A Day of Determination

Last night, as I was driving home, my favorite quote by Elder Neil A. Maxwell kept running through my head: "Act now, so that a thousand years from now, when you look back at this moment, you can say this was a moment that mattered--this was a day of determination." (New Era, 1975)

When I look back on the road I have traveled down these many months I feel two emotions: shock, and awe. Shock at how far I've come, and awe that it didn't kill me. By all accounts, it should have.

I feel I have aged exponentially. I can see it in my face, and feel it in my body. I'm a bit more tired, a bit more still. More contemplative and less carefree. Basically, I am a sixty year old widow trapped in a twenty-five year old's body. I managed to pack a lifetime of experiences into a mere seven months ... seven months that feel like seven million years.

And yet, like standing at the top of a mountain and looking down at the treacherous, rocky trail below, I can't believe I've survived. Quite honestly, there were nights when I wished I wouldn't. But against all odds, I'm still here. I'm a little worse for wear. My painful, horrifying bruises have not yet healed. ... But I'm here. And that is a bit of a marvel.

These were the thoughts that brought Elder Maxwell's beautiful words to my mind. This was a moment that mattered. This was a day of determination. It was as if a warm, inviting light was thrown over the dark abyss I have been living in. I laughed and I cried and I channeled my Jamie as I thought, "I am Jessie friggin Patel! I can do this!" Tears streamed down my face but they were a different kind of tear than the kind I've become acquainted with lately. They were ... weirdly triumphant.

This is a moment that matters.

This is a day of determination.

I can do this.

This grief, this sadness, this darkness will not overtake me. I am Jessie friggin Patel. I can do this.

And I know that I can because this strength is not my own. I have never known with more conviction and authority than I do now, that my Father in Heaven loves me. That sounds so trite but there is no other way to state that simple truth. I know that he walks beside me. I know that he watches over me with care and concern on those nights when I break down alone on the bathroom floor. And I know he sends me bugs with specific abilities when I need them. Many of you aren't even aware that you are a bug, but trust me. You were brought into my life for a reason. And for that, I am thankful.

I have unwavering faith in the fact that there is a plan for me. I am not quite sure what that is yet. I'm hoping that perhaps an angel will appear in my kitchen one evening and minister unto me. Or perhaps I'll receive some sort of certified letter from beyond the veil (... I need to go check my mail!). I imagine it glowing and white, sitting inside my tiny little mailbox. And a chorus of cherubim would sing when I open the letter. A deep, soothing voice would speak from the page (heavenly letters read themselves, you know), saying something like, "Jessie Patel," (heavenly voices don't say "friggin"), "Here is the direction and purpose for which you have been waiting." Only it would be more eloquent. Heavenly voices speak eloquently.

But angels and holy correspondence aside, I have never doubted that this is the way my life is supposed to go. And while that doesn't make it easy, or even easier, it gives me strength in those times that I falter.

I am Jessie friggin Patel, and I can do this ... but not alone.

I have learned to rely on my Father and my Savior over these past months in a way I did not understand was possible. I feel their influence in every aspect of my life. I am humbled. And this evening, I have such gratitude in my heart that I cannot find a word to describe it.

Earlier tonight I went out to dinner with a friend. As I spoke to him about my brother Tommy and the success he was having on his mission, I was overcome with a sudden and unexpected wave of grief for my lovey, who was always a missionary. My heart sped up and my vision blurred. I felt the darkness creeping in and the Crazy Jessies fighting to take over inside me. I was completely blindsided by this abrupt and aggressive attack on my system.

As the WFO (Widow Freak Out) was building inside me, I looked down at my plate and took a deep breath. This is a moment that matters. This is a day of determination. I completely surprised myself when instead of the wailing, wrenching sobs of Psychotic Jessie, silent tears slipped easily down my cheeks. I was relatively calm, and was able to relate a story of my Jamie and the incredible missionary he was ... is.

In that moment, I know it was the familiar, still, small voice that brought that calmness to my soul. What a miracle. And, as Tommy would say, "Miracles happen here every day."

With my Savior's help, and a bit of determination, perhaps I can turn into the Dignified Widow after all.

"Act now, so that a thousand years from now, when you look back at this moment, you can say this was a moment that mattered--this was a day of determination."