A Beacon of Hope

This semester has been pretty challenging for me and I've only been in school for a month. I seem to have more things to do than I have time for and as the weeks went by I started slacking off in the most important area of my life; the gospel. It wouldn't have been super noticeable except that there was some contention between my roommate and I that wasn't there last semester. We had talked several times to no avail. We couldn't figure out what was wrong or what we could do to change the atmosphere in our apartment.
Then on Sunday January 26, 2014 we had a Relief Society lesson about putting our priorities in order and putting the Lord first in our lives. I felt like I was getting slapped in the face, this was definitely something I needed to hear. When I got home my roommate mentioned how heavily the lesson impacted her and I told her I felt the same way. In that moment we both realized that we were not doing our best to align our lives with God's will. We made a decision right then to work harder, get up earlier to read our scriptures and make a conscious effort to attend the temple at least once a week. It shouldn't be that hard because it takes 15 minutes to walk up the hill through campus to the temple.
There was such a difference in our relationship as we worked on getting to bed earlier and getting up just a bit earlier so we could read our scriptures first thing in the morning. The contention left and we began to get along the way we used to.
I had made the decision that Sunday to go to the temple on Friday at 11:30 after my last class. However I realized the next day that I had an appointment at 11:30 and then an internship interview at 12:30 and another appointment at 2:00. I was having a hard time figuring out where to put my temple trip when my friend recommended going Friday morning before my classes. So when Friday came around I got up and ready to head out the door at 8:15. I walked out the door to my apartment and quickly noticed how foggy it was that morning. As I was walking up the hill to the temple I noticed that I couldn't see very far ahead because of the fog. I was curious to know if I could see the temple through the fog so I looked up. What I saw nearly brought tears to my eyes. The sun was rising in the sky and hit the fog just right so that all that was visible above the fog was the statue of Moroni on top of the temple. I couldn't take my eyes off of the temple and soon I could see the steeple as well as Moroni. In that moment I got caught up in the symbolism of everything; the mist of darkness and the golden rod, or statue of Moroni, shining brightly towards heaven pointing me in the direction I need to take in life. The temple is a symbol of hope standing bright in the darkness of the world around us. All we have to do is put one foot in front of the other and stay on path that leads to the Lord.
As I have been sitting here writing this, the lyrics of a song have come to my mind that I feel fit nicely with the theme of this post, though I'm just going to add bits from the end. The song is, "Close Enough to Touch" by Kenneth Cope.

I came close enough to touch
Close enough to heal
Faith let me know I'd be whole
If I was close enough
Close enough to feel
His love for me so real
I will believe there are miracles for me
When I'm close enough to touch

Always believe
that he's close enough to touch 

When we are going to the temple regularly, whatever that means for you personally, we are coming close enough to the Savior to feel his touch in our lives. I truly believe that his presence can be felt stronger and more powerfully in the temple than almost anywhere else on Earth.

I took this picture that morning because it was too good of a moment to miss. It is now a constant reminder of the power of the temple and just how easy it should be for me to get myself there every week.

There is a certain majesty that emanates from the house of the Lord that you can't imitate anywhere else, no matter how hard you try.
I hope this picture can inspire the same hope and love that it inspired in me.

Remember that the Lord lives, and loves each and every one of you,
Kylie

Night Climbing

Of late I have often cast my mind upon the situations of my peers. In no other place have I seen so many struggle in silent and stalwart resolution, seeking solutions. It seems that many face overwhelming odds. I wonder how it is that they haven't been crushed beneath the weight of the burdens they carry. Members of my family, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, people I meet on the street are all alike. There is some bruising burden that they carry in their being. Aside from the testament of human fortitude that this realisation has presented, it has also raised questions in my heart.
I have to ask, why do we suffer through so much? What is it, deep inside, that resists? When all is lost and the world seems to darken around us, from whence does the little voice that says, "I will not bow. I will not be broken" emanate? Because as hard as life may get, so many people that I meet are just plain happy with it. They are happy despite the pain and the anguish and the out and out frustration that we so frequently encounter. How can that be? How can there be joy in suffering?
Let me, then, compare life to a road. A fairly common comparison, but nonetheless a suitable example. From my perspective, I feel that I know my destination. I know where I'll end up if I do things right in this life and if I stay focused, I'll make it. Yet, that knowledge doesn't preclude nor eliminate the inevitable roadblocks of life. That, my friends, is what I see facing those around me. They have arrived at a fork in the road, or experience complications in their trek across the perilous plains of life.  So, if I can claim that I know the destination, what do a few minor set backs matter? When we slam up against that wall, that's when that little voice can call out. If it is heeded, the situation may not improve, but the resolution of the soul very well may. In that moment, when the voice inside cries, "I will not be defeated, nor deterred. I have a destination and I will not diverge from my desires" the world hangs in the balance. If we listen, we will rise and conquer. If we choose not to listen, the road we walk will take us to places that are far darker than the pits that we've ever conceived in the throes of our sorrow.
That wall is the crux we face almost constantly. So when I see my peers smiling, I know that even though they hurt, they're trying and winning. It's when you see the desperation in the eyes of others, the deep and abiding dissolution of strength and resolve that bile rises in my throat and I mourn for them. In their hearts, they are giving in to the darkness.
A little know Swiss man, Didier Berthod, illustrates perfectly the idea of listening to that little voice that originates from within the fathoms of human fortitude. He had a dream and gave every particle of his being in his attempts to reach it. He scrounged and saved and finally flew thousands of miles from his home to Squamish, B.C., Canada. Once there, he began down his path towards the eternal realm of dreams. With 2 months before him, he lived humbly and fought tenaciously. There, in mountains of the North, is a single fissure that cleaves a face of rock, known as the Cobra Crack. For 2 months, Didier poured his heart and his soul into that crack, giving his all in hopes of making the first ascent. 2 months of blood, sweat and pain later, Didier still had not managed to scale the Cobra Crack. So he returned to Switzerland, vowing that he would return to Canada.
One year later, the earth trembled and the heavens held their breath as Didier once more stared the Cobra in the eyes. Then, Didier hit the wall. A debilitating knee injury overtook all hope he had of making the first ascent. Like so much smoke and ash in the hands of a street corner mage, Didier's dreams disappeared. In that moment, he said something that I would hope we all echo in the moments of our fear and sorrow. He realised that the idea of the first ascent had consumed him and that the beauty had been sucked from his venture. So instead of cursing God and wishing to die, he gave thanks. "God had pity on me. He saw and said, 'No, Didier, it's not for you. The glory isn't for you.'" Didier realised that in his pain, it wasn't about the glory, or the triumph of the first ascent. It wasn't about the recognition of humanity for his accomplishment. It was about connecting with the route, with God's creations. That crippling blow helped him see and appreciate all that God had granted him.
When I saw that in the film First Ascent, I was blown away. How could someone who had sacrificed so much simply be content with defeat? Yet, it wasn't a defeat. It was a victory in the heart of this man. The battle was won, not lost. Didier won the fight against discouragement, despair and hopelessness. In the pain, he found the good. That's how all those around me keep at it with a smile on their faces. That's why those that have given up, show it in their countenance.  
With that said, I would call out to those that have reached the wall. The road may seem lonely and fearsome, but we are never alone and we need not fear. Listen to the voice that comes from deep within.  As Didier, so often we sacrifice so much and there are times when it seems as though it amounts to naught. That is the moment to dig in and find the light. Find the fortitude to resist the onslaught of despair.

So off we go, into the black, with nothing but an ethereal cord around our waist to tie us to reality. We were born to rise.