Do you ever feel like a "bounce-around"? Yeah. A "bounce-around". You're feeling so good and life is giving you more and more reasons to smile, but only inbetween the "bads", the "awfuls" and the "get-you-downs". During the day, you listen to a million different songs: the "pick-me-up" kinds, the "make-me-dance" types, or the "let-me-wallow" few. And some people can make you frown, but the people who make you laugh make you forget anyway.
Good gravy am I a "bounce-around", but it's such an adventure!
Relating this to the gospel, "there is opposition in all things" and most of us know that the pains in life are there so we can feel and cherish the joys that so very much oppose them.

Lifted

The three.
All dark, but powerful ones
They dwelt in the waters of Gala Shaylon.
Protectors of things that swam in the deep
Shadows of Shalyon and creatures that sleep.
Trespassers and anglers that hunt on the shore
They draw to the water and drag to the floor.
So sisters they are and so madly cursed
Though swimming eternal, forever they thirst.
To break from their chains and flee from their doubt
They wait for a hand to pull all three out.
"Perhaps, he, a soldier," "perhaps, she, a maid"
They guess of their savior, who nearby might wade.
One night they sank to the mud and the slime
Attempting to scub off the browish-green grime.
Then spotting two feet of a small, well-dressed girl
Forgave her her presence as she started to twirl.
She smiled and she laughed as she splashed in her shoes
Then looking straight down, she seemed so ammused.
The moment she waved, she startled the three
And reached her hand down to then set them free.
The two looked at one, the one looked at two.
"Oh no, my dear sister! What should we do?
She surely can't lift three with such little arms!"
"And what if, in our greed, we cause her harm?"
They still stared above, to the girl with her smile
One said, "She may leave in just a short while."
"I'll promise I'll let go if she starts to drown."
Impatiently, the small girl put on a small frown.
So one sister, brave, reached up from the sand
And set her fingers in the one small girl's hand.
She latched the child's hand in a firm, gentle hold
With a strange, strong tug the sweet child pulled.
With head out of water she coughed out the air
She gagged, tried to breathe and shook out her hair
It pained her to breathe in the air very dry
And coughing out water she started to cry.
In pain and in anger she managed to shout
"Why, stupid girl, would you dare pull me out?"
Girl looked at sister and grimaced some more
As the sister laid broken and strewn on the shore
"You wanted your freedom, dismissing all pain?
But if I'd not come by, then what would you gain?"
She crouched in the mud and touched sister's face
"You say that I hurt you, but that's not the case.
I came here before--you were to deep down to see
that I saw your distress, and I heard your plea.
The breathing will get better, with much less pain than now.
And walking will take time to learn, but I will teach you how."
Tears began to well up in the little girl's blue eyes
Small sobs of a hurt child came out but her face remained so wise
"But if you want the pain done now and wish to slip back down
I will not hold or stop you here, I will not make a sound.
You'll go back to your sisters and in the darkness be
And when you think of pain again, you'll likely forget me.
But please don't drown again! Come learn to walk with me.
I promise that the pain is worth a new life being free."
The sweet girl looked so hopeful, she spoke her words so well,
But burning in the sister's throat right then began to swell.
She thrashed he muddy body and clawed hard at the sand
But thought about her freedom and reach for the girl's hand.
"Though I had been drowned, I'd never thirsted more
than for freedom out of our reach, found only on this shore.
I'll bear the pain to breathe, then lift my sisters too
And when they come I'll tell them that we'll live up here with you."
The child beamed right through her tears, the sister began to see
That the pain equalled the joy she felt to finally be set free.
And we, too, feel the pain from life through fear and hate and sin
But if we reach up from the dark we can be freed by Him.

The Gifts

Agency was our First Great Gift. What a bittersweet gift for our Heavenly Father to give. He loved us enough to let us choose his way, but...oh, how we've gone astray, each one of us. It must have hurt-- being hurt. Before we came to earth we said we would. We said we'd come back to Him. Many haven't. Many won't.
The Atonement was our Greatest Gift. What a sacrifice-- the Father sending his son to earth. Perhaps he watched his son step along the clouds of glory leaving footsteps of power and perfection. Once again, bittersweet. So very happy that we would all be saved. But with so much sorrow to know how perfectly he (His son) would suffer. How long? How agonizing? For us-- incomprehensible. But he knew about the blood from every pore. he knew about the betrayal and the whip and the cross. The thorns and the spit...and the death.
But that's just it. He knew. He counted his will as naught and said thy will o Lord be done. Then resurrected, the work was done. It will last forever and for all.
I have hope because of my faith. He will come. I will live. We will all live.

Words

Sometimes, Satan gets to me without me knowing:

"Saturday January 9th
I'm ugly. That's what I feel like. It's not what I tell myself but it's what twists around inside of me. I see everyone else as complete, beautiful, they-know-who-they-are--just well put together.
I'm such a wreck. Up and down. Decide. Indecisive. Wear this. Wear that.
I confuse myself. I'm not sure how my gears work, what I want, or why I care about how other people see me.
I lack confidence. I despise every nasty symptom that comes with that."

Did you count how many times I said "I"?
The next morning was Sunday. This is what I wrote after I had read my scriptures:

"Sunday, January 10th
Last night, as I was trying to put my thoughts into words-- digging for the best adjectives and the perfect emotion to describe that darkness-- I think Satan got in. He gave me words, sure he did, but he made me feel even worse. He helped me brainstorm perfectly awful thoughts, pushing me deeper.
He's tricky, but I still can't believe I fell for it."

This fluctuation is a product of constant self-concern. I need to watch how many times I say "I" in a day.

I'm unlike anyone you've ever met--but, then again, isn't everyone?

Bear with me. Sometimes it's more fun to dig deep and be dramatic about your findings than it is to pretend that you never found anything. I found this in my journal:
"I feel so broken down, breaking myself down and trying to find out who I am that-- when I try to present myself to anyone, I'm such a mess. How is anyone supposed to understand what I'm made of when I'm scattered about.
When I'm nervous making a first impression, it's like I'm frantically picking parts up off the floor and shoving them into my body to see if they'll fit...if they'll stick. Sometimes it works.
But I'm happy. I may be a mess, but I smile-- a lot."
The truth is, I can pull myself together. I'm just random.