Gifts of Life

Yesterday Marc was able to take the second half of the day off work, so we could have a little family time together. We drove down to the Bay, where we first met up with my parents, who were down there for their usual Wednesday at the temple. Then, later we met up with my brother for dinner, who is on a little business trip. It ended up being a pretty long day, but so worth it! It was exactly what I needed and I came away feeling so refreshed and uplifted.

I was reminded of some very important truths, and I wanted to write some of them down so that I won't forget as easily.

1) The world around me is beautiful. Every where I look, there is beauty. I happen to live in a very gorgeous place - a little valley that's surrounded by lush mountains that are extra beautiful this time of year, it isn't far from the beach, and even closer to the most amazing Redwood Grove of its kind. Just a month ago we took some new friends to this particular grove and they were so stunned by its beauty, even paying close attention to the abnormally largeness of the clover leaves, which I hardly even notice now. As we explored the grove with them, I found myself trying to see it with new eyes, as if it were my first time, to feel the same awe and reverence that they were feeling. It made me realize how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful place that offers such unique creations to appreciate. And, the most beautiful thing about that idea is that everyone should be able to say the very same thing about wherever they live. That's how beautiful this world is. I want to be more conscious of its beauty and more appreciative of the gift it is. The earth, in all of its beauty, is a gift that is meant to make my life joyful.

2) There is a need to connect and re-connect with those we love. Tomorrow morning, just like nearly every Friday morning for the past 7 months, I get to go fishing with my Dad. My Mom got us both fishing licenses this year and we decided Friday would be our fishing day. We've missed some, but only when one of us has been out of town. Sometimes it's just the two of us, sometimes we take my 3 kids. But, it has gotten to the point that Friday Fishing Day is almost as sacred to me as the Sabbath. Part of that has to do with the time I get to spend with my Dad (and 3 kids) doing something we love, and part of it is the feeling I get that I'm reconnecting to Nature, which to me is completely synonymous with connecting to Deity. I guess in a way it feels to me like the perfect set-up to feel close to both my Fathers. I love the sound of the rushing river we go to, watching the deer frolic in the golden hills on the other side of the river, feeling the warmth of the sun as it comes up through the trees, and just the chance to unplug from the many distractions and plug back into the things that matter most - those eternal relationships, both here and there.

3) I am not perfect and that is perfectly okay. I read somewhere recently - "God has a plan for your mistakes." And, He does! He doesn't expect me to be perfect and never has. He knows my efforts, He knows the desires of my heart, He knows I'm trying to figure it all out. I'm just glad He has it all figured out. I'm realizing there is a lot more I can do to let Him in my life to show me more. I think sometimes I convince myself that part of life is just suffering through blindly until I finally have a stroke of luck and get it right. But, I'm realizing He can open my eyes to new ideas, new beliefs, new habits, new perspectives, that can make the whole process so much easier. I just need to put myself in a place to be ready and listening, expecting the answers to come.

Yesterday was a much needed reminder that this life is a gift. The earth is a gift. The relationships I enjoy are gifts. The plan that God has for my life is a gift. And it is all there for me to enjoy, to find happiness. True, life has its struggles, but life is so much more than just trudging through the hard moments. The views, the people, the experiences are meant to bring me joy. That is the purpose of life - to find joy. It's there, even when the mountain is steep and the way is unknown. And, oh, how I needed that reminder!

Hope for a Better World

Back when I was 16 or so, I remember sitting in a lesson at church that brought me to tears. I don't remember the topic of the lesson, but I remember feeling overwhelmed with how bad the world was at the time (around 1994-ish) and how much worse it was bound to become by the time I was a mother. And, I decided right then and there that it just wouldn't be worth it to bring kids into such a terrible place. (Yeah, I admit I might have been a bit on the emotional/dramatic side as a teenager. I was only slightly offended when an adult leader once told me I needed to lighten up. Actually, now that I think of it, I heard that more than once.)

It was while Marc and I were cleaning up from our lunch together on Monday afternoon that Marc saw the news about the explosions in Boston. As we saw and heard more details coming in, we immediately understood the gravity of the situation and I felt my heart sink and my head spin. Sadness and confusion. Ben was at preschool and Hugh was hanging out with my parents, so I had a quiet house. I sat and rocked my baby Lucy. I held her close and then laid her gently down for her afternoon nap. She was still sleeping when I had to pick Ben up from school, so I had some more quiet time in the car. (Luckily, Marc was able to work close by to be near her when she awoke.)

It was in the car that the tears came flowing. The sadness and confusion had built up and I needed some release. I consider myself a runner. I've run two marathons, I'm signed up to run a half marathon coming up soon, and I felt like this tragedy had affected and hurt my family. Not just my running family, but people that are part of this great big human family.

I was actually a little surprised myself by how easy the tears came and I paused long enough to consider myself a little crazy for being so emotional about it all. I didn't know anyone that was there (except that later on, I realized that I did - my friend Amy). But, this is exactly the kind of stuff that my teenage fears warned me of.

Stuff like this just feels extra painful when you consider that there are those among us who have their hearts and minds in such a skewed place to think it okay to inflict such awful pain and terror on their own family, albeit "just" human family.

For completely unrelated reasons, not too long ago I found myself drawn to looking more closely at moments in the scriptures when the Lord weeps. There were three that affected me in powerful ways for different reasons. There's the story of Lazarus, which is where we find the oft-quoted shortest verse in scripture: Jesus wept. There's the story of the Resurrected Christ blessing the children among the Nephites and weeping because His joy was full. And, then the story of the Lord showing Enoch in vision the world we live in today. That's the story that has been on my mind this week.

In all of my sadness and confusion, trying to make sense of the senseless, there is one truth that keeps resonating through my veins. God has wept at the hatred and the evil among His own children and surely He is weeping still. And, if He is weeping (which I believe He is), then that means He still cares, He is still aware, and He still has ultimate power to heal and to make things right again. And, as long as there is a God in heaven like that, then there is reason for me to have hope in a better world, even if that is a world to come.

Here I am, nearly 20 years later, raising three children in this much scarier world. I'm conquering my own fears. I'm doing everything I can to keep my kids safe and teach them to be kind. And, teaching them the Source of my hope, because maybe there will come a day when they are sitting in a church class a few years down the road and will be overcome with how scary the world is they live in... and maybe, just maybe, they won't be afraid.

His Hand is Stretched out still

We don't watch a lot of TV, especially not during the day. Last Friday I didn't hear about the awful events in Newtown, CT until a little later in the day. It was disturbing news... even before finding out that it all took place at an elementary school. That just took it to a whole new level. I found myself shaking my head in disbelief, so much that by early afternoon I had a headache and a stomach that wouldn't settle.

That afternoon, in a bit of a daze, I watched my boys making messes and doing things in general that usually drive me crazy (unrolling a whole roll of paper towels, fighting over toys, etc...) and I actually found myself feeling grateful that I had them there with me, alive and well enough to be making those messes.

When it quieted down for nap time, I took some time with each of them to cup their faces in my hands, looking into their eyes and told them that I loved them. Hugh looked back at me with big eyes, almost as if he sensed the intensity of the moment. I honestly felt a little relief that they are too young to go into any detail with them about what happened. It makes me a little sad to think that one day there will be some other awful story in the news and I'll probably have to then. I just hope a horror like that isn't ever anything any of us will have to experience first-hand.

I tried to put myself in the shoes of a six-year old child in that kind of situation or in the shoes of a mother who has to hear her child is gone, taken in such an evil way. But, it was all too unsettling and I just couldn't go there.

In the process of trying to come to terms with my own feelings about the tragic details, I came across a lot of quotes and images on facebook that people wanted to share. One that came up a number of times was the quote by Mr. Rogers:

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers - so many caring people in this world.”

I appreciated hearing such wise words from a wise man. There was another sentiment that came up that, on the surface, seemed like a good explanation, but deep down made me feel uncomfortable. This idea that the shooting happened in Newtown because we've pushed God out of our schools and so He's abandoned us.

I'm still sorting through my feelings on the matter, so bear with me. While God doesn't force His will or His love on us, I feel very certain that He has much "thicker skin" than us emotionally fragile humans. We can push Him away over and over and cut Him off completely, but as was often quoted by Isaiah, even at our very worst, "His hand is stretched out still." I can't imagine that God, a loving Father in Heaven, would withhold His comfort and presence from a school full of young children, HIS young children, just because there was some person somewhere that said there shouldn't be prayer in school.

What about the shooting that happened at the Amish school a few years back? They likely had prayer to start their day. Or, what about shootings that happen inside churches or other places of worship? In those cases, the logic of that sentiment totally falls apart.

The truth is that sometimes we pray for things and sometimes those prayers are answered and sometimes they're not. Sometimes God sees fit to intervene and provide protection and sometimes He doesn't. It can feel futile to try to make sense of why He does or doesn't do something, but it's important to remember that God sees a much clearer picture of His plan and His purposes.

It seems to me that it comes down to a matter of agency, or free will. God allows us to make choices. He can try to persuade or prompt us in a certain direction, but He will never force us to be good or to follow His commandments. That means that sometimes evil things happen. Does that make God less powerful or less available to the innocent who suffer at the hands of evil? No way.

In fact, if there were some way we could get a glimpse of Sandy Hook in the moments before, during, and after the shooting occurred, and if it were possible to see the tragedy with spiritual eyes, I wonder what we would see. I imagine we'd see hosts of angels, waiting and ready to comfort, to calm, to inspire, to strengthen. Just because the shooter was able to accomplish his evil act and killed so many innocent children, and equally innocent adults, doesn't mean that God was not there. Surely He was no where else but there that day, watching with the same heartache and sadness at one of His own sons using his agency to hurt so many people in an unimaginable way.

I don't know why He allowed it to happen. I don't know why He didn't intervene. But, the God I know wouldn't have been anywhere else that day. And, for those who have been left behind, I know He is there walking with them, suffering and grieving with them. He does not leave us comfortless. He seeks us out and walks with us.

It's awful what happened. It's unimaginable. I've shed tears over it.

I'd imagine God has shed more than anyone.

Unexpected Mercy

This afternoon Marc came with me to take another quick peek at our growing little Baby Girl. There's a comfort to having him by my side for big moments like this and I feel extra grateful that he takes the time in his busy day to show he thinks it's important, too.

It was a month ago, at my normal pre-natal appointment, that I was told we needed to get a second ultrasound done between 26 and 28 weeks. Initially the midwife told me that the ventricle outflow in the brain wasn't "well-demonstrated." Well, as soon as I got home I hopped onto the internet, which took me on one quick and scary ride through the land of Worst-case Scenarios. After having a mini breakdown at the thought of something going terribly wrong, and possibly losing this little girl, MY Baby Girl, I summoned the courage to call the midwife and get more information. I wanted details, I wanted to know the exact words from the report of the initial ultrasound, I wanted answers to questions I had been too stunned to ask during the appointment.

Once I finally got a hold of the midwife, she read the report in my chart word for word to me over the phone. There was one point where I heard something about "ventricular outflow of the heart." The midwife kept going and I had to stop her to clarify. I reminded her that at my appointment she'd said it was the outflow of the brain. She read it again and then apologized for the confusion and clarified that it was the outflow of the heart that wasn't clearly visible. For some reason that not-so-tiny detail made me less worried. And, really, in the following weeks I felt this calm reassurance that Baby Girl would be just fine.

And, that was exactly what we learned today. We got a good view of the heart and there was good outflow and a good, strong beating heart. Huge relief. We can resume our previously scheduled non-dramatic pregnancy!

The ultrasound tech was being shadowed by an intern today, so after we got the important things cleared up, we were asked if we were okay with the intern taking a turn driving the little wand across my belly. "Sure. Why not?"

So, we got some additional measurements, just for the heck of it, which revealed our little Baby Girl is not so little. She is consistently measuring two weeks ahead of my estimated due date, with her head measuring slightly ahead of everything else. That moment took me back to Hugh's 28-week ultrasound when we found out about his head measuring ahead of the rest of his body parts. We apparently make large headed babies. And, if Baby Girl's growth continues like it did with Hugh, I guess we can expect another baby tipping the scales near another healthy 9 pounds (hopefully not more than that!).

Seeing into my own womb, watching my baby moving around and feeling the kicks simultaneously, getting a tiny glimpse of this little unexpected miracle, made my own heart feel like it might just burst. I was realizing that every one of my babies has come unexpectedly, in moments when we were least expecting or planning. All unexpected, but all the greatest of surprises and true miracles.

It's no wonder the most striking moment from this past weekend's General Conference for my church, was this quote by Elder Holland:

"Surely the thing God enjoys most about being God is the thrill of being merciful - especially to those who don't expect it and especially to those who feel they don't deserve it."

To have been the recipient of God's mercy on more occasions that I dare try to count, makes me want to dig deeper to be better and more deserving of His love and goodness.

A Bit of Heaven

Ever since my friend, Annie, moved over a month ago, we've been talking about making plans to meet up - somewhere, somehow. So, our plans finally materialized today after a spur of the moment conversation on the phone yesterday. We picked a halfway point, making it about a 90-minute drive for both of us. I was super excited... except for the bad dream that was trying to haunt me enough to keep me home, safe and sound.

You see, yesterday afternoon as I laid down for a little nap I was so exhausted that all I could think of was how I was going to make the drive home after our play date, right in the middle of my normal nap time. (And, by the way, I feel no shame in admitting I have a normal nap time!) Somehow that thought then translated into me having a dream about making that 90-minute drive back home and getting in a car accident.

So, last night before bed I told Marc about the dream, asking him to help me distinguish between what might be thoughts to heed and thoughts that were being fed by some overactive OCD scenarios. I felt reassured when he responded that he was sure everything was going to go just fine and I didn't need to worry about getting in an accident.

Sure enough, we made it to our meeting point just before 10am without any problems. The boys did great in the car and were great little travelers, even sleeping for the last 30 minutes of the drive.

We let our four boys play at this great little playground for a good 90 minutes or so before we relocated to perhaps the happiest place on earth for four hungry little boys. You would have called it the happiest place on earth too if you could have witnessed what Annie and I witnessed as we all ate lunch together! I should have gotten my camera out to have some proof. It was so much fun. I don't know when I laughed as hard as I did today. Our boys play pretty good together and I was so happy to have some girl time with Annie.

After nearly three hours together, we all got safely buckled into our cars and drove in opposite directions, heading back to our homes. Annie and I promised we'd call each other as soon as we were safely home. I quickly called Marc to let him know I was leaving, giving him a rough idea of when he could expect me home. That was 12:37pm.

The next time I tried to call him was 1:01pm. That was when our really fun day had suddenly made a wrong, very unexpected turn. I thought the stroller in our trunk was the cause for me struggling up some of the steeper hills on the drive. But on one particularly steep incline I learned there was something much more serious going on. I gassed it and the engine was revving, but I watched helplessly as the speedometer gradually decreased more and more until I realized I was starting to drift backwards, back down the hill I was trying to climb.

This is a two-lane, curvy highway through rather hilly terrain. My misfortune occurred in a rather fortunate area - a rare spot where there were passing lanes in both directions and a barely wide enough shoulder for me to slowly back my car into a safer position, making it so cars could pass by me without us being as much of a danger to us or to anyone else.

So, once I was backed onto the shoulder, I tried to call Marc only to realize I was in an unfortunate area where there was no cell phone service. I thought 9-1-1 was supposed to work even in those areas, so I tried that. Guess what? It doesn't work. I looked around me - in the middle of nowhere, miles from getting help, no houses in sight. Oh, and at that moment panic set in. I felt so helpless and scared. Tears filled my eyes immediately and effortlessly, and just as I was about to completely loss my cool, I knew the first and the best thing for me to do was to pray.

I considered praying that my car would just suddenly work again or that I'd somehow get cell service miraculously. And, even though I knew neither of those were beyond God's power to make happen, instead I found myself pleading for two things - "Please, God, keep my boys and me safe. And, please send someone who can help us out of this situation." That was about when I looked in the back seat - Hugh exhausted and sound-asleep and Ben looking back at me with tired, but hopeful eyes. There was something in his eyes that communicated calm and hope to my heart... even if it was just my own survival mode kicking in, realizing this was not a time for me to crumble, this was a time for me to find whatever courage it would take to get the help we needed.

I got out of the car, locked the doors, and somewhat timidly waved down the very next car that came speeding by. They passed me right by and I was so close to falling apart again. My hopeless gaze followed them as they passed and that was when I saw that maybe their reflexes had just been a little slow. Maybe they felt some empathy for such a desperate-looking pregnant lady. They slowed down and then backed down the hill a little, while I ran up to meet them.

My biggest fear about waving someone down was not knowing who would stop and if they'd turn out to be someone I'd want to have stop. Hence, the timid wave. But, in this situation I really didn't have any other choice. You can imagine my relief when right away I felt reassured that this middle-aged couple was the answer to my simple, yet urgent prayer. They didn't have cell service either, but wrote down my cell phone number and my husband's, promising they'd call him as soon as they had service again.

So, with that, I climbed back into the safety of my car where Hugh was still sleeping and Ben was my sweet source of calm. He should have been asleep like Hugh, but there was something about having him awake with me that made the whole situation easier. I had to find things to distract him, to keep him happy... and in the process I was distracted and kept happy, too.

About 20 minutes later my helpful couple came back from the direction they'd left in, just to let me know that they'd found a Call Box a few miles up the road and that CHP would be on their way to help me out. They said the dispatcher would call Marc, but that they'd also call Marc as soon as they had coverage.

About 20 minutes later a CHP officer arrived. It's now about 2pm. After talking for a few minutes outside our cars, he offered to push my car up the steep hill with his car, putting us in a much safer place where there was a turnoff - a Vista Point.

The officer wrote down Marc's cell number and said he'd call dispatch to confirm he'd been reached and was on his way, before leaving. He went back to his car and I got back into mine. Both boys were wide awake now and I was distracting them with apples and water. After about ten minutes the officer came back to let me know that Marc was on his way, but that he had decided to stay with me until help arrived. I can't tell you how comforting it was to not be left alone there in the middle of nowhere, still more than an hour from home and still with no available communication with anyone. Even when his shift change was about to happen, he called for another CHP officer to come take his place, as my sort of personal guardian.

At this point it was 3pm and the boys were just starting to get a little restless, so I got them out of their carseats and let them play in the driver's seat and roam freely from the front seat to the back. They clearly thought this was such a great game, completely protected from the stress and worry of the situation.

Another hour passed before Marc and my Dad showed up, the most welcomed sight ever! I heaved a huge sigh of relief. The CHP officer stayed around long enough to make sure Triple A was on its way to help us get towed, and then we thanked him profusely before he left, no doubt ready to serve the public in any way possible. Such kind and thoughtful CHP officers helping us today, more heaven-sent help for sure.

After getting everything out of our car and into my Dad's, the tow truck arrived and we finally made it back home at 6:30pm (over four hours later than originally anticipated), just in time to eat some dinner and get the boys in the bath and settled for bed.

It ended up being a much longer and more exhausting day than I expected, but it was so much fun to see Annie and her boys! And, as much as I could have done without the car problems and the extra drama that followed, I'm sitting here feeling such an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the simple (yet profound) reminders that God does answer prayers and is aware of the details in my life. I know He was watching over us today. I know He kept us safe and I know He sent us people that would help us get home. It's good to be reminded every once in a while that even when we are among millions of others in the world seeking help and guidance, we are not forgotten or overlooked by a loving Father who loves us all individually and perfectly, and responds in simple (yet miraculous) ways.

Some might argue that the way things came together for us today was simply luck, but I know better. Luck doesn't happen the way things happened today. Today I experienced a bit of heaven as I witnessed very specific answers to some very specific pleas come help me in an urgent time of need. There is no other explanation.

(And, Annie, if you're reading this, even at the end of the day I have no regrets about meeting up with you today... if I could do it all over, I'd still have made the trip to see you. Let's get a date set for next month!)

In Good Hands

It's been a long, long year. I'm pretty sure the longest of my life. We've gone to some dark, scary places that have caused my heart to {almost} faint with fear and where the burden of pain has pushed me to the very edge of despair. For the most part I haven't taken anyone to those dark places of grief. It feels uncomfortable to expose people to it. I'm mostly afraid that rather than holding my hand down that path they might try to convince me not ever to go back there. But, they don't understand that going there isn't a choice for me.

Working on healing my broken heart has reminded me of Dante's Inferno - the deeper you go down the rings of hell, the more awful and scary it gets. I haven't enjoyed going to those heavy places. I dread it, in fact. I put it off, I avoid it. But, I went there this week. I had to. And, maybe for the first time I wanted to. As hard as it is to go deep into the painful crevasses of my heart and relive the births and deaths of our daughters, I want to be flooded also with the reminders of the sacred, the beautiful, the perfect moments we had with them. To remember one part is to remember it all. For now, at least. Maybe that will change with time.

For the last three days my heart has felt heavy, I would almost dare say more broken than it did this time last year. I wasn't expecting that. I thought I had been feeling stronger, I thought the healing I'd found felt more permanent. Revisiting my heart, going a little deeper than normal, I see the wounds are healing... and while that is something to rejoice in, it's clear that the gaping holes remain. Evidence of my two little girls. Their absence is felt. Daily. The burden of losing them is ours to carry. Daily.

{I wonder sometimes if the empty holes are only magnified by our childless state. I wonder if it would be different if we had other kids to focus on. Maybe or maybe not? Not that it really matters anyway.}

People of all different levels of expertise have offered to fix me; in most cases that has just meant a shortcut of some sort through grief. I'm sincerely touched to know there are people who love me enough to want to take away my sorrow. Feeling such love, even from some who don't even know me, has strengthened my assurance of one very important fact - if some imperfect human being feels that desire so strongly, then how much greater that feeling must be for one who is perfect.

There is a certain Head Physician I've come to know a little bit better in recent months. Not only does He accept all patients with all different maladies, He knows each one perfectly. He knows me perfectly and He loves me perfectly. I sense that of everyone who is pained at my pain, it is He who feels it most. I feel confident in His hands, knowing that He is the only one who can truly heal me and fix the hurt I feel. I trust He knows how {and when} to best fix me. I've learned that He is always available... for me. Even in those dark, scary places I've had to go through, I've found Him there. I've recognized that He has gone much deeper than I have or ever will, He has carried a burden much heavier than my little bundle of pain, He knows the loneliness of the path much more poignantly than I can ever imagine.

Because of all of that, even on my smaller scale, He knows how much I need Him in those scary, lonely moments. And, even though I sometimes question if I'll ever find Him there again, I have learned of His consistency. He always is. For me. It's as if I'm the only one He's there for, and yet I know there are throngs of others seeking the same healing from His hands. Still, I feel His concern and awareness of me on such an intimate level.

I've wondered lately how it would be possible to know Him, to really know Him, if I didn't have to pass through any heartache. It's that precise heartache that makes Him available on a more personal level, and more importantly makes me aware of my need to make myself available to Him. How can I be disappointed by my broken heart and shattered dreams, when the result is the chance to walk with Him? I don't want to miss that opportunity, even if it means I have to meet Him along the painful path that leads to true healing. 

I have my heart bundled and bandaged, handing it over and trusting in the care of an omniscent God who loves me as His daughter. If His love is anything like the love I have for my girls {which I'm convinced it is and then some}, then I have nothing to worry about. I'm in good hands.

Elder Maxwell said it best: "To go to the very edge is possible, of course, only when we believe in an omniscient and omnipotent God. When we understand that all things are present before His eyes and that He knows all things past, present, and future, then we can trust ourselves to Him as we clearly could not to a less than omniscient god who is off somewhere in the firmament doing further research."

This is my Father's World

* from our most recent trip to the Redwoods, June 8th.

My heart has felt burdened lately. I'm sure mostly because of the memories that are haunting me from a year ago, but it doesn't help that there are other things weighing on me. I wonder if my heart will ever know life without this feeling of grief following me everywhere. Does it ever really go away?

It followed me to church yesterday. I had already had an emotional morning. One of those where I had to keep re-applying my make-up because I couldn't keep the tears from coming. I hate it when that happens. I had to resort to the embarrassing task of firmly scolding myself in the mirror, "stop it! no more crying!" (And, it's even more embarrassing that that actually worked.)

When I arrived at church, I found my pew on the far right-hand side where I get my best view of Marc, as he sits up on the stand. (I love watching him when I get bored of the speakers... and always wonder what the whispers are that go on between him and our bishop. I'm sure it's much less interesting than it appears.)

I sat and closed my eyes as the organist played her prelude music. She is very talented and plays so beautifully. There is one hymn she always plays that I'm not familiar with, but there is something about it that carries extra comfort to my heart. Yesterday that was my gift. As I sat there with my heavy heart, the music wrapped its comfort around me. I thanked her later for playing that particular hymn in her prelude, but I wonder if she realizes it was at the top of my list of my "I thank thees" last night as I knelt in prayer before bed. 

In our brief exchange, she told me the name of the hymn. As she quoted me the words of the first verse, tears filled her eyes and I could see that the song meant something more to her, too. So, yesterday I spent some time searching for the hymn online and found six verses of beautiful words, which brought me to tears as I read them. I was surprised to also find a video of an organist playing it in the Conference Center. I'm still very partial to the way My Organist plays it, but the hymn is so beautiful I have to share.

This is my Father's World

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.

This is my Father’s world, dreaming, I see His face.
I open my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, “The Lord is in this place.”
This is my Father’s world, from the shining courts above,
The Beloved One, His Only Son,
Came—a pledge of deathless love.

This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?
The lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.
This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.

This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam
Whate’er my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.

Words: Malt­bie D. Bab­cock, 1901, alt. While a pas­tor in Lock­port, New York, Bab­cock liked to hike in an ar­ea called “the es­carp­ment,” an an­cient up­thrust ledge near Lock­port. It has a mar­vel­ous view of farms, or­chards, and Lake On­tar­io, about 15 miles dis­tant. It is said those walks in the woods in­spired these lyr­ics. The ti­tle re­calls an ex­press­ion Bab­cock used when start­ing a walk: “I’m go­ing out to see my Fa­ther’s world.”

*hymn verses and text came from this site.

One simple truth

A few weeks ago, while driving in the car and having a serious conversation with Marc, I had a very strong impression come to me. I will share just part of that impression... it was that at some point (whether in this life or in the next) I would look back on this precise period and feel one of two things. Either regret that I let grief overcome me for longer than necessary (and turn me into a bitter, angry, prematurely-aged-old-woman) ... or relief that I was able to allow myself to grieve long enough and healthily enough to find true joy again.

I decided in that moment that I wanted to look back and know that I grieved deliberately and fully... knowing that going through the process of grief would actually make me free from my pain. While I've at times resisted the anguish and yearned for a pain-free life, I've trusted that somewhere along the way I would find a way to live again, a way to again find joy in beautiful things, and to still love being with those I love. It hasn't been easy to find the balance between healthy grieving and healthy enjoyment... but, little by little some is going and some is coming. 

And, little by little, true moments of joy are replacing the raw pain and heartache that have caused such a heavy burden. I may not ever fully understand the reasons for some of the events in my life, but in quiet moments I'm gaining understanding and seeing things from new perspectives that weren't available even a few months ago. I'm grateful for answers that have come in their own time, and for the loving hand of a Provident God.

The older I get and the more experiences I have, the more this one simple truth rings louder and truer:  

God is good.

Security Blankets

Brent Top, a professor of religion at BYU, gave a talk at Education Week last summer that I listened to a few months ago. (If you're interested in listening to the entire talk, let me know.) I was touched deeply by much of what he talked about. But the following quote has resonated deep within my heart, over and over again. 

“I can now see that the Lord was trying to teach me a valuable lesson, but before He could teach me, he had to get my attention. Really get my attention, so that I would truly listen and learn from Him. Often God gets our full attention when he strips away our security blankets, whatever they may be, and exposes our weakness, insecurities, and inadequacies, in such a way as to literally force us to our knees. I am convinced that each of us, if we are faithful and we earnestly strive to be true disciples will be forced to our knees at some point in our lives, perhaps many times. As painful as those times may be, they may be among the most significant learning periods of our lives, and the most powerful evidences of the Lord's grace and tender mercies.”

Facing the stark reality of our infertility a couple of years ago made me feel stripped and naked, which I mentioned, in part, here. But, whatever I thought it felt like to be stripped a year or so ago is nothing compared to now. And, who knows, maybe two years down the road I'll look back at this period and wonder why I was having such a hard time. Hard has become a very relative term... what was once hard doesn't seem nearly as crippling now.

But, even as I'm struggling through this period, I know there are many out there who are also going through their own struggles. There seems to be a wide-spread movement through every family and in every country around the world; a movement of people being stripped of their security blankets. Stripped of jobs, stripped of money, stripped of homes, stripped of possessions, stripped of power and status, stripped of family, stripped of any other thing that holds value to us.

We all have different security blankets. We all have different struggles. The one common factor that remains constant through each person's individual situation is the need for a personal, real relationship with God.

He has my attention. More than ever before in my life.

And, just so you know - He has not slacked in responding with grace and tender mercies.

Higher Ground

I woke up this morning, with a vague recollection of part of my dream during the night. Marc and I were on vacation, staying on the seventh floor of a hotel that was literally right on the edge of a beautiful beach. We had just stepped onto the warm sand when we were alerted about the possible threat of a tsunami coming. My reaction was rather calm, even for watching myself in a dream.

(Dreams are strange, aren't they?)

Right away, I started repeating over and over, "we need to get to higher ground!" Well, we ended up deciding that our seventh-floor hotel room was the perfect place. Fortunately I'm a little smarter in real life. But, as I woke up this morning the thing that kept repeating through my mind was, "we need to get to higher ground."

This week I've found myself desperately needing some higher ground to get through some of these new stages of grief. I try not to focus too much on the pain and the grief, but honestly, the last six months of my life have been hard. For real hard. It has been hard to face the reality of our loss, and it has been hard to come to terms with what the rest of our life might hold, or not hold for that matter.

And, I find myself recognizing the wisdom in finding that "higher ground." I'm so glad I did on Wednesday.

It is comforting to know that I am known and understood and loved by God. When I feel burdened by the loneliness of my heartache, I find relief in those quiet moments when I feel the strong assurance that He knows. He understands. Even the feelings that I'm too embarrassed and sad to express to anyone else. He knows them all. And, still loves me, too.

This journey to higher ground is the pathway of discipleship to the Lord Jesus Christ. It is a journey that will ultimately lead us to exaltation with our families in the presence of the Father and the Son. Consequently, our journey to higher ground must include the house of the Lord. As we come unto Christ and journey to higher ground, we will desire to spend more time in His temples, because the temples represent higher ground, sacred ground.
- Joseph B. Wirthlin

(My time spent on that higher ground this week couldn't have come at a better time. We got a phone call today from the mortuary. The headstone we ordered right before Christmas is supposed to be set today... I don't know how I feel about that yet.)

Great and Precious Promises

There is a talk by Elder Spencer J. Condie from General Conference last year that I've listened to probably at least 26 times since he originally gave it. I literally sobbed through the talk when he first gave it, and have since shed many a tear as I've watched it again and again. It is a beautiful reminder of God's love, of His awareness, and of the assurance that He will fulfill His promises to us. I'm convinced that this talk was given specifically for me, and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise. (I'm only 33% joking, btw.)

But, I still want to share it with anyone out there who might be wondering if God has forgotten you.

He hasn't. Trust me. I know He hasn't forgotten you or me.

If you still don't believe me, watch this. It might be the best spent 8 minutes and 22 seconds of your day.

(If you want to also read this talk, you can find it here.)

Some highlights that I just have to point out:

Sometimes, in our earthly impatience, we may lose sight of the Lord’s precious promises and disconnect our obedience from the fulfillment of these promises.

...

And the Lord changed Abram’s name to Abraham and Sarai’s name to Sarah, and when he was nearly a hundred and she was 90 they were promised that Sarah would bear a son to be named Isaac (see Genesis 17:17, 19). Amidst their disbelief the Lord asked: “Is any thing too hard for the Lord?” (Genesis 18:14).

...

The Apostle Peter testified that “the Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering” toward us (2 Peter 3:9). In this age of one-hour dry cleaning and one-minute fast-food franchises, it may at times seem to us as though a loving Heavenly Father has misplaced our precious promises or He has put them on hold or filed them under the wrong name. Such were the feelings of Rachel.

But with the passage of time, we encounter four of the most beautiful words in holy writ: “And God remembered Rachel” (Genesis 30:22). And she was blessed with the birth of Joseph and later the birth of Benjamin. ...

When heaven’s promises sometimes seem afar off, I pray that each of us will embrace these exceeding great and precious promises and never let go. And just as God remembered Rachel, God will remember you.

Planting Bulbs for Springtime

A few weeks ago my Mom asked me to plant some daffodil bulbs in their front yard, so that when they get home from their mission in a few months that they'll be able to enjoy some yellow beautifulness. So, I picked up some bulbs, which have been sitting in a bag waiting for me to find my gardening gloves and my handy little kneeling pad. Last night I was looking over the instructions, hoping that I haven't missed the prime planting time yet. I was happy to find that for where we live the ideal planting time is October to December, with the specific instructions:

Plant in the fall, before the first frost hardens the soil.

It made me think of something I read recently (I don't remember where, though)... something about planting a tiny seed of hope in our hearts, even if it's hidden under the many wintry layers of grief and sorrow. When I read it, I imagined my heart covered in winter snow and there underneath it all - a seed, waiting for the winter to pass and the sun's warmth so that it can blossom. It makes my heart warm to think of something with beautiful potential lying dormant under the winter soil, sure to bring joy and beauty after a cold and dreary winter.

In the past (and very recent past, I might add) I've had a really hard time with the principle of hope. It feels so risky to put my emotions and expectations on the line {again}, not having a perfect knowledge of whether or not what I hope for will actually come true. If I give myself permission to hope for something I desire with all my heart, then I worry that I'm setting myself up for further failure, greater disappointment and another hard fall. It can be so scary to hope.

But, then I'm reminded of this quote attributed to Theodore Roosevelt: Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.

I find it rather interesting, though, that putting my hope in the potential of these daffodil bulbs to grow doesn't trigger any risky feelings at all. If I didn't know better, I might be very skeptical about how these bulbs could survive the frozen winter ground and still emerge in the spring as beautiful flowers. I might think it's a waste of money, time, and energy, and not even bother planting them.

But, I've planted enough bulbs and seen enough bulbs blossom that I know that good things come from the time I spend planting these bulbs. And, besides, even if there are some that don't bloom, there are enough bulbs being planted that it won't make a difference. The key is that in order to enjoy the flowers, the bulbs have to be planted. I know it's obvious... but, they will not grow if they have not been planted.

So, while I am digging and placing these daffodil bulbs, I find myself wandering through the garden of my heart. Gratefully the soil is still good, and if I use my agency to choose to plant good things there, then good things will surely come. Otherwise, I can decide it's too scary and risky to plant seeds of hope, allowing my heart to be over-run with despair and discouragement. It's really my choice what gets planted.

Rather than let despair and fear keep me from planting bulbs of hope in my heart, I'm just going to plant enough that beauty is sure to abound. Having the courage and faith to dare to hope, puts me in a position to allow God to continue to fill my life with His blessings. I've dared to hope for the impossible before and was blessed in greater abundance than what I had hoped for. Who am I to place limits on God and His power to bless my life, even with miracles if necessary?

So, I'll do the planting now, brace myself for whatever winter brings, and patiently wait for my Springtime. I don't know when it will come, how much longer the wait will be, but it will come. I do know that. And, plus, if we're commanded to have hope, then I know God will prepare the way before me, and have mercy on me because I'm choosing to hope {still}... not only for the blessings that await in the next life, but for blessings He has in store for me now. 

I know there is so much still to hope for. 

Heart throbs

I had the hardest time choosing a major when I was in college. It actually got to the point that at the beginning of my Junior year I wasn't allowed to register for classes until I declared a major. After a very long process that consisted of all kinds of failed attempts to find my "passion," I finally settled for "eenie, meenie, minie, moe" and ended up with Spanish as my major. 

I had done well in Spanish in high school, and the language had come fairly easy for me, so I figured at least that I could get good grades with Spanish as my major. I progressed quickly through the classes, and soon found myself in classes with students who had been missionaries in Spanish-speaking countries. And, as I thought ahead to the mission that I would serve, I would dream of all the Spanish-speaking countries I could possibly go to.

As you know, my mission call was to Italy. It came as a HUGE surprise to me. I had never once considered Italy as a possibility. In fact, after I first read my mission call, my friends and family who were with me said that I seemed very dazed as I repeated over and over again "I'm going to Italy." 

When I arrived at the Missionary Training Center I was very excited to jump into the language, since I had heard Italian was very similar to Spanish. My foundation of language learning proved to be both a blessing and a curse. Since I didn't want to forget all the Spanish I had learned, whenever I would learn something new in Italian, I would automatically translate it in my mind in Spanish... it shouldn't have been a surprise when in conversations I would use phrases like, "muy bene." That mixing of the two languages was greatly discouraged.

It must have been pretty bad, because after about three weeks at the MTC one of my teachers finally pulled me aside and said, "You have to stop speaking Spanish." I guess she was afraid that no one would understand me when I got to Italy. Go figure.

That was a major turning point for me. It was the first time in those three weeks that I recognized that I was having a really hard time. I had been so focused on staying positive that I finally realized that I was afraid if I admitted I was having a hard time, I would somehow disappoint my family, and more importantly God. But, the truth was that not only was I struggling with the language, I was struggling with homesickness, and with finding my place in this new way of life.

I still remember the moment kneeling in prayer, when I honestly opened up and admitted I was really having a hard time. It all came out... my fears about living in a foreign country with very limited contact with my family, my frustrations with learning a new language, my insecurities about being fit to be a missionary. And, the most incredible thing happened. As I trusted those very vulnerable feelings to God in prayer, I was filled with peace and reassurance that not only did He already know everything I was feeling, but He had been waiting and wanting to help me get through it.

Over the last three months, I've found myself feeling many of the same feelings as I did in those early weeks in the MTC. I've been trying so hard to go through this trial with a clear perspective and a positive attitude, afraid that I might disappoint God in some way if I admit that I'm having a hard time coping and healing, and even accepting this loss.

I've been filled with fears and insecurities and frustrations, and they have added up against me this week. My heart has felt so heavy all week... and I'm trying to re-learn the same lesson I learned almost ten years ago... that admitting it's hard and that I can't bear the burden of this trial on my own doesn't make God disappointed in me, but rather it opens up the way for Him to comfort me and strengthen me.

I have always appreciated James E. Talmage's insight on prayer: 

"It is well to know that prayer is not compounded of words, words that may fail to express what one desires to say, words that so often cloak inconsistencies, words that may have no deeper source than the physical organs of speech, words that may be spoken to impress mortal ears. The dumb may pray, and that too with the eloquence that prevails in heaven. Prayer is made up of heart throbs and the righteous yearnings of the soul, of supplication based on the realization of need, of contrition and pure desire. If there lives a man who has never really prayed, that man is a being apart from the order of the divine in human nature, a stranger in the family of God's children. Prayer is for the uplifting of the suppliant. God without our prayers would be God; but we without prayer cannot be admitted to the kingdom of God. So did Christ instruct: 'Your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.'" (Jesus the Christ, pg. 238)

At a time like this when I can't make sense of the feelings in my heart, trying to express them in prayer can be a very overwhelming task... and that's why it brings me such great comfort to know that God already knows what I'm feeling. He already knows that I feel weighed down and discouraged, heart-broken and afraid. When I kneel in prayer, and emotions choke my words, I know He hears my silent pleadings and understands my hidden sorrow. And, I'm so grateful that He is so generous in reassuring me that He is not disappointed in me, but that He loves me with the perfect love of a Father. Not only do I find relief in my honest prayerful moments, I sense there is also a feeling of relief on His end when I fully open my heart to Him.

"Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered." - Romans 8:26

Blessings unmeasured

"Whether we like it or not, God intends to give us what we need, not what we now think we want.”

- C.S. Lewis

* image credit: vendingventures.com

When Marc and I were dating, I remember having a conversation with him where we talked about how sometimes in life we look at blessings like buying from a vending machine. Here's what I mean... you put in your money and then get to choose what you want from the vending machine. It can be easy to look at life the same way... you put in the time and effort working towards obtaining some desirable thing, and then naturally expect to receive what it is you want.

Life doesn't always work like that, though... sometimes we get the blessing we desire and sometimes we don't. And, I guess depending on how you look at it, that can be unfortunate or it can be fortunate.

We tend to go for what we like, what we're comfortable with... but, sometimes there are other options that would get us out of our comfort zone and require us to be a little more courageous. And, while there can be some disappointment in not receiving what we think we want... I feel confident that in the end what we receive and the way we receive it turns out to be so much better than what we ever could have imagined for ourselves.

I have gotten the feeling lately that in the end I'll honestly be able to look back and feel grateful for the paths we have taken, for the things we've learned along the way, for the alternate routes that have provided a completely different view, more complex and beautiful than the one we thought we wanted. I wouldn't trade what we've been given with anyone. Even at my lowest low, I still feel that way... the blessings have always far outweighed the affliction.

We received this thoughtful gift for our anniversary that has helped us reflect on all of the blessings we've been given. Counting blessings is really like eating M&Ms... you can't stop with just one (I know they say that about potato chips, but I feel it's more true with M&Ms...) So, anyway, the effect is this incredible awareness of all the blessings that we continue to receive on a daily basis. We love having this reminder of how blessed we are! (A HUGE thank you to our friends for giving us this gift!)

I was listening to this CD the other day, and loved the third verse of "The Lord is My Shepherd." (If you click on "this CD" you can listen to part of this verse - it's beautiful!).

In the midst of affliction my table is spread.

With blessings unmeasured my cup runneth o'er.

With perfume and oil thou annointest my head.

Oh, what shall I ask of thy providence more?

Oh, what shall I ask of thy providence more?

I don't think I've ever paid attention to the beauty of those words... but I've found them to be so true for us right now. In the midst of affliction, we really have been blessed with blessings unmeasured. I know grieving is healthy and it's necessary to experience, but I feel so grateful that the blessings we've received have helped heal the grief we feel. As blessings continue to flow into our lives, we feel so grateful for the tenderness of a loving Father in reminding us how much He loves us.

There is a relief that comes from knowing that God knows best what we need and how to bless us in His way and in His time. We are learning that His blessings to us are more than what we ever could have imagined for ourselves. With Him in charge, don't things always turn out better than how we hoped?

"I don’t know how it is for you, but I have felt so often in my life so greatly blessed for what little obedience I have given. My conclusion...is that the Lord’s ratio of blessings to our obedience is a very generous ratio indeed. He is so quick to reward us, so quick to reassure us, and so anxious to take delight when we serve Him. So... the only bottom line I can give you is that the ratio of blessings to our comparatively minuscule obedience is a very, very generous ratio indeed.”

- Neal A. Maxwell

"Triumph is born out of struggle"

In the last few days I've thought a lot about submission to God's will, and I wanted to clarify that getting to the point of submitting to God's will has not been quick or simple. I suppose it comes as a result of a lifetime of experiences, often experiences that were learned the hard way. And, really, we're still learning how it's done and what it means. We have by no means arrived at our desired destination.

About a year ago we had an experience that ended up being a very painful learning experience in not seeking out or accepting God's will for us. Without going into a lot of detail, we had been chosen to adopt a baby girl and we exhausted ourselves in trying to convince God that we deserved this little girl. In the weeks and months leading up to her due date, my prayers consisted mainly of begging and pleading for this baby to make it to our home. I was too afraid to ask if it was right; too afraid to pray to know God's will for us and for that little baby. Well, the adoption ended up not working out. As a result, I fell. And, I fell hard. 

It was a scary place to be. Fortunately we were able to recover, but we learned a lot from that hard experience. Perhaps the most important thing we learned was that it was much more painful to go through a hard experience without seeking to know the will of the Lord, than it was to put the situation into the Lord's hands. I suppose that was one of our first experiences in learning the difference between "faith in Christ" and "faith in a desired outcome." 

Of course, having faith in Christ requires a trust and assurance that He loves us, He knows us, and He will ultimately bless us in ways we never would be able to imagine. There is a sense of freedom that comes from acknowledging that we are unable to see the entire picture of our lives. When we, then, put everything in the Lord's hands, we're able to find relief from the burden of our short-sightedness.

There is a deleted scene from the movie Bruce Almighty that has always struck me in a powerful way. It's unfortunate that they chose to not include it in the actual movie. I have to admit that I don't agree or approve of every aspect of the movie, but I do appreciate its attempt to bring some moral truths to Hollywood. Anyway, the basic plot of the movie is that the main character (Jim Carey) is given the role of "God" for a week. At one point Jim Carey is answering peoples' prayers and basically gets overwhelmed by the task, and just answers with a "yes" to everyone. Later, "God" (played by Morgan Freeman) shows Jim Carey some of the consequences of those "yes" answers.

They take a look at Filbert Davis in gym class, being bullied by other boys because he can't climb the rope. He prays, "Oh God, please help me." His prayer is answered and he miraculously climbs to the top very quickly.

As a result of Filbert's prayer being answered the way he thought he wanted it answered, and with his sudden increase in confidence, the next scene shows Filbert being the bully, beating up another boy on the playground. And, at this point Morgan Freeman explains: 

Since when does anybody have a clue about what they want. Filbert was a brilliant young man; he was going to be a Greek poet. The soul of his work would have been built around his childhood pain. Now he's headed for a career as a professional wrestler, he will eventually test positive for steroids and end up managing a muffin shop.

Then, Morgan Freeman shows how the trials and challenges given to people were intended to bring about other blessings that couldn't come in any other way. After giving Jim Carey a glimpse of the good that would have come to certain people because of their struggles, Morgan Freeman says this:

Triumph is born out of struggle. Faith is the alchemist. If you want to paint pictures like this you have to use some dark colors.

(Definition of alchemy: process of transforming a common substance, usually of little value, into a substance of great value.)

I love that message that faith transforms us into something of great value... and our faith is best tested in the face of extreme challenges. In the last few months I have come to an awareness that God sees the full picture of my life and knows that "using dark colors" will bring about blessings and knowledge that we couldn't have received in any other way. Like with Filbert's childhood pain having a purpose in his life's mission, I know there are things I'm meant to learn through hard experiences.

It has not been an easy couple of months... there is deep pain that has carved itself deep into my heart. But with that pain there has also come an increased awareness of God's love for me personally. I am profoundly grateful for a loving Father who knows me and loves me, and who has been blessing me with daily evidence of His love for me - through gifts in nature, through the loving arms of a friend, through quiet moments on my knees. I do not know for sure what lies ahead in my life... but I trust in God that He will preserve and provide.

(As a side note, I found it interesting to read a post I made about a year ago, that you can read here. It's amazing how much I didn't know then about how this last year would go... but, I'm grateful for the ways I was being prepared and strengthened to handle these current experiences.)

Learning to Submit

At the beginning of this year we were chosen by a birthmother to adopt her baby, who would be born in June. The situation involved a birthfather who was less than thrilled about adoption, and more particularly the choice of the birthmother in selecting us as the couple. As a result, the first few months of this year were filled with ups and downs. We weren't sure whether to embrace the anticipated joy of welcoming a little boy to our family or whether we should keep ourselves aloof, to protect our hearts.

Near the end of February, we received word that the adoption probably wasn't going to happen and that it was in everyone's best interest to limit our contact with the birthmother. We had already grown to love this incredible girl, who was trying so hard to make the right choices for herself and her unborn baby. And, we had already grown to love this little boy who would soon be coming to earth, and genuinely hoped for the best for both him and his mother.

As we faced the reality that the adoption probably wouldn't happen, I crumbled. I spent a couple of days feeling completely devastated and broken. Fortunately the Lord blessed me with some obvious evidences during that time that He loved me and was aware of me. Feeling that love from Him in the midst of my disappointment, humbled me to the point of complete acceptance of God's will, whatever it was. 

I remember one day very clearly... in a moment of prayer I admitted to God that I didn't know what the outcome of this adoption would be. I didn't have the insight or wisdom to see how things were supposed to work out. As difficult as it was to do, I handed over my will to God in that moment, letting Him know that I trusted in Him and in His love for me so much that whatever the outcome would be, I wanted it to be done according to His will. That experience was incredibly liberating. 

I remember thinking at the time, "wow, this is so much easier to handle knowing that all I have to do is accept however God intends for this to work out." Of course, the foundation of that feeling had to be the strongest assurance that God truly loved me and had my best intentions in mind. All of a sudden I didn't have the burden of trying to convince God to make "my will" be done. I finally handed it all over to Him... it was now in His hands.

Well, within a month of having that experience, Marc and I experienced the biggest shock of our married life - we were pregnant! And, then two weeks later, the second biggest shock of our married life - we were expecting twins! At the time I felt like my submission to God's will was all He was waiting for... the result of that submission was this most incredible blessing. And, I remember thinking, "this is so easy to accept God's will when something really wonderful like this happens... the real test would be to accept His will in the midst of disappointment."

Since our first pregnancy, five years ago, ended at 7 weeks, we felt very cautious in those early months. There were a number of times I expressed the feeling that "no matter how this all turns out, I will always consider this pregnancy the most incredible miracle." And I did. And I still do. I think approaching the pregnancy with caution made me even more grateful for each moment, each new experience, not knowing if/when it might end.

Morning sickness was awful... but, it was such a joy to experience it, knowing that my body was working to make two beautiful babies. After throwing up, with tears streaming down my face, I would pat my little belly and tell my babies how much I loved them. Watching them in our ultrasounds, and finally feeling them move around inside me... these were all miracles and blessings that brought us such incredible joy that would often leave us in tears. After five years of "unexplained infertility" these were all things that we had wondered if we'd ever experience. 

The day of our 10 week ultrasound, I recorded in my journal how nervous I was before the appointment. I had gone in our nursery and kneeled down to pray. My first inclination was to pray for a healthy, full-term pregnancy, without any complications.... that was my desire, afterall. That was exactly what I wanted, so I started to express those very specific desires to God. I paused, though. I found myself offering a completely different prayer than the one I intended to offer. Instead, I prayed that everything would work according to God's will... and with tears flowing, I pled with God to "please bless me with the courage to accept thy will."

Well, that appointment went wonderfully... as did many of the subsequent appointments. As the pregnancy progressed and our fears were settled, we started to allow ourselves to feel unleashed excitement at the anticipated arrival of our two precious little girls.

Then, came July 16th. We had been rushed down to UCSF when my water unexpectedly broke. After laying in that hospital bed for almost 12 hours, with nothing happening, except that I was losing more and more fluid as the clock ticked on, I became very frustrated that no one was doing anything to try and save my babies. I felt so helpless. I was fighting to keep them and I felt so utterly alone in that fight.

As I reached that point of total desperation, I offered a silent prayer. Again, I found myself admitting that I didn't have the wisdom or insight to see what the outcome of this situation was to be. I expressed my feelings that I was fighting an uphill battle, and that if God was behind me in that battle that I was willing to fight, to do whatever I had to help my girls live. But, I also was able to see that my fighting to keep them here may have become a fight contrary to His will for them and for me. And, then came another moment of submission... "please, Father, help me to have the courage to accept thy will."

Within an hour of offering that prayer, my physical condition worsened to the point that made it clear that infection from the surgery a week before, was the cause of preterm labor... and ultimately the doctors were concerned for my life. Some may consider it coincidence. I felt then, and still feel now, that those turn of events were confirmation that God had a different outcome in mind for our little girls than what we had expected. Their purpose and mission would be fulfilled in simply receiving a body... and we were entrusted with the bitter-sweet experience of being the means whereby they could fulfill that purpose.

I share all of this more for myself than for anyone else. You see, I have been struggling to remember that the events of the last few weeks and months have all gone according to God's will... and that, on more than one occasion, He was preparing me to accept this outcome. I have had moments of complete submission, where I willingly gave up my most coveted desires, and I entrusted my life into the hands of God.

The pain in my heart sometimes whispers thoughts of bitterness and anger that my girls were taken from me. "If God really loved me, why would he do such a thing?" And, I find myself needing to discern between the truth and the lies that fill my mind. God has not taken my girls from me. He has not abandoned me. He has not stripped me of my promised blessings. No. He has rather ensured the immediate return of our girls to His presence and with that the blessing of motherhood to come in a day not far distant.

I know that over the course of the last six months, maybe even much longer than that, God has been preparing me to accept the outcome of our daughters' short lives. It is a daily battle to fight away the feelings of frustration and sadness that try to deceive me into believing that I have been robbed and cheated and denied. Deep down I know I haven't. Deep down I know that God loves me and is so tenderly aware of me right now. Deep down I trust in Him and in His will for my life. Deep down I want to submit my will and desires to Him, like I have before, knowing that He will bless me with the courage to accept the outcome, just like He has before. 

"... the submission of one’s will is really the only uniquely personal thing we have to place on God’s altar. The many other things we “give”... are actually the things He has already given or loaned to us. However, when you and I finally submit ourselves, by letting our individual wills be swallowed up in God’s will, then we are really giving something to Him! It is the only possession which is truly ours to give!"

 - Neal A. Maxwell (Ensign, November 1995)

Blossoms in August

My heart has been touched deeply by small miracles lately. In the last couple of days, three separate plants of ours have blossomed flowers. I don't remember the last time they produced flowers, and I surely wasn't expecting blossoms in August, but they are beautiful and so alive.

When I look at them I feel an overwhelming sense of God's love and awareness. They feel like His gentle way of reminding me of life... life beyond death, victory from the grave. I'm grateful to a loving Father who is so gently blessing us through what may be our darkest hour, who is guiding us along this rugged path, who is filling our life with sweet reminders of His love for us and for our little girls.

 

We will spend the next couple of days soaking up the beauty and life from the incredible outdoors. It is calling and we are definitely needing to fill up from the fountains of life. I love this quote by John Muir:

Thousands of tired, nerve shaken, over civilized people are beginning to find that going to the mountains is going home; that wilderness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life. 

Not on my own

1 Corinthians 10:13 - God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted (tested or proven) above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.

I've always taken great comfort in the promise in the scriptures that we won't be tested or tried above what we can handle. Except there are times (like now) when I've doubted that promise, questioning if God really knows me well enough to know what I can and can't handle. I find it interesting that every hard experience we've been through has been preceded by the thought, "that won't ever happen to us, because I just couldn't handle something like that." (I've since stopped thinking such thoughts... why tempt God to prove me wrong?)  

I've come to the conclusion that I really can't handle this experience. I've tried, believe me. Fortunately there is another part of the equation - the Lord. I really can't get through this, if I don't have the Lord's help. If I leave off that last part, then I am 100% right that I won't make it through this or any other really hard thing that comes in life. But, with God, I can do all things. 

Standing on the outside of the refiner's fire, looking in, it's impossible to know the comfort and peace that will come while being in its midst. As we've entered this particular refiner's fire, and felt the extreme heat and pressure, we've actually experienced some of the most powerful moments, as they have provided us with experiences to feel a greater measure of the Lord's awareness of and love for us.  

I know I can't pray for my daughters to come back to life... this burden is with me to stay. But, I can pray for a stronger back to carry the burden. And, while my weak muscles are going through growing pains, I know the Lord is doing His fair share of shouldering my burden, because He loves me. 

Lately the burden has been heavy, the pain acute... and, I know the fastest way to find relief from that most intense pain is on my knees.

Without fail, He is always there.

The promise isn't that we will be able to handle life's greatest tests on our own... the promise is that with the Lord we will get through these paths that we do not know. It is only through our reliance on and acceptance of the Savior's help, that He will get us through life's hardest moments. Whatever the challenge, whatever the heartache, when we call out for help to make it through, we will find strength beyond our own to overcome.

I have found the Lord has lifted me, He has made up for the strength that I lack. He has soothed my heartache in such dark moments that I know the relief could only come from Him.

Alma 13: 28-29 - But that ye would humble yourselves before the Lord, and call on his holy name, and watch and pray continually, that ye may not be tempted (tested or proven) above that which ye can bear, and thus be led by the Holy Spirit, becoming humble, meek, submissive, patient, full of love and all long-suffering;  Having faith on the Lord; having a hope that ye shall receive eternal life; having the love of God always in your hearts, that ye may be lifted up at the last day and enter into his rest.

Broken

Psalms 147:3 - "He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds."

Isaiah 61:1 - "he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted"

I was looking through some photos from earlier this year and I came across one that reminded me of an experience I had a few months ago. In fact, I had meant to share this back when it happened... but, coming across it now seems so much more appropriate, in light of our recent experiences.

We have two cats - Einstein and Watson. For the most part they are really good cats. Since we keep them inside, though, they sometimes find creative ways to be active. Like, trying to climb the bookshelves and clawing our couch to pieces. We've been somewhat successful in training them, but everyone once in a while we aren't able to keep them completely under control. *Sigh*

So, back in February I came home one day to find this laying on the living room floor:



This is one of my Dad's most beautiful ceramic pots, totally shattered to pieces. It had been sitting on the mantle. One of our cats had apparently jumped up there and knocked it down. I was so devastated... it was my most favorite of his pots.

I gathered up the pieces, not sure what I was going to do with them, and left them on the kitchen counter for a week or so. I went back and forth trying to decide if it was worth it to try to somehow fix it or if I should just throw the pieces away.

Well, a couple of weeks later I was preparing for a seminary lesson when I came across a perfect opportunity to use the broken pot as an object lesson. I brought in the pieces, explained the situation to my students, and asked them if this pot was worth fixing. After getting some mixed responses, we had a really good discussion about how they decide whether or not something is worth fixing, and how this broken pot might relate to their lives.

I shared the following story, related by President Packer, with my students:

"For a number of years I found relaxation in carving and painting songbirds, at times spending a full year on a single carving.... Once, I had a newly finished carving on the back seat of a car driven by Elder A. Theodore Tuttle. He hit the brackes suddenly and the carving was thrown to the floor and damaged.

Elder Tuttle felt terrible, supposing he had ruined a year's work. When I waved aside his apologies, he said, 'You sure don't seem to be upset about it.' To reassure him, I said, 'Don't worry. I made it; I can fix it.' Actually it had been broken and fixed many times while I was working on it.

Later, Brother Tuttle likened that experience to people with lives broken or badly damaged - supposedly ruined with no hope of repair - who do not know that there is a Maker, a Creator, who can fix any of his creations no matter how hopelessly broken they seem to be."

All day I couldn't stop thinking about the pot and Elder Packer's words: "Don't worry. I made it; I can fix it." Finally I decided to glue the pot back together. It ended up being an incredibly overwhelming experience... recognizing that if this pot was worth my time and energy to fix and if I could find such satisfaction in spending time on it, that God must feel that a hundred times more when it comes to His children.

At the time I was going through some things... and I felt as broken as this pot. And, as I was carefully trying to put it back together and make it as perfect and beautiful as it was before, I felt very strongly that God was just as intently and lovingly working with me, wanting to heal my broken heart and make me whole again. Because He made me and loved me, I was worth His time. I sensed that just as I was finding joy in putting this pot back together, so was He finding joy in binding up my broken heart.

Now, I find myself feeling more in pieces than ever in my life. I'm grateful to know there is One who has fixed me many times before, and will also be able to fix me this time around. I know it won't be quite as quick or as simple, but I know my broken heart will be healed. And, I know it will be because of only one thing - because He who created me loves me and finds great worth in my soul.

We all find ourselves at times feeling broken and falling apart, for many different reasons. I know that there is no break that He cannot fix. I know there is no limit to the love and time He will spend on making us whole again. No one is too far or too low that He cannot reach.

Precious Savior, dear Redeemer,
Thou wilt bind the broken heart.
Let not sorrow overwhelm us;
Dry the bitter tears that start.
Curb the winds and calm the billows;
Bid the angry tempest cease.
Precious Savior, dear Redeemer,
Grant us everlasting peace.
(LDS Hymnbook, #103)

Lesson learned on a Pioneer Trek

Two summers ago Marc and I participated in a "Pioneer Trek" with the youth in our church. It was obviously a much smaller scale trek than what the pioneers experienced in the 1850s. We definitely didn't cover thousands of miles and didn't suffer nearly what they went through. Still, it's amazing the lessons that we learned in just a couple of days of attempting to walk in their shoes.

Marc and I were the "Ma" and "Pa" over a group of 10 youth. Each "family" was provided a handcart, that was packed with all of our supplies for the 3-day trek. As a family, we had to pull our handcart through fields, up hills, across dried riverbeds, down hills, with each member in the family sharing in that duty.

There is one experience from the trek that I've been thinking about a lot today.

As "parents" we were informed in advance of some of the surprises along the way. One of those was a long, steep hill that we would cover on the first night of the trek, at about 10pm. This specific part of the trek was to be done only by the girls in each family. At the base of the hill we were told to quietly ask the boys to stop pushing or pulling the handcart, leaving only the girls in each family to pull the handcart to the top of the hill on their own.

In our family, that meant we had four girls pulling a very full and very heavy cart. At first they did okay. But, as the hill got more steep and their energy more drained, it was clear that they were seriously struggling. At one point they were having such a hard time that the handcart almost started rolling backwards.

It was very painful to watch them struggle. It took everything in me NOT to step in and help push that cart up the hill. When they made it to the top of the hill, though, I wanted to be able to tell them that they did it. I didn't want to take away that feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment from them. I wanted them to learn something about themselves - that they were strong and able to do something really difficult.

That simple experience ended up being a very important learning moment for me. For the first time in my life I understood a very small portion of what it must be like for a loving Father to stand back and watch as we struggle up life's very steep and painful hills. For an Omnipotent God to exercise such restraint from reaching out and saving us from every heartache and challenge in life must be almost unbearable. It isn't that I thought he stood carelessly back, uninterested in my life... it just had never occurred to me the sorrow it would cause Him to not intervene, when it would be so easy for Him to make everything perfect. I'm just grateful that, while he may not remove my steep hills, I am still able to feel His gentle encouragement and loving support that give me the strength to keep on going.

I know He could have worked some miracle in my life on July 16th, that would have made everything work out perfectly the way I wanted it to go. But, there are reasons why things turned out the way they did. And, though I don't have a clear picture or answers to why things happened the way they did, I trust completely in a loving, all-knowing, all-powerful Father in Heaven.

Among other things, these kinds of experiences in life allow God to pull out of us what He already sees within us. As tragic and heart-breaking as the last month has been for us, I'm grateful for the strengthened relationship I've found with God, for the Savior's tangible comfort that has come in dark hours, and for the change all of this is having on my heart. I think I will find myself completely agreeing with Elder Maxwell's assessment:

"In retrospect, we will even see that our most trying years here will often have been our best years, producing large tree rings on our soul, Gethsemanes of growth!"