Grasping Corners

September Writing Challenge - Prompt #6:

Answer

 "When it comes to prayer, let's have no more empty statements and insincere but polite phrases. Be honest. If you're mad, say so. If you're confused, say so. And don't think anything is too small for the Savior's loving attention" 

-Chieko N. Okazaki, Lighten Up

Throughout adulthood, it hasn't been uncommon for me to begin my prayers with, "Heavenly Father, I'm struggling." 

I don't think I'm alone when I say that the past several months have caused some strain in regards to what to believe. There is contradiction everywhere, and I often find myself researching and agreeing with opposing points of view. I can see this side, but I can also see that side. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it makes it hard to know what actions to take. Additionally, I find myself grappling for my faith from time to time. I feel like I've been sent out to sea, and I'm trying to determine which direction I might find land. 

Several weeks ago when things were really getting to me, I prayed. Or at least tried to pray. Sometimes, "Heavenly Father, I'm struggling" is all I can mutter. I don't remember exactly what I said - whether I got beyond that first line - or even what the specific concerns of my heart were, but I remember my answer. 

After my prayer, I laid in my bed, waiting for the sweet bliss of sleep to overtake me, and an image came to my mind of a canister of Clorox wipes. 

(If this isn't proof of how heavily COVID has impacted my life, then I don't know what is).

When you grasp the corner of a Clorox wipe and pull, more wipes will continue to follow unless you break the perforation. 

The thought came to me that if I could grab hold of just one piece of truth, more truth would naturally come after it. Likewise, if I could take one action that I know is right, I will be led to take additional correct actions. 

So that's how I've been approaching things lately. When I feel bombarded with messages and ideas that make me feel confused, uneasy, or conflicted, and all I can say is, "Heavenly Father, I'm struggling," I search for my corner and hold on tight. And the great thing is, it's always enough.