A Roller Coaster Life

Aaron was on a pretty constant supply of morphine for awhile at the end of last year. The battle between wanting to be coherent and present but not in extreme pain was an everyday issue.

In the evenings especially, he wanted to sit quietly and talk with me. He wanted to make sense and he wanted to understand what I was saying.

We had many in depth, insightful, spiritual and beautiful conversations. Eventually the pain would be too much and a nurse would come in and save him from that agony. Moments later Aaron would be drifting in and out and talking about nonsense. Usually that was my cue to kiss him good night on the forehead and go home.

One night we were talking about our life together and our ups and downs. Going through rough patches of conflict or all we went through to have kids. The drug regiments and miscarriages. The exciting  vacations and hikes with each other. The past year with moving and ruining our car (curse you raccoon!!!!!!) and getting pregnant really quickly and  finally ending up in the hospital. We talked about how comforting it was to always know Heavenly Father has a plan for us. That we're learning and growing throughout it all.

Then Aaron needed his medication. It had only been a couple weeks since they'd removed two softball sized chunks of flesh and muscle from his side and the morphine was a necessity.

The medication set in quickly. He started to float away. I held his hand quietly while he relaxed into the bed.

"I feel like a roller coaster at Great America. That's where my parents met. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm spinning everywhere. Up and down and falling and flying up."

This is how the conversations usually went. Sometimes a little funny. Or a little sad. Sometimes a little sweet and vulnerable. I never thought to record them. It seemed like a breach of trust into a personal moment.

"I used to be scared of roller coasters," he continued,"but my parents said that we didn't need to be scared. Roller coasters were just a lot of fast or a lot of bumpy. The rides were meant to be fun and they were safe. Sometimes you get flipped upside down and corkscrewed but at the end you'll have a great time."

At that moment, something clicked in my mind.

I was being corkscrewed. I felt corkscrewed.

Our conversation from before was tying into his morphine brain conversation.

We were on a roller coaster. It had been designed not only for our enjoyment but also for our growth. Sometimes we would go up and up and up and we'd see amazing things from great heights. And sometimes we are getting flipped over or dropping really really really really fast and we instinctively hold our breath and wait to hit bottom. Sometimes we're being corkscrewed and it strains our necks and pulls us further off our sit than we feel comfortable.

But we're safe. Safe in the knowledge that our personal roller coaster was designed for our good. It was designed for our growth as individuals. Every twist and turn was placed there by a loving Heavenly Father.

When we trust God and His craftsmanship, we can relax and have a good time. At times we might be scared.

"Will I ever have a baby?" "Will we ever be settled in one place?" "Will my husband live?" "Will our quality of life change?" "Will my child be okay or am I scarring him for life?" "Will my baby live?" "Will we ever pay off medical bills?" "Will my husband be sick for months or years?" "Will I need to get a job?" "Will my husband lose his job?"

Life is so uncertain. I don't know if we'll all be alive tomorrow. I don't know if Aaron will stay out of the hospital long term. I don't know if our country will suddenly go to war. I don't know if our car will get stolen or if I'll break my leg or if Zach will fall off a cliff and be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I don't know.

But Heavenly Father does.

He can't force us to trust and have faith in Him. He can't force us to like or enjoy the roller coaster that we are on.  I believe that He truly wants us to enjoy our roller coasters and that He made them personally for each of us.  But He can't enjoy them or ride them for us.

He can't even force us to stay on the roller coaster. I could bail out on this one. For some reason, Aaron thought I might. I could say,"I didn't like that corkscrew. I'm getting off. I didn't know there would be corkscrews." And I could try and situate myself on a different roller coaster that looks like more fun.  But then that new roller coaster might have flips or something equally upsetting to me.

I'm going to choose not to bail out on this roller coaster.  I'm going to choose to be happy on my ride.  There have been some really great parts.  Exhilarating, breathtakingly beautiful parts.

See what I mean about beautiful parts?

I'm going to choose to trust in the maker of my roller coaster.  The one who is building the track that I'm on.  I'm sure that I have many more flips and drops and corkscrews coming my way.  But I trust.  

I trust my Heavenly Father.  

“You can have sacred, revelatory, profoundly instructive experiences with the Lord in the most 

miserable experiences of your life … , while enduring the most painful injustices, when facing the 

most insurmountable odds and opposition you have ever faced.” -Elder Jeffery R. Holland