to describe the shutting out of light

In Lehi's vision of the Tree of Life, he saw many things. To name a few he sees of course a Tree, a path, a rod of iron, and a large and spacious building. He also sees what he describes as a mist of darkness that rose along the path to the tree.

23 And it came to pass that there arose a mist of darkness; yea, even an exceedingly great mist of darkness, insomuch that they who had commenced in the path did lose their way, that they wandered off and were lost.

He spoke of another group who grabbed hold of the rod of iron.

24 And it came to pass that I beheld others pressing forward, and they came forth and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press forward through the mist of darkness, clinging to the rod of iron, even until they did come forth and partake of the fruit of the tree.

This group caught hold of the rod, clinging to it he says, and pressed forward through the darkness and partook of the fruit. Unfortunately, after partaking they became ashamed after the people in the great and spacious building began to mock them. However, he says this of the next group:

30 ...(I) saw other multitudes pressing forward and they came and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press their way forward, continually holding fast to the rod of iron, until they came forth and fell down and partook of the fruit of the tree.

This last group held fast and was so exhausted that they fell down after their journey and partook of the fruit at last. The joy that must have filled their hearts, their very souls.

We find out later that the rod of iron represents the Word of God. The mist of darkness represents the temptations that blind the eyes and hardens the hearts of men. Another way one can look at it is anything that darkens our path, that blinds us to the Tree, our destination.

Those 3 groups all saw the Tree. The Tree that was the most beautiful and whose fruit was so desirable that they all commenced towards it but the first group never took hold of the rod and once the mist of darkness arose, they were lost, possibly trying to find another path to the tree but there is only one.

I have always held on more tightly during times of darkness to that rod. I have had to hold on much more tightly this time around, so much so that my hands or should I say my spirit may have some symbolic blisters. 

Today was a fast and testimony meeting. As I listened to the testimonies given, I began to think about the mist of darkness and how it relates to my grief. I felt that I had been walking through a dense fog, not being able to feel the spirit as strongly, my spiritual ability feeling numbed. I simply did not have the capacity.

I wrote this over the course of a year and a half since my mother's passing.

I feel I am standing still, my back to an endless abyss.

It is tied to me. It beckons me to look, its emptiness breathing down my neck.

I am afraid. Afraid that all I will find is nothing. Still, I struggle to move.

What if I venture in and never come back out?

A soul lost to the bitter cavern of sorrow.

How do I rid myself of this unending pit in my stomach?

How do I stop the aching beats of my heart?

Is it enough to close my eyes and breathe?

Do I simply count down until it doesn’t hurt anymore?

What if it never ends?

The world moves on around me but all I can do is shake my head and sigh.

I am exhausted, as though I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes.

All that is real, all that is tangible, is that my mother is gone.

I can ask a million times, “Why?” knowing no satisfying answer will come.

My spirit feels stretched thin.

Was I naïve to think, “If I can handle this, I can handle anything”?

I am left alone with memories I do not want.

Regrets that linger waiting in the dark to torture me.

What do I desire and also fear? Healing and peace.

Both can be undone in a blink of an eye.

Time will surely pass and the pieces will fall back into place.

But time seems a sadistic tool; while it can strengthen it can also destroy.

Grief and time are inseparably connected.

Like a harsh wind that downs a towering tree, it also strengthens a sapling.

But which am I?

Do I brace myself against the wind?

Do I walk through the darkness with grief as my guide?

No matter how much I wish to flee, I know I must go forward.

I know this is where the journey to healing begins-

through the dark.

The fog is beginning to lift. I am beginning to see more clearly but even in the darkest part of my grief, when I felt I couldn't breathe, when I feared this time there was no end, I held on to what I knew; that the tree is always there. The tree will never move and it will shine that much more brightly once I could see it again but I had to hold on and I had to keep moving forward. 

I couldn't let go, I couldn't stand still and I couldn't go backward.