Here it is....it's Tuesday again.

Hey.
How's it going?
It's Tuesday again.
I hate Tuesdays.
Do they have to come every week?
I could do every other week.

Anyway. I'm sitting here doing homework, writing a paper due tomorrow that I haven't even had the time to start on, and I'm also listening to music (that's just what I do. I can't focus otherwise). Guess what song comes up?

Meant to Live by Switchfoot

Yeah. You remember that song, right? It was the song of my pre-teens. But I'll admit, I've never heard it quite like I heard it tonight.

Have you ever really stopped to consider that "we were meant to live for so much more"?

What do you live for right now? I live for:

My Studies

Yep. I know lots of you live for the same thing. My Dad has been going to school for like 3 years....nonstop. No summer break. No off-track. Yuck.

Some people live to pay their bills.
To earn more money to pay for their wants.
To keep from failing.
To protect themselves from embarrassment.

I know that a lot of what I live for is trying obsessively to get rid of my faults.

These are all great, but what if we were meant to live for more than just that?

Here's what my list SHOULD look like:

Family
Friends
Sunny days
Rainy days
Roommates
Ice cream runs with my friends
Finding that aquariam in the basement of the MARB.
The Gospel
Loving myself.
Loving others.
Being loved.

But mostly, smiling.

Babies really get what's going on with life. They understand what they're supposed to live for.

I'm sure someday we'll all get it too. (Isn't my little brother just the cutest thing ever?)

I hate Tuesdays.

You know those days when you just feel tired? 

Not even physically.

Emotionally.

Like...you just want to give up.

But what would you be giving up?

There's nothing to make you feel better.

Today is one of those days.

Why am I not enough?

And I don't even want someone to 

try and comfort me.

I just want to be.

But I don't.

You know what I mean?

These Times

I know a lot of people who are struggling right now, including myself.

I get on Facebook and just feel sad at the sometimes silent battles that I see. Why do we have to struggle? Why do others have to be selfish? Why can't we forgive ourselves? Why do we try so hard to fight against things that we can't change?

I think there are a few things that are important to remember during times such as these.

First, that we are more than we think. Most people have more power in their lives than they would ever dream of exercising. We have the power to transcend the things that happen to us, to define ourselves as something more, something infinite, something untouchable. We don't have to let sorrow consume our lives, we don't have to stop moving because we tripped over the hurdle.

We can always say: "I made a mistake. But that does not mean it is who I am." If we choose to allow ourselves to move on despite our mistakes, then they truly won't be who we are, they'll be a spot on our timeline. But if we choose to sit and dwell on them--agonize and withhold forgiveness from ourselves--then they will indeed become who we are. That is the beauty of being you--you define you. You can choose what you do and who you are.

I heard a line in a song that says "These times will try hard to define me / But I will hold my head up high / these times are hard / but they will pass"


Second, that Heavenly Father knows us and will not let us suffer more than we can bear. It says this in the scriptures multiple times, but I still don't think that people realize this. So many people say "I know that my trials strengthen me. I am grateful for them" and then cave under pressure and lose their faith when they are called upon to prove their statement--I'm included in this. Because, let's face it.

Trials are hard.

Sometimes, in the midst of a trial, it takes all I have to get up in the morning and face myself in the mirror. Everything I do feels frustrating--why can't anyone see me hurting inside? What do simple tasks like the dishes really matter when my heart is breaking and my life is falling apart?

I've even asked myself why others feel the need to laugh when they can't see what others are suffering. When I was in the 3rd grade, my parents divorced. I hated that school year, and unfortunately, I remember too many things about it. I remember a lot of times when I'd smile at someone and get a sneer and a snicker instead of the warmth I so badly needed. I spent a lot of time by myself in class, at lunch and recess, simply because being alone felt better than getting made fun of because my hair was messy or my pants were too short. They had no idea what I was feeling, and it hurt me that they didn't bother to find out.

But Heavenly Father took me in his arms and showed me that I was strong enough to withstand their judgments. That I was strong enough to see myself through this trial. That I was strong enough to make it through the sorrow. That things would look up someday.

And He was right. Today, I am okay. Things got better. My hurt healed. Which brings me to my last point.

Christ knows what we suffer. We are not alone.

This video was shown in my Book of Mormon class today, and it is definitely worth your time to watch. It is such an accurate portrayal of the way things stand. It just kills me to hear about people who suffer without any hope for relief...

It hurts my heart that there are people who don't understand the thing that I hold most dear--The Atonement. That Christ took upon him, one by one, each of our pains and sorrows.

He knows how you feel.

No matter what you feel. No matter what you suffer. No matter how disappointed you are. No matter what you have done.

He feels it, too. He won't try to lessen your pain. He won't try to tell you not to feel hurt. He'll simply wrap you in his arms and give you peace in your trial.

When you are lost and hurt, you can be found. He will never leave you alone. Of this, I have a very tender testimony. I have found it in those moments when I didn't feel like I could go on. When it hurt to breathe because my heart was tearing in two. When I was consumed in guilt and shame, when I felt that I couldn't ever possibly be forgiven or loved.

One of my favorite places in the world is on Temple Square, in the North Visitor's Center. There they have the Christus statue in the upstairs room with all the stars and galaxies and clouds painted on the ceilings and walls. It is the most magnificent thing, and every time I see it, it takes my breath away. I am struck by the simple beauty that the statue holds, and the intense reverence it inspires in me. I stand in front of the statue and think "This is my Savior. Someday I will stand like this, but it will really be Him."

At a wedding once, I was in charge of taking care of the little ones while the adults were inside. My sweet little two year old brother, Ryker, and I were chilling in the Visitor's Center at the IF Temple next to their Christus Statue, and all of a sudden, Ryker wiggled out of my arms and walked over to it. He just stood there for a moment, his little face turned up towards Christ with an expression of uncharacteristic reverence. He looked over at me, back up at Christ, and then whispered to me:

"Rachel. That's Jesus."

What better witness could I ask for? I lifted him up so that he could gently touch the prints in Christ's hands--and Ryker very clearly understood what was going on. He just kept saying "that's Jesus. He's Jesus."

I know that Christ lives. I know that He loves me. I cannot wait for the day when I can stand before Him and say "I was not perfect, Lord. But I loved you, and I never stopped trying, even when I hurt."

Because sometimes it will hurt. Sometimes we cannot control everything. This life was meant to be difficult. But we can do it. The Savior is on our side.

If there was one thing I could share with everyone I know, it would be my testimony of Christ and his atoning power.

"For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer" D&C 19:16

"Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands" 1 Nephi 21:16

"Arise and come forth unto me, that ye may thrust your hands into my side, and also that ye may feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet, that ye may know that I am the God of Israel and the God of the whole earth, and have been slain for the sins of the world." 3 Nephi 11:15

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." St Matthew 11:28

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoseoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." St John 3:16

What?

I'm not actually sure what I'm going to write about....but I'm writing. Today is one of those contemplative days. Maybe I'll actually share a life event!

You see this right here? This is the most beautiful thing on the earth. This is my family (at its finest, might I add) and this is the thing that I value most above everything else that exists. I am always gonna try to live my life in a way that will allow me to keep this--and to have one of these for my own someday!

Anyway. Last week, my home teachers (best ever, just saying) challenged me to pray out loud four times this week. I just think I should say that this, for some reason, scares the heck out of me. Voicing feelings out loud?  Freaky. I feel silly. I feel like I'm talking to a wall, which only crazy people do.

Every day this week, I told myself that I'd do it tomorrow. I'd pray out loud tomorrow. I'd prepare myself for that tomorrow. And finally, Friday rolled around.

I woke up feeling awful. Lonely. Sad. Worthless. In need of some love.

I dragged through my first classes. I could feel something heavy, right in the pit of my stomach, and it wouldn't get lighter, it wouldn't stop choking me. I finally sat down on my bed, defeated, and it was at this moment that I remembered the challenge, and, reluctantly, I knelt down and began to pray,
barely audibly.

The spirit immediately rushed into the room, and I cried! I can count the amount of times that I've cried here at BYU on one hand. It's not something I do lightly. But I did. And....I found myself putting every hurt that I had into words, and somewhere in there, I began pleading:

"Heavenly Father, please help me to know that you love me."

I was sitting there in my room, crying, barely managing to form coherent words, and metaphorically stretching myself towards heaven, and I realized something. Peace began to fill me, and I realized that I should feel this level of confidence every time I pray. Every time I fold my arms, I should feel like I'm sitting down to have a conversation with the Lord.

It was very intimate and peaceful. And....

as soon as I got up, my phone buzzed, and I got a text from my Mom that simply said

"I love you Rachel"

And it was then that I realized that Heavenly Father loved me, and that everyone around me just bore testament to that fact. The people that love and care for me were sent by Him. It was a very sweet message.

I'm grateful that my Mom listened to the Spirit and texted me right then.