To Matter or Not to Matter | Life Story

What shall I write today?

I have been quite compelled, you see, to write the story of my life.  I have been doing it here for many years on this little bloggedy-blog of mine.  It has been mostly the story of me becoming a Mother, me raising my children, and the silly things life throws at Moms.  There have been a lot of stories about poop.  It is a nice little blog and I love it.    But the inspiration is to dig deeper and tell the story from the start, it is a little more than what this blog has offered in the past.  

Do not fret, dear friends, it is not all sadness and woe.  Actually, very little of it is!   (Surprise! I'm not a masochistic after all!).  But one must start from somewhere, and the place where I started the story was the place where I learned I had a voice.  A voice that mattered.

My story matters because I matter.

The issue of whether or not I matter has been muddled in the past.  For many years the answer was no.  I do not.  For whatever reason, it was there.  The deafening cry that I did not matter.

And then, for many more years, the answer was that yes.  I do matter.  As long as I do x, y and z, as long as I check off the boxes, go through the motions, wear the right thing, don't drink this, make sure I do that, and work work work myself to the bare bone.  Working to build myself a stairway to the place where one day I may matter as long as I get it all right.  And you better believe that I checked off those lists and did all those things and worked and worked.  Because I'm tough like that.  

Of course (Mormon shocker alert).... no one can build those sorts of stairs.  And that place, the one where I get it all right... it does not exist.

I have always loved the great outdoors.  Enchanted by the dancing lights of the Aurora Borealis, I would gaze in the Northern Alberta night sky knowing that there was a God... how else could such amazing beauty fill the sky (and my soul).  The mountains of Jasper and Banff, where I skied and snowboarded my teen years away, helped to develop in me an acute awareness of the Divine.  I remember walking the streets of little Slave Lake with my friend, Shaun.

"Look how beautiful those trees are" I commented to him, referring to the "old ski hill" that loomed over the town, covered in thick forest.

 "What trees?  Where?" he asked, surprised.  He had never looked up to see them.  

Well, perhaps it was only me who noticed their grandeur and beauty, but I always did notice.  Even then, it spoke to me.

This beauty, though, it was distinct from me. I could see it and feel it.  It testified of a God, one who even loved me.  But still, the beauty was outside of myself, to be observed, appreciated and marveled over, but it wasn't me.


A lot of things happened in those years of building stairways.  I went on a mission, I got married, I earned a couple of degrees and adopted a few children.  Man oh man.  I was checking off Mormon righteousness lists like no one's business, and dammit, I was good at it.  This is not to say that I did not struggle, but there was most certainly a list and it was being checked.


When the fit hit the shan, so to speak, and I gave birth 12 months after adopting an African orphan, and I was hit with depression and anxiety that lasted much, much longer than "What to Expect When You're Expecting" said it would.   Well.  It changed everything.  Because even in the midst of the blessings and wonderfulness surrounding me, I just could not do it all.  Or, really, any of it. This blog was a lifeline for me as I tried to figure out this soul of mine.

Somewhere between then and now I started to photograph the things that brought me peace.

You have seen these things.  Trees, landscapes, flowers, rivers, oceans, mountains and rocks.  My children.

Little by little, these things whispered to my soul, "This is you, Betina."

"The intricate petals of this flower, I made you with the same care."
"The sweeping power of this vista, this power is mine and it is yours."
"The rolling hills that speak to your soul, their beauty IS your soul."
"The ocean and the sand and the rocks and the trees.  They matter to me, they are good. Just as they are.  You matter to me, you are good.  Just as you are."

It is hard to describe and, frankly, sounds a wee bit on the hippie side (which I am proudly embracing).  Never has this voice been so necessary, though, as in the past 18 months as the pain from the past was served hot, fresh and steaming on a plate for me to chew on as I watched the divorce of my parents unfold, reminding me of all the ugliness I wanted to forget.  There wasn't even any ketchup to help it go down easier.  

So the other day, as snowflakes fell slowly from the sky,  I was reminded again.  These reminders come more easily now, because I have learned to let them in, to embrace them and even to believe them.

"The tiny flakes are all unique, beautiful, good and clean.  Just as they are.  You are unique, beautiful, good and clean.  Just as you are."

 
How I wish I could go back to that young person and tell her how she matters.

I would tell her she is divine just because she exists, that her value does not depend on the completion of any list.  I would tell her what I am now just learning... that what she is is enough.

What I am is enough.

My story matters because I matter.

And now, because this is the longest blog post in the history of B-Happy, I will make it even longer by sharing a poem I love, written by Carol Lynn Pearson (my favorite Mormon-feminist-gay-rights-activist-spiritualist-and-so-much-more).

WITHIN
By Carol Lynn Pearson

I read a map once
Saying the kingdom of God
Was within me.
But I never trusted
Such unlikely ground.

I went out.
I scoured schools
And libraries
And chapels and temples
And other people’s eyes
And the skies and the rocks.
And I found treasures
From the kingdom’s treasury
But not the kingdom.

Finally I came in quiet
For a rest
And turned on the light.

And there
Just like a surprise party
Was all the smiling royalty–
King, Queen, court.

People have been
Locked up for less, I know.
But I tell you
Something marvelous
Is bordered by this skin:

I am a castle
And the kingdom of God
Is within.