The Quiet Heart

There is a line in a hymn that I love that says, "In the quiet heart is hidden sorrows that the eye can't see." I love that. It is so true. We all have sorrows past or present. We all have trials and hardships, challenges and difficulties. Some are more obvious to outsiders, and some are perfectly hidden.

There are parts to each of us that we would prefer others not know about. Usually things that we dislike about ourselves or refuse to accept. Some are things we can (or think we should be able to) control, and others are beyond our control.

I believe there is an innate fear surrounding these hidden sorrows. A fear of rejection should anyone discover. We each long for acceptance and true love, but fear holds us back from sharing with one another the things that we believe would bring about the feared rejection. Then, ironically, even when we find "acceptance" and "love" we don't fully trust it, believing that "if they only knew the real me," this love and acceptance would be lost.

In reality, the more we share with one another, the more mutual understanding, the more connected, the more actual love and acceptance we find. I'm not advocating T-shirts advertising our greatest weaknesses, or any of our hidden sorrows. I'm only observing that, in the right time and place, sharing with one another those sorrows that we usually keep hidden can actually be a validating, freeing, and therapeutic exercise. I think exercise is a good word for that, because it's not easy or comfortable.

In the MTC, they taught us not to share 'past transgressions', which I lovingly dubbed, "trans-pastgressions". I do believe there is wisdom in this for the most part -- especially as missionaries who carry that mantle and are teaching those with the first tender shoots of budding faith. There are times, however, when the lessons learned from our trans-pastgressions can and, perhaps should, be appropriately shared; times when that sharing could actually help lift another. Definitely discretion should always be used in this.

I used to put people up on pedestals and think they were completely infallible. Then, when I would find out, to my horror, that they were just regular people, I would be crushed. Boy have I come a long way! Much of my journey came through the trials of my life. I am grateful for the things that I have learned along the way. They have blessed me with more compassion and empathy, and with the sure unwavering knowledge that we truly each have our own sorrows hidden in our quiet hearts. No more pedestals here, just a lot of slack! Slack that I hope is afforded me in return.