Acceptance

(I often stop and take pictures when I'm out running and something is beautiful)

If the last few years have been about anything for me, they've certainly been about acceptance. And that's just one thing.

I've learned that all of the NOs -- meaning all the things I haven't wanted to happen throughout my life -- have been the junctions where I've learned the most. 

They've defined me, opened me, broken me, changed me.

I'm grateful for those raw and fragmented pieces. 

In some ways, I feel more real today than I've ever felt.

I've learned that I have limits, that life has brought me up against mountains that have been bigger than me, several times. But I'm grateful for the climbs they've necessitated---for what I've learned about myself, including (and maybe especially) about my weak points, inadequacies, and struggles. Over the last few years, I've felt God in those broken places more than I ever have in my life. The breadth and scope and depth of the atonement suddenly became something so much bigger than I had ever comprehended---a beauty, love, strength, and power that can't be articulated with words. 

And it's not that I could intellectually understand it, but I could feel it. 

And it changed my life. 

And changed what I feel about others, too, and how I look at them---

how I look at us, all of us.

Last night I found myself feeling wistful and a little sad.  And as I sat there, trying to articulate what it was I was feeling, I realized it was this concept of acceptance and honesty. Allowing myself to feel all of the emotions that I feel about where I'm at, right now. To feel my heartache(s) while not forgetting to count the joy and blessing that is woven into every aspect of my life. Realizing that the things I wish I could change may never change---and trying to *truly* be okay with that, instead of trying to change it. Choosing, instead, to let however that feels (sad) wash over and through me, choosing to own it and honor it. I'm trying to live with the questions, accept the ambiguity while trying to move my two feet forward. And I want to respect the journey---mine, as well as the people I've been blessed to share stretches of the road with. 

I've learned that you don't always understand. But often, when it hasn't made sense to me, one thing has, and it's this: someone else is hurting, too. That other person, whoever it is, and in whatever circumstance, has a story, too. If I'm quiet, I feel aware of that pain, feel aware that they're likely doing the very best they can and going through a process of figuring it out, just like me. And suddenly, I feel like I'm in a story that connects all of us, really.

I've learned that sometimes the wisest answer is, "I don't know."

I've become okay with not having answers, not being able to put everything in clean, tidy boxes. And today? 

Today I'm not even sure that it's about having those answers, or knowing exactly what to do or what it means.

But.

The answers that I do have? The ones that consistently make sense to me, regardless of the circumstance?

Faith. Love. Compassion. Kindness. Forgiveness. Honesty.

Faith. Love. Compassion. Kindness. Forgiveness. Honesty.

Faith. Love. Compassion. Kindness. Forgiveness. Honesty.

Repeat.

It's like one of my friends said, just a few days ago:

What other answers are there?

What other answers do you really need?