Our drive through Connecticut was very brief, but we did find this view from a mobile home park. It was spectacular!
There are many highs and lows that we've experienced over the last couple of months... the waves of grief have been at times overwhelmingly painful and stormy, with thrashings and torment at its worst. There are also waves of grief that come more quietly and calmly, like gradual swells of sorrow that seem to flood every corner of the heart. Though they are clearly different in their intensity, I consider both these kinds of moments "high tide."
As time has gone on and we've progressed down this pathway, we have experienced more and more moments of "low tide," where the sorrow is not as paralyzing, and dare I say, even at times unnoticeable. These are moments when peace and calm fill every corner of my heart, moments when sorrow is even temporarily forgotten.
It has been in those moments of stillness, when my heart is completely calm, that I feel a stronger closeness to heaven, and thus to my little girls. While our very brief moments with them were filled with a sense of peace and calm, even wonder and awe, they aren't what I would call a celebration. For that reason, the sting of separation leaves a hollowness that is often difficult to fill.
I've found, though, that the task of filling that hollowness is not a job too difficult for the Comforter. With that said, I've learned that it is up to me to open my heart up and receive that comfort. There are certainly moments of grief that are necessary, that are important to feel and experience. But, the faster those high tide moments pass, and the faster I can return to my peaceful low tide moments... the stronger the connection I feel to my girls.
There was a moment yesterday afternoon when I was watching a hummingbird from our kitchen window - I shifted a little to get a better glimpse, and with that slight movement the bird was gone. A few minutes later it came back, and as long as I was completely still, it lingered. They only come around when the environment is calm, when there is complete stillness.
Being still, especially in my heart, provides beautiful and tender moments of calm and peace that envelope me with assurance that all is well, on both sides of the veil. I'm so grateful for the moments of calm that allow for such a strong feeling of closeness to heaven.
I've appreciated the way that C.S. Lewis described his feelings about this, shortly after the death of his wife: "After ten days of low-hung grey skies and motionless warm dampness, the sun was shining and there was a light breeze. And suddenly at the very moment when, so far, I mourned [Helen] least, I remembered her best. Indeed it was something (almost) better than memory; an instantaneous, unanswerable impression. To say it was like a meeting would be going too far. Yet there was that in it which tempts one to use those words. It was as if the lifting of the sorrow removed the barrier."
Since starting down this pathway of grief, we have often talked about the importance of being aware of the way the pathway trends. There are highs and lows, but as long as there is a sort of upward trend, that's what we try to focus on - that the highs get gradually higher and the lows get gradually less low.
Lately, the healing we've felt has been wonderful... the latest calm has lasted longer than the other periods of calm. It has been going so well that last night was the first night in two and a half months that I was able to sleep {mostly} through the night without the help of a sleep aid. I know that might not seem like a very big deal, but it was huge for me.
I woke up this morning feeling like I had conquered something that seemed completely impossible a month ago. It was really strange for me in those early weeks to be wide awake at 2am, knowing that I should be completely exhausted, but not being able to sleep no matter what I tried to do, unless I took a sleeping pill. My thoughts never rested, my mind constantly replayed all the restless images. I was half expecting to have to get out of bed soon after laying down, convinced I would be defeated by my attempt to sleep without that little blue tylenol pm. But, miraculously, I woke up close to 6am... a little early for my taste, but much better than what I expected.
This was huge progress... which I really needed for a day like today.
In the mail this afternoon we received a large white envelope addressed to Elliana. It was her birth certificate. I knew it was coming, but still wasn't really prepared for how to receive it. As I looked over all the details, I found myself thinking of how we'll never need to use it to get her a passport or a driver's license or whatever else you need birth certificates for. But, really my tears were mostly tears of gratitude.
This official document doesn't make her any more real in my heart, but it is one more reminder that I am a mother. And, as if that isn't enough, I'm a mother to two super incredible angel girls. I'm even more grateful for our ever brief moments with them, they are memories that become more sweet with time. They are the moments that push me forward and upward, anticipating with great excitement the joyful reunion that awaits us. That joyful day is one day closer than it was yesterday, and for now, that is motivation enough to keep on this upward trend.
"shall we not go on in so great a cause? Go forward and not backward. Courage, brethren; and on, on to the victory! Let your hearts rejoice, and be exceedingly glad."
A few weeks ago, Marc and I volunteered to help with some preparations for a youth dating fireside that was held this past Sunday. I spent a couple of hours every day for the last week or so making some props for the fireside. And, it was incredible how healing and therapeutic it was to work on them. I enjoyed it so much and felt so grateful for the blessing it was to have a creative outlet.
Here is the "bad date van" that was partially inspired by the Scooby Doo van (and, just for fun, I ended up painting the entire van by finger... now, that is seriously therapeutic!):
And, the cool, sports car:
(As you can see, Einstein was feeling quite photogenic, since he had to be in both photos!)
While I was painting, Marc was creating music and sound effects for the fireside. I loved watching the twinkle in his eye as he "worked" on doing something that he loves doing. It's been a while since he's played around with his music software... it made me happy to see his excitement doing it again.
I found it so timely that President Uchtdorf would talk on Saturday night at the Relief Society broadcast about the healing and joy that comes from being creative. I had already been feeling the truth of those words while spending so much time creating these props, and was grateful to have that truth confirmed during his talk.
I have been wanting to get back into oil painting again, but was struggling to get past some barriers of fear and insecurity. I think this was the perfect way to get started again... I really feel creative energy coming back. Marc and I both do. I'm so grateful for the inspired leaders (who happen to be awesome friends!) who would ask us to help with these seemingly insignificant assignments for this fireside... we're still feeling the healing effect it has had on our hearts. It has been such a blessing!
So, next time you're feeling overwhelmed by life, just pull out the finger paints and some cardboard... it really works wonders!
For as long as I can remember, I have always loved hummingbirds. When I was in high school my Dad gave me a ceramic vase that he had made, with a hummingbird etched on the side of it. I love that vase.
We have a hummingbird feeder right outside our kitchen window. I think we must be the only house in our neighborhood with a feeder, because we have to refill it at least once a week. I love it, though! I love that they come in flocks to drink our colored sugar water. I always add one drop of blue to about five drops of red, to give the water a slight purple-ish color. I think they like purple better than red.
This morning I noticed that the feeder was empty, so Marc brought it in for me to fill up and then left to run some errands. While he was gone, I was doing the dishes, and two different hummingbirds came to where the feeder usually hangs, hovering in their graceful, lovely way, seemingly confused when they couldn't find their fountain of purple deliciousness. And they disappeared as quickly as they came.
I'm not tall enough to put the feeder back up, so as soon as Marc got home I practically met him at the door with the feeder in hand - "please put this up... the hummingbirds are looking for it and can't find it." I was afraid if we waited too long that the hummingbirds would find a new source of food and never return. And, that would just make me sad. As simple as it sounds, I find so much joy in watching them drink from our feeder. I especially love it when they actually rest on the edge of the feeder and really drink (I've only seen it happen once, though)... usually they keep their wings flapping furiously while taking quick sips over and over again.
Gratefully, within probably ten minutes of getting the feeder back in position, the hummingbirds were lining up again for drinks and I was admiring them from the kitchen window.
And, in that moment I found myself feeling grateful for another reminder of the constant, never-failing fount of "Living water" that has faithfully quenched my thirst. I'm so grateful that I've never gone to drink and been disappointed to discover that there was nothing there to satisfy and fill. When drinking from the "waters of life," I always come away feeling refreshed and renewed. And, I'm pretty sure there is great joy experienced by both the Provider and the partaker when we rest our wings and linger a little longer to fill up on the "Living water" that will never fail us.
These reminders of the One constant in my life have come to mean so much more to me than ever before. When life seems to crumble and cave in from every direction, I find myself questioning when and how and in whom I can ever fully trust again. My heart has been so profoundly touched to know that there is One who won't ever fail me. He is the Son of God. He is my "living water."
"Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." - John 4:14
"Whosoever will come may come and partake of the waters of life freely; and whosoever will not come the same is not compelled to come." - Alma 42:27
