To Be Held

Last night I was at the grocery store picking up a few items. When I turned down the ice cream isle, I found I was sharing it with another woman, her elementary-aged daughter, and their stroller. I glanced quickly at the sleeping baby as I reached for the Double Strawberry ice cream, only to then realize that her stroller was a double, cradling a second sleeping baby behind the first. Twins. My heart skipped a beat as I envied her abundance and wondered if she knew how blessed she was. There was a physical ache that seemed to run from my heart to my arms as I looked at her beautiful babies. I wanted to tell her how beautiful they were, but the way my heart's rhythm had suddenly increased, I knew that forming the words would initiate a total meltdown there among the ice cream. It all happened so fast, I'm sure she wasn't even aware that I was there, let alone the angst that was oozing out of my heart wishing to have my twins here, whose story is so much different than hers. 

I had to be very careful how I worded that last sentence. Our stories are different, this is true. But, I almost wrote "whose stories ended much differently." But, the truth that keeps my heart pumping is that our twins' story has not ended. And, while I clearly feel pain and sadness at how different my story is from this other woman's, there is another side to the bitter pain and heartache that gives our story an enviable sweetness.

Having experienced new depths of disappointment and agony, and having made it through some very dark and lonely nights, I now know things I didn't know before; things I couldn't have known any other way. I have experienced heaven's comfort in such tangible ways that have been burned into the fibers of my soul. There is no doubt in my mind or in my heart that through this nightmare I have been held, I have been carried, I have been understood, I have been loved and cared for by the One person who can truthfully say, "I know, because I have walked the path you're walking now."

I still have moments when shock and panic hit me with such a force that it feels like it all happened yesterday. And, I find myself getting trapped in wondering why things had to take the course they took and how I'm expected to survive living to a ripe old age with this pain of loss plaguing my heart. In some ways time does bring healing, and I have to hope that that'll continue to ring true. But, I have to constantly remind myself that it's only in falling, in losing, in suffering that I can truly learn the lengths the Savior will go to pick me up and make me whole again. And, recognizing that His lows far exceed any lows I have or will ever experience has only deepened my awe and gratitude towards Him.

The last year of my life has made me rich in experience and understanding of His love and atonement on a very personal level. And, though I'm still tempted with thoughts that I was denied a miracle, I am reminded that God has kept His promises to me. He never promised me that I wouldn't fall, that I wouldn't hurt, that I'd be free from disappointment and pain... BUT, He did promise that He would carry my burden, that He would run to me in my hour of need, that He would not leave me comfortless, that He would heal my broken heart. Even in my lowest of moments, not even then have I felt abandoned by Him. And, I know one day I'll get a much clearer glimpse of how much I really have been carried through this period.

Not too long ago I came across a beautiful song that expresses so much of what I've felt lately. I'm grateful for my hardest trials that have taught me what it means to be loved, to be held. Without them, I wouldn't know with the surety I know of the reality of a loving God. If there ever was doubt, there is none now.

Natalie Grant - Held

Two months is too little.
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.

Who told us we'd be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We're asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It's unfair.

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.

This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow.
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.

If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know, that the promise was when everything fell, we'd be held
This is what it means to be held.

Local Cloud Cover

*Image credit: wikimedia.org

After getting through the first month of grieving, I sort of assumed the worst of the grief was behind us... and I guess in some aspects it was. We made it through our good-byes in the hospital, we made it through picking out a casket, we made it through buying a plot at the cemetery, we made it through the Memorial and Graveside services, we made it through the absense of our family members after everything was over. Those first weeks were definitely filled with some difficult tasks.

I guess what I didn't account for was making it through some of the days ahead when there would be less numbness and when reality would haunt me with its starkness. I shouldn't have been surprised when I had some recent days of completely overwhelming grief, which came with a heaviness that I never would have imagined. 

I usually don't talk much about those moments, but I have them. I allow myself to go through them. I try to go through them in a healthy way. I try to come out of those moments with something more than what I had going into them. More strength, more faith, more assurance of God's power to rescue. 

I don't know if my pleadings have gotten more sincere, or maybe heaven already knows how desperately I need help right now... whatever the cause, the result has been unmistakable. Heaven answers immediately. The pain doesn't leave, but at least there is a strong sense of being surrounded by unseen arms who are anxious to comfort me.

In those darkest of my "midnight moments" I have felt a love and calm so strong it could only come from heaven. I really appreciate those moments of calm because they remind me that the storm is temporary. I may have a few stormy days here and there, and while they seem like they'll never end or I'll never make it through, there always has been an end (or at least a break, long enough to catch my breath) and I've always made it through. 

Lately I've found a lot of comfort in the words of Neal A. Maxwell, having experienced his own terrible suffering and pain from leukemia. I appreciate this reminder from him:

“I share with you again a simple little insight that may help you at certain junctures in your lives. It is that you must not mistake passing local cloud cover for general darkness. They are very different things, and for us to misinterpret local cloud cover, which will soon be blown away, as general darkness is a terrible thing. The restored gospel is so full metaphorically of light. We must not be mistaken about this.”

I feel so grateful for the perspective of the low moments of grief just being "local cloud cover." As much as those moments aren't fun, they really are "just a small moment." Plus, because of the light of the gospel, this experience has allowed us to experience things that have deepened our understanding and given us a clearer glimpse of the love and sacrifice of the Savior. With that glimpse comes a much deeper gratitude for His many gifts and blessings. There are so many ways our life has been abundantly blessed, even while in the midst of this experience... it just becomes a matter of remembering and being aware of the blessings....

"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)

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!"