I once read that writing is the best way to speak without
being interrupted. It’s also my best form of self-help and therapy. Turns out,
I haven’t written anything in a while. Maybe that’s why I seem to be in such a
rut lately.
I think most
people would say that I’m a pretty happy, go-lucky person. And I would agree….mostly.
Because, the thing is, most people
don’t know me very well. I’ve been blessed to make many friends and meet
wonderful people wherever I go; however, at this point, it’s hard to pinpoint
those who I would call my very close friends. I just feel like I have a lot of acquaintances.
So, despite the fact that I wear my heart on my sleeve and am generally an open
book, there are few people who know me well enough to read my deepest sentiments
and emotions regardless of my facial expression. My dearest friends are either
married or on missions. I know I’ve said this before, but I really just can’t
help feeling a little left behind. I just want a best friend again.
The crappy thing is, I’m so blessed! I have nothing to
complain about! I have a wonderful family who loves me and takes care of me. I’m
in a master’s program studying my dream profession. I’ve landed a job which I
love and is right up my alley. I love my church calling and my ward. I live in
an absolutely gorgeous area. All of my needs are met. And best of all, I’m a
member of the Lord’s true church and know that His gospel is true. In essence,
I feel like a total wench for being the least bit negative about my life. I’ve
got it so good!
How is it, then, that I feel so stagnant? I feel
unproductive, worthless, and pathetic. I feel stuck. Most of all, lost. I feel
so lost. For the first time, I know what people mean when they say they feel
lonely in a sea of people. Nothing I do is progressing me towards where I want
to be. And where is that? I’m not even sure that I know. I’m just not even sure
what direction I’m headed.
Heavenly Father has a funny way of getting in my head.
Tonight I took a walk through my parents neighborhood. I’m here in Washington
visiting for a few days, and every time I come I am completely floored by the
beauty in this area. The air always smells so clean, the greenery is
spectacular, and the view of the Puget Sound makes me feel like I’m in a dream
vacation spot. But no. My family actually lives here. With all of these negative
emotions and thoughts running through my brain, I felt like a walk would do me
good.
Toward the end of my walk, I picked a daisy from the side of
the road. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I immediately wanted to start
plucking petals and whispering softly, “He
loves me, he loves me not…” But I refrained as the thought danced through
my head with a spout of bitterness, “Too
bad you don’t have anyone to wonder about.” I held onto the daisy anyway,
twirling it in my fingers as I walked. I studied it, admiring it’s whiteness
and perfectly round, yellow center. Such a simply beautiful thing. In studying
it, I noticed a few tiny insects crawling around on the petals, but no matter
how I twirled the flower or blew on it, the bugs wouldn't come off. “Whatever,” I thought, and kept walking.
Just a block or two later I came upon some dandelions on the
side of the road. I stopped, excited to pick one and make a wish before blowing
dozens of hazardous dandelion seeds onto some poor fellow’s lawn. As I went to
grab one, I was a little confused by the plant. They seemed to all be connected
in a bush like growth, and in picking one I disrupted all those surrounding it.
My efforts were all for naught as I held up a completely seedless stem. I
decided to try again. A bit more carefully this time, I used both hands and
pulled on the tough stem. I successfully plucked the little bugger without
losing any seeds, but in the process I had somehow taken a big chunk of skin
off my thumb knuckle with the opposite thumbnail. I stared at my wound as blood
pooled to the surface, blowing on it and willing the sting away. I glanced at
the dandelion, then back at my thumb as a voice, which seemed to be my own,
entered my thoughts. “Be careful making
wishes, Hannah. You may only hurt yourself.” Ugh. I lifted this little omen
of hope to my lips, thinking, “I wish…I
wish…I wish I knew where I was going” (figuratively, of course). I began to
inhale, then stopped short as a voice, not my own, penetrated my thoughts. “You already know that. You’re making your
way home to Me.” Again, ugh. “Ok,
then…I wish…I wish I could go on a mission? No. You know that’s not what you’re
supposed to do. And you know that wishing for your husband to come will be futile
if it’s not the Lord’s timing. I wish Julie was here? No…that wouldn't be right
to wish her off her mission.” I began walking again, daisy in one hand and
intact dandelion in the other. I couldn't think of anything to wish for, yet,
somehow I was sure I’d think of something before I reached the house. I didn't.
I ended up leaving both the daisy and the dandelion on the pavement at the
bottom of the driveway. Both had failed me in some small way, but as I made my way up the driveway, I felt oddly triumphant. Here was my realization.
I didn't need to make a wish. All the blessings I could ever
ask for are mine so long as I do what is required to get them. I already have
been given so much, and in the Lord’s time, I will be given so much more than
what I can even imagine. He wants to give it to me! It’s not like this is some
twisted game where I’m meant to be miserable as he holds back the things that I
want most in life. He knows me. He knows my thoughts, my desires, my
sentiments, and my hidden emotions. He is my closest and truest friend.
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"The rose has but a summer reign, the daisy never dies." -James Montgomery |
A beautiful verse of poetry states:
"You may wear your virtues as a crown,
As you walk through life serenely,
And grace your simple rustic gown
With a beauty more than queenly.
Though only one for you shall care,
One only speak your praises;
And you never wear in your shining hair,
A richer flower than daisies."
-Phoebe Cary
What could be more symbolic of the Savior?
The puff-ball dandelion, on the other hand, has a less promising
symbolic nature. Myths and folklores were all I could find. Make a wish before
blowing the seeds off, and it may just come true. The number of breaths it
takes to blow all the seeds off is the number of years before you find true
love. Or, if some seeds cling to the stalk, you’ll never find true love.
Planting them in the northwest corner of your property will bring good weather.
The amount of seeds left on the stalk after blowing is the number of years you
have left to live. Yada yada yada… The way I see it, the dandelion, while a fun
and hopeful little thing, brings nothing but a false sense of security. It’s
wishy washy. There’s no sure foundation. With a simple breath its seeds can be
blown into the breeze, completely controlled by the elements which surround them.
Not only that, but somehow this little weed must have thought that the
commandment to multiply and replenish the earth was a specific charge to itself
rather than to Adam and Eve. It’s ridiculous.
In summary, as I cling to the Savior and the values I've
been taught, I’ll be filled with peace as I follow His plan for me and receive blessing
beyond what any wish could bring me. Wow. It really is the simple things, isn't it?
Yours Truly