I’ll admit it. There have been numerous occasions in the past where my blog has read less like a blog and more like my own personal journal (for which I will not apologize). And while I do enjoy being open and honest, I do still care that the things I share on here ARE actually things you want to read.

Which is why, periodically, I like to ask you for suggestions on which topics I should write about.

 

Now, the particular topic that was suggested for today was something I was a little (lot) nervous to write about. But I felt that it deserved publishing, especially since it fit in with my tendencies to treat this space like my journal. So thank you to the friend who suggested this topic (I’m pointing my finger at you, Kristina) because if I haven’t been vulnerable enough on this blog before… well, just keep reading.

 

 

So what was the topic? Well, Kristina asked me to write about a trial I’ve gone through and what I learned from it. And of course, nothing I do is cursory in nature, so I’m not going to share just any trivial trial I’ve experienced. (Boring.) No, I’ve decided I’m going to share the HARDEST trial I’ve ever experienced.

 

Today, I am going to open up about the time when I gave up on God.

 

Oh, the drama. But it’s true. It happened. And this is how it all started:

Almost five years ago now, I had just been broken up with for the very first time. While at the time it was probably the worst I had ever felt in my life, it also became the impetus for me moving to Boston.

I kid you not, before this guy could even finish backing out of my driveway after breaking up with me, the very first thought that popped into my head was “it’s time to move away from Arkansas”.

 

And I knew. This wasn’t just me being dramatic and trying to escape the situation (because I actually ended up taking a year to move after that). But I KNEW without a shadow of a doubt that Heavenly Father was telling me that I had experienced what I needed to experience in Arkansas and that it was time to move on to the next step of my journey. One year later, I boarded a flight to Boston and spent my first night there on the floor of my new apartment.

 

 

I was SO full of hope that first Summer on the East Coast. I had felt like I had been led there and so was confident that everything I hadn’t found in Arkansas I would instead find in Boston.

 

Well, a year passed… and nothing. In fact, I was still at the same job, in the same apartment, with exactly the same amount of success in both my photography career and dating life, which is to say none. Naturally, I started to get frustrated and impatient with the lack of change and growth.

Then two years passed and my frustration began to turn to true anger. I started to question. God had led me to Boston. Surely this was the place where all my prayers would be answered, right? But was if He actually didn’t care and I had made all that “being guided to Boston” stuff up?

Now, I’m sure I am not the only one who has been in this situation. However, I’m also sure I didn’t handle it as well as I could have, because eventually I caved in to the belief that my prayers weren’t being answered because God didn’t care.

 

And I started to feel like a scraggly weed in a garden of beautifully manicured flowers: something no one wanted. Things got very dark then, and I remember during this time thinking that everything I had dreamed and prayed for was stupid and worthless. That I should accept the fact that I was never, ever going to have the things I really wanted.

 

 

And so, for the first time in my life, I decided to stop praying. After 28 years of saying my prayers every single day, for several weeks I stubbornly refused to check in with my Heavenly Father.

 

Were these thoughts about Heavenly Father’s lack of love completely false? Was I, admittedly, being a little childish? Yes and yes. And to be honest, I can’t even remember why I decided to start praying again or what reminded me that God did indeed love me and wasn’t ignoring me. But eventually I did, and I think it’s some combination of having two incredible roommates enter my life, working on the Green Rider project, and preparing to move back home.

These roommates loved me. They were willing to have the difficult conversations that meant we could sort out our differences and make sure our home was a happy one. They cheered on my successes and emanated the most sincere love that I will always remember on a profound level. Because of them, I started to believe again that I was an interesting person that people really did want to be around.

 

 

The Green Rider project made me see that I wasn’t foolish for believing in my art and pursuing my dreams. I could create something that other people, not just myself, could be really passionate about. I started to see that people really did care and love what I was helping to create.

And when I went home to Arkansas for a visit in December of 2017, I once again felt my Heavenly Father’s quiet insistence that rather than moving on to another city (my original plan) it was time to move back home. Home that admittedly had decidedly fewer opportunities for my photography and my dating life. But it felt SO right. And I knew… once again, that Heavenly Father was right there by my side, giving me these reminders that He was there, He loved me, and He had a plan for me.

 

Now apart from knowing what the trial was, Kristina also wanted to know what I learned from it. And I think that is these three things:

  1. Make sure to have people by your side who support you, love you, and REMIND you just how incredible/cool/funny/wonderful you are
  2. Find something you are passionate about and work on it relentlessly. Throw yourself into it, but also (more importantly) ENJOY it.
  3. Understand that when you aren’t getting answers, try praying a different way. Or understand that Heavenly Father trusts you, loves you, and is telling you that it’s not yet time.

 

 

I’ve now been back in Arkansas for nine months and I now know without a doubt that God never left my side. I know that I was absolutely supposed to be in Boston, even if I have no idea WHY and maybe never will. The lessons I learned (like this one in particular) are invaluable lessons that have helped me become a better person.

 

And some of my prayers have begun to be answered! Some I’m still waiting on (and may never get), but that’s not really the point of this story. The point of this story is that in going through my darkest time, feeling like I was completely abandoned by the one person in this whole existence who I thought would never leave me, I could finally see just how intricately woven into every minute detail of my existence my Heavenly Father is.

As in all things, do I wish I could have learned it an easier way? Of course. But I wouldn’t trade the absolute conviction I have because of the way I learned it. And I think that’s one of the most valuable lessons I have learned in my short 28 years.