'Light' bulb

I've been thinking about light lately -- and not just because I FINALLY got my birdcage and put a pillar candle in it for decoration! Doesn't it look great? And some of you thought I'd never actually do it... :)

No, actually, I've been thinking about light because I just finished Dan Brown's latest book, The Lost Symbol. Yes, I know it was published last year and I'm a bit behind the times, but it was interesting (and very disappointing -- I'm not going to recommend it necessarily, because it's definitely not of the caliber of The DaVinci Code.)

The book is about symbols and codes, obviously, but it also talks about the human mind and what we are capable of doing, specifically that we can become gods ourselves.

For someone raised in the LDS faith, this isn't a new concept. I've been taught for years that the point of my life here is to be able to become perfect so that I can live with God again and, if I achieve the highest glory, to become a god myself. I love that idea.

What was new to me was thinking about how much light I have -- and how little I use it. I 'blow the candle out' all the time in my life. I give up on things because I think they're too difficult or I feel like I just don't have the talent for them. I make mistakes and instead of learning from them and tweaking things so I improve, I beat myself up and feel like I'm hopeless. But I'm NOT hopeless! I just have to wait for Heavenly Father to light my candle again sometimes when it blows out or tapers down to a tiny flicker.

The other day, I locked myself out of my apartment -- and my roommate, who had the only other spare key that we knew of, was in Las Vegas for the weekend. My situation was not ideal, so I did the only thing a logical person would do: I cried, and I prayed. A lot. After repeatedly checking under the doormat for the key (like a little kid, I still believe Heavenly Father can move keys to different places), calling my roommate's parents, my sister and my boyfriend for help, I finally got back into my apartment when my roommate's mom magically inserted the right spare key into the lock.

I say 'magically,' but it wasn't magical. It was "light" -- and it was the result of prayers that had prompted me to call so many people for help. Heavenly Father lit my candle again -- and He let me get back into my apartment without the aid of a locksmith.

It's been an interesting past few weeks. Sometimes I feel like I'm a tall pillar candle that's lit and helping other people to feel happy and feel the warmth of the Savior's redeeming love. And sometimes I feel like I'm a short, stubby candle like the one in my new birdcage now (Andrew had to cut it down for me because it was scorching the wood). But I do know one thing: I have light from Heavenly Father, and I can become like Him. It's just going to take awhile.