Sometimes God talks to me.
Not in a prophetic sort of way. He just says things that I hear inwardly, things that help me move forward. I know it’s Him because it sure isn’t coming from me.
Usually I am in a quiet place when it happens. I’ve sought it out because there is no inner quiet, only a crashing mental and emotional thunderstorm. So I find a spot like the shower or my bedroom, and I ask for wisdom.
Mostly, though, it happens in the temple.
In the temple, God talks to me even when I’m angry, contrary, belligerent, turbid, and skeptical. His speaks, and I’m finally still.
It happened one hot day in July a few years back when I couldn’t handle the poop anymore. My life had become mostly about coping with Jack’s BM’s. I cleaned up Code Browns on a daily basis, often more than once a day. The house was steeped in poop. My life stunk, literally.
I went to the temple, a clean and quiet place. I sat beneath a mammoth chandelier, tears seeping from the corners of my eyes, and my supplication went like this:
Me: “Heavenly Father, I’m so mad and frustrated and sick of poo.”
Him: “No kidding.”
Me: “Why does it have to go on and on and never end? Have I not learned from these years of caring for Jack? Am I not gentler with people—kinder, softer, more forgiving? Am I not more compassionate and less prone to judge? What haven’t I learned and why can’t the poo storm stop? Must I live with the same awful crises and horrors over and over and over and over?”
I wept, and looked up at the giant chandelier above me, constructed of hundreds of cylindrical fingers of crystal. Bound together in a scalloped pattern, they resembled a massive and intricate flower bloom.
Him: “Each of those fingers of crystal is like the experiences you are having in your life. Ultimately, your experiences will also form a beautiful, vibrant, light-filled thing. But you have to have them first. All of them.”
In a bright room beneath a brilliant chandelier, my sadness receded. It didn’t make sense that I felt better. But I did feel better.
Because God told me that the only way out is straight through.