To see with eyes of hope

I wasn't even sure I wanted to go.

Relief Society activities overwhelm me. So many people. Who do you sit next to? What do you talk about? I didn't even know what the activity was so I couldn't run scenarios through my head.

I decided to rock my baby to sleep. I'd figure it out when my arms were empty, right?

I helped Joby settle into a nap. McCallin settled into one, too.

As I crept out of the no-noise zone, I shut the door with the determination to go to the activity.

It was where I needed to be.

I then looked at the clock.

I was 15 minutes late.

My thought process:

I'm late (truth)
I'm always late (partial truth)
Nobody wants to be friends with someone who is late (a sliver of truth)
I will never have friends again (full on 100% lie)

Conclusion: I can't go to the activity. I am unworthy of friendship.

I am completely, totally, and irreparably unlovable.

I wish I could say I was brave enough to cry. I'm not. I'm too proud.

When I don't want emotions, I put them all in a box.

McCallin and I tried playing the grateful game to pry the box open.

I could only think of I am grateful our downstairs neighbor has not knocked on my door to tell me that we are too loud. 

Guys, apathy is real. And it is awful. It whispers that everything is worthless, and that nothing is fixable.

It took an hour and a choice to face all the icky emotions.

And then it all came pouring out, along with the built up tears: I am not successful at one thing. Not one thing. My house is a mess. My baby cries. My birthday cakes don't turn out. My toenails aren't painted.

And McCallin held me. He didn't even get scared. 

He told me through his empathetic tears that if my toenails were really important, we could make time for them.

I cried harder. He is a good man, that husband of mine. 

And then we talked about change. How God knows we are imperfect. He knows that we try and we fail. He knows that we have growing pains. He knows all that.

And yet, He loves us.

He loves us so much that He wants us to be happier, to choose good, to follow His son.

He believes in change. He believes in us.

Who am I to contradict God? Who am I to call up to the cosmos and say, 'nope. i'm the exception. i am beyond hope. i cannot be loved. i am damaged'?

I am praying to see what he sees in me.

And, my friends, I see part grace, more parts ineptitude.

But I am believing again.

Believing in my ability to love.

To be loved.

To change.

To become.

I have a multitude of barbed thoughts, sharp words, rough corners. I am a broken soul.

But by degrees, I can be healed, smoothed, refined.

I can become someone truly beautiful and whole and complete.

Possibly even without painted toenails. :)