Sometimes the things you think will never change--do. Time pushes in two directions: it sends the present spiraling backward and it grasps the future, drawing the unknown ever closer.
A blink of an eye, a shifting week, a passing month. Before you know it, the defining truths of your life, balanced so precariously in the tender palm of the present, begin to topple.
The future draws nearer, yet the echoes of the past still reverberate. The sound is swollen and heavy and throbbing, it fills the present. Much more than an echo, you realize it's a truth, a deep memory, caught between the dissipating past and the impending future. It is latched between the two sides, tearing slowly as they diverge. And no amount of pressure or care, anger or sadness, can restore it. You aren't strong enough to prevent the dichotomy between WAS and IS.
Time insistently pulls forward and backward and the sweet truth trembles under the growing rift. To ignore the echoes is impossible, to live in the present-past with the memory is delusional. So, you choose the forward-bound side and hope that when the tear is complete, the larger portion of the truth fell to that side too.
I feel like I can inhale this picture and capture all of its olfactory subtleties in one deep breath. The smell is so familiar and distinct that I can almost taste it, taste the quivering olive trees and the sweetly pungent river mud. I close my eys and the warm sun runs over my shoulders and the flowing river and smooth smooth skipping stones fall beneath my feet.
My breathing space, my thinking space, my talking space.
The gracious host of the annual bonfire and the welcoming friend when my head is spinning.
A hiding spot and a meeting spot.
This past Sunday I enjoyed settling down on the living room couch with Mom to catch up on the general young women broadcast (watchhere). As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I always look forward to this annual conference which inspires me to rededicate myself spiritually to the principles and values upon which I ground my life.
The talks were all wonderful, but I was particularly struck by Sister Ann M. Dibb's reference to my favorite novel: Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte. Sister Dibb spoke about being honest and true and described how Jane, a penniless young governess, exemplified what it means to live with unshakeable integrity.
From an abusive childhood, to a stringent, miserable girl's school, Jane finally finds refuge as a governess at Thornfield Mansion owned by the brooding Mr. Rochester. Jane and Mr. Rochester fall in love, but Mr. Rochester holds a dark secret that prevents him from marrying her. When faced with the choice between living with the man she loves or standing by the principles in which she believes, Jane professes her convictions through this powerful soliloquy:
"Who in the world cares for you? or who will be injured by what you do?” Still indomitable was the reply: “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God. . . Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation, they are for such moments as this. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth, so I have always believed. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by. There, I plant my foot."
I hope that in my hours of greatest temptation and discouragement, I, too, will fight for my principles because of their great worth, not just in the sight of man, but of God.
On a side note, I am excited to see the newest film adaptation!
