmas/winter songs called the December Song (this version in particular). 

This is the first chunk of the song:

In December,

We give our gifts

Wishing well to our world,

Peace on Earth to everyone.

A time to be joyful

When all is calm and all is bright

But why?

Does it change with the seasons?

And why can't we just hold on?

To silent nights,

Holy nights and angels singing lullabies,

And Heaven and nature, singing good will to all...

To all...

Especially with how difficult this time of year is, I know that I need Christ more than ever. But it can be hard to feel Him as society's collective focus on Him starts to slip away as quickly as the discounted Christmas candy.

I know that every day can't be like Christmas. Normal life has to continue on. The lights will come down and the excitement will fade. But I do wish that the spirit of Christmas, the Spirit of Christ, would linger more throughout the year. That that extra kindness that permeates December would continue and even grow.

And honestly, if that is going to happen, then we need to do more to remember and honor Christ's life, not only His birth. We need to make a greater effort to come to know Christ, to follow Him, emulate Him, and live His teachings. We need to study His words, consider His actions and inactions, and then do our best to do as He would do.

We need to not only make sure that people aren't alone on the holidays, but that they also feel loved on a Tuesday. We need to not only smile and wish well to our cashiers as we buy gifts, but also as we buy our weekly groceries. We need to Light the World through every month and season. Because as we do so, our own lives can feel a little bit brighter too.

My son has a Bible quiet book that we bring to church with us. He sometimes pulls it out throughout the week, wanting to play with it. Usually he just immediately pulls off anything with Velcro and throws it to the floor, but for the last week or so, he has seemed drawn to the baby Jesus. He takes him out and carries him around. He put Him on our dog's back one day. Another day he took him over to the window to show Him the outside. And I noticed that when he took the little felt baby out of the manger, he talked to it in the same sweet voice that he uses when he talks to the pets.

Of all of the things in that little book, the little Jesus is the only one that I've seen him act that way towards. 

I hope that his sweet enthusiasm for Christ continues throughout his life.

It certainly showed me that even a child that can't yet speak can bear testimony of Christ. And that Christ is already a part of his life, even at such a young age.

Can we all do our best to not only keep Christ in Christmas, but to keep Him in our every day lives?

Christ doesn't only think of us on our birthdays, but every day of our lives. He is with us- loving us, serving us -in every moment.

When the lights come down, the lights within us should burn that much brighter. When the excitement fades, the more steady, consistent pleasure that comes from serving others can replace it. The joys of the Christmas season can continue throughout the year if we treat each and every day like a day to celebrate Christ.

Happy New Year everyone! May we all resolve to carry the Spirit of Christ from December to January and on through the rest of the year.

From a book of daily spiritual thoughts from
Russell M. Nelson that a sister
missionary gave me last year

Another version of the quote from above

Waiting for Hope to Return

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine that's struggling asked our friend group if we could start sending him inspirational/hopeful things, so we made another group chat specifically for that. Today, one of my other friends that is in that group chat sent this:

Alright friends, real talk. What do you do if you don’t have hope?

To which people started sending some nice messages, songs that have helped them, etc. And I could have done that too.

But I didn't.

This is what I sent back:

This is a lot less inspiring, but for me, sometimes I just have to keep going until the hope comes back.

Of course I pray and try to reach out to friends and such. And I have SO many sleep playlists and I listen to my Sunday playlist more because it's not so triggering.

But with all of that, I still feel hopeless sometimes. And when that's the case, I sob out prayers out loud and then just do my best to keep going until hope comes.

Depression/anxiety medication is also a must for me personally. I'm basically non-functional without it, though I hope to not need it someday.

And I have lots of playlists and picture quotes and scriptures and talks that I could share and will eventually, but honestly, the older I get, the more I realize that most of us have heard the same advice/words of encouragement over and over again for our whole lives and it's wonderful but also sometimes the very last thing that you want to hear.

It is absolutely true that God loves me, that things can and will get better someday, that I have people who care about me and are willing to help, and that all of my trials will be for my good. But knowing that doesn't stop me from feeling alone, hopeless, and worthless at times. And people reminding me of those things doesn't magically take away the pain. If anything it makes me feel guilty for not having more faith. But the thing is, I do have faith. I do believe in all of those good things. In my head. My heart? That is a different story. I can have faith while struggling to have hope.

Knowing those things is absolutely what helps keep me going, but not necessarily in the way that I think that we expect it to. It doesn't make me feel peace and joy when I'm in the pits. What it does do is give me the tiniest thread to cling to. It helps me to keep wading in the depths because I know in my mind that if I just keep going, hope will return someday. 

I ended up playing Codenames online with my family and that friend tonight, and when everyone was signing off of the video call, it ended up being me and the friend left. So before he could end the call, I asked him how he was doing.

And then we just talked. And I didn't spout platitudes and try to convince him that things aren't as bad as they seem. I told him that I get what he's feeling. I've been feeling depressed quite a bit lately and just really down on myself. I talked to him about some of my own struggles, and we went back and forth relating to each other about this or that. We laughed in the midst of sharing our woes. And yeah, we talked a little bit about moving forward, but mostly we just chatted. I made him watch the library card song from Arthur. We talked about Anastasia the Broadway production and how Bartok and Rasputin aren't in it and I got In the Dark of the Night stuck in my head (which replaced the library card song that had been running through it). We played Dominion online against a computer named Lord Rattington that made us thing of Rattigan from The Great Mouse Detective. 

And by the end of it all, we both felt a lot better.

I think that we sometimes make helping people harder than it has to be.

Here's the thing; I will absolutely remind you that you are a child of God and that there is purpose to our lives, no matter what point we are at in them. I will certainly send you playlists of soothing music and my favorite talks. But I'll also send you memes and silly videos and talk to you about random stuff. And I'll validate you feeling hopeless.

Not because I want you to feel that way, but because I have been there and often AM there. And when I am, I might not want to listen to a new playlist or have the ability to focus to read a talk. I might be tired of being told the same helpful things. I might have prayed all night for peace and still struggled to sleep and had nightmares. 

Sometimes I just want to know that I'm not alone in what I'm feeling and that I don't have to feel like I don't have enough faith if I feel this way. I want to laugh about stupid things and play games because it gets my mind out of the darkness for just long enough to remind me why I'm still going.

I was joking with some other friends at church the other day about how it was so hard to make friends as a kid, but now I'm just like "Hey! I'm depressed, you should come over sometime" and the other person be like "Hey! I, too, am depressed and could use some company too!" 

Obviously that's not how I became friends with those people in the first place, but still. And well, actually, that kind of is how I became friends with one of them at least, but I'm not going to get into that right now.

All I'm really trying to say here is that words of hope are definitely important and needed. But it's just as important and needed to recognize that those words alone might not be as helpful as you might think. It's okay to say "Everything will turn out okay, but I know that knowing that doesn't help you feel happy all of a sudden. I'm sorry that you are feeling this right now. I get it."

I've expressed in past posts that I feel like the reason that my testimony has remained strong through all of the horrible things that I've lived through is because I have had so many moments in my life where it literally felt like Christ was all that I had. I couldn't see Him or feel His love, but I knew that He was there and that was just enough to keep me going just a little bit longer.

And I stand by that.

I still have many a night where things feel hopeless. And it's all that I can do to just make it through the next minute, the next hour, the next day. But I do make it through them and I keep making it through them because I know that hope will return. And knowing that doesn't feel hopeful, but it is just enough.

So if you are in a period where hope is hard to find, please know that it is okay to simply live, or even just simply survive, for a little bit until it comes back. Because it will.

It always does if you just hold on a little bit longer.

I know that dandelions are weeds,
but honestly, one of my favorite things
about spring is when the green grass
gets spotted with yellow dandelions.
It's just so happy looking to me.

Something inspiring about finding
 beauty in weeds

Just look at them being all bright and happy
even though people hate them!

PS- There are a bit more inspiring things that I would love to write about hope someday, but I felt like this was more needed right at this moment. Just... being relatable I guess.

PPS- As I was looking for pictures to put at the top of this post, I stumbled upon this article that fit in perfectly with what I'm trying to say. I recommend reading the whole thing, though I will warn you that there is a bit of language. 

Here are a couple of excerpts that really hit the nail on the head for me:

Hope is not thinking positive thoughts. Hope is not self-delusion. Hope is clinging to the life raft and kicking, even when there is no sight of land. Hope is a muscle. Like most muscles, it hurts like hell at first, but it gets easier as you get stronger, and you get stronger the more routine, seemingly pointless work you put into it. It is possible. It’s not easy. It takes the sort of work, every day, of doing what needs to be done to care for yourself, your community, your society, even when you resent having to do so and would rather lie down for five minutes or five months or the rest of your life. That’s hope. It’s not a mood. It’s an action. It’s behaving as if there might be a future even when that seems patently ridiculous....

...It means not listening to the semirational sliver of your brain that believes staying in bed drinking liquid ice cream is the better option. And eventually—maybe soon, probably not—things change. Eventually, probably not today, you feel better, or different. That’s what hope is. That’s it. That’s all. It’s [bull crap] and necessary and anyone can do it. You’re welcome.

Last PS, promise- A different friend sent me this article yesterday and it also really spoke to me, so maybe it will to you too! Again, there is a little bit of language, just so you know