I love Christmas and Easter time, when the world seems to focus more fully on Jesus Christ. This year, at the urging the brethren, I have personally spent more time studying the life of Jesus Christ, honoring Holy Week, and keeping the focus of Easter on my Savior.

In the past, Easter Sunday had been a day of remembering Jesus, along with a few Easter bunny traditions. It was a lovely, single-day oasis in my hectic life. I had never felt it was lacking.

However, this year, with my focus on Him leading up to it, Easter Sunday wasn’t a day-long event, but the dénouement to a month-long journey with Jesus Christ.

In the past weeks, through my studies, I had walked with Him as he comforted Martha and Mary and healed Lazarus, rode into Jerusalem on a donkey to fulfill prophesy, cleansed the temple, taught parables like the ten virgins, healed people, was anointed by those He loved, washed His disciples’ feet at the Last Supper, suffered alone in the Garden, was betrayed, hung on a cross, gave up His life, and was laid in a tomb.

I had learned from Him, cried with Him, and wept for Him.

So, when Easter morning came, instead of wondering what the Easter bunny had brought, I found profound joy exclaiming, “He is risen!”

All the sacrifice, pain, and suffering He experienced was transformed into my salvation.
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In one final miracle, Jesus gave me the chance to see my mom and grandparents again, to be with my family forever, and to become like Him.

It was a profound Easter Sunday. I felt close to Him. I knew Him. And I loved Him even more.

But now, Easter is behind me, and I feel similar feelings to when I take my Christmas decorations down. I’m sad.
I don’t want things to go back to “normal.” Especially after what I’ve experienced this past month. I find myself thinking, now what?

Discouragement comes to all of us.
I know I've had my share over the past year. 
Most of the discouragement has come from not-so-good things. 
Like getting a cracked tooth pulled and having my face swell up.

And then a week later getting bitten by a cat I was trying to save, getting an infection, and spending a few days in the hospital fighting it.

Some discouragement comes from good things too. In December I was called as an early morning seminary teacher. It was wonderful but challenging.
Then my mom got sick this spring and passed away this summer.
Oh yes, and we can't forget the Covid-19 world-wide pandemic and riots and the election year.
It's safe to say this has been a trying 11 months for me.
Discouragement has become an unwanted friend of mine.
But, I've learned a few things that have helped me when it comes, a few things that I've learned that help me become "undiscouraged." And, assuming you're human and you experience discouragement too, I thought I'd share.


#1 Take care of yourself
Often times when I'm discouraged it's because my bucket is dry--I am totally worn out. Sometimes it's due to my choices. I often put the needs of others first and forget my own. I will also eat things that aren't the best, stay up too late, or waste time during the day then berate myself for it. 
Other times I don't have a choice because circumstances demand my attention, energy, and efforts at a pace I can't keep up with.
Regardless of the why, when I neglect myself, discouragement easily follows.
Yet, it's hard to stop and give myself what I need.
This is why I love the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. It's where I get the "juniper" name in my blog from.
See, Elijah was a powerful prophet. He showed up on the scene, sealed the heavens, performed miracles, had the sealing power (the last one to hold the sealing keys before Jesus Christ came), and made royalty really mad. In fact, they wanted to kill him.
So he ran an entire day for his life. He wore himself out. That night he laid under a juniper tree and "requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life.
That's some deep, deep discouragement.
He falls asleep, presumably hoping to not wake up. An angel woke him up. He didn't lecture him, give him advice, power, or even a pep talk. He simply said, "Arise and eat."  Then he showed Elijah a cake that was baking on the fire. Read that again: THE ANGEL MADE ELIJAH A CAKE!!!  Cake is LITERALLY Heaven's answer to feeling bad.
Elijah ate the cake (like a good man) and drank some water, then went back to sleep. The angel came to him a second time and said, "Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for thee." 
Elijah had a long way to go and the angel knew (which means God knew) that what he needed to feel better and accomplish his tasks was to take care of himself. 
This is not a singular event. When Alma met Amulek, he tarried at his house and rested before going back out to preach. The Lord let Lehi and his family rest in Bountiful for years before they continued their journey. 
Taking care of ourselves is not only important and even necessary, but it is divinely suggested and condoned.
I find that when I'm feeling discouraged, I can often become undiscouraged by doing something that fills my bucket. It's usually something like taking a nap, resting better at night, eating healthier, getting outside, reading my scriptures, serving someone else, writing for fun, and yes, totally eating cake. Especially free cake. And especially angel cake. (Come on, I couldn't pass that up.)


#2  Release emotions
My mom had a few strokes and heart "episodes" in May, so when things took a turn for the worse in July, we knew we weren't going to have her much longer.
I flew down to California to be with her. She passed away five days later. Those five days were hard. Covid restrictions kept us from her until she moved into the ICU. Then, after an initial wave of small groups saying goodbye, we weren't allowed to be with her until they moved her downstairs to comfort/hospice care. And even then it was only one visitor at a time.
Mom rallied those first few days. I said a final heartwrenching goodbye, then she'd improve. Then she'd decline and I'd go and say goodbye again. After the third "final goodbye" the disappointment and grief had nearly consumed me.
I had kept everything in as I was one of the supports for my dad and my brothers. I wanted to be strong. So, I pushed it all down. Until my discouragement grew too large.
In this instant, cake wouldn't help. Heaven knew I'd been eating a steady diet of cookies for days.
What I needed was to release the emotions.
After a family meeting where my dad discussed the next steps, I ducked out of the house, got in my rental car, and drove to an empty parking lot. And I cried. I screamed. I hit the steering wheel. I let it all out for over an hour.
Then the tears dried up and I felt a sense of strength and peace return.
I went home to my dad. Not more than five minutes later we got the call that it was time again to say goodbye. I was able to be there in the background as my nieces and nephews said goodbye to their grandma. And because I'd released that emotion--not the sorrow or grief, but the weight and force of the emotion I'd kept inside--I was able to lovingly smile and support them in those very tender and hard moments.
Then, the next night, I said my final final goodbye. And she was gone, off to a family reunion of epic proportion.
Sometimes our emotions can build up and we become human pressure cookers and we need to release the pressure before we explode.
That might come in tears and screams, hitting inanimate objects, running hard, writing it out, or spilling your guts to a friend. Whatever works, do it. Because it does work, and you'll feel better.


#3 Remind yourself what you know
Discouragement is a suffocater. It takes hold of what we know, squeezes it, and pushes it aside to make room for all the things that make us sad, tired, and afraid.
It also loves to feed lies. Maybe we aren't worthy of happiness or love. Things will never work out. I won't ever get head. If God loved me, He wouldn't let me hurt this way or allow this to happen to me. Life is fair for everyone else, but mt.
When discouragement comes, it will do us good to remind us what we know.
I love the example of this in the Book of Mormon. The prophet Nephi had seen and done amazing things, and yet, he experienced discouragement too. In fact, he recorded on such time in 2 Nephi chapter 4.
He laments: "Why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken because of my afflictions? And why should I yield to sin because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations?  Why am I angry because of my enemy?"
That is some major discouragement there.
But I love what he does next. He doesn't allow himself to stay there. He doesn't feed those thoughts.  "Awake my soul!" he says. Basically, snap out of it!
Then he reminds himself of what he knows is true: Lord, I have trusted you, and I will forever. I know that you give to your children, and you will give good things to me.
When discouragement starts discoloring the good things in your life or feeding you lies, stop and remind yourself what you know. 
God is real. 
He loves you. 
He is with you. 
This will pass, and if it doesn't He will help you. 
The Atonement is real and can work in your life. 
Things WILL get better.
You will smile again.


#4 Keep discouragement with its ownerI have a friend with a bunch of kids. They throw the clean laundry in a pile and the kids pull out their own clothes. Often they will grab a brother's pair of pants or a sister's shorts because it either looks like theirs or happens to be next to what they are grabbing. What ends up happening then is clothes belonging to one person living in the dresser of another--where it doesn't belong.

Discouragement loves to spread its wings. When one thing discourages you, it's easy for it to spill into other areas--to go where it doesn't belong.

You get a demotion at work and come home to a house that's messy. The disappointment from your work now widens and you're disappointed in your home. Next it might be your family, your appearance, God, or yourself.

When you feel discouraged and you see it spreading across your life, take some time to pinpoint where the discouragement started. Then try to compartmentalize it there. Remind yourself that it's okay to be disappointed in one are and happy in others at the same time. :)


#5 Give it to the Lord so He can give you what you need

Sometimes feelings of disappointment can drive us away from God. That is the worst thing we can allow it to do.

The Lord loves. He wants to help us, and if we let Him, He will give us the individual care and assistance we need to deal with our disappointment.

When Jesus received the news of the death of His dear friend Lazarus, He traveled to his home and was met with one of Lazarus' sisters, Martha. (as found in John 11)

She ran to meet Him saying, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."

Jesus responded with the assurance that her brother will rise again. Then He spent a few moments teaching Martha of eternal things.

Then the other sister, Mary, came to Jesus and greeted Him the same way: "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."

Except, the Savior didn't respond to Mary the same way. As Mary wept, Jesus wept with her.

To one sister He gave hope and learning, to other He gave love and empathy.

Both sisters were experiencing the same thing--the death of their brother. And yet, both had different needs. And the Savior gave each one what they needed. 

This is what God and Jesus do--they give us what They know we need. They know us intimately and want to give us hope and learning and love and empathy and companionship and strength and ALLLLL the things we need to deal with or overcome our discouragement. 

But, as the sister did, we need to bring our sorrow, worry, fears, and frustrations to Them.

So, when you're feeling discouragement in all its forms, give it to the Lord, and let Him give you what you need.


#6 Wait it out in faith

Sometimes we can do all of the above things and the discouragement is still there. Sometimes immediate relief simply isn't possible. 

So, what do we do then??

We wait in faith.


I love the movie "Cast Away" with Tom Hanks. Hank's character is on a Fed X plan that crashes on a deserted island in the ocean. He's alone for four years, with only a small photo of his fiance and one still-unopened package to deliver to give him hope. Finally, the wind brings him something he can use as a sail, and he's able to get his man-made boat over the currents surrounding the island and floats out to sea where he's picked up and rescued.

He returns home to find his fiance married to another man because she thought he had died. The world is different. He is different. 

As he tries to grapple with the adjustment and diminishing hope, a friend asks Hanks what he will do now.

This is his response: 
"[On the island] I had power over nothing. And that's when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that's what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am. I'm back. In Memphis, talking to you. I have ice in my glass... And I've lost her all over again. I'm so sad that I don't have Kelly. But I'm so grateful that she was with me on that island. And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”

Sometimes, when we have to wait for things to get better, to feel better, all we can do is keep breathing. And hold onto the hope that the tide will bring something in.

This, to me, is what Sariah, Lehi's wife, did in the Book of Mormon.

She left her extended family, the home she'd created, her friends, and followed her husband, a prophet, into the wilderness. After three weeks of traveling, they stopped to camp, and the Lord sent her sons back to Jerusalem on a dangerous mission.

When they hadn't returned, Sariah began to feel very discouraged. She feared her sons were dead, and (because discouragement doesn't like to be alone) she began to doubt.

Lehi did his best to console her. Sariah chose to wait in hope. And her sons did return!

And when they did, her discouragement was replaced with stronger faith and gratitude.

Still, it must have been hard for her to wait.

I know waiting in hope is hard for me.

It might be for you.

We want to feel better now, for things to get better and. Sometimes they can and do, and sometimes, we simply have to be patient and wait in hope until they do. Keep breathing in and out. Because we never know what the tide will bring in tomorrow.

So, those are six of the things I do to get undiscouraged.

What do you do the help you fight discouragement when it comes knocking at your door?

I'm going to really really honest here.

I hit the ground this weekend.

I went to a place I hadn't been in years. A tough, dark place.

And as I tried to figure out how I got there, I couldn't pinpoint one or two big things. It was a combination of small things that have accumulated over the past months and some over years.

I think of Jack Black in Gulliver's Travels, lying on the beach, tied down by tiny ropes.

That's what things have felt like for me. It wasn't just one big thing that weighed me down. It was a thousand little things. Responsibilities, obligations, job, the needs of others, callings...

But, there were more ropes than those.

Expectations I put on myself. Experiences that didn't turn out like I'd hoped. People not being what I thought they were. Me not being what I thought I should be. Getting hurt. Perceived failures...

A thousand tiny ropes that, in of themselves individually couldn't hold me down, but collectively had the power to take me to the ground.

Over the past couple of weeks I've had a few more ropes added to the bunch. Not big ones, but just enough to give all the ropes the strength to pull me down.

And down I went. Hard.

I could feel myself going down, and I decided I wasn't going down without a fight.

Saturday morning I got up early and went to the temple. Surely I would receive the strength, validation, and perspective I needed there.

But I felt nothing.

I drove home empty and confused.

I talked with my husband that night for a long time. I shared with him all that I was feeling. I talked about each little rope, and he listened patiently and lovingly.

I explained how I was failing at so many things. And how I was hurt by some things. And how I was afraid of some things. And how I really was just so tired of not being enough.

So tired of that.

And what made it worse is that I'm an inspirational writer and speaker.

I'm not supposed to feel this way. I should know better.

I mean, the project I'm working on now is about not believing the lies Satan tells us. So my guilt was even greater. And so was my shame.  I know the gospel. I teach it. I shouldn't struggle like this. And yet, I was.

According to my husband, many of the things that troubled me weren't reality, but my perception.

I can see that as a real possibility.

But still, down I went.

I went to church Sunday morning. There were reminders all around me and in my mind of my ropes--of hurts and unmet expectations and my failures by comparison. I managed to make it through Sacrament meeting without tears, but the moment the closing prayer was said, they started to come.

I secured a ride for my girls, then left church early, the tiny ropes all running through my head.

There was no room for anything else. They were consuming. And painful. And suffocating.

I cried and prayed. And cried and prayed.

Still no answers.

Silence.

That is what has seemed to be the heavenly M.O. for the past few months. Silence.

It was deafening.

And scary.

Most of my life has been with companionship of the Holy Ghost. I almost always received inspiration on major decisions, peace when I asked for it, direction when I sought it, help when I needed it.

But, for whatever reason, the past few months it's been gone. I've felt very alone.

And Sunday, I plead for it. I plead to feel the Spirit, to feel something. To hear something.

And nothing came.

A thousand tiny ropes and deafening silence.

Out of exhaustion, I feel asleep.

When I awoke, I didn't feel better. No miracle relief. No sudden strength or perspective.

Just heaviness, failure, and pain.

I kept the tears at bay the rest of the day, but my thoughts ran freely.

I had plenty of proof of my failures, my not-enough moments, the rejections...I had real reasons to feel the way I did.

I also had false reasons to feel the way I did, too. My own misinterpretations of God's will, my unrealistic expectations of myself, etc.

I spent the day trying to decode the real from the false. It was exhausting and brought me down further.

So many ropes. And still, so much silence.

Then, that evening, I had to ask myself some questions: If the ropes stayed, and the silence remained, could I still believe? Could I trust in myself when I felt so weak, so not-enough? Could I believe the positive things my husband told me about myself when I had so much proof otherwise? Could I trust in God when the heavens were so quiet for so long? Could I be okay if my circumstances didn't change?

Could I lie beneath a thousand tiny ropes under a silent sky and still be all right?

I realized I could.

But it would have to be a purposeful decision. A choice. My choice.

So, that is what I did.

I chose to be okay.

Now, it hasn't come all at once, the good feelings.

And the bad feelings, the pain, the fear, and all that crap, haven't left all at once.

I still feel hurt from open wounds. I still have some fear. I still feel bad.

BUT- a couple things did change.

First, hope entered in. I will feel better. I always have, and I will again.

Second, my eyes began to look away from the ropes to other things...to other people, people I can help. And that always helps me.

Third, as I awoke and went to work this morning, I realized that the sun did, indeed rise again, and that it will tomorrow and the next day and the next day. And I will be okay.

Fourth, I understand that the Atonement can work in my life if I choose to let it, even if it works in a way I don't recognize or am used to. And I choose to believe it's working in me right now.

I've felt this bad only a few other times in my life. But the significant lesson here was that even if many of the ropes are still there and I haven't felt the Spirit reach out to me,  I can choose to try to get up.

I can choose to believe. I can choose to be okay. I can choose to get up.

And I have. At least, I am trying to get up.

I cannot believe I am the only person in the world that has felt this way before. There must be others who have felt suffocated by the weight of a thousand tiny little ropes.

Maybe you're impacted by the deafening silence of heaven right now.

Maybe you have an arsenal of "proof" that you've failed.

Maybe you've been hurt by others.

Or maybe you are simply tired of never being enough.

If you feel this way, I get it. I get you.

It's awful.

And scary.

But it's not permanent. And it's not all real.

You have the power in you to choose what you will believe.

You have the power to choose to be okay.

And you can.

You will.

I am feeling better today. Not 100%. But getting there.

I'm slowly working to recognize and address each little rope.

I'm trying to adjust my life to give myself the space I need to get up again.

And, rather than waiting for the heaven to open up,  I am going to open up to the heavens today.

I can't hear God right now, but I choose to believe He hears me.

And man, do I have a lot to say.

Tiny little ropes. Deafening Silence. And a choice.

I'm going to be okay.

And so can you.

FOLLOW UP:

It's been a couple of days since I wrote this post. I've had time to reflect on it. I've had moments when I thought I would take it down. I mean, who wants to share their sucky times? Their struggles? Their weaknesses?

But then, I think we are so often willing and eager to share the successes that we begin to think that's what life is made of. And that moments like these, where we struggle or cry or doubt or hurt, that these are the exception.

But not only the exception, a bad exception. An embarrassing exception. A weak exception. A wrong exception.

And we begin to hide our struggles and apologize if they show, embarrassed as if we just accidentally mooned a crowd of tourists.

Now I'm not advocating we all share every pain and fear we feel. There's risk in vulnerability. Not to mention, the deep and tender things of our hearts are sacred.

BUT- we should not feel shame because we hurt or struggle or feel.

WE ALL HAVE TIMES LIKE THESE. It is normal. It is human.

It is healthy and good. A cleaning out of closets of sorts. An inventory and even reckoning.

A cleansing and opportunity for choice and a new chapter.

This is what this experience was for me.

I shared some deep feelings. Not all of them...I kept the very personal, sacred stuff to myself. But I shared enough to worry what readers would do with it.

Would they judge how I felt? Would they judge why I share?

But then, the driving force behind sharing was stronger than the fear of sharing.

We need to know that

• everyone struggles sometimes
• hard emotions--even pain- are not always bad
• we have the ability to sort through rather than stuff
• we have more power than we realize over how we feel
• and we can hurt and struggle, and will still be okay.

I am feeling much better. I knew I would. Optimism helps. Looking back at history helps. Perspective helps. But so does my determination to be happy--my choice to be happy. Even when conditions are not perfect. (Are they ever?)

I really am okay. 

No, I am good. 

I'm a bit tired. Still hurting a little. Still thinking a lot.

But I feel strong and balanced again. I feel optimistic and hopeful.

I feel happy.

And I hope you are too.

Today is a cool day for me. 5 years ago today I opened this account on Facebook. Now, you might not thing that's a big deal. But here's why it is for me.

It's that day I came out of my writer's closet.

In 2012 I'd been blogging for years, and had attended my first writers retreat. I knew I wanted to not only write, but publish books. That was my secret goal.
And it was a secret. I didn't tell hardly a soul. Because, who was I to dream that big? Who was I to think I had something to say that anyone else would want to read?

The answer was me. A doubting, scared, excited me.

I sat up well past my bedtime five years ago, setting up this profile--my author profile. I added my picture and a quote for my first cover photo: "The pen is the tongue of the mind." Cervantes. I was ready.

It was time to come out of the safety of the shadows of secret dreams. (is that not the cheesiest line ever? True. But cheesy).

So, about 2:30 in the morning, five years ago, I hit Publish and took my first step out of the writers closet. It was exciting, and represented an act of brave commitment to my dream.

Then I waited two weeks to invite anyone to be my friend.

Why? Because it meant stepping totally out from the darkness into the light. It meant showing everybody this dream that I had, and admitting I was either stupid or arrogant enough to pursue it.

Of course I was neither. But, what would people think? I'd like to think I was the brave soul that soldiered through life not caring about the opinions of others. But they matter, some not so much, some not at all, and some a great deal. Especially those I care about. And I was just about to announce to my friends and family--those I care about--that Michelle wants to write words for the world.

Creating this profile meant that I not only committed to my dream of publishing, but that I was willing to do it publicly. If I fail, everyone would know. And, honestly, I thought I probably would fail. I mean, what are the chances that a regular person like me could not only finish writing an entire book, but get one published by a traditional publisher? And who likes failing in public?
I did. And I didn’t.

Ann Acton was the first person I invited to be my friend. And, after five years, she still is 🙂

In the past five years I have traditionally published two books with two different publishers and another one set for release in a few months; self-published two books; spoken to thousands of women in large and small groups; taught at writers conferences and retreats; served on conference committees, co-chaired a conference and am now chairing a writers conference; written seven books and have three in the works and ideas for a dozen more.

I have had and left a literary agent; been rejected and called gimmicky; been accepted and called brilliant; cried in the middle of a writers conference hallway; quit writing; unquit writing; done TV and radio interviews; joined in critique groups where my words were bathed in red ink, and have done the same to others; and more.

It has been a full, wonderful, difficult, exhilarating, heartbreaking, and unforgettable journey. And I've done it all with my friends. I cannot tell you how vital it is to have that--to have you.

If you have a closet dream--whether it's writing or anything else--I encourage you to walk into the light with it. Yes it's scary. You might be mocked by some for doing it. (I had someone very close to me tell me, after I published my first inspirational nonfiction, that I was a fraud with no original ideas, that my book wasn't doing any good and he wasn't the only one who thought so. Ouch. Deep ouch.) You will be praised for doing it.

But that's not why you shouldn't or should come out of your dreamer closet.
You should do it because fear doesn't breed joyful success. Or sometimes any success.

Risk is the price you need to pay for the big dream you have inside.

I'm so glad I came out of my writer's closet five years ago today. That risk introduced me to experiences I never would have had. Hard and wonderful things. And has allowed me to meet so many amazing people. Many of you people here.

That risk--that choice--has changed my life.
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If you're a closet dreamer, I can promise you that December 2nd is a lucky to day to step into the light with that dream. You'll find opportunities, improve yourself, enjoy a robust support group of friends, and have joy in magnifying your talents and pursing your goals and dreams.
Join me in the light. It's nice weather out here.

"Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it." Carlos Ruiz Zafon (The Shadow of the Wind)I've heard it once said that everything was created spiritually before it was created physically.

I couldn't agree more. Especially with books.

As an author, there is more than brainpower that goes in the pages I write. It's my fears, my struggles, my doubts, my hopes, my growth . . . essentially, my soul. I put all of my in the books I write, both fiction and nonfiction. I don't know how to write any differently.

I think it's because writing is my therapy. If you lie to a therapist, you'll never make progress. Same with writing. If you lie when you write, it will never be good, never be real.

You could argue that fiction is, in a sense, a lie, that it is a made up story, totally fabricated and untrue. While these thing are true, authors of GOOD fiction cannot lie. If they aren't truthful about the emotions they feel, the pain, the anger, the joy, the desire, their books will be shallow. Dead. Soulless.

Emotion is what breathes life into us. This is why empathy is so important. We feel things and when we learn that we can feel what others feel, we become connected. We see them, we feel them, and they become a part of us. Without emotion there would be no joy or misery, no happiness or grief. No soul.

When you write a book, you can't help but leave pieces of yourself between the lines and pages. And when you read a book, if you really read the book, you pick up the pieces and make them yours. You can feel the book, and in a way, feel the author. 

You feel their soul.

It's magical really.