I think I'm going to be okay. I'm going to put that out there right now.
You remember me telling you about Drew? He's gotten worse. Read his dad's blog (jeffreyolsen.com) if you're interested because I honestly do not have the heart to share it any more than I already have. Don't worry, he's still alive.
The weird thing is, I feel more at peace than I did three weeks ago. Like, I'll hear about a new development, and I just kind of shrug it off and say, "Eh. He's going to be fine." I don't know if I've just convinced myself, or if my brain is physically preventing me from thinking otherwise, or if it's really God's assurance.
But I almost don't want to feel so casual about it. It seems almost disrespectful in a way to just brush off his medical condition and say that, "Well, he's going to be okay." And I'm not saying I'm not worried about him--I definitely am--but it's kind of been pushed to the back of my mind now, and I feel like that's not right. I care about Drew. For a couple weeks, worry for him filled almost every waking thought. Now? I think about him a lot, but I can also focus on other things too.
But see, when I say it that way, it sounds like it's totally okay for me to have backed off a bit and be a little more chill about it. I mean, I still want to cry every time I hear/see an update, but I don't just start crying out of nowhere. I don't know, I just really don't know. I want to be as worried as I was, but I also don't want it to consume me anymore either. I'm so confused.
Then, while trying to gather these thoughts, I opened my email and saw one from a survey website with the subject, "Don't be silenced, tell us what you really think." And out of nowhere, every ounce of me exploded. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to run away, I wanted to pound my fists into the floor, I wanted to kick, I wanted to pray, I wanted to just get away. But most of all, I wanted to write. So I did.
And for another second, I thought I was about to start ranting to God, asking why He would allow something like this to happen to someone I care about so much. I thought I was about to let every selfish thought within me burst out just to make me feel better. I thought I was ready to cry and blame God for not caring and angrily try to confront Him. And I almost wanted to.
But I couldn't.
The thoughts formed. I felt almost like something was telling me, "This is what you should be saying. You're grieving. It doesn't matter what you say right now." But that's not true. That is very much not true.
The fact that I'm grieving and in pain and hurting and frustrated and scared makes everything I say and do matter. Everything. These are the very moments that will define me later in life. When trials occur, do I lash out at God, or do I come to Him earnestly, praying with everything I have for His comfort and peace and protection and healing?
And besides, this isn't about me. Not one bit. There are plenty of other people out there who are even more concerned and in pain than I will ever be for Drew, no matter how close we've become. He has his family, friends he's had for years, ward members, a girlfriend. It would be unfair for me to ask God, "Why are You doing this to me? Why would it even occur to You to come this close to taking him away from me?" That's not how this works at all.
I've seen firsthand that this is affecting people all over, and not even people who know Drew. There are so many people who are learning from this experience. I just happen to be one of them.
So, while my mind was filled with a pretend red-hot rage, trying to be angry at God because that seems to be what everyone does when things like this happen, the rest of me put out the fire that never existed. I asked the questions aimlessly, and I answered them myself in the most matter-of-fact tone I could ever imagine. (The Holy Ghost will bring all things to your remembrance--keep that in mind, readers.)
Why would God do this? I can't give specifics, but we aren't placed on this earth to live lives of sunshine and gold. There has to be gloom and dirt mixed in there so that we can learn and grow and develop and come to rely on our Heavenly Father and our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Why is this happening to Drew? I don't think it was random. I don't think God looked down and saw Drew and thought, "Okay, let's give him FIRES." And He definitely didn't look at me and think, "All right, let's put her friend in the hospital." He has a bigger plan than that. I know that for certain. As previously stated, we have to suffer through things in this life. And maybe he's not even the one to learn from it. Like I said, this is affecting a whole lot of people.
Yes, my heart aches for Drew. Yes, I am terrified that he's going to die.
And no, I am not happy about it.
But, I am happy. I have a knowledge of God's eternal plan for us, and I know that Drew's family has that same knowledge and those same blessings. Because of this, I firmly believe that he's going to be all right, no matter the outcome. And you may think whatever you'd like--that I'm kidding myself, that I'm only fantasizing, that I'm willing to believe anything that's good news.
Well, I'd rather live believing that there is more to this life than what's here than live with the acceptance that everything happens by chance and contributes to absolutely no outcome.
And even if it wasn't meant for me, I know that I have learned more than I could have ever imagined through this experience.
Just get better, Drew.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Praying for My Friend
Hey guys. I know this is probably borderline traitorous of me, but my very first blog of the summer is going to be quite a bit of a downer. Trust me, I'm not thrilled about it either.
Last summer, at my job, I was assigned to work double shifts every Saturday. Yeah, it basically sucked. I mean, I eventually got used to it, but I still would've rather not had to deal with them.
Really, though, the only reason I became okay with them was because I was not the only person who had to work them. Drew and I were hired at about the same time and had become close acquaintances.
We also worked a shift together on Wednesday nights at the south entrance, where it was just the two of us. Between the double shifts every week and these ones just to ourselves every Wednesday, we became pretty close friends. He became one of my favorite coworkers, if not my absolute favorite.
After the summer, we didn't really work any shifts together, except for when we'd pick others' up on occasion. But this almost didn't affect our friendship at all because it made our reunions all the sweeter (at least on my end). And besides, we had inservice meetings where we saw each other, and we'd often walk out of the building together, just catching up with each other. I truly began to value him as a real friend, not just a "Well, we're pretty close as coworkers, so I guess we're friends" type of mentality. (Again, I don't know how much of this he returned. Keep that in mind.)
Thankfully, with the summer season coming around again, I knew that schedules would be changing a lot, and it was very likely that we would finally have shifts together again. After the inservice meeting where we received our summer schedules, we talked about them with each other. We were thrilled to discover that we'd work together on Mondays, and then see each other for a few moments on Wednesdays and Fridays (since one of us would be at the south entrance while the other would be at the front). I made a comment about how we'd finally be really working with each other again, and he responded with an enthusiastic "Finally!" He could not have replied better.
So, the summer started, and we even got to work a couple south entrance shifts together, since some of them needed to be picked up. It almost felt like our friendship hadn't been put on hold at all. Everything was back to the way it was--helping each other out, conversing about things outside of work, teasing each other, watching random (and often weird) videos when it wasn't busy.
During one of these south entrance shifts (it was a Thursday), after we'd been talking for awhile, I mentioned that I considered him to be my favorite coworker. Later, after watching a set of particularly strange YouTube videos, Drew laughed and said, "See, Odessa, this is why you're my favorite. There is no one else here I could show things like this to."
We continued to crack jokes together. For example, Drew had bad allergies one day, but I wasn't affected at all (I usually take one sniff of pollinated air and nearly die). He wondered why I wasn't sniffling too. I said, "Probably righteousness." Indignantly, he said, "Righte--shut up!" We both laughed pretty hard. That's just how our bantering went. We knew it was all in joking.
Over most of the rest of June, we talked and laughed during our shifts, just enjoying working together like we always had.
Then it shattered right before my eyes, and I didn't even know it until it was too late.
It was two weeks ago on Monday, June 26. I came into work, as usual. Drew was there, as usual. He seemed a little lackluster and I asked if he was all right. He said that he was okay, but he had a virus and a fever. I encouraged him to sit back and let us handle the job, but he assured me that he was fine, that he'd been to the doctor's and everything and they said he'd be okay.
On Wednesday, I only saw him for a few brief moments, as I was heading up to the south entrance. I asked him if he was doing okay, and he said he was feeling better.
Then, on Thursday, while counting the tills with my coworker and friend Kaylee, another coworker came rushing back and told her that Drew's dad was on the line and that they were taking him to the hospital. His symptoms had worsened, so they decided to take him in. We were worried about him, but we figured, "Well, his fever just probably got too high. It's nothing to worry about."
It turns out, it was everything to worry about.
I don't want to post invalid information, so I won't go into detail on what the medical condition is. If you're interested, Drew's dad has a blog where he posted an update (go to jeffreyolsen.com and go to the blog page).
I'm posting my feelings on this issue. There are many. With each new event, I feel my stomach sink deeper and a cold hand grab at my heart. He's in a coma, and it sounds to me like he'll either fully recover or die.
And I am so scared that it's going to be the latter.
I've cried myself to sleep over this. Sometimes, I feel physically sick because I'm so worried about him. One of my best friends in the world could literally die. I am not prepared for that--not one bit.
But, no matter what happens, I'm going to have faith. I'm going to have faith in my Heavenly Father and His plan. I know--I know--that He doesn't just take people from our lives for the fun of it. If it's Drew's time to go, then there is a reason for it. But if there's more for him to do here on earth, He will heal him and provide him with the means to carry out his work, just like He's done for all of us.
This knowledge doesn't make it easy at all. But it makes it bearable. Knowing that, no matter what, Drew is going to be okay and taken care of--whether he lives or dies--means more to me than anything. I just want him to be all right. I want him to recover. I want everything to go back to the way it was, where we lived in a blissful ignorance of the pain that would soon become nearly overwhelming.
I love Drew, and I'm praying fervently that he recovers. I'm praying for his family, because I cannot even fathom what they must be going through. If it's this hard for me, it must be at least a thousand times more so for them. I'm praying for his friends, who are worried sick for him.
I'll keep you updated as much as I can.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Last summer, at my job, I was assigned to work double shifts every Saturday. Yeah, it basically sucked. I mean, I eventually got used to it, but I still would've rather not had to deal with them.
Really, though, the only reason I became okay with them was because I was not the only person who had to work them. Drew and I were hired at about the same time and had become close acquaintances.
We also worked a shift together on Wednesday nights at the south entrance, where it was just the two of us. Between the double shifts every week and these ones just to ourselves every Wednesday, we became pretty close friends. He became one of my favorite coworkers, if not my absolute favorite.
After the summer, we didn't really work any shifts together, except for when we'd pick others' up on occasion. But this almost didn't affect our friendship at all because it made our reunions all the sweeter (at least on my end). And besides, we had inservice meetings where we saw each other, and we'd often walk out of the building together, just catching up with each other. I truly began to value him as a real friend, not just a "Well, we're pretty close as coworkers, so I guess we're friends" type of mentality. (Again, I don't know how much of this he returned. Keep that in mind.)
Thankfully, with the summer season coming around again, I knew that schedules would be changing a lot, and it was very likely that we would finally have shifts together again. After the inservice meeting where we received our summer schedules, we talked about them with each other. We were thrilled to discover that we'd work together on Mondays, and then see each other for a few moments on Wednesdays and Fridays (since one of us would be at the south entrance while the other would be at the front). I made a comment about how we'd finally be really working with each other again, and he responded with an enthusiastic "Finally!" He could not have replied better.
So, the summer started, and we even got to work a couple south entrance shifts together, since some of them needed to be picked up. It almost felt like our friendship hadn't been put on hold at all. Everything was back to the way it was--helping each other out, conversing about things outside of work, teasing each other, watching random (and often weird) videos when it wasn't busy.
During one of these south entrance shifts (it was a Thursday), after we'd been talking for awhile, I mentioned that I considered him to be my favorite coworker. Later, after watching a set of particularly strange YouTube videos, Drew laughed and said, "See, Odessa, this is why you're my favorite. There is no one else here I could show things like this to."
We continued to crack jokes together. For example, Drew had bad allergies one day, but I wasn't affected at all (I usually take one sniff of pollinated air and nearly die). He wondered why I wasn't sniffling too. I said, "Probably righteousness." Indignantly, he said, "Righte--shut up!" We both laughed pretty hard. That's just how our bantering went. We knew it was all in joking.
Over most of the rest of June, we talked and laughed during our shifts, just enjoying working together like we always had.
Then it shattered right before my eyes, and I didn't even know it until it was too late.
It was two weeks ago on Monday, June 26. I came into work, as usual. Drew was there, as usual. He seemed a little lackluster and I asked if he was all right. He said that he was okay, but he had a virus and a fever. I encouraged him to sit back and let us handle the job, but he assured me that he was fine, that he'd been to the doctor's and everything and they said he'd be okay.
On Wednesday, I only saw him for a few brief moments, as I was heading up to the south entrance. I asked him if he was doing okay, and he said he was feeling better.
Then, on Thursday, while counting the tills with my coworker and friend Kaylee, another coworker came rushing back and told her that Drew's dad was on the line and that they were taking him to the hospital. His symptoms had worsened, so they decided to take him in. We were worried about him, but we figured, "Well, his fever just probably got too high. It's nothing to worry about."
It turns out, it was everything to worry about.
I don't want to post invalid information, so I won't go into detail on what the medical condition is. If you're interested, Drew's dad has a blog where he posted an update (go to jeffreyolsen.com and go to the blog page).
I'm posting my feelings on this issue. There are many. With each new event, I feel my stomach sink deeper and a cold hand grab at my heart. He's in a coma, and it sounds to me like he'll either fully recover or die.
And I am so scared that it's going to be the latter.
I've cried myself to sleep over this. Sometimes, I feel physically sick because I'm so worried about him. One of my best friends in the world could literally die. I am not prepared for that--not one bit.
But, no matter what happens, I'm going to have faith. I'm going to have faith in my Heavenly Father and His plan. I know--I know--that He doesn't just take people from our lives for the fun of it. If it's Drew's time to go, then there is a reason for it. But if there's more for him to do here on earth, He will heal him and provide him with the means to carry out his work, just like He's done for all of us.
This knowledge doesn't make it easy at all. But it makes it bearable. Knowing that, no matter what, Drew is going to be okay and taken care of--whether he lives or dies--means more to me than anything. I just want him to be all right. I want him to recover. I want everything to go back to the way it was, where we lived in a blissful ignorance of the pain that would soon become nearly overwhelming.
I love Drew, and I'm praying fervently that he recovers. I'm praying for his family, because I cannot even fathom what they must be going through. If it's this hard for me, it must be at least a thousand times more so for them. I'm praying for his friends, who are worried sick for him.
I'll keep you updated as much as I can.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)