IV. Everything Will Be Fine

I’m working through this inner struggle that looks like this:

On one hand, I don’t want Jack to be disabled. That’s the root of it.

I want him to live at home, with us. I want him to be a regular teen, with his charming, floppy hair. I want him to be his sweet self, but with words and the ability to live among us like a typical family. I want him to be able to go to Scouts and act like a nut with the rest of the deacons.

On the other hand, the reality is that he is disabled, and to a degree that precludes life continuing as it currently is. The Spirit has told us, more than once, that this change is what Jack needs, and that this is the right time.

So now things are changing in ways that aren’t comfortable for me.

The other day at Costco, I ran into my friend Jana. This was unusual, because she moved last year—she’s about an hour south, which is far enough that I never see her. She was in the frozen food section, and I told her what was happening with our family. When she heard about the series of miracles, she cried, right there next to the people buying dinosaur nuggets.

She told me about an insight one of her children had recently shared with her. He was thinking about patience, and how even Jesus had to exercise patience in waiting thirty long years to begin His ministry. It was what He had come to do, and still He had to be patient until the time was right. Jana then pointed out that her son had related this to the concept that all of us have to constantly work to subvert our will to God’s will.

The basic idea is that it doesn’t matter how great our plans are. Without God’s help and direction and strength, we aren’t going anywhere. It’s also the idea that God knows more than us and thus HAS BETTER PLANS THAN WE DO.

After this fortuitous conversation, which I recognize as another miracle (bumping into my spiritual mentor far from her town when I hadn’t even planned to stop at Costco but had to pick up emergency snacks for Jack’s class on a day when I was sad and adrift = miraculous), I have since thought much about the idea of my will versus God’s will.

I believe that the gap between what I wish could happen with Jack and what God is telling me needs to happen with Jack is the source of my angst and my sorrow.

I am conflicted, not because it is wrong (it’s right and I know it, even when I don’t want to know it), but because I’m still clinging to my own hopes and unfulfilled plans. I haven’t yet fully embraced God’s plan for Jack.

A few weeks ago, I went to the temple with Jack on my mind. The burden of not enough caregivers/the right kind of caregivers/inadequate support/etc. was smashing me. And as I sat there meditating, this cool breeze whispered through my mind, telling me that everything was going to be fine.

If I told myself everything was going to be fine, I would immediately contradict this notion with all the reasons why it wasn’t going to be fine. But when the spirit imprints it on your thoughts, there is no need to disagree. I felt it. Everything was going to be fine.

Everything is going to be fine.

So I’m holding on and conscientiously opening myself to the superior nature of God’s will.

It’s much better than mine.


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