Hi! My name is Heather.
There’s an adage that assures us, “Every pot will find its lid.” In other words, there’s someone out there for everyone.
Well…
It’s been my lot in life to put those optimistic words to the test. Never in my wildest dreams (or maybe nightmares?) did I imagine I’d grow up to claim the title Old Maid, but here I am. A well of unanswered prayers, unmet desires, unfulfilled hopes—and priceless truths I would never know if God hadn’t left me to discover who I am without my other half.
I was born into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, baptized a member when I was eight, though I’m not on their records. That’s a history that may or may not find its way onto this blog, but for now, suffice it to say I believe in the mission of the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Book of Mormon he translated, and the Gospel he restored. My parents had an inherent love for that Gospel, and they instilled it in me largely by example. God has always been a figure in my life, and I was raised to consider him a friend.
But he’s God, and he has certain plans. And they’re perfect, of course, but not at all what I had in mind. Well, maybe they would be if I could comprehend them, but my mortal mind isn’t equipped. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.”
No. No, they are not.
So, when my dad died of cancer three weeks before my sixteenth birthday, when that loss has been compounded over the years by the ache for a husband and children I still haven’t met, when I’m one of four lidless pots in my family—yes, if you can believe it, my older sister, two younger brothers, and I are all in this strange marriage famine together, not a prospect among us, while our four older siblings have full grown children starting families of their own—all this watching other lives grow and bustle around our empty ones, and God stopped looking so friendly.
To be fair, I’ve been no teddy bear myself. I’ve thrown lots of tantrums at him. There’ve been lots of tears, lots of anger, lots of despair and sarcasm, and while it feels like he’s sitting up there like an indifferent statue—“You don’t even love me enough to chasten me!” I’ve told him more than once—I think he’s really just waiting for me to calm down because by now he knows what’s coming at the end of my sulk as well as I do. “I’m sorry, Heavenly Father. I know all those nasty things I’ve said and thought about you aren’t true. My heart is yours despite appearances to the contrary. Please soften it.”
Over and over, I’ve all but thrown in the towel. Over and over, I’ve come back. Over and over, he’s let me, and each time, he sets a new gem of understanding in my heart.
That’s what I’m here to share. The gems and the pressures that forged them. Lessons from the battlefield of God’s timetable, brought to you by someone who’s still in the fight, who still doesn’t know what her future holds but who’s finally seeing what the present can be. If God can use what he’s teaching me to strengthen you, I pray he will, and that the time you spend here will increase your faith in the plans he has for you, even if he’s still the only one who has a clue what they are.
I share my thoughts in no particular order. I’m sure they came in some order, but like the menagerie on a carousel, it’s hard to say anymore which is first. So, consider each post a stopping of that carousel at random to examine one of its many parts. No matter what order they’re in, it’s all part of the same ride.
God bless you on yours!
