A Strong Current

I’m going to tell you a story of something pivotal that happened to me.

You know how I write not infrequently (i.e. all the time) about my dreams and my ongoing spiritual curriculum, as it were? Well this is more of that. But there is no dreaming in this one. It’s all real.

I did a session at the temple last week. When I finally block out the four plus hours it takes from start to finish including driving time to go to the temple, I am usually motivated by a waning sense of hope. I’m weary of feeling weary. I’m tired of being fearful of the future. I’m angry about the unchanging quality of our battles, the constant ratcheting up of the trial. So I will go and then I will leave with perhaps one little nugget of clarity, which is good, because I really need that nugget.

This time, though, I went into it with my molten core of peace (yay, molten core of peace!)

There was no urgency, but there was a sense of weepy gratitude. Weepy gratitude, by the way, is much better than angry/fearful weariness.

This time, astonishingly, flashes of truth hit me repeatedly, over and over, one practically right after another.

If bits of insight were laser beams, my temple session would’ve looked like an action scene from Star Wars, with storm troopers peppering the fleeing rebels with their blasters.

(Please note: there was no actual shooting of the temple patrons. Reverence prevailed, obviously).

It was everywhere. Understanding was everywhere. It was as though light was all around me, not even necessarily aimed at me. A slight turn of my head slightly one way and BAM! Some new truth shot into me. Light followed light in a stream. It was simply there.

At one point, I felt like the top of my head had been lifted off to allow more light inside.

I am not making this up. It isn’t hyperbole. It’s my best effort to use words to describe a real thing.

Questions, things that have been nagging at my consciousness got plain, real answers. It was instruction.

The young woman sitting at my right kept looking at me, probably because I wept repeatedly, mainly over the sheer insane beauty of life itself. Adam and Eve were given bodies in the image of God the Father. We live in these actual vessels designed by God to house our spirits. So what if they are imperfect (i.e. disabled)? It’s completely amazing. There is grandeur is just being alive.

And then.

I saw Jack in my mind, but it was Jack without disabilities. I saw his spirit. I really did.

An image of a perfect Jack filled up my whole self.

He was radiant, bathed in a golden light. He was looking directly in my eyes. He was calm, smart, intuitive, whole. His head wasn’t big, but proportional. His legs weren’t huge and splotchy and different lengths. He was tall and grown and trim, but with the same bright red hair and green eyes. He looked right at me, with love.

My whole body was burning. This is Jack as he really is!

I both saw and felt love and beauty. My brain was streaming this on a loop: my son is a gift; he’s bright and heroic, he’s wrought a change on me and on us.

Seeing this was like careening over a waterfall. It caught me up entirely and rushed through me with force. It was strong like the pull of water in a rushing river is strong.

And if that vision (!) weren’t enough, I happened to glance at the wall of glass beside me. It was a giant, lovely art piece of a window, and despite having seen it many times before, this time I really gazed at it, noticing something.

I saw that suspended between the panes were blobs of glass–plump, chunky, irregular, indented. The blobs were strung together, hanging in long lines down the center of the enormous window. The effect was of a river flowing from the top of the window to the bottom, with rapids in the spots where the blobs of glass were grouped.

I clearly felt that the hard parts of my life are just like those glass blobs. Sadness, disability, slogging, suffering—these are the imperfect chunks of glass worked into the larger window with its smooth and etched parts.

This is what unfurled in my mind as I looked at that window: my challenges are the irregular, blobby chunks of glass. They aren’t smooth and devoid of flaws. They are strange. But they make the window more than utilitarian; they make it beautiful.

There would be no dimension without the unusual blobs between the panes of perfect glass.

I thought of myself in the river that is my life. For years, I’ve been mostly trying to swim upstream, which doesn’t really work. I couldn’t turn myself over to the not-knowing of what the rest of my life with Jack will look like.

That split-second image of real Jack, with a perfect body and mind, yet with the same lovely spirit dragged me over a falls. It engulfed me.

The blobs in the window bubbled up and showed me the futility of swimming against the current of God’s will for my life.

I can flow downstream with the water, trusting the source of all living things.

I don’t need to fear Jack’s future, or my inadequacy. I don’t need to fight the current.

God has already fixed everything for my family. Jesus already made Jack’s resurrection to wholeness a reality. It’s already done.

This, now, is simply an interlude between life before mortality and life after. This is intentional, and the product of love.

The river roars.

The force of rushing water is carrying me back.

  18 comments for “A Strong Current

  1. Susan
    April 25, 2016 at 8:38 pm

    Just beautiful.

  2. Kerri
    April 25, 2016 at 9:23 pm

    Oh my. This is huge and enormous and gigantic. So beautiful, Megan. Thank you.

  3. Ann Cannon
    April 25, 2016 at 9:42 pm

    Crying here. Overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.

  4. Kera
    April 25, 2016 at 9:46 pm

    Beautiful as always.

  5. Rebecca
    April 25, 2016 at 10:10 pm

    Saw this on a friend’s newsfeed. Thank you so much for writing down these experiences and thoughts, so precisely and beautifully explained. The past few days I have been in An unusual state of weepy gratitude myself. Maybe this would be a good time to attend the temple. Thanks again.

  6. April 25, 2016 at 10:10 pm

    Hallelujah and amen.
    What an experience to treasure, my friend.

  7. Lesa
    April 25, 2016 at 11:09 pm

    What beautiful and spiritual feelings! You are so good at expressing yourself ! I am so glad you had this amazing experience! I love the temple and the peace and understanding one finds there!

  8. Stacey Townsend
    April 26, 2016 at 4:55 am

    Brilliant! Thanks for sharing, truly.

  9. Stacey Fiala
    April 26, 2016 at 6:18 am

    What a beautiful and life-changing experience. What relief. I love the temple for that.

  10. Stephanie
    April 26, 2016 at 10:18 am

    Absolutely beautiful, my friend! Thank you for sharing such an intimate experience and sharing the peace you feel. Grateful for tender mercies!

  11. Allysha
    April 26, 2016 at 10:48 am

    I am weepy with gratitude with you. This post makes me want to shout with joy. Thank you for sharing your journey. It is such a beautiful precious thing and I am grateful for it.

  12. LeeHawk
    April 26, 2016 at 6:25 pm

    Such a deserved gift given to you that day !

  13. Emily Jacobs
    April 26, 2016 at 10:11 pm

    My favorite part, “my challenges are the irregular, blobby chunks of glass. They aren’t smooth and devoid of flaws. They are strange. But they make the window more than utilitarian; they make it beautiful.”
    These are such beautiful and wise words and I thank you for sharing them with me and with the world. You have brought joy to my weary soul tonight!

  14. April 29, 2016 at 12:48 pm

    I love you and your dreams and your insights and experiences. It makes me hopeful to have my own. And Jack’s vision is beyond stunning. Oh and molten core of peace is …just sigh.

  15. Mandi Steele
    May 25, 2016 at 1:59 pm

    I just stumbled upon your blog and I must say, it was a miracle sent by Heavenly Father. Our oldest is also mentally and physically disabled and we have been through hell with him (and back). To find a kindred spirit who has experienced so many things that we have is almost too good to be true. Thank you for sharing your experiences with the world – and with me. May the Lord bless you and your family.

    • Megan
      May 31, 2016 at 11:06 am

      Mandi, thank you so much. Bless you.

  16. David Beaumont
    November 10, 2016 at 1:54 am

    How you described weepy gratitude, is exactly how I went into our weekend of Stake Conference. As a result had a Spiritualy revealing and uplifting weekend. One of our daughters as her challenges, sharing your Temple experience was beautifully put. Thank you.

  17. Barb
    April 25, 2017 at 1:06 pm

    Stunning. I am actually stunned. Could such revelation be possible for me, too? Your beautiful words make me think yes. And the last part about the resurrection being already assured- so powerful.

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