Friday, October 24, 2014

Buoy Me Up

1. Scripture, Personal and Powerful
            Bright florescent lights, chlorine heavy in the air, the heavy thump of water driven against the side of pool by deliberate, powerful strokes. I stand with my toes curled over the edge of the pool, dread burrowed deep in my stomach as I watch the swimmer in my lane flip-turn smoothly at the wall and merge into a strong freestyle. She has already gone 900 yards. It is almost my turn to plunge into the cold water and complete the exhausting 1,000 yards continuous swim that is the climax of tonight’s practice.
            The whistle screeches and resounds against the walls. I dive into the water. I swim back and forth, back and forth, until my arms ache to pull against the resisting water and my legs feel like leaden weights threatening to drag me down to the bottom of the pool. In the cocooning silence of the water, I stare at the pool’s black and white tile and make a mental list all I have to do after practice. I feel bone-tired. The lack of breath makes my head hurt and as I make my final flip-turn, my goggles fall from eyes and chlorine stings my eyes. My last lap finds me struggling through against the weight of the water, forcing heavy limbs to strain, extend, kick. I touched the wall and looked up to my coach laughing at me.
            Later that night, I drag myself out of bed to pick up my scriptures and force my bleary eyes to focus on the small black text on pages thin like onion skins. My tired mind treads sluggishly through the passage of Joseph Smith ruminating on his trials: “And as for the perils I am called to pass through, they seem but a small thing to me, as the envy and wrath of man have been my common lot all the days of my life…deep water is what I am wont to swim in” (Doctrine and Covenants 127:2). Throughout high school, I often felt like I was swimming through the “deep water” of uncertainty, endless homework and demanding relationships. When I was most exhausted, and it felt as though my honest efforts were met by laughter from the world, these words would come back to me—a teammate from the neighboring lane, offering soft words of encouragement to buoy me up.

2. An Inner Struggle
            Light trickles into the dark room through the cracks of the door. I sit upright at the foot of the bed, waiting for my parents call. The peaceful, deep breathing of my little brother whispers through the room, at odds with the disjointed and chaotic debate inside my head. She can’t be sick.
I feel desperate just thinking about my Dad’s face when he told us, “We checked her blood sugar today—it was six times higher than a normal persons. Sariah might be diabetic.” Then came the flurry of packing suitcases for the hospital. Sariah, just three years old, beamed with excitement as my mom shoved clothes in her bag. In her innocence, she thought she was leaving on an adventure; a special trip that only she of her seven siblings was chosen to go on. Holding back tears, I smiled at her and gave her my hand-held cd player, the High School Musical soundtrack inside, before my parents and sister left and put me in charge of the younger kids.
Now in deceptive calm of my parent’s room, I continue to reassure myself. She can’t be diabetic. She’s only three. She is so sweet and loving, she doesn’t deserve this trial. Besides, she hasn’t seemed very sick. My thoughts spin over and over these same arguments. I want to block out the nagging voice. The one that whispers that she has seemed different for the last few months. And trials are rarely, if ever, fair or deserved. And God often gives us burdens to bear to strengthen us.
I don’t want to hear it. I yell over this voice that it can’t be true, that she is perfectly healthy. The phone I hold clenched in my hand rings, and I press the dully glowing ‘talk’ button as my heart pounds in my ears with both hope and dread.

3. A Wilderness Quest
            I wipe sweat from my forehead and stop to wait for the rest of my family to catch up. The fine, reddish sand of the trail has gotten in my shoes, and as I feel its gritty texture against my toes as I wiggle them. The sun is bright and strong over the desert wilderness that surrounds me. It warms me throughout so completely that even my joints feel supple and relaxed. It is a sharp juxtaposition from the dark, frigid winter of my hometown that I left just a few days ago. The wet chill that seeps inside you and makes the inside of your nose freeze and turns your fingers to ice. I am filled with gratitude for the simple pleasure of walking outdoors without a coat or boots, for not having to brace myself for bitter cold every time I open the front door. I stand amongst spiky green cacti and delicate desert flowers and I give a silent prayer of appreciation to my Heavenly Father for being able to see the sun, to drink in its warmth. I give thanks that I can take a short plan ride and be surrounded by completely different plants and animals and aspects of nature.


1 comment:

  1. I love the description that you've used in your writing. I can really feel what you're feeling in your experiences, and it's incredible to read something that can make you feel the emotions of the writer/those in the story so clearly and vividly.

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