Day 234

I am composing, compiling the Relief Society newsletter.  That is the extent of my writing the last little while.  I feel it, but there are things being written in my heart that don't necessarily translate to the page, at least not yet.  I fell on my roller-blades the other day, right onto my back.  I was so upset with myself.  I didn't want to go backwards and it wasn't the pain that got to me, it was the imperfection.  There are too many other things that I just can't seem to do well, at least not by myself.  There is nothing like humility to put things into perspective. 
By myself, I am all thumbs.  I realize through all of the experiences of these last few months, that I know nothing.  And because I know that I know nothing, it makes anticipation (which has always been an anchor for me,) obsolete.  That is not to say that I am without hope, but I am less sure about what I hope for.  That is not steady ground for me to be on.
Do I hope that T gets a job, any job or do I hope he just gets the right job no matter the length of time?  Do I hope that through the tiny daily mundane tasks that there is steel forming within me or do I yearn to see some impact that what I am doing matters?  That last one doesn't seem right, but I watch sometimes as others just do it better, neater and I wonder at my weakness.
I want to do more, be more, but I am impatient with myself for needing to rest.  I know the Lord doesn't expect me to run faster than I have strength, but sometimes I want to just sleep and I don't want that to be an excuse to not get the things done that I need to.  There are still things that frighten me, that I don't want to take too close of a look at, but I know that I need to.  So, I push them aside and focus on other things.
I played my parents' grand piano for half an hour this weekend.  My fingers ground the keys with all the energy I had.  My arms didn't hurt.  My arms didn't hurt.  I played a duet with my brother, every hymn I could think of, music I've written, it all fell out of me.  It's still in there.  Do you know what a big part of my life that is?  Don't I talk about it?  Yah, I know.  It's because it's been a good decade since playing has been possible.  I mean really playing.  This healing stuff, I tell you.  It is so complicated.  I know I need to give voice to it.  My spirit yearns to split open, to carry this  body high upon a mountain.  This imperfect body, that shakes uncontrollably when the spirit is just too strong for its natural man-ness.  The two parts have to join somewhere, to come to some sort of an understanding.  I think they did when I played that piano.
Have I told you that healing can be scary?  I would love to tell you that I have perfect faith.  With each new step, more is required.  Excuses are gone.  Old hangups go out the window.  I know He lifts us and blesses us, but I admit, I have fear sometimes.  I think because of that, I am sometimes even afraid to receive inspiration for my own life.  The last vestiges of my comfort zone I cling to like a life line and I know I need to jump out into the abyss.  I know it.  And I shun the fears that still take hold of me sometimes, but they doggedly follow me.  I know that my healing depends on continued and even increased faith.  I don't want to let Him down, I don't want to let myself down.  I know He loves me and will bless me.  I know we can only go as far and fast as we are able, but sometimes I know that I can do more, that I can at least listen more, be more willing to ask.