I think a decent summary of my thoughts on the old year can be offered through a recap of the events surrounding my BYU graduation.
Last April, after a whirlwind decision to change my career path, I officially graduated with a B.A. in Linguistics. I was all sorts of happy and excited about it--though I was completely unsure what it was going to be like to not have school in my life--and I was proud of my accomplishments and all that jazz.
At this point, things were working out great. I had gotten approval to work a little longer at my job on campus, I had a new job lined up for a month and a half down the road, and I just felt this overwhelming sense of direction, peace, and purpose in life.
There was just one problem: my parents couldn't come to graduation. Things were especially difficult during that time financially (and physically for my dad), and it just wasn't a trip they could afford to make. Because I'm an adult, I tried really hard to be understanding and mature about it. I didn't let myself get sad over it, because what good would that have done? Every time Mama brought it up to apologize, I cut her off. Every time Daddy told me he was going to find a way to send Mama out here, I fussed at him for trying to spend money they didn't have. I did everything in my power to convince them (and myself) that I would be okay without having them here.
When my roommates got excited about their parents coming into town, I was a little jealous, but still pretty happy. My parents' absence didn't change the fact that I was loved, I finished finals confidently and with good grades, and that I was on my way to the next chapter of my life. But the shock finally came when graduation day rolled around and my parents didn't show up on my doorstep. Deep down in my heart, I guess I kind of hoped we'd get some sort of miracle that would have made them able to come. I had some sort of . . . dream (I don't know if that's the right word, but whatever) that they would come through at the last minute and surprise me on the big day. So much for my being a mature adult, huh?
My emotions really pulled a number on me then. I was taking forever to get ready, and before I knew it, Maddie's parents were at the apartment to pick us up. It was time to go and I still had to brush my teeth, finish zipping up my dress, put my shoes on, and who knows what else. I remember rushing to get ready and just being in kind of a daze from focusing so hard on not crying that I was trembling and scatterbrained. When I went to brush my teeth, I knocked over my makeup bag, sending all its contents to various parts of the bathroom. I thought about following my eyeshadow palette right into the toilet and just skipping all the graduation festivities.
That's when Maddie's mom knocked on my door, came into my room, and just gave me a huge hug. I finally let myself be sad and really feel the fact that I missed my parents. I cried and cried and cried. I'm pretty sure I probably got some snot on Lindsey's dress, too. Then she asked, "Is it okay if we pretend to be your parents for a while?" and offered to adopt me for a few days.
Between the Dixons, the Coxes, and about a million phone calls from my family members (my phone bill was almost twice its usual amount that month), I felt so incredibly loved and taken care of that weekend. While I missed having my family to celebrate with me, I still got to celebrate with family--with two families, full of people that I love and who were so kind, caring, and generous that they treated me as if I were one of their own.
Because of this experience and so many others that I had last year, I've thought a lot about compensation, and about how the Lord makes up for the trials and heartaches we experience by giving us blessings beyond measure.
In his October 2008 talk Come What May and Love It, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin teaches the principle of compensation beautifully:
"The Lord compensates the faithful for every loss. That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude."
Every tear will be returned with tears of rejoicing and gratitude. I love that! This means that every loss we experience--of friendship, hope, courage, strength, knowledge, and even the lives of loved ones--will be made up to us, and we can experience true joy in that restoration.
Looking back on the past year, I could go on forever listing the blessings I received, and yet my memory contains so few details of any sacrifices I may have made or losses I may have experienced to merit such compensation. That is a testimony to me that the scales of heaven are balanced in our favor, so that--as long as we love God, have faith in Him, and do His will--no loss is permanent or endured in vain.
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