Space

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the October 1980 Conference. 

As I've expressed before, it's hard for me, at this time in my life, to ever feel truly "settled." That is, I always have a nagging feeling crowding in, that I really ought to be somewhere else, doing something else. I have this feeling even when I'm doing something I KNOW is good—reading to or snuggling with my kids, for example, which is one of those things everyone always says you will never regret, and I don't, but I do think, "I really should be getting dinner started—" or "I ought to be working on my lesson—" while I'm doing it. In the same way, even while I'm doing Family History, or cleaning up the house, or reading conference talks, I can't escape a worry that I should be enjoying and treasuring every moment with my children instead. (And of course if I'm doing something more marginal, like lying on my bed looking at Instagram and putting off thinking about what to make for dinner…or writing a blog post…the crowding feelings that I should be doing something else are even worse!)

Anyway, I have gained some perspective in the eight years (!) since I wrote the post I linked above, and I've learned some coping skills, and no, I don't think this persistent unsettledness (or "guilt," if you want to call it that, but I'm not sure it's the best word) is The Church's fault for making me feel like I have to be perfect—I think it's just a natural result of having agency, and being a mother, and living in the dimly-lit space of mortality. Maybe this feeling will always be with me to some degree.

But there are some rare and precious times when the feeling lifts, and I have the peace of knowing there is nothing else I should be doing besides what I am doing! One of them is the first week or two after having a baby. Another time is every week when I go to church, or when I watch General Conference. This is one way that Sunday, while not overtly "restful" in the matter of physical work to be done, is SUCH a welcomed Day of Rest—because (while at church, anyway) I have a rest from the stress of figuring out if I'm spending my time the best way. I know I'm where God wants me to be! And another place where that crowding worry seems held at bay is when I'm in the temple. For that reason, I have come to associate the temple with space. Not empty space, or hollow space, but light-filled, healing space. I feel like when I'm there, I have space to just BE—to breathe and think and be still without the encroaching fears crowding in.

I've thought about this scripture in Alma a lot:

Nevertheless there was a space granted unto man in which he might repent; therefore this life became a probationary state; a time to prepare to meet God.

And in my mind, the companion scripture to that one is this one:

And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings;  

Which light proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space—

I know that the "space granted" to us for mortality—the space to make mistakes and to try again without the immediate consequences that justice demands—is a great blessing. I probably don't even feel quite how great of a blessing, not having known the alternative. But I'm especially grateful for the "spaces granted" within that larger space, spaces like prayer and the temple, where I can feel the effects of God's light bringing peace and calm and stillness and silence! I don't mind the happy chaos of a big family. The crowding, the chattering, the constant happening. I'm grateful for it. I even like it. But it makes me feel so desperate, sometimes, for SPACE. And in the temple, I find it.

May I declare without apology that every living person should seek earnestly for the blessings of the temple as his ultimate goal. For there you will find peace; there you will come to know what security really is. There, in the house of the Lord, you can learn what you need to know to be truly free. There, tucked away from turmoil and strife, is the chance to be totally unselfish—a rarity in today’s world.  (Elder Robert L. Simpson, "The House of the Lord.")

Other posts in this series: 

• Forty-Year-Old Conference Messages that Speak to Our Day by Nathaniel Givens
• Fellow Saints, Not Fellow Citizens by G
• Chastity: Using Restraint and Responsibility by Jan Tolman