Last Saturday, I went on a hike with my friend Sir Tim. Our intent was to hike up to the top of a hill, have a picnic dinner, let the sun go down, then stargaze. (A plan I was particularly agreeable to, since I love showing off and I know enough constellations to do just that. ^__^)
We'd had a pleasant walk through the woods, then a bit of a climb. The sun went down as we climbed the hillside, and the sky was just becoming dark enough for the first stars to appear as we reached the top. I'll confess, I'm slightly nervous about the dark, particularly out in the woods, but as I know full well that I just get paranoid without cause easily, I said nothing. But Tim surprised me by stating that he was beginning to get edgy and felt like we needed to get off the mountain as well.
We decided that the first logical step to take would be prayer, and then we debated briefly whether or not his feeling was in fact a spiritual prompting, or merely nerves playing tricks. Ultimately, I told him there was only one way to find out which of the two it was, and we didn't really want to if it meant accident, injury, or worse - particularly in the middle of nowhere with no means of contacting anyone else.
And so, we abandoned our intent, and proceeded back down the hillside and through the woods to the car, wherein we ate our picnic dinner and pointed out a few constellations before driving home.
I remember teaching a lesson about listening to the Holy Ghost to a group of youth once. We talked at length about how hard it is to know sometimes whether the feelings we have come from ourselves or the Spirit, and the conclusion I came to was that sometimes the source isn't as important as what we do about it. Since then I've often advised myself and others: "If the outcome is good, does it really matter if it came from yourself or from the Holy Ghost? No. It's still good. So just do it." My point was that we shouldn't second guess ourselves out of doing good works by assuming a thought is from us instead of a higher power. I'd never imagined the same idea could apply so well to a setting where the intent was not so clearly a 'good work,' per se.
We'll never know whether the feelings either of us had were the product of our own imaginations or impressed upon us by a more divine source. But I'm okay with not knowing. It's a question I can feel good about not having an answer to. I'm proud and glad for the decision we made to obey, regardless of whether the threat was real or imagined, and the fact that we acted on it so readily. And I think our Heavenly Father probably feels the same.
I'm so glad for this experience because I rarely feel like I've acted as faithfully as I should. But each time I make a choice I know is right, it makes me want to make more right choices. Each time I act in obedience, I want to be more obedient. I'm slowly learning how to express my love and gratitude to my Father in Heaven, and the more love I show, the more love I find He has for me.
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Quote: "You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus," Mark Twain
Music: "River Flows In You," Yiruma
Mood: Sleepy
I've spent the last year of my life tucked within the folds of a security blanket. I have allowed that blanket to keep me from stepping outside of what is safe and familiar, and I have also used it as an excuse not to step out when I didn't want to. But blankets can only last so long without fraying and ripping when they're toted around with you everywhere you go. And at last, I've admitted that I'm too big to carry this tattered, stained scrap of cloth with me. I'm glad to be rid of it, in fact. There are games I want to play that little girls who hug their blankets close just aren't suited for, and I want to take part in them.
