He Hears Me

I have always been a person who sought faith. I've been an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints since I was baptized when I was eight years old, and in many ways my faith has shaped who I am and is the reason I am who I am today. I cannot imagine where I would be without it, because I have never lived without it. However, faith, the actual principle in believing in something I cannot see, is not an easy concept to grasp or practice.

Anyone who has spent any amount of time with me knows that I thrive off of connection. What brings me the most joy in life are the relationships I form with other people--I strive to make deep or at least personal connections with as many people as possible, because I truly believe that is something we are starved of in this day and age, especially in Western culture. Because of this, I have spent the last six months realizing and working on a personal and true connection with my Savior Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Parents. 

One of the hardest things to comprehend and put into action in any kind of relationship is the fact that in order to have a real relationship--a real connection--you have to allow yourself to be seen in multiple states. True connection doesn't happen with someone who only ever sees one side of you, at least in my experience. We have to be willing to allow others to revise and reconceptualize their first impression of us. It is so hard! It is terrifying to be vulnerable, and any time we act out of what we imagine someone views us as, we are practicing vulnerability.

When I prayed, I had gotten into the habit of feeling like the Lord had to see me the same way. I forget at times that He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and that I, in fact, am not. I am mortal, and therefore terribly inconsistent. However, that isn't a surprise to God. He is well aware of my many sides and moods, for He can see me more perfectly and clearly than I can see myself. Because of this, I shouldn't have to worry about presenting myself as anything other than myself when I pray, right?

This is a concept that's much easier to logic through than feel, though, and I am someone who is largely ruled by emotion and how she feels. I still often feel that I am letting my Father down when I come to Him in prayer and can barely form the words through my tears, or I cannot kneel with how badly I am shaking or how bone tired I am. I am trying to work on learning that God is not a God who waits for us to come to Him in our Sunday best in order to bless us. Christ walked in the same dust as the people he worked with and healed, his feet were streaked with mud as theirs were. If God's Only Begotten can heal a woman who is weeping, surely he and my Heavenly Father can comfort me when I am crying too hard to speak. Trusting that takes faith, and it takes a kind of faith I am quite imperfect at.

That being said, I have had some pretty cool experiences as of late. I am so grateful that our Heavenly Parents, my Heavenly Parents, reward my imperfect efforts. I am slowly (but surely) learning that my terrified attempts to be open in prayer, painfully open, are sufficient to be blessed. Today at multiple points I have found myself uttering prayers of overwhelming doubt in myself and my place in this world, a seemingly never-ending stream of anxieties and pains that I didn't know how to deal with. 

I still don't really know how to deal with a lot of things that I feel currently. I do know that my Heavenly Father is hearing my prayers, though. I know largely in part because people keep seeming to reach out to me--my cousin texted me an epiphany that opened my eyes in a way I hadn't expected, a friend showed up at my apartment and after talking for a couple minutes, asked if I wanted a blessing, and just a few minutes ago another friend texted me a couple verses of scripture that gave me comfort I had desperately been seeking for a couple hours. I know that it's easy to see these as coincidences, but I am finding that I don't really believe in those. 

How wonderful it is that the Savior died for us after feeling ever pain and sorrow we would experience. How wonderful it is that His Father (and ours!) loved us enough that He would allow something to happen to His Son so that we need never feel alone. How grateful I am that I can never weary God with my sorrows, for He sees my feeble attempts at vulnerability and chooses to view them through the lens of opportunity, and constantly reassures and validates me so my prayers become a safer place for this broken heart. How incredible it is, to see that I have never needed to be whole to be blessed.