I’m no expert. Like I always tell you. On anything. But I’ve been around for awhile. Learned a few things. Had some heartbreaks. A few set-backs. But here’s what I’m learning about life’s struggles.
There’s no sliding scale that tells you which ones are really hard and which ones are the ones you don’t need to stress about. If it’s big to you, it’s significant. Even if it wouldn’t be to someone else. And oddly enough, just because you’re supposed to be broken up about something isn’t enough of a reason to act contrary to what you’re naturally feeling. Who’s to say what’s normal or what your reaction should be, what’s hard or what’s easy?
The tools are the same. Regardless of what you’re dealing with. Whether I’m dealing with a life-long struggle with jealousy, the death of my dad, or an overall question of purpose. Maybe not trials in the traditional sense, but maybe little hiccups, a hill here and there to take note of. So I’ve cried over misunderstandings with friends. I’ve worried about my kids, are they even assimilating any of the spiritual teachings we’ve exposed them to? What’s my part to play in the world? I’ve been worried for my sisters with breast cancer and unemployment. I’ve cried over regrets, not having been a better daughter to my dad, feeling so sad that it’s too late to make things better. I’ve had hard days filled with guilt and pride and loneliness. So maybe they aren’t hard things like a divorce or losing a child to an accident, but I’ve pulled out my tools, always certain I have what I need.
It’s not a large box, just a basic toolkit. Rudimentary supplies for both the apprentice and skilled laborer alike. Accessible to all.
When I find myself wondering what to do with a challenge, it’s just natural to become a little introspective. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done something to contribute to the problem. What part did I play in the misunderstanding, the sore throat I’m coming down with, why my younger kids don’t like to read, why the cars are all falling apart, and why doesn’t our money stretch further? Just important to me to assess the information at hand. And a lot of times, yes, I’ve contributed to the problem. I said something flippant or indulged in gossip, I’ve stayed up a little too late a few too many times and run myself down. I haven’t been as diligent with the younger set in our reading as I was with the older ones, we ran the car without oil for who knows how long, I’ve been a little careless with our money lately, we’ve had a few too many treats. So yes, these are things I can take issue with and improve. Learn from, do better next time, regroup and move forward trying again. A small but natural exercise, recognizing that sometimes we’ve helped create a problem.
But a lot of times life just happens. It’s not really our fault that rocks hit our windshields or that appliances break. All at the same time. Sometimes we have no idea we’ve said something wrong. People get sick and others die. Some years there’s an early frost that kills the garden. Occasionally a kid is contrary. Thankfully, the tools I’ve relied on for years have helped me with all the scenarios, big and small.
I look upward. I wonder what my part to do now is. I ask Him about it. I pray for people near and far who are struggling with such hard, hard things. Families falling apart, health deteriorating, people losing their faith, accidents, set-backs I can’t even fathom. I pray for our little family. For strength and peace. And guidance. And to align my will with His. Thankful for whatever He thinks we’re ready for.
I look to His word and counsel. I want to know what He has for me. But I’m not very good at this part. I dabble instead of immerse sometimes. Because I’m not sure where to start. I listen to a lot of good talks, I read inspirational messages. And I cling to the words of prophets and apostles. And these help so much. But I know He has more for me. When I’m ready to sacrifice and really study, to engage, to feast. Because it’s worked before. It just takes a little more effort on my part and I get distracted so easily. Sigh. But I soak myself in His spirit. At church. In the temple. In my secret closet. He always meets me. He’s wherever I’m willing to go.
I look to loved ones for support. My family. A couple of close friends. My church family. I’m pretty open in what I write, but things closest to my heart are reserved for my husband and sisters and mom. A couple of close girlfriends. And Heavenly Father. They know me and my intentions. They’ve forgiven me and have allowed me to walk imperfectly. It’s reciprocal, and I trust them with my heart. They are my earthly angels who never let me down.
I look for ways to get busy. I open my eyes instead of shutting them to the world, which is maybe a natural inclination. Instead I’ve learned it’s better to ask who needs what. What will cheer up someone else? What does He need my hands to do today? Easiest way I know to work through something that’s weighing on my mind.
And I write about it all. In letters. In my journal. In the margins of my scriptures. Quotes that touch me go in my quote book. But that’s just me. Words help me sort through my feelings and give me perspective. And I hope—oh, how i hope—they will help someone else down the road. To avoid the pitfalls and mistakes I’ve made. To learn from my errors so they don’t have to face the same struggles. Especially my children. A mother can’t help but hope for her children to be better than she has been, and so I record my failings and weaknesses and ups and downs for them.
Just a handful of tools that have worked on projects of all sizes in my life. Problems of all proportions. A small toolbox, just the basics. I suppose you could try the fancy ones out there. You could try shopping or drinking or being spiteful and bitter. You might want to try blaming someone or looking for revenge. You could try to show God you don’t need Him if this is how things are going to go. You could wallow and become shallow. You could use those tools. But we know that eventually they rust and break and become useless. And get thrown away.
The toolbox our Father has given us is a gift. It’s up to us to either tuck these tools away in a dusty garage and decide they are old-fashioned and too simple for the task we’re up against or to keep our box handy, close by, with the lid open, accessible. Because it doesn’t matter if a picture needs straightened or our vision needs a tweak. If a car is dying or a loved one is fading. These are the tools at our disposal. No job is too small or too big for the tools He’s given us. I know that because I’ve used them. It’s simply up to us.
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