One step closer

I’m tired and it’s been a full day, but I had a thought on the way to stake priesthood meeting that kind of hit me. I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about what I’m going to do for a career (I thought I had it solidly pegged, but in the last month everything’s gone topsy-turvy and now I’m looking at four or five different options, all equally good), who I’m going to marry, and — well, those are the two biggies. :) And it’s been frustrating, because I haven’t found any answers.

Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

You see, I was walking up 400 East and the words to “Lead, Kindly Light” just sort of popped into my head, so I started humming it as I went. On the stairs leading up to campus I finished the verse, noticed the ducks squatting on the botany pond, and then the epiphany hit: “Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene — one step enough for me.”

I’ve been trying to open to the last page, to see the end, but I’m thinking now that most of the time it just doesn’t work that way. We want to the Lord to mark out a path straight to the pot of gold, of course, complete with annotated directions, but His ways are not our ways.

Instead, I’m realizing, we get gradual disclosure. One step at a time. And that’s good enough — that’s all we need, really, if we have faith in God, if we trust that He really will take care of us. If we know that where we are right now, today, is where God wants us to be, then that’s all we need to know. “Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.”

So it doesn’t matter that I can’t yet figure out how I’ll be winning my bread in twenty years. It doesn’t matter that I don’t yet know who I’m going to marry. All those things will sort themselves out in time, as long as I keep doing what’s right. It’s scary, in a way — not knowing what’s going to be happening to me in a few years, where I’ll be in life, what I’ll be doing — but that’s one of the things that’s telling me this is the way it’s supposed to be. It’s a sign of growth. I’m learning how to really trust the Lord, not just mouthing the words, but really feeling it in my gut.

(Of course, having just read A Grief Observed, I realize that mine are minor, minor worries. There are far harder things to deal with in life, and in comparison to them — losing a loved one, for example — my own problems melt away into pale oblivion. But at the same time my biggest problem always seems to fill the available space, so it feels like it’s the hardest thing in the world. Funny how that works.)

Anyway, it’s a leap of faith, and that’s good, because it means I’ll be moving forward.

“You see, I was walking up 400 East and the words to “Lead, Kindly Light” just sort of popped into my head, so I started humming it as I went. On the stairs leading up to campus I finished the verse, noticed the ducks squatting on the botany pond, and then the epiphany hit: “Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene — one step enough for me.””

The same thing happened to me about a year ago, only I was on 300 West, walking home. And there were no ducks involved. Incidentally, what did the ducks have to do with anything?

Oh, Ben, it’s hard, I know. Life is hard. But I love those epiphanies — and I love that you had one while passing the ducks. I love ducks. You have such a good attitude about it all, and that’s admirable.

Katherine: Ducks are my wellspring of inspiration. Just kidding; the ducks didn’t really have anything to do with it. But they were there on the botany pond, and they provided a nice pastoral atmosphere for my epiphany. They were the set. :)

A: Ducks are pretty cool, I have to admit. :) I keep meaning to go over to the pond and take their pictures, but I also keep forgetting. ~sigh~ Anyway, yes, life is hard, but progress makes it tolerable. (As do books. And lots of other things. :))

I mean no disrespect to ducks. It’s just that I’ve had several run-ins with those botany pond ducks, and they aren’t as peacefully pastoral up close as they seem from far away. They’re unnaturally aggressive and unhealthy because people feed them bread, which is the equivalent of feeding a child candy bars. Because of the hand-outs, they don’t migrate for the winter and end up losing their ability to find proper food for themselves. They also tend to develop nasty dispositions, which, considering how malnourished they are, makes sense. They’re wretched, but it’s not really their fault.

I don’t know what this has to do with anything. Ben has duck-induced epiphanies and I have duck rants.

Which things I never knew about ducks. :) (I guess I should nix feeding the ducks off my list of date ideas. Unless you know what I should feed them instead. :))

[…] Isn’t it funny how we forget things so easily? Just a month ago I wrote about trusting in God, then promptly forgot pretty much everything I’d said in that post and returned to my crowded nest of worries. Over the last week, though, after stewing about on inadequacies both real and imagined, I’ve realized once more that I have to just place my trust in the Lord. […]